Rebirth of the Nameless Immortal God-Novel



If anyone else had been there, they wouldn't possibly have the answers Little Yin and Yang did. Whether it be The Nine Purgatories of Hell, or this War God Heart trial, both hadn't appeared in several billion years, at least not within the tower quadrants. For two of them to appear now, it seemed the Heavens really did want to eradicate Dyon.

"War God Heart Trial? What is that?" Madeleine asked worriedly.

A complicated flash lit up the eyes of the Hamster twins. However, seeing the exhausted expressions of Madeleine and the beast babies, they couldn't bring themselves to ignore the question.

"Very rarely can an individual kill without guilt or remorse. The only exceptions are in the cases that someone is absolutely evil or absolutely confident in their own martial way. Such cases are incredibly rare…

"For the War God of the past era, his ancient constitution practically made him nigh undefeatable, but he too, much like others who gained ancient constitutions, never transcended.

"Each ancient constitution has its own tribulations attached to it. Because those with ancient constitutions are so special, the Heavens are forced to create new Tribulations specifically for them. The War God trial Dyon underwent last time was only one of the tribulations – of nine – that the true War God faced.

"The War God was among the greatest ancient constitution wielders to ever exist. Of his nine tribulations, he faced eight which is why his created tribulations number the most among those with ancient constitutions. As for the others, they didn't survive long enough to require the creation of more.

"However, this tribulation was what defeat the War God in the end. When he was just a single step from becoming a dao expert, he fell…

"According to History, the mournful cry of the War God resounded through all of existence. In fact, the Ancient Battlefield that connects the now to the beginning of time likely contains a trace of his rage to this day."

Madeleine suddenly understood something as she gazed down at Dyon's charred body. She remembered that when Dyon told her about his war against the Grand Templar Sect, the Battle Prince that had been in his mind's eye at the time told him that the War God never accepted the True Name of his constitution. Instead, he disdained the name, wanting to call himself Battle God instead.

However, when Madeleine heard those words back then, she frowned. This 'War God' wanted to accept all that came with being supreme and unmatched in one on one combat, but didn't want to be stained by any of the blood that came with it. Instead, he chose to completely dissociate himself from the title of 'War', knowing well the devastation and negativity tied to the word… He was a Coward!The source of this ᴄontent is novelenglish.net . Fɪre.net

Madeleine's fists clenched. Her husband wasn't so spineless that he tried to downplay the blood on his hands by using meaningless plays on words. Her husband was far better than this so-called War God turned Battle God from fear.

The bronzed doors descended from the skies. As though called upon by the Gods, its aura shook the very space it sat in. Somehow, it seemed to be caught between the bounds of fiction and reality, flickering with illusory and oh-so real lights.

Dyon had only just realized that this tribulation was his own. He could not see anything due to his eyelids being melted together, nor could his divine sense stretch outward due to his unresponsive soul, so he had no idea what was happening around him. His everything was consumed by an undying pain that wracked his body.

His muscles, or whatever cheap imitation that remained of them, refused to listen to his commands. Even when he tried to communicate with his inner world once more to slowly heal himself with the Holy type energy he had accumulated, he found that process to be even slower than it had been before. It definitely didn't help that his meridians were in shambles.

The feeling itself was horrible. He saw nothing but a dense blackness, heard nothing but an empty white noise he assumed his brain imagined, and felt nothing but an abyssal pain that could only have originated from the depths of hell itself.

Dyon suddenly laughed. Although it came out sounding even more horrid and deathly than Orcus' grating laughter, it was a genuine laughter nonetheless.

He found this entire situation funny. Hadn't he just been on top of the world? In the last almost three years, he had done nothing but win. He had an inconceivable amount of treasures sitting at his fingertips, he had his beautiful wife by his side every day, and he finally felt like he saw a road to victory for the impossible task that lay ahead of him.

He took everything into his own hands, even the plans of a Higher Existence, laid for trillions of years, fell before his designs. Everything was his. Yet, this petty, childish, and infantile so-called Heavens chose this very moment to shoot him down.

Dyon had heard of tribulations being forcibly triggered after they had been avoided for too long, but who knew that he would be unlucky enough to be struck down at his weakest moment? How was he supposed to defeat a tribulation when he couldn't even see?

Who else in all of existence could claim to have been sneak attacked by the shameless Heavens if not Dyon? If he didn't know better, he would have assumed that he was being thwarted by an arrogant young master instead of the so-called Heavenly Laws.

"Screw you." Dyon muttered.

With a thought, a wrist band of dense black appeared on his wrist. It was too bad that his body was so badly mangled that unless one looked closely, it was impossible to tell where his skin stopped and the Dragon King started.

At that moment, an ancient laughter filled Dyon's ears. 'Look at you. You only call me out when you're about to die, nowadays. Are those Purgatory Flames? Tsk, the Heavens really don't like you. I didn't face such flames until I climbed my Transcendent Staircase.'

'Just tell me what's happening, I can't see.' Even Dyon's message to the Dragon King lagged. He could barely circulate his energy, how could he efficiently communicate?