Rebirth of the Nameless Immortal God Chapter 2075 Created

Chapter 2075 Created

?This qi was tied to the 'Faith' of hunger and starvation. This was the best way Dyon could put it. It was as though it had gathered up all negative emotions of famine and concentrated it into the form of this qi!

This was why Dyon felt it felt like a 'will' at the same time!

'Qi like this can be created too…?'

Faith had always been an enigmatic concept… It could decide everything from the strength of a const.i.tution based on the feats of its previous owners, to even the strength of a nation… But what if one tapped into the essence of famine… or the essence of war… of death… of conquest…?

How many people across time had experienced these four things? The pain of famine, the fury of war, the fear of death, the horror of conquest?

Thinking about the countless iterations, the countless thoughts, the countless feelings combined into one… Dyon almost broke out into a cold sweat. If one could tap into such power… Just how strong would they come to be?!

Endless possibilities spun in Dyon's mind, but unfortunately, he couldn't execute any of them… Because he couldn't wrap his head around how this qi worked! The worst part of it all was that his Immortal Sense had been severely downgraded to the very first moment he awakened Divine Sense. He couldn't a.n.a.lyze this qi down to its purest form at all.

"This world suppression p.i.s.ses me off…" Dyon mumbled under his breath.

As though he didn't notice the charging Famine, he stripped the top of his robes from his body, tearing them apart and letting them fall to the ground.

Because of the odd nature of this famine qi, his clothes were completely unscathed. However, they had become nothing more than a hindrance to him.

His clothes were created to withstand battle between Higher Existences, yet he didn't even have the strength of a powerful celestial right now. Why waste his stamina carrying them around?

In a moment, he had morphed from an Emperor in embroidered robes, to a lax young man wearing a pair of black sweatpants.

He suddenly felt incredibly comfortable, a smile playing his lips as though this was the only state he could relax in. For an instant, he couldn't even bother to care that his skin was visibly greying before his eyes.

"Alright, Famine." Dyon's bare feet stretched across the marbled floors, feeling the ancient runes etched in silver glide along his soles.

His sword was brandished before his, his demeanor incomparably calm and confident. One would think he hadn't spent the last ten minutes being savagely beaten.

In an unknown s.p.a.ce, the three voices trembled once more.

"Those weird lower garments… It can't…"

If such a scene was shown to others… The sight of three rulers of a world trembling at the sight of what amounted to a few threads of fabric formed into a comfortable pair of pants… maybe it would be seen as a joke.

Such powerful beings, cowering at the sight of sweatpants. What else could it be if not a joke?

But, for them, it felt as though time had slowed to a crawl. Even the voice constantly calling for Dyon's death truly did not dare to utter a single other word.

Dyon, however, couldn't be bothered to care about their weird actions. His sights were set on cutting Famine down.

Lightning burst from Dyon's body, flooding into his every pore and crevice.

'[Thunder G.o.d].'

Dyon flashed forward, weaving through the endless bombardment of grey orbs with nothing but a streak of golden lightning left in his wake.

'[Carnage].'

Ruby red spears etched in ancient runes appeared all around Dyon. The number was so outrageously large that the room was seemingly coated in a blanket of crimson.

Even if they could suppress Dyon's qi, body and soul strength, what they couldn't do was eliminate his reserves. Since they wanted to suppress him, he was drown them out in quant.i.ty.

100 spears weren't enough? Have a thousand. A thousand weren't enough? Have a million!

At the same time, Dyon's ability to sustain his weakened wills became near endless. Even though he could only now summon intents, the scale to which he could use them were far beyond the level of a celestial.

In that instant, the 100-meter diameter became filled with nothing but Dyon's attacks. And endless barrage from all sides converging upon Famine with a reckless abandon.

Unfortunately, this seemed to grind the progression of the battle to a halt. A stalemate of oddly epic proportions would have filled the eyes of observers had there been any aside from the obscure three voices.

Dyon pushed [Thunder G.o.d] to its max, pumping his body with endless joules of lightning. He wasn't very surprised that it was even more effective at fighting off the famine qi thank holy type qi was. After all, the fundamental basis of famine qi was s.n.a.t.c.hing energy. What if Dyon simply produced more energy than it could eat up?

[Thunder G.o.d] was one of the legacy techniques left by the Lightning Sparrow within the Lightning Willow Mask and happened to be of the Divine Grade. It was supposed to work to increase fast twitch reflexes and muscles, but who knew Dyon would use it to turn himself into a battery?

'They can't limit my stamina… They can't limit the burning of my soul… And they can't limit the level of technique I can use because my qi will always be enigmatic qi fundamentally. These are my keys to victory.'

Dyon continuously brandished his dragon king sword in an attempt to break past Famine's defenses. However, they seemed completely impenetrable.

Even under the rain of red spears and piercing golden lightning, it silently kept its palms pressed together.

The balance that hovered before it shifted ever so slightly with Dyon's every strike, seemingly capable of perfectly producing the energy needed counter.

Maybe the most frustrating part was that the lightning qi Famine's famine qi ate away floated back into the air, becoming more grey orbs that were used to attack Dyon once more.

To make matters worse, though the famine knight didn't actively attack himself, his horse was a different matter entirely….

Dyon pupils constricted. '… s.h.i.t.'