Gods Universe: Chain Ruler

Kujima moved with effortless agility, leaping three, then four times before landing on frozen ground. The mist swirled thick around him, distorting the shifting landscape. Somewhere behind him, Judd was lost in the fog. But Kujima didn't care. He hadn't come for Judd.

He had come to forge his own variant.

The air carried an eerie stillness as he pressed forward, each step sinking into frost-covered earth. The deeper he ventured, the denser the fog became, devouring all visibility. Then, with one final step, the mist abruptly parted like a curtain, revealing a vast expanse ahead.

The fog was behind him now.

He stood atop a hill, gazing down at the island. Steep cliffs enclosed its borders, shrouded in a perpetual haze. The land itself was hollow, cratered—as if something ancient had carved it from the world.

His eyes locked onto the monolithic cathedral at its center. A temple of dark stone loomed over everything else, untouched by time or ruin.

Without hesitation, he descended.

The cliffside was sheer, nearly fifty meters down. Kujima uncoiled a rope, anchoring it to a sturdy rock before lowering himself with careful precision. As he reached the ground, the cold intensified—not a natural chill, but an unnatural frost that gnawed into his very bones.

He pushed forward.

For nearly a kilometer, he trudged through frozen terrain before his path was blocked.

A wall of ice. Towering, unyielding. No way around. If he wanted to move forward, he would have to carve his own path.

Kujima exhaled, bringing his hands to his chest, palms pressed together.

"Isaak."

The snow beneath him melted in an instant, revealing a glowing blue magic circle. His left hand remained steady, while his right reached into the light. From within, he pulled forth a sword—not of steel, but of pure energy, its surface rippling with radiant blue light. This was no ordinary blade. This was magic itself, shaped into a weapon.

With his left, he drew his steel sword from its scabbard.

Now wielding twin blades, he struck.

Each slash sent thunderous cracks echoing across the island. The frozen wall trembled—then shattered.

Silence followed.

Then, the ground rumbled.

A deep, guttural growl reverberated through the air, ancient and primal. The sound coiled around his spine like a vice. From within the fractured ice, something stirred.

Then, it moved.

A monstrous bear erupted from its frozen prison. Colossal in size, its thick fur was matted with frost, jagged ice clinging to its claws and face. Its breath billowed in clouds of mist. Its eyes burned—not with life, but with something deeper, something unnatural.

Kujima stepped back, swords raised.

He had known there would be consequences.

But not this.

The beast lunged.

He barely had time to react as its massive claws came crashing down. He dodged, but the sheer force of the impact sent waves of snow flying, throwing him off balance. The bear was relentless, every strike a brutal display of power. Kujima countered with swift, precise slashes, but each clash left his arms numb.

The bear was too strong.

Its hide was iron.

A sudden movement—its jaws snapped open, aiming for his throat.

There was nowhere to run.

Behind him, the path stretched back a kilometer to a sheer cliff wall. No escape.

Kujima clenched his jaw. I will die here.

The air thickened, charged with an unseen force. He had felt it the moment he stepped onto the island—an oppressive weight, a silent warning. If he used his variant here, he would pay the price.

But he no longer had a choice.

"I don't care." His voice was a whisper, lost to the wind. "I am King Kujima. I command the gods."

His steel sword fell to the snow.

He raised his hands to his chest.

He moved as if unlocking something unseen.

"Isaak, I swear—this is the first and last time I will use this variant. You are my only god, which proves that you are the strongest. Thank you."

A prayer. Not to plead, but to awaken true power.

"God Variant—Isaak!"

The energy sword in his grasp expanded, its blade stretching as a deep red glow flickered through his irises. His body felt weightless. His movements sharpened. Power surged through him.

He struck.

The blade blurred, cutting through the air with inhuman speed. The bear reacted, blocking with its massive paw—parrying effortlessly.

Kujima pressed forward, relentless, his technique flawless. His swordsmanship was sacred, passed down by the Harden kings.

Slashing.

Striking.

The blade met the bear's hide—

And did nothing.

No wound. No mark. As if the creature's flesh had been forged by something beyond mortal comprehension.

Kujima's breath hitched.

Who created this beast?

Who could forge something stronger than a god?

The bear lunged again.

Kujima found himself staring into its glowing blue eyes.

A vast abyss of power and hunger.

And in that moment, he felt it.

Death.