I created my own system

Chapter 394: Three against one

A shadowy figure loomed, sprouting from the golden rift below. Its massive form blocked Midgar's vision, causing him to pull back.

"Everyone, fall back!" he warned, which the soldiers immediately heeded. They abandoned the monsters they were fighting and regrouped right behind their leader.

More cracks emerged across the bleeding ground, accompanied by shards of radiant gold that seemed almost eager to widen the rift.

From within the dark pit, a thing began crawling to the surface. A giant, gnarling tree sprouted, its sap reeking of burnt ozone. Far behind it, a hooded figure whispered an incantation, its hands glowing with the same molten gold as the rift.

"What is this?" Midgar growled, his sword vibrating at the tree's unholy energy.

The tree's roots dug into the battlefield like veins feeding on blood and thunder. Midgar gritted his teeth—whatever this thing was, it wasn't meant for mortals to fight.

Meanwhile, right in the middle of the Above Realm stood the god that created the universe. However, only five gods were awake and guarding it. The rest were sleeping and could only be awakened if needed.

"WAKE UP, YOU GODLY BITCH!"

Perhaps a mere shout will do it

"I KNOW YOU ARE AWAKE—DRAG YOUR ASS HERE!"

He bellowed as he tore through the protective barrier that surrounded Akilas, the Goddess of Light.

"I can hear you, Gilas! Don't you dare disrespect me!"

"Disrespect? Really now?! Do you know what your champion did?!"

Gilas asked, his voice growing more intense as he continued to speak.

The sheer weight of those emotions, causes the goddess to fell silent. She could no longer try to argue. She knew what Gilas was angry about but wouldn't dare to say it.

That reluctance pushed the limits the god had set for this conversation. His gaze burned brighter, the void rippling with his fury.

"Calm down, Gilas. You know the reason why she gave so much freedom to her champion."

Another voice rushed in and tried to get between the two, but the interference only made the situation worse. It only made Gilas burn with even greater anger.

"DO NOT TEST MY PATIENCE! THAT PROMISE WAS BETWEEN HER AND VAELTHORN, NOT WITH HIS LUNATIC DESCENDANTS!" Gilas roared at the god trying to calm him down.

"THOSE ANTS ONLY CARRY HIS NAME BUT… NEVER HIS WILL!"

"Gilas—"

"DON'T CALL ME BY THAT NAME! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO CALL ME BY THE NAME SHE GAVE ME!"

The realm shook, following the anguish and hatred he was feeling.

"YOU DON'T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!"

Gilas stepped closer to the unnamed god he dared to cross, and with each stride, the void bent beneath his wrath.

"I WATCHED THEM DIE…"

His voice faltered, memories of a broken past resurfacing.

"All of them… WHILE YOU ALL SAT HERE! IDLE—AS WE ENDURED THE PAIN!"

Each word carried the buried resentment of Gilas, one that he tried to tugged away but couldn't until the end.

The pressure continued as more celestial deities arrived to stop the chaos. However, despite their arrival, Gilas did not stop. His voice flowed like water, seeping into their very beings.

"Now tell me… oh great God of Wind—Elandor. Why should I listen when none of you ever did the same? My pleas. My descendants."

Elandor's lips pressed shut. Every word Gilas spoke was undeniable.

"We all made a pact, Gilas…" the Goddess of Light interjected, but before she could continue, a powerful wave of divinity slammed into her.

"Do not test me. I know that pact—we all wrote it," Gilas thundered, his emotions barely restrained as he split the heavens with his presence.

For a god, emotions were often nonexistent. But for gods like Gilas, who came to Bunag, emotions mirrored those of mortals.

And that was why their outbursts were pure. Raw.

"Gilas—"

"SILENCE!"

The God of Space snarled, his body trembling as he suppressed the destructive force threatening to sweep the realm.

"I WILL GIVE YOU A CHOICE."

At that moment, even the divine winds fell silent.

"MAKE YOUR RETARDED CHAMPION RETREAT, OR I SHALL MANIFEST MY WILL DIRECTLY INTO BUNAG!"

The remaining gods—those meant to be asleep—were now wide awake. The threat was no bluff. Gilas would do it.

"Gilas, you know we can't—" Elandor tried to reason.

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH! YOURS WERE NO DIFFERENT! I WILL SAY THIS AGAIN—IF NONE OF YOU ORDER YOUR CHAMPIONS TO ABANDON THE BATTLE, WE WILL MAKE SURE NONE OF THEM COME BACK ALIVE!"

The other gods fell silent. None of them wished to interfere with their vassals.

As they hesitated, four figures silently appeared behind Gilas.

"Seeing that none of you are willing to compromise, don't be shocked by what happens next," a warm yet burning voice echoed. Calm, yet far more intimidating than Gilas's fury.

"For this unfairness, we will send our own champion—one who will kill all of yours."

Time seemed to slow as the words reached them. When they realized who spoke, another being arrives. It was the goddess who governed the heavenly bodies, she descended gracefully like a falling meteor from afar. Her aura rivaled the other five in sheer lethality.

Calmly she stood right beside Gilas, flowing out of her mouth were words heavy with intent to threaten.

"You five seem adamant about letting your vassals do as they please. Do not worry—my chosen one is prepared. None of yours shall survive."

Gilas smirked at her remark. Six against five.

The space around them vibrated in delight, mirroring his elevated mood.

"Well then…" he said softly. "Shall we watch how this war ends?"

The plane shook once more as the power that would decide Bunag's fate gathered.

The tension in the heavens grew—along with the battle below.

The wind burned with lightning, bursting into thunderous explosions upon impact.

Dirt and dust were thrown aside by mere clashes, and amid the chaos, four figures fought with unmatched ferocity.

A spear tore through the air, chasing a fast-moving silhouette. Yet every strike met only dust, failing to catch its prey.

The spear wielder was confused. As a descendant of a god's chosen champion, even a fragment of authority should not fail him like this.

"Please, my savior—the patriot who guides our blood—guide my spear into the body of my enemy," he prayed silently as he lunged.

Chains of light sparked as the lightning-clad figure moved. Behind him, a glistening threat darted like a serpent, fangs aimed at burning amber—only to be redirected.

Electric branches surged through the spear's shaft, racing into the attacker's arms.

Pain exploded, locking his muscles in place and leaving him paralyzed.

The striker tried to finish him, but the other two allies intervened.

"Tsk."

Unhappy with the interference, he retreated. As he did, one of them spoke.

"Just a mere mortal dares to block our path… you—"

"My name is Midgar Savanna," he interrupted. "Lord of Savanna and leader of the Duke's Banner. I represent the vassal families that serve Lionheart. I am no mere mortal. I am a proud warrior who fights for a cause—unlike you. A mere coward clothing like a champion"

His response was not well received. The three enemies burned with fury, release a killing intent thick enough to fill the air.

The threat increase but Midgar did not back down.

He stepped back, readjusting his circulation. Aura enveloped his blade while mana reinforced the lightning buff.

The three rushed in, finally releasing the power that ran deep within their veins.

Midgar sensing the sudden shift and retreated again, he opened his senses trying to prepare for what came next.

More attacks came but failed to reach Midgar, the powerful lightning became a shield that blocks everything that wanted to invade, but then the dagger wielder advanced. With each step, Midgar's vision blurred. His body grew heavy, and he staggered. For a heartbeat, the battlefield twisted as whispers crawled into his mind.

A moment of distraction.

A lethal opening.

In that moment.

Instinct took over.

His body moved before thought could process in, he moved his body dodging the blade by inches.

Lightning surged through him, snapping his senses awake—but as he tried to regain full focus a spear was already aimed at his throat.

He raised his sword to parry, but the ground beneath him trembled.

The tree.

Torn between being killed by thick vines crawling from below, and a spear of death inches away, he forced himself to move.

Lightning flared, launching him behind the spear wielder.

Pain ripped through him, but he clenched his teeth and struck.

An intense heat traced the blade's path—a perfect solid line.

Then—

He lost balance once more.

And in that moment, Midgar realized—

It wasn't the tree causing his confusion.