?2043 Unfair

Everywhere Dyon looked on the battlefield, there was yet another talent shining through.

Aoife and Stella were like a pair of devilish beauties, one wreathed in blue and red flames, the other with beautiful white horns that gave her an exotic appeal.

Under the lead of their husband and Dyon's god son Sarid, they headed the Mino and Belmont armies with a smile on their faces, mowing down swaths of Deities and making a mockery of their race's moniker.

Sarid himself swung two massive battle axes twice the size of his own body. His deep brown skin glistened with sweat and blood, but the latter wasn't his own. Every swing seemed to create the illusion of a crescent moon, juxtaposing a gorgeous sight with bloody murder.

On another side of the battlefield Dyon three disciples were making him proud. He had worked them to the bone over the last near century, but the results showed for themselves.

Braham's bodily strength was beyond reason. Having becoming a Supreme, he was of course pursuing the path of becoming a body facet Overlord. Unfortunately, his master forbade him breaking through until he first became a soul facet Overlord.

It seemed that with his every move, he was taking out the frustration he couldn't take out on Dyon upon the golden skinned enemies before him. His fists carried the strength of worlds, shaking the very ground they stood upon with every sure connection.

Pjisel's battle style was much less straight forward. In fact, he looked nothing like his real self.

His skin was tinted with gold, metallic wings graced his back, and his expression became just as cold as emotionless as the Deities.

He suddenly understood all of their strengths and weaknesses in an instant.

They were exceptionally calculative, their thinking speed being several times that of normal humans. In addition, it wasn't that they just looked like robots, but they were in fact cyborgs in part. Of course, this wasn't in the sense that they had circuitry, but rather in that they had absorbed all sorts of ores into themselves to strengthen their bodies!

The metallic sounds of their wings wasn't just for show, they were the product of several years of tempering and were the pride of each Deity Race person.

However, their flaws were glaring as well. Despite their intelligence, their comprehension skills were severely lacking due to their lack of flexibility. They didn't comprehend artistry and feeling, so they attempted to comprehend everything based on cold hard logic and evidence, but unfortunately, not everything in existence could be described in such a way.

This was likely the flaw that stopped the Deity Race from becoming the 13th Overlord Clan. Their souls and comprehension were simply far too lacking. As a result, birthing a three facet Overlord was next to impossible for them despite the fact they cultivated much faster than other races.

'If that's the case, I know how to defeat you.'

Pjisel's body shifted its shape once more. His visage became as calm as a lake, a vertical eye appearing upon his forehead as he began to hum silent hymns.

The Deity Race warrior he faced suddenly trembled.

"Impossible! They're extinct They're extinct"

Just like that, his vision blurred and his consciousness faded.

"Haha! Braham, Bowaye, I'll definitely win this time!"

Pjisel's two junior brothers looked over to find a sight that had them shaking their heads. Since when had this mighty Deity Race become no different from soft grass? Every single one that stepped within 5 meters of Pjisel fell to their deaths, completely oblivious.

Bowaye grit his teeth in rage. "Dammit! You dare play with ores before an Earthen Sprite?! Just you wait Pjisel, this contest isn't over yet!"

It always confused him why Dyon took him as a disciple, though he still felt blessed by the reality. It was just that compared to Pjisel and Bowaye, he seemed lacking.

However, Braham wasn't the kind of person to get bogged down by such things. In fact, as soon as he thought of it, he had already forgotten it, turning his attention toward mowing down deity race warriors.

"Oh? Not bad." Dyon said with a light smile, watching Pjisel.

Pjisel's constitution was incredibly powerful despite the fact it was only of the Earth Grade. And, it only became more so with a master like Dyon backing him.

The three eyed race Pjisel just began imitating had long been extinct, even on this Ancient Battlefield. Yet, because of Dyon, Pjisel had access to their abilities.

The Nephilim Alliance territory was indeed the most ancient. They had many hidden ruins and sites left unexplored. Most of these ruins were completely useless to Dyon, but to Pjisel, they were invaluable.

He was able to use the residual qi, auras, and even in some cases DNA these lost civilizations left behind to mold an imitation of them. Like this, he could use the very abilities they once did with ease.

The three eyed race was known for the ocular techniques. More specifically, they were known for their ability to attack the soul with their gaze.

Such a feat was rare beyond reason. One only had to remember how much Dyon has struggled throughout his journey despite his overwhelming soul talent to know just how rare soul attacking abilities were on the mortal plane.

But this was what was so special about the three eyed race. The truth was that they weren't using their souls to attack at all. In fact, they were using normal qi. However, they had the ability to use this normal qi to directly impact the soul!

This sort of reality was devastating for the deities.