Killed Me? Now I Have Your Power Chapter 462: Inverted Sky

Kaden possessed a multitude of powers. Soul energy, blood manipulation, the stars aspect in his origin, and flames as well.

None of this even included his Will, the Intents he bore inside, his Emptiness, or his sword skill.

Truth be told, his strength far exceeded what anyone would deem normal for his stage.

What if it all erupted simultaneously?

At that instant, as the gods' ruthless hands stretched toward him from every direction—yearning only to drain the radiant light emanating from him—Kaden understood he had never unleashed his full potential before.

The day brought shocking revelations.

Thus, Kaden attempted something unprecedented. He released all restraints. He ceased holding back instinctively. No longer did he rely on just one or two abilities in combat.

He unleashed them all. Describing the outcome as disastrous was an understatement.

"You asked for it." He declared in a serene, conclusive voice.

Nameless barely had a moment to respond before the house they occupied burst into raging, devouring flames, with Blanche's screech cutting through the turmoil from inside.

Such fury devoured even the purest souls.

The structure reduced to smoldering ashes that mingled with the swirling debris across the bizarre realm.

Nameless coughed violently, trapped in a fiery prison. It staggered up, its eerie face contorted in fury, spinning toward Kaden.

Kaden himself remained motionless, cradling Rea tenderly against his chest, his gaze icy upon Nameless.

Nameless parted its mouth to speak—then snapped it shut. It had spotted Kaden’s face, drenched in blood.

And that wasn’t all.

His flesh cracked like parched earth. From those fissures, a surge of power crashed into Nameless like a solid barrier.

It inhaled sharply in agony and lifted its gaze to the heavens, terror surging in its core.

"Oh gods below..." it swore.

Kaden smirked. Blood trickled down, splashing onto Rea’s lips.

Above, scarlet stars bloated the heavens, expanding like unhealing sores. Dozens became hundreds in moments. The sky brimmed with them instantly, each throbbing with a faint, blood-like glow that bore down on the ground below like an unrelenting grip.

Then came an utterly impossible, horrifying event.

Though the realm had reverted to its prior form, wiping away all signs of the battle Kaden had waged and bled in.

Cleansing the blood of the Lord of Blood proved no simple task without his permission.

Thus, when the red starlight met the ground, it discovered his spilled blood scattered everywhere in the Warren.

Each droplet heeded its master's summons.

Blood shot upward in jagged, erratic spikes, each vibrant and twisting wildly through the void, defying all logic of shape or path.

They proliferated, forked, crossed paths—forming endless crimson passages that trapped the Warren in a choking labyrinth.

Nameless emitted a piercing scream as spikes pierced and withdrew from it like a ragdoll being sewn crudely. It tried to speak, only for two more to invade its mouth.

These spikes were far more than mere blood.

Soul energy sheathed every one, forcing Nameless into ceaseless whimpers as its silvery soul twisted in mute torment.

With great effort, it glanced at Kaden, who endured despite half his face crumbling and sloughing off.

He channeled every ounce of his inner might. Yet his frame couldn't withstand the full, ferocious release of all his powers simultaneously.

But what truly chilled Nameless to its core was Kaden’s eyes. That relentless crimson glare. The look of one who had faced death, embraced it, and merged with its essence.

No question remained.

Kaden wouldn't halt, even if death awaited at the finish. Proof arrived as the crimson stars began their descent.

The Echo of Warren shuddered in dread and uncanny familiarity.

Each star cloaked in killing intent so dense it transcended mere feeling; it was a tangible force hurtling downward. No longer a mere urge to slay—it was inevitable doom.

His Intents and Will unleashed freely, for only intent slays intent. Only will destroys will.

Kaden sought to annihilate all.

"H-How—!" Nameless yelled, but the words perished unborn. Sound itself was slain. Even quiet met its end.

What lingered evoked the Warren of Madness perfectly, with Nameless teetering on its brink.

Still, it wasn’t finished.

Right as the stars neared impact...

The crimson labyrinth flared.

Every spike, passage, branching barrier of soul-infused blood blazed internally, then exploded. Not bursting outward savagely, but folding inward and surging up together. Imploding and erupting in unison, it vaporized the maze into raw, turbulent crimson dust that inundated the realm's every nook in one gasp.

The dust refused to disperse.

It converged above the ground—under the true sky—and flipped, solidifying into a duplicate heaven.

A blood-red sky, suspended below the original like a mirror showing unrecognizable horrors.

Now the Echo of Warren boasted dual skies.

The authentic one overhead, divine and aloof. The scarlet one underneath, alive, poised, craving retribution profound beyond measure.

Between them stood Kaden and Nameless.

Kaden’s form had become a vortex of swirling blood, clutching Rea close as she soaked in it.

Nameless knelt, hemorrhaging everywhere, gaping at the reversed sky like a figment of pure terror.

It stared as the crimson stars finally tore through it.

All of Kaden’s released powers converged at one spot. The blast lacked noise. It was absolute, overwhelming.

A scarlet surge radiated from the clash point. Neither blast nor shock—it defied naming.

Energy roiled and spun across the realm in an instant, howling like a deity thrashing in agony, sorrow and scale defying understanding. Yet cackling like a lunatic smashing his head into stone, past pain, past ruin, dwelling in a realm transcending woe or bliss, having devoured both into something the Warren couldn't classify.

It didn’t sweep through the Warren.

Every bit of terrain. Every speck of atmosphere. Every stratum of reality twisted, engulfed, and reformed in that apocalyptic moment.

Then all ceased.

The red energy faded gradually, like flames starved of fuel. It unraveled into slender wisps ascending.

The deity’s wails ended. The maniac’s laughter halted.

One entity—or maybe two—persisted there.

A figure forged from blood, embracing his pristine fiancée in quivering arms. And a prostrate being whose shape was unrecognizable.

Kaden lingered in a realm scarred by his rage, atop the sky he had forged, his vitality ebbing. Mere minutes remained, he knew.

Indifference gripped him.

He eyed Nameless’s altered form—spotting an oddity within—then tilted his head skyward to the Warren’s primal sky, vast and exposed, a pair of eyes gazing down.

Kaden bared a feral grin.

"Forbidden."

He croaked.

"Have you come to witness my spectacle? I am sorry, but it’s already over."

The eyes—the Eyes of the Forbidden Alchemist—slitted briefly, then erupted in booming laughter.

"Oh, but I witnessed it." He declared, laughing wildly. "Oh, Warborn. Warborn. Warborn. Among all the heirs of the fallen God of Death, you truly stand supreme."

—End of Chapter 462—