Rebirth of the Nameless Immortal God Chapter 2326 Over

Dyon advanced a step.

He seemed intent on gathering momentum, yet his aura oddly contracted, turning more restrained. Rather than surging skyward, it diminished steadily. Observers couldn’t discern if this stemmed from his choice, creeping fatigue, or if the clashing auras were at last overwhelming him.

Upon reaching five meters from the front chariot line, sensing him grew nearly impossible without direct sight. His black flames, once wildly dancing, settled into lake-like stillness. The clatter of his bones faded into haunting quiet. Even the glow in his eye sockets dimmed to a subtle blue hue.

With one more stride, Dyon aligned with the foremost chariots. It felt like an instant blink,

propelling him across those final five meters to stand among them, ignoring them entirely.

The Sapientia’s haughty gazes from their lofty perches suddenly stiffened.

He hadn’t struck, hadn’t directed his aura their way, hadn’t even glanced over. They might as well have been invisible.

Before they could respond, Dyon had penetrated a kilometer deep into their ranks.

Comprehension escaped them. This lunatic had just mercilessly harvested lives one after another. No one in his path had escaped harm. In truth, upon reflection… none had survived at all.

The jarring shift toppled them from their superior pedestals. Indeed… were they truly sneering down at this figure? On what grounds?

Unfathomable. To instill terror in so many elites through mere passivity. Perhaps such a feat stood unprecedented in martial history.

Dyon’s fury ebbed into serene waves. It rose and fell rhythmically, gently eroding the coastline as if eternity lay ahead.

Dyon had never embodied calm fury. That wasn’t his nature. Explosive and overbearing, he settled scores swiftly and fatally. This defined him. Others varied, but he remained consistent.

Yet extremes often spawn opposites, birthing their perfect counters.

Immortals long believed this rule governed heavenly energies alone. Witnessing Dyon’s transformation, though, ignited deeper dread than ever before.

For one innately volatile to achieve such tranquility… it resonated with the Heavens in unthinkable ways.

But how could he feel otherwise?

No trillion-strong army loomed before him. Golden flashes and scornful stares evaded notice. Perils around him and his wounds faded from awareness.

His vision held only two once-trusted souls. The little sister he cherished, the master who’d parented him for years. Even as the Nameless Immortal

God, he might never have foreseen this—or perhaps refused to.

Still, Dyon wasn’t naive. Such sentiments belonged to a bygone self, echoes of a stranger.

His seething wrath forged an unnatural composure. From heaven-shattering force, he shrank to drifting dust, powerless against worldly tides.

Yet this dust mote now sparked their terror.

His boldness often blinded foes to his threat until doom neared. The dread, unease, raw horror stayed dormant until final breaths.

This time differed. No rampage, no contemptuous stares, no acknowledgment. Precisely these omissions sharpened their grasp of peril sooner.

Dyon traversed the full army expanse. They grasped the truth a kilometer in, yet reaction lagged until he emerged beyond them, halting 20 meters from his master and third sister. The extra presence escaped his notice.

Empress Elise? Phoenix Ancestor? Mere insects to him.

Abraxus sighed. “I already knew that this amount wasn’t enough to stop you. You were right to do it this way. There really wasn’t much of a point in watching you take down more canon fodder, now was there?”

Sapientia overhearing bristled with rage. Canon fodder? All Immortal Gods. Across conquered planar worlds, weren’t they the pinnacle elites?

Truthfully, without their long-awaited scheme demanding flawless execution, would so many have mobilized? Dyon inflicted losses, yet barely one percent. He’d need to repeat it dozens more times to draw real sweat.

Resentment toward Abraxus simmered. Without him, they’d have crushed the Mortal Empire remnants already. Could Dyon halt them solo?

Abraxus shifted from addressing Dyon, eyes flashing cold indifference.

Instantly, agonized shrieks erupted.

“No! NO!”

Vast Sapientia swathes aged swiftly. A faint sensation at first, then skin sagged, liver spots bloomed everywhere.

Eyeballs dropped from sockets, flesh sloughed in heavy sheets exposing raw pink beneath, bones turned frail beyond support.

Bearing one’s weight shattering skeleton proved excruciating. Self-sabotage without recourse. Even collapsing offered no relief as remains crumbled further.

Their ends proved wretched. In moments, double Dyon’s toll vanished into endless ash heaps.

They’d overstepped… Could they scorn the Time and Space Immortal God lightly?

“Come, then, my disciple. Let master see how much you’ve grown.”

Abraxus stepped forth. His grandfatherly bedhead look in white pajamas persisted, but atrocities—the lives reaped, Madeleine’s blood staining him—shattered that illusion.

Dyon remained silent, unphased Abraxus.

“You all can charge now. With me here, there won’t be a need to worry about anything else.”

He’d pierced Dyon’s limits. Victory loomed certain.

Dyon ignored surrounding shifts. Family peril unregistered. He fixed ahead calmly on his former kin.

Sapientia legions surged. Many flanked Dyon rearward—why fear him? Abraxus’s command now commanded respect; his demonic equal to his pupil.

Mortal Empire watchers tensed, then eased into wry grins.

What more to expect? One man versus trillions?