"No way…"
Even the gods had noticed another figure still standing in the arena.
On the human side, the spectators finally dared to breathe again, their tightly clenched hearts loosening ever so slightly.
The veil of dust and smoke vanished like bursting bubbles, revealing first the battered figure of Thor.
A chorus of gods had just begun to cheer—until their expressions froze mid-scream, arms raised in triumph suddenly stiff.
Blood.
They saw it. Flowing freely from Thor's body, a jagged wound stretching from his left shoulder across his chest to his right flank. The crimson gushed unrelentingly.
Had Thor… lost?
No, no—he was still standing. That meant he hadn't been defeated. Perhaps he'd only been wounded, caught off-guard by a crushing blow?
Surely the opponent had suffered even worse.
As the smoke drifted toward the human side, it revealed shattered metallic fragments scattered across the ground.
Their guess was confirmed—the opponent's weapon had broken. Thor's mighty hammer, Mjölnir, was still intact. Surely this meant the foe was doomed.
The moment the dust cleared completely—
"Ha! Lord Thor is victorious!"
"The other guy's finished!"
Some of the gods cheered wildly.
Amid the fading smoke, the opponent stood motionless, his body scorched black by lightning—clearly more seriously injured than Thor.
"I knew it! Lord Thor could never be outmatched, he must have—"
One god, eyes squeezed shut in celebration, suddenly quieted as an eerie silence overtook the crowd. Sharp intakes of breath replaced joyful cries.
What's wrong?
He opened his eyes.
The human still appeared charred and broken... but—
Gah!
His pupils constricted violently. He was startled.
The scorched layer of flesh peeled away—revealing what lurked beneath.
If it had been a normal human, it would have been disturbing enough. But this… this wasn't even muscle.
There was no organic tissue underneath. It was all machine.
Like a cybernetic construct from a sci-fi dystopia, the figure stood there in its mechanical glory—brutal, warlike, almost demonic.
Worse still, its frame was larger than before. Its skin had once contained it, but now that shell had ruptured. Mechanical parts had unfolded, reshaped.
Not metaphorically. It had transformed.
Most striking of all—it now had four arms. Two of them were mangled, destroyed in combat—clearly by Thor's hammer.
In its remaining arm gleamed a slender blade, dripping with the final bead of blood.
The weapon was so unnaturally smooth that blood refused to cling to its surface. All had slipped off, save for this one last drop.
That wound on Thor's chest... must have been carved by this sword.
"Sister Brynhildr… What is that?"
A trembling voice—young Gray—barely able to speak.
The human warrior, Xiang Yu of Western Chu, stood revealed as a monstrous, mechanical demon. His appearance was so jarring it sent shivers down her spine.
"That," Brynhildr answered purposefully, "is the Conqueror—Xiang Yu."
She knew what Gray really wanted to ask. But chose to answer dramatically.
Brynhildr herself was stunned—shocked that Xiang Yu's body was itself a divine weapon.
A humanoid anti-god device... an artifact infused with consciousness.
A living weapon.
Absolutely! Here's the continuation of the epic translation, rendered in immersive novel prose:
Brynhildr's voice trembled with awe.
To think such a construct existed—a man-shaped divine artifact, a war machine with a soul. A living god-slayer crafted not by divine will, but by human ingenuity. And far more terrifying than she had imagined.
"That's no warrior… That's an abomination."
"A monstrosity…"
The twin ravens, once arrogant and mocking, now trembled at the sight of Xiang Yu's true form. Their cries were no longer bold, but laced with dread.
Even Loki, the god of mischief, laughed—yet his laugh had lost its trademark smugness. What remained was caution. Wariness.
The Valkyries merged their souls into divine weapons to empower mortals. But what stood before them now… it wasn't borrowed strength.
It was the weapon.
A human consciousness fused into a divine construct. Not just comparable to a relic—it was one. A fully awakened artifact armed with sentience and combat instinct.
Even Mjölnir, Thor's own hammer, was known to have a kind of living will. But Xiang Yu's form went beyond that. It possessed wisdom.
This wasn't just unnatural—it was sacrilege. Gods had tried and failed to craft such living artifacts before. The soul—especially a god's soul—would corrode under that strain.
So how? How had a mere human achieved it?
Who birthed this monstrosity?
And if humanity truly wielded this kind of technology… the gods were in peril.
Surely this wasn't Earth-born genius alone. A divine faction must be assisting. Somewhere, in secret, someone had thrown the balance off.
Chapter 62: Mjölnir's Fusion Form ⚡
While lesser deities reeled in horror, the greater ones—those who bore the title of High God—reacted quite differently.
They weren't afraid. They were exhilarated.
Violent clashes between gods were a memory long buried in ancient time. Sure, skirmishes still occurred—but none like this. None that demanded blood and steel.
The golden age of divine warfare had faded into peace and slumber. And with peace came stagnation.
This spectacle stirred something in them: raw, primal excitement.
"Tch. Had I known this would happen… I would've fought in the first match myself. We both have four arms—I could've tested my mettle."
A gruff voice rose among the gods. The speaker: Shiva, four-armed god of destruction. Regret etched across his face—not for the blood spilled, but for the battle he missed.
He had come expecting entertainment. What he got instead was an adversary worthy of war.
"No need to rush," replied a goddess whose beauty bent the hearts of gods around her: Aphrodite.
Every flick of her lips and sway of her body commanded divine attention. Her voice alone could make the very fabric of reality shiver.
"There's still plenty of matches ahead."
Seven victories would secure the tournament. That meant seven full battles, minimum.
Six more duels lay ahead. Surely one of them would be hers.
And if this was just the beginning? Oh, the thrills yet to come…
"Damn!"
"What's wrong?"
Aphrodite turned toward Shiva, his face gone pale.
She scanned the arena again. Had he seen something she hadn't?
No… the battlefield was the same.
"I need to register right now."
Of course. That's what had him riled. He knew others would race to sign up—his chance to fight dwindling by the second.
And sure enough, Zeus, the stormy elder, had already claimed one spot.
That brutish old man loved bloodshed as much as he loved wine. There was no way he'd miss this.
"So then… what happened just now?"
Heimdall, the arena's voice, roared again.
His words rang across the coliseum, his tone breathless with excitement.
That last moment… that one breathtaking instant when Thor struck, and Xiang Yu countered—hardly anyone saw what truly occurred.
Only those with divine vision had followed the action.
So Heimdall summoned the screen.
"Let's rewind. Watch carefully."
On the floating silver screen above, the scene reversed.
Mjölnir, charged with thunder, descended with unstoppable momentum.
Xiang Yu's war halberd met it head-on—
—and shattered, as if made of glass.
The crowd gasped.
But then… a revelation.
Hidden within the war halberd was a blade. Sleek. Deadly.
The moment the outer shell broke, the inner sword emerged. A transformation. A trap laid in steel.
Two new arms sprouted from Xiang Yu's body—mechanical and monstrous. One grasped the sword.
A lightning-fast slash tore through the air—
—and carved into Thor's chest.
Simultaneously, Mjölnir connected, crushing Xiang Yu's frame.
But for an instant—just one—Xiang Yu had held Mjölnir back, arms locked against its might.
Enough time to strike.
Enough time to wound a god.
Those arms shattered under the force. His face narrowly escaped destruction. Mjölnir had nearly found his skull.
The thunder's heat scorched Xiang Yu black. The explosion's shockwave cracked the coliseum, splitting the arena like brittle wood.
That was what few had seen—what changed everything.
"Absolutely incredible," Heimdall bellowed. "So close! So lethal! Even the tiniest hesitation, and the outcome would've changed!"
"I only have one strike left," said Thor suddenly, voice calm as death.
"Same," Xiang Yu replied, his charred frame still upright.
Gasps echoed.
One last blow. One final moment.
Heimdall's grip clenched around his horn, fighting the urge to sound it.
Across the arena, all fell silent.
Eyes locked. Breath held.
This... was it.
Would you like the next chapter translated too? This showdown between god and machine is getting absolutely mythic.