One week passed in Valefort.
The world still trembled from Seth's massacre of twenty S-rank gates in a single day. His eyes weren't on the mortals.
They were on the last god hiding on Earth.
He stood at the Chrono Estate's private airstrip, the black jet polished and gleaming under the morning sun. His family was there—his mother, father, and sister. None of them wanted to see him leave again so soon, but they didn't try to stop him either. They had seen enough to know there was no chaining him down.
"I'll be back," Seth said with that familiar, dangerous smile. "But first, I've got one more rat to deal with."
His sister crossed her arms. "You mean god."
Seth smirked. "No. I meant rat."
The engines roared, drowning out further words, and with a final wave, Seth disappeared into the jet. Destination: Vatican City.
Hours later, the jet descended through rolling clouds, the domes and spires of Vatican City glowing golden under the sun. Ancient stone and sacred halls stretched below, but Seth knew the sanctity was a facade. Somewhere within those walls, the last remaining god on Earth hid, cloaked in worship and deceit.
As the jet touched down at the Vatican Airport, Seth's Godslayer System pulsed violently.
[Warning!]
Divine Devotees Rapidly Approaching
Estimated Number: ≈ 100,000
Leader Detected: God-Class Entity
Title: Oracle of Judgement
Seth's lips curled into a grin. "One hundred thousand, huh? Cute."
He stepped off the jet, expecting to be swarmed. But the airport was eerily quiet. Too quiet.
No army. No devotees.
Just silence.
Seth lingered at the airport for an hour, leaning casually against the railing as if expecting company. Nobody came. Not a single cultist, not a single "divine devotee."
"Figures," he muttered, annoyed. "The cowards aren't even punctual."
So he checked himself into the most luxurious five-star hotel Vatican City had to offer. Crystal chandeliers, velvet carpets, and gold-trimmed walls. The kind of place where cardinals and politicians stayed. The kind of place that pretended the world wasn't drowning in gates and blood.
He sat in the lounge with an espresso, his coat draped loosely over his chair, scanning the morning paper someone had left behind.
The Grace Society
Front Page:
"Grace Society—The Protectors of the Holy City"
Saviours of the People. Guardians of the Vatican. Heroes of the New Age.
So that was it.
The cult. The same Grace Society the system had warned about.
But unlike the world's usual cults, known for blood rituals and massacres, here they were painted as saints—celebrated, worshiped, adored. They controlled the gates in the city, protected the citizens, and paraded as heroes.
Seth leaned back and laughed under his breath.
"This is going to be easier than I thought."
That night, Seth decided to make his move.
Standing on the hotel balcony, he let the Godslayer Aura seep out of him—not quietly, not controlled, but in a violent surge that spread across Vatican City like a tidal wave of death. The very air grew heavy, bells in the distant basilicas rang without being touched, and mortals collapsed to their knees, gasping for breath.
If the devotees were hiding, this would drag them out.
"Come on…" Seth whispered, his golden eyes glowing faintly. "Show me your faces."
But when the city didn't swarm with hundreds of thousands, when no army thundered toward him—only one came.
The door to the hotel balcony opened behind him, and a man stepped out.
He wore black cargo pants, a black jean jacket, and a plain white t-shirt. Casual. Unbothered. His jet-black hair framed a sharp face, and his golden eyes glowed faintly with divine power.
The system confirmed it instantly.
[God-Class Entity Detected]
Identity: Avatar of the God of Judgement
Title: Oracle of Judgement
Leader of the Grace Society
Seth turned, hands in his coat pockets, and smirked.
"You're looking cool for an avatar."
The man raised a brow, his golden eyes steady. "…And you're dressed like someone going to a funeral."
Seth chuckled. "Maybe I am. Yours."
Tonight, Seth wore sharp black formal trousers, a sleek black shirt, and over it all, a light brown-peach coat that caught the faint city glow. Both men looked like shadows of two different worlds—one born of gods, one born to kill them.
They locked eyes. Neither moved. Neither blinked. For a long moment, only the city breathed between them.
Finally, the man sighed.
"You really think… because you took care of those weaklings… you're a match for me?"
Seth tilted his head, unconcerned. "Weaklings? Yeah, maybe. But I make a habit of killing gods, not measuring myself against their pawns."
The Oracle's eyes flared gold. Suddenly, Seth's head throbbed. A sharp, searing pain shot through his eye as if a blade had stabbed directly into his skull. He staggered slightly, crimson trickling from the corner of his right eye.
The system warned him instantly.
[Skill Interference Detected: Divine Eye Conflict]
Seth's breathing slowed, and he hissed through clenched teeth. "…What the hell was that?"
The man's lips curved faintly.
"I'm the Oracle of Judgement. That doesn't mean that weak version of the Eye of Judgement you've been playing with will work on me."
Seth's eyes widened.
"You… how do you know that? How do you know about my skill?"
The man stepped closer, his golden eyes glowing like molten suns.
"Because I also have that skill. The difference? Mine was blessed—perfected—by my god. The God of Judgement Himself."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
For a moment, silence. Then Seth burst into laughter. Low at first, then sharper, louder, echoing off the balcony walls.
"So let me get this straight," Seth said, wiping the blood from his cheek with the back of his hand. "You've got a god holding your leash. You've been spoon-fed power. And you still think you'll win?"
The Oracle's expression didn't falter. "I don't think. I know. You will lose."
Seth's laughter cut off. His golden eyes sharpened into blades. With a flick of his wrist, the Red Moons flashed into his hands, summoned from his inventory. Twin crimson daggers glowed under the Vatican night, radiating killing intent so sharp it seemed to slice the very air.
"Nah, I'd win."
Seth said, stepping forward, voice cold
And with that, the tension on the balcony snapped—like the string of a bow pulled too tight.
Two predators.
Two bearers of judgement.
Only one destined to survive.