The God Slayer's New Life

My name is Ragnariel. I am the one who reached the pinnacle of power in my world. I tirelessly sought ways to grow stronger, until one day, enlightenment struck me. I ascended to the realm of the gods.

There, I fought, fought again, and kept on fighting, until I earned the title The God of Chaos and Destruction. I roamed across the divine realm, crushing every god I encountered. Just so you know, I didn't go around randomly picking fights. I only struck down those who dared to look down on me and, well, it just so happened that every god here underestimated me.

My journey eventually brought me to a place called The Greatest Above All. It was the seat of power for the leaders of the divine factions in this realm. I entered the grand hall and came face-to-face with the strongest god of them all, Zerathos, God of Order and Dominion.

"Welcome, Ragnariel, God of Chaos and Destruction," Zerathos said, his booming voice echoing through the hall. An oppressive pressure radiated from him, but Ragnariel stood unfazed. Meeting his gaze, Ragnariel replied with a challenging, arrogant tone, "Yes, it's been incredibly fun here. I've never been bored, thanks to all the gods who keep picking fights with me."

Zerathos let out a laugh. "You're right; they truly are fools. Haha! So, what brings you here?"

Ragnariel smirked and declared, "I'm here to take your place—to teach those arrogant gods a proper lesson."

"Hahaha!" Zerathos laughed again, the sound reverberating through the room. "What an amusing joke. But very well, I'll accept your challenge. I've grown tired of just sitting on this throne anyway."

Rising from his seat, Zerathos stepped down from his throne and approached Ragnariel. The pressure he exuded intensified, but it only fueled Ragnariel excitement. Smiling with anticipation, he thought to himself, "This is going to be so much fun."

Zerathos and Ragnariel stood outside The Greatest Above All palace, their feet planted firmly on a floor made of clouds. With a delighted grin, Zerathos spoke, "Alright then, new god. Entertain me."

From thin air, Zerathos pulled out a spear, and Ragnariel did the same, summoning his twin swords. Smirking, Ragnariel replied, "Prepare yourself, Zerathos."

Without hesitation, Ragnariel dashed forward, aiming a strike at Zerathos's head. Zerathos moved just one arm, effortlessly parrying the attack with his spear. Undeterred, Ragnariel launched a flurry of strikes, each one targeting the vital points of a god. Yet, despite the relentless assault, Zerathos didn't move a single step from his position.

That was until Ragnariel did something unexpected.

He hurled one of his swords directly at Zerathos's head. At the same time, he grabbed Zerathos's spear and kicked another sword, which materialized out of nowhere, sending it flying on the same trajectory as the first. Zerathos, having underestimated him, was caught off guard. The second sword grazed his cheek, drawing blood.

Ragnariel released his grip on the spear and leapt backward, creating distance between them. Zerathos, touching the blood on his face, chuckled. "In all these thousands of years, you're the first to land a hit on me."

He laughed heartily and added, "Hahaha, let's get serious now."

Zerathos unleashed a dominating aura of chaotic energy, the sheer force rippling through the air. Refusing to be outdone, Ragnariel summoned his own dark energy, a menacing power enveloping him. Smiling with exhilaration, he said, "Let's make this fun."

Their clash shook the entire divine realm. Gods from every corner stirred in curiosity. Some who had been asleep, others who had hidden themselves away, and even ordinary gods all began converging toward the source of the tremors.

When they arrived, they witnessed the strongest god in the realm locked in an intense battle with a newcomer, one who hadn't even been a god for a hundred years. All eyes were fixed on the duel between Zerathos and Ragnariel.

After trading powerful blows, both combatants stepped back, surveying their surroundings. Zerathos glanced at the gathering crowd and said, "It seems we have quite the audience."

Ragnariel responded with a sly grin. "Well, they're here to witness the birth of their new leader."

Their fight had reached a stalemate, both bearing cuts and slashes on their bodies. Yet, their smirks only grew wider, the thrill of battle igniting their spirits.

Zerathos raised his spear, a sly grin spreading across his face. "I hope you can handle this."

Ragnariel watched as a chaotic energy mass formed at the tip of Zerathos's spear, crackling with blue lightning that spread wildly around it. Sensing the intensity of the attack, Ragnariel steadied himself, gripping his swords tighter.

Zerathos smirked and declared, "First Order: Chaotic Judgement." He thrust his spear forward, launching the chaotic energy toward Ragnariel with devastating force.

"Damn it. This pressure is no joke," Ragnariel muttered under his breath.

Quickly discarding the sword in his left hand, he adjusted the sword in his right and adopted a stance as if sheathing it. His eyes locked on the approaching mass of energy, and his body tensed. Then, with unshakable focus, he exuded a domineering aura that rippled across the battlefield, reaching even the gods observing from afar.

The chaotic energy surged closer, its overwhelming force distorting the space around it. Ragnariel took a deep breath and muttered, "Ragnarok First Form:"

Standing tall, Ragnariel lifted his sword high above his head, his movements deceptively calm. As the energy was about to collide with him, he swung the blade down gracefully but with an aura that commanded absolute authority. "Nullify All Being."

In an instant, the chaotic energy split cleanly in two, dissipating into nothingness.

Zerathos's eyes widened in shock, only to be followed by a booming laugh. "Hahaha! No wonder you had the guts to challenge me. Your skill is extraordinary. But I doubt your body can withstand the backlash of your own technique."

True to his words, cracks began to spread across Ragnariel's body. Ragnariel grimaced, glancing down at himself. "Yeah… I guess I was careless. I wasn't ready for this level yet."

He fell to one knee, pain coursing through him as he thought bitterly, Damn it. If only I had trained my body to its peak, I could have perfected my strongest technique.

Zerathos walked toward him, his spear still in hand. "This has been fun, new god. You're the first to stop my most powerful attack in millions of years. For that, you deserve a parting gift."

With a swift motion, Zerathos plunged his spear into Ragnariel's chest. "Come find me again someday," he said with a satisfied smile.

Ragnariel's body began to crumble into ash, starting from his feet. Gritting his teeth, he thought, What does he mean, 'come find me again'? I'm going to disappear, and my soul will turn to dust. What an idiotic god.

As the ash crept upward, Ragnariel closed his eyes, his thoughts fading into silence.

Suddenly, Ragnariel opened his eyes. "Huh? I'm not dead?" He glanced left and right, observing his surroundings. "Where am I? And why can't I move?" He tried to shift his body. "Well, I can move… but just barely. I can only wiggle my legs, arms, and head. What's going on? Don't tell me…."

His gaze fell on a pair of small, chubby hands in front of him. "Wait a second. Whose hands are these? Are they… mine?"

After a moment of silence, realization hit him. "Haah, so I've been reborn, huh? Is this what that idiot Zerathos meant?" Ragnariel recalled Zerathos's parting words: 'Come and find me again.'

With a sly grin, Ragnariel muttered, "If that's the case, you've made the wrong choice, Zerathos. I'll come back, and this time, I'll make sure to take your head."

Just as he finished speaking, someone suddenly approached him. "Good morning, young master. You're awake, I see," said the stranger, dressed in strange attire. The person picked him up effortlessly.

"Are you hungry? I've brought some milk for you. Drink up so you can grow big and strong," the stranger said, holding a bottle to Ragnariel's lips.

"What's with this person? Who are they?" Ragnariel thought. But as the milk touched his tongue, his expression softened. "You're lucky this milk is delicious; otherwise, I'd have already cut off your head," he muttered internally, finishing the bottle.

Afterward, the stranger carried him to another room and began to undress him.

"What? Why are they taking off my clothes? Hey, what are you planning to do to me?" Ragnariel panicked, but when he opened his mouth, only incomprehensible sounds came out: "Waa gaa gaa waa wuu!"

Hearing this, the stranger smiled brightly. "Oh my, does the young master enjoy bathing with me? I'm so happy!"

"Enjoy? Your head must be broken," Ragnariel thought, glaring in frustration. "I'm clearly angry, you fool. Ugh, fine. No matter what I do, I can't communicate with this person anyway."

Resigned to his situation, Ragnariel let himself be bathed, enduring every moment in silence.

A little while later, the stranger carried him back to his bed and tucked him in. "Rest well, young master. I'll be back after I finish washing your clothes," the stranger said, beaming as they left the room.

But before Ragnariel could process his relief, someone else entered the room.

"Who now?" Ragnariel grumbled, his attention locking onto the new figure approaching his crib.

The stranger stopped right beside his bed. Unlike the earlier person, this one exuded an intimidating aura.

"Damn it. Are they here to kill me?" Ragnariel thought, his tiny body tensing as his sharp gaze met the stranger's.

The person extended a hand toward Ragnariel's face.

"No, wait! Am I going to die again right after being reborn?" Ragnariel panicked, unsure of what to do in the face of this new, menacing presence.