The Strongest Student of the Weakest Academy-Chapter 347: The Beginning Of The End [IX]

Chapter 347: The Beginning Of The End [IX]
The moment the words left his mouth... reality shattered.
FWOOOOOOOOOOOSH!!
A wave of freezing energy erupted from Aestrea’s blade, spreading outward faster than sound.
Everything it touched turned to white crystal. The trees, the corpses, the very ground... frozen instantly.
The red ocean shattered like glass, its fragments scattering into dust.
Clostro tried to move, tried to scream, but his voice was devoured by the cold. His body cracked as frost spread across his skin.
His scythe froze mid-swing, his divine aura crumbling under the endless white.
And then...
BOOOOOOOOOOM!
The entire domain collapsed.
The red world broke apart like fragile glass, each fragment dissolving into mist as the overwhelming cold swallowed it whole.
When the light finally faded, silence filled the world again.
The red sky was gone.
The white moon vanished.
Everything that had existed inside that realm of slaughter was erased, leaving behind a wasteland of cracked, pale ground and glittering shards of ice drifting in the air like dust.
Aestrea stood at the center of it all.
His silver hair fluttered weakly in the cold wind as he breathed heavily.
The frost around his boots cracked softly each time he took a step forward. The sword he had created was gone.
Before him, only one thing remained of the so-called God of Killing.
A head.
Clostro’s head lay half-buried in a thin layer of frozen dust.
His eyes were wide open, glassy, as if still trying to understand what had happened.
His mouth was twisted in a crooked grin, the last trace of disbelief carved forever into his dead face.
Aestrea stopped in front of it and crouched down slowly. He looked at the head for a few long seconds.
There was no joy, no pride, only a quiet, tired calmness. He reached out, his fingers brushing away the frost that clung to Clostro’s face.
"...One more debt, paid in full," he whispered.
[You’ve killed a peak 7✯ True God!]
[You have absorbed the Authority of Killing!]
[The Authority of Karma has been strengthened!]
[Ding! It’s detected that Clostro, the God of Killing, was a mortal enemy!]
[The Authority of Karma has reached the Mythical Grade!]
[The Authority of Ice has reached the High-level Grade!]
The notifications popped in front of him, but Aestrea ignored them.
Then he grabbed the god’s head by the hair and lifted it. Cold blood dripped from the severed neck, staining the white ice beneath him.
Now, there was only one more thing to do, and it was on the battlefield where his army and the Seraphic Division were still fighting, the middle layers of the enemy base.
"Hagh..."
He exhaled, straightened his posture, and in a single step, he reached the middle layers.
The air smelled of fire and metal as smoke rose from shattered walls. Cries of pain, the clash of steel, and bursts of magic filled the distance.
He descended from the broken cliff slowly, his figure shining faintly with the remaining silver glow of his divine power.
Soldiers below stopped mid-battle when they noticed the light. Some turned their heads, confused; others were too focused on the bloodshed to care.
But when his boots touched the burning ground, and he began walking through the chaos with Clostro’s head dangling from his hand, the air changed.
A gust of wind blew through the middle layer of the base, carrying the smell of death and frost.
The battlefield was chaos incarnate.
Flames burned along the stone corridors, black smoke filling the air.
Collapsed towers lay scattered across the ground, corpses of both sides mixed into crimson puddles. Shouts echoed from every corner as his soldiers and the Seraphic forces clashed.
Spears clanged against blades, explosions of magic painted the air in flashes of light, and blood sprayed across the broken walls.
Aestrea kept walking through it all.
He passed through his soldiers, some wounded, some exhausted, some screaming in rage, but every one of them froze when they saw what he carried.
The head of their enemy’s god.
It swung slightly in his grip, eyes still open, dripping red.
The fighting began to die down around him as more soldiers turned to look. One by one, the sounds of weapons clashing began to fade.
And then, he stopped in the middle of the battlefield.
Christina was there, her white armor stained with blood, her long golden hair tangled and burned at the edges.
She turned when she felt a strange freezing aura behind her.
Her eyes widened for a moment as she saw him, the divine glow around Aestrea’s body, the blood-soaked frost under his feet, and in his hand, the head of the god they had been fighting for hours.
He lifted his chin slightly, his expression calm and unshaken despite the exhaustion in his eyes.
Then, his voice thundered across the field.
"MY ARMY!"
The sound alone made the air tremble. Soldiers on both sides stopped. The flames seemed to dim as his voice carried across every corner of the middle layer.
"THE SERAPHIC DIVISION’S MASTER, CLOSTRO—THE GOD OF KILLING—IS NOW DEAD!"
The silence that followed his words was sharp, like the air itself had frozen.
Every soldier on the battlefield stared at him, their eyes wide, their breath caught in their throats.
The smoke curled around Aestrea’s figure as he stood there, one hand raised high, holding the head of the god who had ruled their nightmares.
The sight was enough to make even the most battle-hardened soldier tremble.
Clostro’s head dangled from Aestrea’s grip, the crimson blood dripping slowly down onto the cracked stone.
The god’s once proud, mocking eyes were now empty, lifeless, staring into nothing.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then a trembling voice from among the enemy broke the silence.
"T-that... that’s Lord Clostro’s head..."
Another soldier gasped, stepping back, his sword clattering from his hand.
"N-no... impossible! A low-level god like him can’t... he can’t kill our god!"
But no matter how much they denied it, the truth stood right before them. The aura, the overwhelming cold, and that head, they all screamed one fact: their god was gone.
"B-but... if he’s dead, then... who do we even fight for now?" one whispered, falling to his knees.
Another dropped his spear entirely, clutching his chest as if the strength had been ripped from his soul.
"I... I can’t feel his blessing anymore... it’s gone..."
The realization spread like wildfire through the Seraphic ranks. The divine connection that once bound them to their god had vanished completely.
Their blades wavered, and their courage completely broke.
Some screamed in panic; others just stared in hollow silence.
And then came the sound... the first cry of victory.
From Aestrea’s side, one of his soldiers, drenched in blood and smoke, lifted his sword high and shouted:
"THE GOD IS DEAD! OUR LORD KILLED THE GOD OF KILLING!"
The shout ripped through the battlefield like lightning.
At once, more voices followed.
"LONG LIVE AESTREA!"
"VICTORY TO OUR COMMANDER!"
"THE WAR IS OURS!"
A thunder of cheers erupted from his army.
Men and women who had been fighting to their last breath moments ago were now roaring with joy, throwing their weapons into the air, some even falling to their knees in relief.
Christina looked around, her chest rising and falling heavily, her golden hair fluttering in the smoky wind.
For the first time in hours, she smiled faintly, a tired, proud smile.
The sound of thousands shouting Aestrea’s name filled the ruins.
"AESTREA! AESTREA! AESTREA!"
The Seraphic soldiers could barely stand anymore.
Some tried to retreat, stumbling backward, but others simply dropped to the ground and lowered their heads in defeat.
"We surrender..." one of their captains muttered weakly, tossing his blade away.
"There’s no point in fighting anymore..."
Another soldier followed, then another, and another, until hundreds of Seraphic warriors had knelt, raising their hands in surrender.
The chaos that once filled the air faded into silence again—this time not from fear, but peace.
The fires still burned across the stone halls, the smell of blood still hung thick, and the ground was still littered with bodies, but for the first time since the war began, there was no fighting.
Only the sound of wind and distant sobbing.
Aestrea lowered the god’s head, letting it hang loosely by his side. His eyes swept across the battlefield, his army, victorious yet bloodied; the enemy, broken and defeated.
The cold wind brushed past his hair as he finally spoke again, his voice steady and low.
"Bury our fallen," he said.
"And show mercy to those who surrendered."
His soldiers paused for a moment, then nodded in unison.
Shortly after, Christina stepped closer, her armor shining faintly beneath the pale moonlight.
"You ended it," she uttered softly.
"...I didn’t expect that you planned to kill the leader alone."
Aestrea’s eyes stayed fixed ahead, toward the massive gate that led to the higher layers of the enemy base.
"It was the more efficient way to win the battle."
Behind them, the chants continued, some shouting, some crying, others praying.
"WE WON!"
"LONG LIVE THE GOD OF KARMA!"
"AESTREA! AESTREA!"
The war that had started in the morning... ended in the late afternoon.