Path To Godhood Begins With Marrying Wife And Gaining SSS Rank Skill

Ethan punched the Master rank creature without holding back.

The impact was clean and precise. The monster’s chest caved slightly, and all the air was forced out of its lungs in a choking wheeze. As Ethan pulled his fist back, something thick and slimy splashed onto his knuckles.

He froze.

A sticky, husky liquid clung to his skin that was dark and half-rotten. The smell hit him a heartbeat later.

“Blerrghh!”

Ethan staggered back and gagged, his stomach twisting violently.

After killing people, after seeing corpses rot on battlefields, he had thought nothing could ever smell worse than that. He was wrong.

“What the fuck?” he cursed, wiping his hand against the floor in disgust.

“Where did these sons of bitches even come from?”

Around him, the banquet hall had become a nightmare.

Duke Phillips was struggling against two Master rank tentacle monsters. Their bodies writhed unnaturally, limbs splitting and reforming as they lunged toward him. Just as one was about to wrap around his neck, a sharp arc of light cut through the air.

Slash.

Both monsters were split cleanly in half.

Phillips turned sharply and saw Ethan standing nearby, his expression cold and focused. Then Phillips’ gaze shifted to the throne.

“Ethan,” he shouted hoarsely, “the king… he is going to be killed!”

His voice drew attention like a blade cutting silence.

Many eyes turned toward King Mark.

Phillips looked at Ethan again with a questioning gaze.

Should they intervene? Should they move now?

But Ethan remained still.

He watched calmly.

Curiosity flashed in his eyes.

A faint smile touched his lips.

“So this is it,” he thought. “Is this the turning point?”

And as if the world itself agreed—

“ARGHHHH!”

A scream tore through the hall.

Everyone froze.

But the voice did not come from King Mark.

A hand had pierced straight through Calvin’s abdomen.

The sound was loud and sickening.

Calvin’s eyes widened in pure shock as his intestines were dragged out of his body. Blood poured freely, splashing onto the broken marble floor.

Before he could even scream properly, a brutal kick slammed into his chest.

BOOOOOOM!

His body crashed into the ground, shattering tiles and cracking the floor beneath him.

King Mark stood there with a sinister smirk.

With horrifying calmness, he grabbed the exposed intestines and pulled harder, ripping them free completely. The sound made several nobles retch on the spot.

Calvin’s mouth opened and closed like a dying fish. No sound came out as blood spurted out from his lips.

Mark shook his hand, letting the organs drop to the ground with a wet slap. He wiped the blood from his wrinkled face using his sleeve and then looked around at the stunned hall.

“I apologize,” he said mildly. “You had to see something so ugly.”

He spread his arms slightly.

“But it is fine. Everything is under control.”

No one spoke.

No one even dared to breathe too loudly.

Now they understood.

Why the guards had vanished.

Why the king had been left alone.

Questions flooded their minds.

Since when was he this powerful?

How did this happen?

Why hide it?

If he was always this strong, why pretend to be weak?

Duke Reeves crawled backward slowly,with blood dripping from his forehead.

“Where are you going?” a voice asked softly.

Reeves froze.

“Longburn,I think we should escape—” His words stopped mid-sentence.

That voice was not Duke Longburn’s.

It was unfamiliar.

He turned his head slowly.

King Mark was standing right beside him.

GASP.

Reeves’ mouth opened wide, but no sound came out.

“Tell me,” Mark said with a gentle smile. “Where do you want to go?”

Mark clasped his hands behind his back and paced calmly near the shattered entrance. Broken stone and splintered wood lay scattered across the floor. Moonlight slipped in through the ruined doors and mixed with the flickering torchlight, casting long, shaking shadows along the cracked walls. His boots stepped over blood and debris without a sound. His posture was straight and relaxed, but there was something heavy and suffocating in the air around him.

Albert, battered and bleeding, dragged himself forward. His armor was dented and stained dark red. One eye was swollen, and blood ran down his temple and dripped from his chin onto the floor.

“Father…” he said, his voice trembling. “What is this?”

His eyes were wide with horror. His hands shook as he tried to push himself up, but his strength kept failing.

“Don’t tell me you used something… something nefarious to gain this power.”

Duke Reeves heard that and looked at the king in terror. His face had gone pale, and sweat rolled down his neck.

“So that’s it,” Reeves muttered. “You sold yourself to something evil.”

His voice rose, fueled by desperation, and fear made it crack.

“Then you are unfit to rule!”

Mark stopped walking and turned slowly. His movement was unhurried, and his boots made a dull sound on the stone. His face was calm, almost bored, but his eyes were dark and empty. There was no warmth in them.

“I did,” he said calmly.

He nodded once. The motion was small, but it felt heavy, like a hammer falling.

“You are correct about that but…” Mark paused and looked around the hall. His gaze passed over the nobles as if he was looking at some filthy bugs crawling onto the floor.

“So what!”

The question made everyone shake and tremble in fear. It echoed against the high ceiling and seemed to press against their chests.

So what. It was like a loud declaration slapping them

Reeves opened his mouth to speak again. His lips trembled, and his hands clenched at his sides.

But before he could speak, something struck him.

BANG!

His head snapped sideways violently. There was a wet crack, and then his head twisted unnaturally, spinning almost all the way around before tearing free from his neck. Flesh ripped, and bone snapped. Blood erupted like a fountain and sprayed across the marble floor and nearby pillars.

“Kyaa!”

“Ahhh!”

Screams exploded throughout the hall. The sound was sharp and desperate.

Noblewomen shrieked in terror, clutching their gowns as some collapsed to the floor. Others scrambled backward, slipping in blood and debris. Shoes skidded, and bodies crashed into each other. The smell of iron filled the air.

The air was thick with fear, and it felt hard to breathe.

Claira jumped into Ethan’s arms, trembling violently. Her fingers dug into his clothes as if she would fall apart without him. Ethan wrapped his arms around her tightly, his face grim and unreadable. His jaw was tight, and his eyes did not leave Mark.

King Mark looked at the crowd again. Blood droplets had landed on his cheek and collar, but he did not wipe them away.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I did not intend to finish things like this.”

His eyes darkened, and his expression grew colder. There was no regret in his face, only a quiet finality.

“But since you have seen everything…”

He smiled. The smile was small, but it looked similar to a butcher who was preparing to begin the butchering session.

“You cannot leave.”

BOOOOM!

A massive impact shook the hall. The floor cracked, and dust fell from the ceiling. The torches flickered wildly.

Several bodies were slammed into the ground like broken dolls. Bones crunched, and stone shattered under the force.

Everyone looked up.

Duke Monopolis landed heavily, dust and debris rolling outward from his feet. Cracks spread from where he stood. Around him lay several crushed figures, unmoving, their bodies bent at unnatural angles.

Albert turned toward him desperately. Hope and fear mixed in his face.

“Duke Monopolis!” he shouted. “You are the protector of this kingdom!”

“How can you serve such a corrupt king?”

Monopolis tilted his head slightly, confused. His expression was calm, and his breathing was steady, as if none of this bothered him.

“Corrupt?” he asked calmly. “What proof do you have?”

Albert pointed around wildly. His arm shook, and blood dripped from his fingers.

“We are the proof!” he screamed.

He looked to the nobles for support, but no one moved. Some stared at the floor. Others looked away. A few were crying silently.

Not a single person stepped forward.

Fear had already sealed their lips.

Silence answered him, heavily.

And in that silence, the weight of despair settled over the hall like a suffocating cloud.