The Extra Can't be A Hero

Chapter 315: The Titans Counterattack (4)

The Necropolis of the Gods.

Just like the rest of the stagnant world, it stood unmoving.

Here, the old order reigned supreme. But... it was nothing more than a relic—an echo of divinity entombed in stone and silence.

And yet… relics could still bear their fangs.

The Titans were no longer overlords in this new age… they were the challengers. Challengers to the new gods rising beneath a different sky.

But the wrath of a new god was steep.

The Necropolis lay in its eternal slumber, jagged spires piercing the heavens like broken teeth, when the first tremor rolled across its surface.

A low, resonant rumble—not from beneath, but from above. Dust cascaded from blackened pillars. Ancient wards flickered uncertainly. The full moon hung radiant and immense in the night sky. Its pale glow sharpened, intensifying until shadows were carved with unnatural clarity.

The Necropolis was no longer merely illuminated—it was singled out.

The earth shook again. The Titans did not mistake the source. This was not their power. Not their domain. It was the moon.

Or more precisely, the one who had inherited its divinity.

The sky fractured with a soundless pressure, and a figure descended. Amon fell from the heavens like a war god answering an ancient summons. His black blade, Nyx, gleamed with a cold lunar sheen, its edge devouring the surrounding light rather than reflecting it. His body radiated silver brilliance, threads of lunar mana cascading down his form like falling starlight.

Around him, nine spectral moons revolved in solemn orbit—silent, immense, sovereign. He had not inherited a Titan's divinity.

He did not need to.

Chosen by the Will of Heaven itself, Amon Solaris had become the World's Defender. Lunar mana surged through his veins, no longer merely borrowed power but something integrated, something claimed. He had shattered the mortal threshold and stepped into the realm of the divine—an incomplete deity, yes, but a deity nonetheless.

Incomplete did not mean fragile. It meant inevitable.

He was fated to ascend as the Moon God.

The path had already opened before him; time was the only variable remaining. Every battle, every trial, every drop of spilt blood only tempered his claim.

And now, beneath the full moon that acknowledged him as its heir… The future Moon God stood before the ruins of the old pantheon. The new divinity had come to challenge the old gods on their final ground.

"Yue, have you located them?"

Amon spoke telepathically to his lover, who was floating not too far behind. At the same time, the challengers who were chosen to inherit the old Titans' divinity all stood watching from afar. From the offset, they knew it was a trap, so it didn't make sense for all of them to charge into the Necropolis blindly.

Amon would take the lead, while the rest would observe.

And when the fight started… that's when they would act.

"I can't sense their presences… The Titan King must have sealed them somewhere outside the material realm."

"That's not surprising…"

"Amon, no matter what happens… keep your composure."

"... I know that much."

Although Amon had faith that his family would be fine… There was always the one percent possibility that he was too late. But, if that happened… all he needed to do was wipe the Titans out of existence… in the most painful manner.

Resisting the urge to destroy the Necropolis with a swing of his blade, Amon pondered his next move. If he struck, there was no telling if he would accidentally damage his family within the Necropolis. But if he didn't move, there was no certainty of the Titans emerging to deal with him.

Fortunately, he didn't have to play his hand.

A few seconds passed.

Then the sky began to dim.

It was not the natural fading of night, nor the passing of a cloud before the moon. The darkness spread deliberately, as if something immense had placed its palm over the heavens.

The rumbling beneath the Necropolis deepened, no longer a distant tremor but a violent stirring—vengeful, awakening.

The first to manifest was metal.

The ice cap ruptured with an explosive roar as a colossal grey golem hauled itself from beneath the frozen earth. Its body was forged from layered steel and ancient alloy, plates grinding against one another with deafening friction. Each step it took sent shockwaves rippling across the glacier, fissures spiderwebbing outward for miles. Its face tilted upward, hollow eyes blazing with molten light as it fixed its glare upon Amon—the intruder who had disturbed its eternal vigil.

Before the echoes of its emergence faded, the sky split open.

Thunder cracked across the horizon as a deity of storm descended. Its torso was vaguely humanoid, sculpted from churning clouds and flashing lightning, but below its waist, there was no flesh—only twin tornadoes spiralling violently into the earth.

Hurricanes howled around it, winds sharp enough to flay stone from mountain faces. Lightning coiled along its arms like obedient serpents, illuminating the battlefield in staccato bursts of white. The temperature spiked. Ice began to hiss and liquefy, vast sheets of frost evaporating into scalding mist.

From the rising steam, something stepped forward—fire given will.

It did not hold a single shape. Flames coalesced into a ferocious lion wreathed in infernal heat, only to unravel and reform into a blazing serpent that slithered across molten ground. At last, the shifting inferno stabilised into a towering giant of living flame, its body composed of roaring crimson and abyssal black, as though hell itself had taken humanoid form. Each breath exhaled warped the air.

Then came life.

A thunderous impact resounded as a massive treant forced its way through the frozen crust. Its wooden frame rivalled the metal golem in scale, bark thick as fortress walls and roots burrowing deep into the permafrost. Yet where it stepped, the impossible occurred. Grass unfurled across the ice. Flowers blossomed in defiance of the cold. Ancient trees erupted from barren ground, their canopies spreading lush and vibrant beneath a polar sky. The glacier became a cradle of life with every movement it made.

Four Titans stood assembled.

And finally… Space distorted. No spectacle heralded his arrival. No eruption of elemental fury. Reality simply bent inward, compressing like fabric drawn between invisible fingers, and from that distortion stepped a tanned-skinned man with the bearing of a primordial sovereign.

His physique was perfect, unmarred by ornament or excess. Agos. The Titan King.

Hands clasped loosely behind his back, posture relaxed, he regarded Amon not with rage—but with calm, unshakable confidence. The other Titans' auras roared and clashed with the environment, but around Agos, there was an oppressive stillness.

As though space waited for his command. He met Amon's gaze beneath the silver glare of the moon and spoke, his voice steady, carrying across the battlefield without effort.

The old gods had arrived.

And their king stood at their head.

"Amon Solaris."

"Agos."

"My family?"

"Safe."

"I see…"

Fortunately, the Titans hadn't lost their minds just yet. Otherwise, Amon wouldn't hold back and wreck this entire place to the ground.

"The fact that you summoned me here using that method… I presume you know the consequences."

Amon lowered his centre of gravity and drew Nyx to his side.

The air responded instantly. Lunar mana did not merely gather—it flooded.

It poured down from the heavens in cascading torrents of silver light, drawn to him as if he were the axis of the night itself. The full moon above flared brighter, its radiance sharpening into something sovereign and absolute.

Then the world changed.

A Moonlight Sanctum unfolded. It did not rise from the ground nor descend like a barrier. It expanded outward from Amon's presence, seamless and all-encompassing, until it blanketed the entire polar region. The Necropolis, the fractured glaciers, the storm-torn skies—everything was swallowed beneath a vast dome of argent luminescence.

The battlefield became a domain of his making, where every shadow bent toward him, and every beam of light answered his will.

The Titans felt it immediately.

A weight. Not physical, but spiritual. It pressed against their souls like an invisible ocean, dense and unrelenting. Their elemental auras faltered for the briefest of moments. The storm deity's lightning flickered unevenly. The metal golem's joints groaned as if burdened by unseen chains. Even the fire Titan's flames burned lower, their fury tempered by something colder and far more oppressive.

They could feel it clearly now… Amon's power... His divine presence.... His wrath.

This was not borrowed strength nor borrowed authority. Within the Moonlight Sanctum, the laws of the world subtly shifted in his favour. Lunar mana thickened the air, magnified his movements, dulled their dominion.

The moon was no distant celestial body here—it was an extension of his will.

For aeons, it had been the Titans whose mere presence bent lesser beings to their knees. But tonight… The shoe was on the other foot.

Under the silver dominion of the future Moon God, even the indomitable Titans felt what it meant to stand before something greater.

"This is!"

For the first time since his arrival, Agos looked stirred.

Recognition flickered across his otherwise composed expression.

How could he forget that authority? That suffocating, sovereign pressure—it was the same power that had sealed him within the Necropolis all those millennia ago.

The same lunar dominion that had shackled a Titan King and forced him into ages of slumber.

But this… This was purer. Sharper. More absolute.

Agos did not hesitate.

Space ruptured around him in crystalline fractures, folding inward like a collapsing mirror. In a single distorted breath, both he and Amon vanished from the Moonlight Sanctum, reappearing within Agos' inner realm—a mirror dimension forged from layered spatial laws.

The world beyond became a distant reflection, warped and unreachable.

Agos understood the stakes. This was a race against time. If Amon remained outside, bathed in lunar radiance, his power would only continue to swell. The longer the battle dragged on, the closer he would inch toward true divinity.

And if he reached that threshold within the material plane, he might very well comprehend the seams of space itself—might learn how to tear through even this domain.

Agos had to contain him. Had to end this quickly.

What he did not realise was… this was exactly what Amon had been waiting for.

The instant the mirror dimension stabilised, the Nine Moons orbiting Amon's soul flared. They did not expand. They froze. A pulse of absolute lunar stillness rippled outward, and the mirror dimension shuddered violently.

The reflective skies fractured mid-distortion. The endless crystalline horizons locked into place. Space itself solidified, as though an unseen hand had gripped the entire realm and held it immobile.

Agos' pupils contracted. For the first time in ages, the Titan King felt something slip beyond his grasp.

Slowly, he turned.

Before him stood the Judicator of Heaven's Will. Amon's eyes, once gold, now shimmered with cold silver light—depthless, emotionless, vast as the night sky. The lunar mist coiled around his form like a silent tide, his presence no longer merely that of a warrior, but of an inevitable verdict.

"…"

No words were exchanged. None were necessary.

Amon moved.

There was no wind-up. One moment, he stood across the fractured expanse; the next, he was already within Agos' guard.

Even the Titan King's perception failed to bridge the gap.

Nyx screamed as it carved through the air, its black blade overflowing with dense silver mist.

The blade passed through Agos' torso as though slicing through reflected light.

For a heartbeat, silence reigned. Then the Titan King's body separated cleanly in two.

A perfect severance.

Silver mist lingered in the wound as Amon stood motionless before the sundered king, his gaze colder than the vacuum between stars.

"You shouldn't have touched them."