Wisps of green smoke drifted off the serpent’s dissolving body, slowly expanding into a mystical domain that surrounded Gene like a prison o
Wisps of green smoke drifted off the serpent’s dissolving body, slowly expanding into a mystical domain that surrounded Gene like a prison o
Wisps of green smoke drifted off the serpent’s dissolving body, slowly expanding into a mystical domain that surrounded Gene like a prison of enchantment.
This was Amora’s Serpent Trap—a deadly secret technique.
When the summoned serpent was slain, the latent magical formation hidden within its body would automatically trigger, forming a barrier to trap its killer. Those caught inside would lose all perception of the world outside—perfectly vulnerable prey for the Enchantress.
It was a strategy that had defeated countless opponents—even those more powerful than Amora herself.
"Visual scan: failed. Energy analysis: failed..."
Gene’s neural network flickered with error reports as his sensors struggled to analyze the surroundings.
Amora, still outside the barrier, smiled with smug satisfaction. Her eyes sparkled as she watched the motionless armored figure stand paralyzed inside her trap.
From her hand, hundreds of tiny green serpents shimmered into existence—each one forged of pure magic. Their forked tongues flicked the air, their eyes locked on Gene, and they slithered toward him like silent assassins.
These snakes weren’t just for show.
Within seconds, they would infiltrate the narrowest seams of his armor and reduce the strange man inside to scrap and ashes.
But then—something felt wrong.
Before Amora could react—
A golden blade of energy pierced toward her back, the heat of raw, concentrated power radiating straight to her spine. Her instincts screamed.
"High-level arcane technique: Ekon’s Shadowblade."
—Capable of creating illusory duplicates to deceive and strike in tandem.
Amora twisted mid-air with all her might, avoiding a direct hit to her vital organs. Still, the golden sword punctured her back, flooding her body with violent energy.
A second energy beam grazed the top of her skull—searing through her flowing golden locks and leaving them charred and smoking.
But her hair was the last thing on her mind.
For the first time in centuries, real fear gripped her heart.
"Executioner! What are you waiting for?!" she screamed.
A massive battle-axe slammed into Gene’s armor from above. The blade didn’t pierce—but the sheer force was enough to make Gene turn his head.
Behind him stood a hulking warrior with dead eyes and a silent presence.
Amora’s most loyal follower.
Half-Asgardian, half-Frost Giant, he had inherited the best of both bloodlines—though his stature was unimpressive for a giant, his brute strength was unmatched. Raised among giants but mocked for his smaller frame, he eventually earned their respect by slaughtering them in droves.
Hence the name: The Executioner.
And like many men before him, he had fallen under Amora’s spell. Loyal to a fault, hopelessly devoted, and content to follow her around like an obedient puppy—never asking for love in return. His only wish was to stay close to his goddess, basking in her presence.
Ironically, the only man Amora had ever truly fallen for was Asgard’s golden prince—Thor. And despite her every effort, her seductive charms had never managed to win over his heart of steel.
The Executioner raised his mighty axe again, his blank face unreadable. He had once fought Thor to a draw. That axe had bathed in the blood of countless giants and enemies. It wasn’t for show.
He struck three times—one after another.
The triple arc of his swings converged in midair, forming a single inescapable attack that locked down every possible escape route Gene might take.
But Gene didn’t panic.
A golden arcane circle spun to life in his hand. With a flick, it redirected the Executioner’s massive axe toward a patch of open ground.
The axe slammed down, shattering the concrete like it was made of paper. A huge crater opened where the ground once stood, dust and rock flying in all directions.
The Executioner didn’t flinch. His axe swept again—this time toward Gene’s lower torso. Black energy swirled along the weapon’s edge. This strike was no simple brute force.
A crimson V-shaped blur darted through the dust—
A palm cannon, infused with golden magic, struck the Executioner’s back.
A searing blast exploded against his armor-like flesh, tearing open a massive wound across his back. Though his body was built like iron, Gene’s energy output was far beyond ordinary.
Before the Executioner could recover, Amora rejoined the fight.
A flood of emerald serpents surged from her body, slithering and snapping in the air like a swarm of intelligent predators. Their eyes glinted, their tongues hissed—they charged straight for Gene.
Golden light burst from his body in an instant.
"High-level defensive spell: Guardian of the Archangel."
The serpents struck the shield—and vanished on contact, like snowflakes under sunlight.
Gene’s form blurred—he was suddenly right in front of Amora. So close she could see the fine engravings on his armor. Correct content is on NovelHub
The golden longsword cleaved through her body from shoulder to hip in a blinding arc.
But there was no blood.
Her body dissolved into green mist—a magical projection all along.
Gene didn’t even flinch.
Behind him, the Executioner was enveloped in thick green fog... and vanished without a trace.
Gene’s crimson visor pulsed once. His longsword spun into a glowing flourish before dissipating in a shimmer of light.
"So this is what Asgard’s sorceresses are made of?" he muttered coldly.
"Tch. Not bad. Pretty fast on her feet, though."
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