The Bigshot's Superstar Wife - Chapter 76

Chapter 76: Crazy

Mors stood frozen, his arms outstretched where Athena had once been. The warmth of her body had vanished, replaced by a void so deep it threatened to consume him.

His mind refused to accept it. His heart thundered in his chest, his breaths ragged and uneven. She couldn’t be gone. She was just here. Laughing. Fighting. Standing beside him.

Then why, why was she gone?

His fingers clenched into fists, his nails biting into his palms. Blood dripped onto the battlefield, mixing with the crimson-stained earth.

A growl rumbled in his throat, deep and primal, building into a snarl that ripped through the air.

His vision blurred, not from pain, but from the sheer, all-consuming fury that burned within him.

Severina stood above him, smirking. Mocking.

She had stolen Athena. His Athena.

The realization snapped something inside him.

Mors tilted his head back, and the battlefield trembled with his scream. A power unlike any he had ever felt surged within him.

It clawed at his veins, an untamed beast roaring to be unleashed. The sky darkened, the clouds swirling in chaos above.

A sudden gust of wind erupted from his body, throwing soldiers, both ally and enemy, back like leaves caught in a storm.

Severina took a step forward, her confidence faltering for the first time.

Mors was changing.

His skin burned, his body glowing with an eerie golden light. Symbols, ancient and unfamiliar, began etching themselves into his skin.

Lines of pure energy raced up his arms, spreading to his chest, then up to his forehead. A sharp pain seared through his mind, but he welcomed it.

Somewhere deep within him, something awakened.

Had Athena been alive to see it, she would have gasped at the mark forming on his forehead. A crest.

A symbol of a royal lineage long forgotten. A power hidden within him, suppressed, waiting for the right moment to emerge.

And now, with his wife stolen from him, that moment had come.

Severina’s smirk vanished. “What are you?”

Mors lifted his gaze, his once-familiar blue eyes replaced by a molten gold that blazed like fire.

His voice, when he spoke, was no longer his own. It was deeper. Richer. An echo of something ancient. Something unstoppable.

“Your executioner.”

And then, he attacked.

Mors lunged forward, faster than he had ever moved before. He was a blur. One moment standing, the next he was in front of Severina, his sword swinging with terrifying precision.

Elsienflora roared in his grip, the divine blade blazing with an unearthly golden light.

Severina barely managed to parry his attack, her claws colliding against his sword with a deafening clang.

The force of the blow sent shockwaves across the battlefield, tearing through the ground and throwing debris into the air.

Soldiers, both human and demon, were flung aside like rag dolls.

Mors didn’t care.

Nothing mattered anymore. Not the war. Not the soldiers. Not the world.

Only revenge.

His golden eyes burned as he struck again, forcing Severina back. For the first time, the demon goddess looked uncertain.

She, who had always been untouchable, was now being pushed to the defensive. By a mortal.

Except Mors was no longer just a mortal.

He moved with inhuman speed, his strikes unrelenting. Each swing of Elsienflora left golden arcs in the air, slicing through demonic energy like it was nothing.

Severina snarled, trying to counter, but Mors was beyond her reach, dodging every attack with ease.

He was no longer fighting with technique, he was fighting with pure, unrestrained instinct.

Blood dripped from Severina’s mouth as she stumbled back. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, her crimson eyes narrowing. “You’re not normal,” she hissed. “What are you?”

Mors didn’t answer. He only advanced.

Severina roared and summoned a black sphere of energy in her hands. Dark, crackling power surged around her, distorting the air. She hurled it at him.

Mors didn’t even flinch.

With one swift motion, he slashed through the darkness. The attack that had once destroyed armies was reduced to mere wisps of smoke against his blade.

Severina’s eyes widened. “Impossible…”

Mors was already upon her.

He grabbed her by the throat and slammed her into the ground. The earth split beneath them.

Severina gasped, clawing at his hand, but he didn’t loosen his grip. He lifted her effortlessly, then drove her back into the ground again. And again.

The battlefield trembled with each impact.

Severina coughed up black blood, her once-supreme confidence now replaced with terror. She was losing.

Mors tightened his grip. “Did she scream when you killed her?” His voice was barely human anymore. It was guttural, filled with so much rage and grief that it shook the very air.

Severina’s lips curled in a defiant smirk, despite the pain. “She begged.”

Mors lost control.

With a furious roar, golden energy erupted from his body, sending shockwaves across the battlefield.

Severina screamed as his aura wrapped around her, crushing her like an invisible hand.

Her body cracked, her form breaking apart as the divine power of Elsienflora devoured her existence.

The demon goddess was dying.

And yet, Mors felt nothing.

No satisfaction. No triumph.

Athena was still gone.

A hollow emptiness consumed him, drowning out everything else.

Severina let out a final, choked gasp before her body shattered into a thousand fragments of black mist. The battlefield fell silent. The goddess of demons was dead.

But Mors didn’t let go of his sword.

He stood there, staring at the space where she had once been. The wind howled around him, carrying the distant cries of soldiers, the smell of blood, the echoes of battle.

And yet, none of it mattered.

He turned his gaze to the sky, his golden eyes reflecting the fading light.

The mark on his forehead still burned. The ancient power within him still thrummed. But without Athena, it felt meaningless.

He dropped to his knees, the rage draining out of him like water from a broken vessel.

“Athena…”

Her name slipped from his lips like a prayer. Like a plea.

But she did not answer.

She would never answer again.

Mors clenched his fists, his breathing ragged. For the first time in his life, he had won a battle and felt utterly defeated.

The war was over.

But so was everything else.