God of Destruction: Living Among Mortals

Nova's eyes snapped open. Pain screamed through every fiber of his body. His muscles throbbed like molten metal, his ribs ached from every angle, and bruises painted him black and blue in chaotic patterns.

His vision was red-stained, dust-filled, yet he saw. The arena around him was in chaos, stone walls crumbled and leaning at impossible angles, spikes jutting out, fractured earth rising like jagged teeth.

He forced himself up, each movement a symphony of agony. Blood dripped freely from cuts on his face, down his neck, coating his chest and forearms. His knuckles had cracked open again, skin peeling from the repeated strikes. Every joint screamed, but his body moved automatically, honed by adrenaline and sheer will. There was no power yet. No awakened ability. Only relentless instinct, fury, and survival.

The bully stood opposite, aura flickering faintly from residual crystal energy, muscles visibly bloating after the previous drain of twenty-plus mana crystals he'd absorbed. The skin over his arms and chest was beginning to blush an extreme red, veins pulsing like molten rock, a living volcano ready to erupt. His movements were fluid, inhumanly fast, every limb loaded with strength that should have killed Nova long ago.

Nova darted forward. Bones cracking audibly as his punches smashed into the stone fragments the bully had flung across the arena. Every hit dug bloody furrows in his knuckles, but he kept moving. Spinning kicks tore chunks from walls, elbows drove stone shards into the ground, forcing the bully to pivot, counter, react.

The arena was a storm of stone, blood, dust, and muscle. Nova was relentless, moving like a machine fueled by pure hatred and willpower. Every strike he landed was calculated, punishing the bully where it hurt most, ribs, abdomen, jaw, but each one only seemed to provoke him further.

The bully laughed once, a deep, guttural sound, then charged, limbs coiling like springs. Nova barely avoided a crushing elbow that shattered a wall behind him. He rolled, slamming his shoulder into a jagged rock, sending it flying like a projectile.

His bloodied hands smashed the bully's incoming attack, sending him back a step, but only briefly. The man's skin began to glow redder, hotter, veins like lava lines beneath the surface, muscles swelling, bloating grotesquely with energy.

Nova ducked low as stone spikes erupted in front of him, slicing through the air, but he could feel the sheer heat radiating from the bully's body. The muscles expanded unnaturally, each movement sending tremors through the jagged floor. Dust and debris swirled violently as if the arena itself recognized the approaching cataclysm.

He struck again, forearm smashing into the bully's jaw, fist driving into his ribs, blood spraying, teeth cracking. But the bully barely flinched. His eyes burned, wild and insane, like molten coals.

Every movement of his bloated body sent vibrations through the shattered arena. Nova staggered, knees cracking, ribs aching, but he pressed on, throwing another knee to the gut, spinning behind him to elbow the collarbone. Blood streamed freely down both combatants now, mixing with dust and sweat into a slurry that coated everything.

The bully lunged, faster than Nova expected, hands glowing with golden afterimages from absorbed crystals. His palm slammed into Nova's chest, driving him backward, chest caving, lungs screaming for air.

Nova rolled, grabbing a chunk of fractured wall, slamming it into the bully's shoulder, but the impact barely staggered him. The man's muscles were now bright red, glowing as though inflamed from inside, veins popping like molten glass.

Nova scrambled back, gasping. He raised his fists, smeared with his own blood, knuckles raw and torn. His vision blurred with exhaustion, yet his mind remained clear: he had to survive, he had to keep moving. Every strike, every dodge, every breath was agony, yet it was all he had.

The bully advanced again, unstoppable. Walls of stone erupted from the arena floor and ceiling, jagged, slanted, impaling, crushing. Nova ducked under one, rolled past another, but each movement strained his broken bones, wrenched muscles, and bloodied joints.

Finally, the bully caught him. Strong hands clamped around Nova's collar, lifting him into the air effortlessly. His red muscles pulsed, veins inflated, his body bloating further, nearly grotesque.

"I… can feel it," the bully growled, voice deep, electric with insane energy. "Something dangerous… in you… like a bomb…"

Nova's vision swirled. He spat blood, fists straining, muscles screaming, ribs caving further under the man's grip. Then the bully's eyes widened, pupils dilating, aura flaring bright red, brighter than fire, brighter than blood under the sun.

In a single movement, he dropped Nova. He skidded across the jagged stone floor, pain radiating through every bone in his body.

The bully's body began to change violently. His muscles bloated further, each fiber pulsing, red expanding to an almost unnatural brightness. Veins bulged like molten lava, and his skin seemed to radiate light.

Nova struggled to rise, vision flickering, arms shaking as he pushed himself upright. The heat from the bully was nearly unbearable, the intensity of energy warping the jagged arena.

Then it happened. The bully's body erupted like a bomb. Every muscle, every fiber, every bloated, red-hot vein detonated in an explosion so violent it threw Nova backward through the debris, skidding across jagged stones, blood and dust mixing with the exploding fragments.

The sheer force sent chunks of stone, muscle, and molten energy scattering in all directions. Flames of raw heat licked the air, smoke coiling thickly around Nova as he slid across the floor, bleeding, bruised, battered, but alive.

When the smoke cleared, the bully was gone, obliterated into a billion tiny fragments, each glowing faintly as if traces of golden crystal energy remained.

The arena was silent, save for the settling dust and dripping blood. The jagged spikes and collapsed walls creaked and fell slowly, the final pieces of the battlefield giving way.

Nova lay on the ground, chest heaving, ribs cracked, arms trembling, sweat and blood plastered to his face and body. He smiled through the pain, barely conscious, yet alive.

His hands were raw, knuckles bleeding, yet he clenched them weakly in victory. His aura flickered faintly, not yet awakened, but the fire inside remained, a promise of something greater to come.

The shattered stone walls crumbled fully, leaving him exposed but victorious. Dust swirled in the dim light, fragments of the bully's final explosion scattered around him, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.

Then, from the shadows and debris, his teammates rushed to his side. The shadow girl, the scout, the shy girl, they gathered around him, eyes wide, mouths open in awe at the battlefield, at Nova, at the carnage that had just unfolded.

Nova's head tilted back slightly, blood dripping into his eyes, a weak, cocky smile crossing his lips. "We… won," he rasped, voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. "We… won."