Genius Noble With System
Chapter 331: End of the Fragmented Soul

Chapter 331: End of the Fragmented Soul

The aura from the sickle was completely different from the aura of the weapons he had seen; it seemed to surpass even ninth-grade divine artifact.

The soul sea of his churned violently.

The invader’s fragmented consciousness—despite being shattered moments ago—laughed eerily, as if fused into the sickle itself.

"You thought you won, kid. But you didn’t expect I would have something like this."

The fragment’s voice grew eerie, almost joyful.

"You should feel honoured, kid. I couldn’t use this when I was alive... But now, in death, I have nothing left to lose."

The sickle spun slowly, and with every rotation, cracks began to spread in Apollo’s otherwise impregnable soul sea. The dozens of soul-forged swords that had defeated the black chains now trembled, as if afraid.

KACHA!

A small fracture appeared under Apollo’s feet.

The fragment laughed wildly:

"You see? Even you cannot resist the will of something from beyond the three universes!"

The sickle then lunged, silent as death, faster than thought. It didn’t just target Apollo’s soul—it aimed to erase his existence at the source.

But Apollo...

Even now, he was calm.

The Book of Death, which silenced after devouring large death essence, seemed to agitated and instantly appear right in front of him.

The moment it appeared, both sides’ power seemed to collide, and suppression on him seemed to become smaller.

Seeing this scene, the fragmented soul felt shocked and angrily roared as once again the situation became troublesome.

"How many fucking secrets are hidden in you, you puny void god!" He felt jealous; even he, who surpassed the eternal god realm, wasn’t this lucky, even with his strength.

The soul sea rumbled violently, as if two primordial beasts had awoken and clashed.

The mysterious sickle floated in midair, radiating a chilling sharpness that made even space in the soul realm tremble. Its black edge seemed to cut through the soul.

Meanwhile, the Book of Death floated serenely in front of Apollo, but its pages fluttered furiously, emanating an ancient, world-destroying might.

The two artifacts—one a terrifying sickle from beyond the realms, the other a supreme book connected to the Source of Death itself—faced each other in his soul sea.

The collision of their auras distorted the entire soul sea, splitting it into black and grey halves: one filled with the hunger of Death, the other with the cutting will of Annihilation.

Apollo narrowed his eyes, cold and indifferent. And he felt a bit weird, as although there seemed to be some difference in the power of the two treasures, for some reason he felt they seemed to have originated from the same source.

Whether it was the Book of Death or the weird sickle, both seem to have some connection. And quickly his guess came true.

A faint resonance echoed in the soul sea. An ancient, bone-chilling vibration that seemed to come from the very roots of existence.

The Book of Death and the mysterious sickle—though opposing each other at this moment—began to tremble slightly, as if some unseen thread connected them across the abyss of time.

Apollo’s heart stirred. He wasn’t wrong.

There was a connection.

And then—

Snap!

Like an invisible chain being tugged, the Book of Death flipped open violently, pages fluttering at incredible speed.

Symbols older than the cosmos itself shimmered into existence, projecting a phantom image above the book. It was an ancient sigil—a black sickle embedded within a book—their forms overlapping perfectly.

"Impossible!" the fragmented soul howled, his calm utterly shattered.

At that moment, Apollo understood.

The sickle and the book were not enemies—they were two halves of a single whole.

Just from the mysterious and powerful aura, it was clear that together, they were meant to form a Transcendent Artifact of Death, a weapon and scripture beyond even the realms Eternal Gods could touch.

And now, drawn by the resonance, the sickle trembled violently, as if yearning to return to its other half.

The fragmented soul, realising this, roared madly. He felt the control of the sickle weakening.

"NO! It’s mine! MINE! YOU CAN’T HAVE IT!"

Desperation burnt in his voice. He forced the sickle to unleash its strength —a terrifying blade of annihilation slashing toward Apollo’s soul form in a final act of madness.

The void split apart. The sickle’s power was monstrous beyond words. If struck, even his soul might be wounded—or worse.

But Apollo stood motionless, utterly calm.

The Book of Death flipped open one last time. From within its pages, a phantom sickle formed—a perfect, mirrored image—and it collided head-on with the incoming slash.

BOOM!!!

A silent explosion shook Apollo’s soul sea, ripples crossing the infinite expanse.

When the aura settled, the fragmented soul had been blasted backward, weakened and trembling. The real sickle in his grasp flickered—half-rebellious, half-subdued, clearly affected by the book’s pull.

Seeing this chance, Apollo raised his hand, his voice calm but filled with irresistible will.

"Return."

The Book of Death released a humming sound, an ancient, undeniable call.

The sickle hesitated for one last heartbeat... then shattered into motes of black light—not destroyed, but transformed— and flew into the book’s pages, merging with it in a flash of brilliance.

The fragmented soul was stunned and roared as it was his last hope.

"No, how could this be possible? How could this be true? I waited millions of years..."

It roared like a wild beast, but nothing matters right now.

"Okay, this is the end." Apollo said, and the Book of Death burst out with powerful force that covered the soul fragment without giving it a chance to run.

The fragmented soul struggled madly, its desperate shrieks tearing across the soul sea.

"NO! I am an almighty! I cannot—!"

But the Book of Death showed no mercy. It was not just an artifact—it was an absolute force, a verdict of erasure written in the language of Death itself.

The black radiance engulfed the soul fragment completely.

No chance for reincarnation.

No rebirth through the cycles of life.

No legacy.

Only pure, unrelenting obliteration.

In the final moment, the soul fragment twisted, shrank, and then—poof. Vanished without leaving even the faintest echo behind.

The soul sea fell utterly silent.

Above Apollo, the Book of Death floated more majestically than ever, its cover now marked by a new symbol. It had clearly become countless times stronger after absorbing so much death essence and the black sickle.

The Book of Death’s cover had also changed slightly, now appearing as a black sickle interwoven with countless shimmering runes, breathing an aura of annihilation and finality.