Genius Noble With System
Chapter 350: Leaving the Primordial Sanctum

Chapter 350: Leaving the Primordial Sanctum

Just because of Apollo, as he single-handedly was fighting tens of thousands or more, the pressure on the other geniuses from the three universes seemed to decrease, and they could finally breathe in this gruesome war.

He was their shield and their sword—cleaving a path through the endless tide of enemies with divine fury, giving the others space to survive, to regroup, and to strike back.

Yet even with that reprieve, the battlefield showed no mercy.

The war was too vast, the enemies too many.

Screams still echoed through the chaos as one genius after another fell—each one a once-promising future, extinguished in a heartbeat. Glorious destinies were buried beneath blood and rubble, snatched away by sheer numbers and relentless assaults.

They had talent. They had strength.

But they were not Apollo.

Out of eight hundred geniuses, now only a little more than five hundred geniuses remained, but on the other side, sanctum inhabitants, even when they had lost tens or hundreds of times more, still didn’t show any sign of decline.

Their numbers seemed infinite, their rage undying. The more they died, the fiercer they became.

Apollo, on the other hand, continued to march forward, cutting anything in his path.

His aura burnt violently, thick with killing intent, a storm of power that seemed to howl with every heartbeat.

His heart pulsed in rhythm with the Rule of War, each thrum in his chest like a drumbeat of slaughter—steady, unstoppable, divine.

The rule of war seemed to have reached its peak, and his strength reached an unimaginable level.

"Haha... I’ve enjoyed every moment of this," he said, voice like thunder rolling across a battlefield. "But it’s time to end it." And with that, his sword hummed with the eternal sword rule combined with the rule of war; he swung his sword for one last time.

Szzh!!!!

A blinding arc of light tore through the battlefield.

It cut through space, through air, through time. It cut through shields, divine defences, and even the hope of resistance.

This strike was like none ever seen; although it was a simple straight slash that cut through everything, it didn’t matter how many true gods of the sanctum were in his way.

It was a sword stroke that the world would remember. One that silenced the battlefield.

His sword strike had carved a path of silence through the storm—a corridor of shattered corpses, broken weapons, and drifting ash.

And through it, Apollo walked.

Calm. Unhurried. Each step echoed like a war drum in the stunned silence.

This time—no one dared to stop him.

Not a single Sanctum warrior moved. Not a single blade rose. The thousands that remained, no matter how crazed or desperate before, now stood frozen—held captive by the awe and fear his presence commanded.

He then calmly reached the exit portal, becoming the first to reach here. Nobody stopped or tried anymore because they understood stopping him was impossible.

The ground behind him was soaked in blood and silence. The battlefield, once a storm of chaos and screams, now held its breath. Even the portal itself—radiant and humming with ancient power—seemed to acknowledge his arrival.

He stood before the portal like a sovereign before his throne.

"Come."

Apollo’s voice was calm, steady—almost gentle—but it echoed across the battlefield like a divine decree. His gaze didn’t waver, his back straight as he stood before the radiant exit portal.

He didn’t look back.

Yet his words were clearly meant for them—Clark and Sara—and perhaps for all those who still stood, bloodied but breathing, among the ashes of a brutal war.

The two froze.

Clark’s blade trembled slightly in his hand. His body was bruised, his armour dented, and blood streaked his face—not all of it his own.

Sara’s eyes widened. Her breath hitched in her throat.

"Follow me." Apollo’s voice rang again.

Both of them looked at each other and then at the battlefield that had suddenly silenced by his presence. They hesitated for a moment, but they quickly made up their mind.

Sara took a breath and slowly stepped forward.

Clark clenched his jaw and followed.

Both slowly and steadily walked towards the exit portal, but nobody dared to stop them as they were supported by none other than Apollo.

Quickly they came behind him and then nodded.

"Alright, let’s leave." He then entered the exit portal without looking back. Clark and Sara also followed him, but before leaving, they took a last glance at the battlefield, sighing with different emotions, and then they also left the sanctum.

Together, they stepped forward and vanished into the portal.

For a moment, the battlefield was frozen. Thousands watched the light flicker and fade as the trio disappeared. Silence gripped the land.

And then—

The spell broke.

Roars erupted once more. Blades clashed. The storm resumed.

But something was different now.

They had witnessed a man carve through ten thousand foes alone.

And that memory would linger far longer than any roar of battle.

Outside, the strongest of the three universes, along with Elders from the Void Ganges continent, who seemed to be watching the ongoing war within the sanctum through a divine mirror. The mirror shimmered like the surface of a celestial lake, revealing the blood-drenched chaos raging within the Sanctum.

"This time it seems it’s going to be difficult for the geniuses to come out." An elder muttered, his voice low and grim.

"The number of enemies is overwhelming," another added, stroking his beard.

All were discussing their thoughts, but just after the battle began, their expressions changed when they all noticed Apollo.

The battlefield changed.

Swords of light and storms of destruction gave way to something else—a single figure, advancing like a god of war.

Apollo.

The expressions of those watching shifted—first confusion, then disbelief, and finally... stunned silence.

They watched in awe as Apollo tore through enemy lines, his every swing collapsing formations, his aura drowning entire sectors of the battlefield. The Rule of War blazed around him like a crown of fury, and his sword seemed to drink light itself.

"He’s only... an early-stage True God?" someone said incredulously.

"And yet..." an Elder from the Void Ganges Continent narrowed his glowing eyes. "He fights like an eternal god."

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