Infinite Returns : The More I Give, The Stronger I Become
Chapter 67 - 67: No tea for you!

Thud!

Agni's arm hit the ground.

Silence.

Agni stood motionless, his mind still failing to process what had just happened. Slowly, mechanically, he turned his head toward his left side—where his arm had been. And there it was, twitching on the scorched ground.

No blood.

He was a being of fire. Instead of blood, molten flames began to gush from the severed limb, sizzling the earth beneath.

"W-what…?"

Agni's voice was barely a whisper.

He was stunned. No—beyond stunned. One moment he was speaking, the next… his arm was gone?

He looked up.

Lucas stood silently, his red eyes glowing like twin pools of flame—cold, unflinching. There was no arrogance in his expression. No mockery.

Only silence.

He raised his white sword once more.

"You ready, Agni?" Lucas's voice echoed, emotionless.

Then—he smirked.

It was not a smile of amusement, but one laced with murderous intent.

"You'd better move faster this time… or you won't even know you're dead."

The moment the words left his mouth, Lucas struck.

Agni pushed his senses to the limit, determined to react—but—

Slash!

"Arghhh!"

A deep wound tore open across his chest.

"What?!" Agni gasped. He hadn't even seen the strike. How had he been hit?

But Lucas gave him no time to think.

He moved again, streaking forward, trailing a path of white light as his sword danced—each strike landing with devastating precision. It was Yagami's sword technique, executed flawlessly.

Wounds blossomed across Agni's body, too fast for him to track.

But Agni was no ordinary opponent.

He was the incarnation of god.

And if gods had one definitive edge—it was their mind. Tempered by eons, unshakable, and endlessly adaptable.

In a burst of red-hot flame, Agni hurled himself backward, putting distance between them. At the same time, fiery chains erupted from the ground, snaking toward Lucas—but they shattered the moment they touched him.

That single nanosecond of delay was enough.

Agni gained breathing room.

His severed arm began to regenerate—slowly. Too slowly.

Something was interfering with it.

Agni clenched his jaw, fury radiating from his frame as his body was now lit with both scorching red and blinding white flames—Lucas's flames, stolen.

"You… You'll pay for this!" he roared.

'Master, do you need help?'

Veldra's voice echoed in Lucas's mind.

'No. I'll finish this myself. I've wasted enough time trying to learn from him.'

Yes.

That had been the point of all this.

Lucas hadn't just been fighting.

He'd been studying.

He wanted to understand fire manipulation—from a god. To learn how far he could go. To improve.

And he had learned.

A lot.

But now?

It was time to end it.

If you thought that was arrogant—then you didn't understand his talent.

Lucas wasn't called a genius or a prodigy for flair or drama.

His sword talent was unlike anything else. A power that transcended the normal boundaries of battle.

A sword that ignored space and time itself.

Because the moment he slashed—

You were already hit.

No warning. No buildup. No dodge.

SSS-Rank Talent: Voided Space-Time Sword

It didn't cut through time.

It cut beyond it.

Then—

"Phasefang Slash."

Lucas's voice rang out like a divine command as he moved.

But his strike didn't slice through the world.

It sliced through folded dimensions, converging infinite angles into one single instant.

Agni never saw it coming.

Not really.

He was obliterated—shattered in a way that his divine senses couldn't even register.

His body crashed to the ground, burning, bleeding, defeated.

He lay there, his mind struggling to understand what Just happened.

The 50th Trial was over.

But Lucas?

His thoughts were already elsewhere.

Not on the god he'd defeated. Not on the trial he'd passed.

But on—

Home.

His family.

And one annoyingly wealthy little brother.

A soft smile tugged at his lips.

"I can't wait to see him."

{You have passed the 50th Trial.}

…

Meanwhile…

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Ethan sat on a throne of gold and silver, legs crossed, sipping tea with elegance—and irritation.

He frowned.

The devouring darkness was once again crashing against his barriers, destroying several at once.

He sighed, placing his teacup down gently.

"Can you not?" he muttered. "Do you have to be this loud? Some of us are trying to enjoy our elven wood tea."

With a casual flick of his fingers, he summoned replacements for the destroyed SSS-rank Space-Time Barriers.

It had been like this for a while.

Over and over, the darkness charged. Over and over, Ethan responded.

Sometimes, just to spice things up—

"Here. Take this. An SSS-rank Frozen Land Rune Parchment. Don't worry—I've got millions of them."

He tossed it.

Millions of high-grade runes exploded across the forest floor, sending freezing shockwaves outward.

The darkness recoiled, shuddering in pain.

For a rare moment—it stopped attacking.

Ethan smirked.

"A battle of attrition against me? You're asking for the slowest, most expensive death possible."

As if understanding, the darkness trembled. Hesitating.

"I don't know who you are," Ethan said aloud, sipping his tea once more. "But let's talk. Over tea, perhaps?"

"You may not know this, but I have quite the collection. Elven, beastmen, demon, angel—you name it. Though the angelic brews are very rare, and honestly, if you make me waste another billion SSS-rank barriers…"

He clicked his tongue.

"Tsk. No tea for you."

He shook his head in mock pity.

…

Deep within the Forest of Death—in a forgotten place untouched for millions of years—lay a crumbling, ancient temple.

And within that temple, on a cracked altar—

She sat.

Chained.

The black chains pierced her body, anchoring into her very soul.

Her eyes were black. Her hair, black. Her beauty ruined and yet somehow made more divine by the endless black tears streaming from her eyes.

And from that faraway place…

She watched.

She had watched since the moment Ethan entered. He was different.

She had watched countless mortals die trying to cross her darkness.

But this one?

He refused to die, to panic.

To respect the fear her darkness inspired.

He sipped tea while cracking ridiculous jokes.

He tossed millions of runes like candy.

And then—he invited her.

To tea.

For the first time in untold years—

Airi smiled.

"Now this," she whispered, "is entertaining."

—End of Chapter 67—

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