Extra's Death: I Am the Son of Hades novel Chapter 834

Chapter 834: Strongest Yet Not Strong Enough

Neo appeared in the True World.

There was no grand arrival. No resistance from space, no surge of pressure from foreign laws.

One moment he was stepping through the tear he had created, and the next, his feet were on solid ground.

Silence greeted him.

It was a heavy silence.

This was the world where the Celestial Worthy lived.

Neo slowly lifted his head.

The sky was torn.

It was ripped open, like a wound that could never healed.

Through those gaps, nothing could be seen. No stars. No void currents. Just emptiness, swallowing light.

The smell hit him next.

Death. Iron. Rotting despair that had soaked into the land and refused to fade even after countless eons had passed.

Neo took a slow breath.

Then another.

There were rivers nearby. He could sense them.

But when he turned slightly and looked, what he saw were not rivers in the usual sense.

Blood.

Dried in places. Still dark and thick in others. It had flowed once, long ago, carving paths into the land, then stopped when there was nothing left to spill.

Neo’s eyes moved across the terrain.

There were no bodies.

That was the strange part.

After a massacre of this scale, there should have been corpses. Piles of them. Remains left to decay, bones bleaching under a broken sky.

Instead, there were graves.

They were everywhere.

Simple mounds of earth. Some marked with stone slabs. Others with wooden boards. Many had nothing at all, only carefully shaped soil, packed down by hand.

Tens of thousands.

No—those were just the graves within his field of vision.

Neo did not move for a long time.

Then he took a step forward.

He did not run. He did not fly. He did not teleport.

He walked.

His pace was unhurried, steady, almost respectful.

Since he had come out of the Elemental Cosmos, he should have appeared next to Celestial Worthy.

But he had not.

Which meant this was intentional.

Celestial Worthy wanted him to see this place first.

So Neo walked.

The road beneath his feet was cracked, but still visible. It had once been maintained. He could tell by the stonework, by the way the edges had been shaped to guide carts.

On either side of the road were graves.

He passed what had once been a town.

The walls were broken. The buildings had collapsed inward, roofs caved in, wooden beams rotted and blackened. Grass and strange weeds had begun to reclaim the streets.

Graves filled the open spaces.

In the square where people had likely gathered, there were rows of them, arranged with care. Someone had taken the time to align them.

Neo continued forward.

From roads to destroyed towns.

From crumbling cities to forests that had begun to rot where they stood, leaves blackened, trees hollowed from within.

Everywhere he went, there were graves.

Graves. And more graves.

Everyone was dead.

Neo stopped beside one of the mounds.

He activated the Eyes of Echoes Firmament.

The world shifted.

The Firmament entered his eyes, layers of past and present overlapping.

The soil before him became transparent, not showing the body beneath, but the life that had once existed above it.

A farmer.

Middle-aged. Calloused hands. Sunburned skin.

He was standing in a field, staring at the sky with a worried expression.

His lips moved as he muttered to himself, calculating the chances of a locust swarm this year.

If it came early, the harvest would be ruined.

If it came late, maybe they could still manage.

Neo let the vision fade and moved on.

Another grave.

A young town girl appeared in his sight.

She was sitting by a window, eyes fixed on the road leading out of town.

Her brother had gone to the city to study.

He was supposed to come back this month.

She wondered if he was eating properly, if city life suited him.

Another grave.

A district magistrate, hunched over ledgers late at night, brows furrowed.

The numbers did not add up. Funds were missing.

He suspected corruption, but proving it would be difficult.

Still, he resolved to look into it properly the next day.

Another.

A king.

Not sitting on a throne, but riding through his territory, stopping in villages, listening to complaints.

He asked about taxes, about grain storage, about the condition of the roads.

He wanted to see the state of his people with his own eyes.

Another.

A cultivator, young but talented, sitting cross-legged in a borrowed room within his sect.

He was racking his brain, trying to comprehend a technique manual he had borrowed from the sect’s library.

The concepts were just slightly out of reach, and it frustrated him.

Another.

A martial artist, sneaking out of training with a friend.

They laughed quietly as they shared snacks they were not supposed to have.

He promised himself he would train extra hard tomorrow to make up for it.

Neo watched them all.

Some lives were mundane. Some were grand.

Some days they lived peacefully. Some days happily. Some days burdened by sorrow and worry.

They were alive.

Then, one day, the [Entity] descended.

The vision shifted violently.

The sky burned. The land screamed. Power beyond comprehension tore through reality.

The [Entity]—

No.

Cole Calloway slaughtered the entire world.

Neo saw it unfold.

The True World, which had a far larger population than the Elemental Cosmos, fell in mere four hours.

Ancient Cultivators rose into the sky, unleashing techniques refined over millennia.

Legendary Martial Artists shattered mountains with their fists.

Hidden Beast Tamers released creatures that had not seen the sun in ages.

Gods descended. Devils crawled out of sealed dimensions.

None of it mattered.

Cole moved through them like a storm given form.

Rage and sorrow drove him forward, crushing everything in his path.

No one could stop him.

And yet—

Neo’s vision shifted again.

After the slaughter, when the world had gone quiet, Cole did not leave.

He stayed.

Neo saw him kneeling, hands covered in dirt.

Crying.

With his own hands, Cole dug graves.

One by one.

For farmers. For kings. For cultivators. For children whose names he would never know.

He buried them all.

Neo saw him wandering the world like a ghost afterward, shoulders hunched, eyes empty, swallowed by guilt and regret.

Neo deactivated the Eyes of Echoes Firmament.

He resumed walking.

Eventually, the land began to slope upward.

A mountain rose before him.

Unlike the rest of the world, there was no blood here.

The ground was bare, the stone exposed.

Wind passed through cleanly, untainted by death.

Neo began to climb.

His steps were steady, his breathing calm.

Near the top, he saw it.

A broken hut.

It was small, crude, built with care, but without extravagance.

The remains of furniture lay scattered inside, long since ruined by time.

The Eyes of Echoes Firmament activated again.

In the past, a man and a woman had lived there.

The man was not from this True World.

He had come from another True World, after countless hardships, after struggling through realms and dangers that would have broken most people.

He was tired.

He wanted rest.

And here, in this foreign world, he found it.

He found love.

He found someone he could call family.

For the first time in a long while, he was happy.

Then, one day, he left.

There was a ’thing’—a ■—that lived in the voids between True Worlds. It had slipped into this world, unnoticed by most.

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