Ex rank talent Awakening: 100\% Dodge rate-Chapter 207 - : HERO OR TRAITOR?

A week had passed since the end of the event. While players had returned to their daily grind of leveling up, hunting, and completing quests, the natives of the apocalypse world couldn't move on so easily. The chaos had left a scar—one that couldn't be healed with time alone.

Their faith, once absolute, had begun to crack.

The resentment was subtle at first—a quiet murmur in taverns, a shadowed glance on the streets—but it grew louder with each passing day. The broadcast had exposed too much. The Celestial Temple, once a symbol of hope and divine will, had become a focal point for anger and distrust. Many natives now whispered that the gods had failed them. That their protectors had grown weak—or worse, corrupt.

In contrast, Greg, known to most as Nemesis, had been hailed as a savior in the immediate aftermath. He was the foreigner who had stood alone and defeated the fallen divine, the one who had risen when all else had collapsed. His name was spoken with admiration, even reverence.

But that didn't last long.

Everything changed with a single broadcast.

Once again, the sky darkened, and a screen formed above the horizon. It was the unmistakable signal of another world announcement. Tension gripped the masses. Was it another enemy? A new divine catastrophe? A reward for those who had survived?

Instead, it was Bishop Kelly.

He stood tall in white robes with gold embroidery, the symbol of the Celestial Temple gleaming on his chest. His smile was bright and composed, his presence dignified—yet there was a sharpness to his gaze, a prideful glint that betrayed his intentions.

He had waited for this moment. The Oracle had chosen him as the temple's representative for this global announcement, and Kelly viewed it as his divine opportunity. His ambition had long been hidden behind pious smiles and humble bows, but now he stood on the brink of rising even higher. With the Oracle's health visibly deteriorating, someone had to lead. And Bishop Kelly was ready to seize that chance.

He approached the ornate podium, positioned in the sacred garden of the Celestial Temple. Behind him, holy knights stood as an honor guard. Above him, the celestial screen projected his face to the entire continent.

He cleared his throat and began with the practiced grace of a seasoned speaker.

"Greetings, children of the divine. First of all, I wish to offer my deepest sympathies to all who suffered in the recent tragedy. I mourn the lives lost in the wake of the divine being's fall… and I speak today not only to clarify the truth but to honor them with it."

A hush fell across the continent. In villages and cities, people paused. Shops closed, travelers stopped walking, even monsters momentarily faded into the background.

Kelly's voice was steady, warm, and confident.

"For a time now, a foreigner by the name of Nemesis has been celebrated by some as a hero. A savior. The one who ended the madness of the fallen divine. But the truth is far more bitter."

He paused, letting the suspense settle in.

"The truth is… Nemesis is no hero. He is a traitor. A deceiver who orchestrated a masterful illusion alongside our most ancient and despicable enemies—the demons."

Gasps rippled through the audience across the world. Kelly continued, eyes narrowed.

"Nemesis entered the demon realm before the event began. He negotiated with the demon god himself, crafting a deceit so profound it fooled even the divine. He lured our celestial messenger into a trap, corrupted him, and then staged a heroic battle to win your favor—all while furthering the demons' agenda."

He slammed a palm against the podium, his voice rising in righteous fury.

"We of the Celestial Temple chose to remain silent initially—not out of cowardice, but out of humility. We bore the weight of your judgment quietly, believing ourselves at fault for not foreseeing the demon god's plot. But no longer. The truth must be known."

His tone shifted, growing softer.

"The celestials—merciful as they are—still offer redemption. Even now, Nemesis is not condemned… yet. He must simply surrender peacefully to the celestial knights. Let justice be served in the courts of divinity. But if he resists…"

The warmth vanished from his voice.

"…then he will face punishment greater than death. An unrepentant soul does not deserve a second chance."

With those chilling final words, the broadcast ended.

And the tide turned instantly.

Just like that, the name "Nemesis" became cursed. Once praised, now spat out with venom. Statues built in his honor were torn down. Children who had admired him were scolded. Mothers whispered his name as a warning to misbehaving sons.

Humanity had found its scapegoat.

Greg, however, didn't flinch.

A day after the broadcast, he moved through a quiet town, his face uncovered, his pace unhurried. His expression remained cold, unreadable. He had a meeting scheduled with Marquis Alexander—an important one—but he already knew the Celestial Temple wouldn't wait.

They wanted him dead. Or captured. Preferably humiliated.

He walked toward the designated inn, passing through a crowded market street. Eyes followed him everywhere. Whispers buzzed around him like insects. Some faces were pale with fear. Others twisted with hatred.

He ignored them all.

Then—just as he expected—they struck.

A group of celestial knights in gleaming silver armor emerged from the crowd. Their captain, a tall man with blond hair and arrogant eyes, stepped forward and blocked Greg's path.

"Halt! You're coming with us," the captain barked, drawing his sword.

Behind him, more knights emerged, forming a ring around Greg with practiced precision. They moved like hunters, cornering prey. Their formation was clean, efficient. Lethal.

Greg's gaze swept across them once. He had sensed them long before they revealed themselves. He had hoped they would reconsider—for their sake. But it seemed the fools were eager to die.

"Move," Greg said coldly.

The captain smirked.

"You are under arrest for conspiring with demons and endangering the realm. You will be escorted to the Atonement Ground, where your sins may be weighed and purged—if you repent."

He raised his chin with self-importance. "Cooperate while I'm still being polite."

Greg's eyes narrowed.

"I'll give you one chance. Move, or die."

A moment of silence. Then, the captain stepped closer.

"You dare threaten—"

Greg released his aura. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

The pressure that burst forth was overwhelming—an invisible storm that crashed down upon every knight. The captain froze mid-sentence. His breath caught in his throat. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to flee.

But it was too late.

"Kneel," Greg spoke in the dragon's tongue.

Every knight dropped to their knees.

They didn't want to. They struggled with every ounce of strength—but their bodies refused to rise. Bones creaked under the pressure. Sweat poured from their faces. Their pride shattered beneath Greg's will.

"I warned you," Greg muttered. "You should've walked away."

He raised his hand.

"Water Bullet," he incanted in the dragon tongue.

Dozens of water bullets shimmered into existence behind him, suspended in midair like silent harbingers of death. Each one was infused with divine precision, shaped to kill.

The captain's eyes widened. "Please don't—"

Thud.

The first bullet tore through his skull.

The others followed in an instant—each knight silenced in perfect rhythm, their bodies slumping lifelessly to the ground. The market square was painted with sudden, quiet death.

The crowd was paralyzed.

Mothers clutched their children. Merchants hid behind stalls. Adventurers who might've considered testing him now stared in horror.

Greg stepped over the bodies without a second glance, continuing toward the inn.

A storm was coming—and everyone knew it.

The Celestial Temple had just made their move.

And now… it was Greg's turn.