It's a world where the old Gods were killed by the outer gods, leaving only the goddess of literature, Muse, their sole survivor. Muse is fulfilling the other gods' wish to save their creation, so she warned a select number of people and gave them powers from literature—Crime and Punishment, The Count of Monte Cristo, Inferno, Don Quixote.
These powers aren't just gifts—they're imprinted into the being of those chosen, fusing with their soul like second nature. Impossible to remove. Once received, they become instinct. Memory. Identity.
Muse, for all her power, looked nothing like a warrior. She was fair-skinned, with long blonde hair that shimmered like parchment under sunlight and deep blue eyes that glowed like ink about to spill. Clothed in robes woven from starlight and living scripture, she radiated elegance and brilliance—but also a certain clumsiness, as if she never quite got used to being divine. She was whimsical, soft-spoken, always thinking two pages ahead but forgetting where she put the pen.
The last surviving god wasn't a conqueror or a queen.
She was a writer.
After warning the chosen individuals, an outer god caught up to Muse and tried to kill her. In the chaos, Muse, being the clumsy god she is, rushed to shield the others and completely forgot about one person.
Karma.
He was left behind, stunned and motionless.
Muse suddenly realized what was happening—her eyes widened and she gasped. "Wait—oh no, no no no!" she muttered, stumbling back toward him. In a rush, she pushed Karma aside to save him and, in that moment, pressed her hand to his chest, passing onto him a power she had almost forgotten to bestow.
He received the power of Crime and Punishment—and with it, the Executioner's Blade.
Then the sky darkened.
The outer god appeared—Araphé, the new god of the fallen abyss. A grotesque being, with the body of a shark and the limbs of a man, twisted in rose-thorned flesh. His very presence devoured everything—light, sound, even reality.
Karma was scared. His knees shook, breath short, hands trembling. He didn't understand what was happening.
But somewhere deeper—beneath the fear, beneath the confusion—something else awakened.
His instincts.
They screamed not just to fight—but to execute.
While Karma fought, Muse hovered in the distance, her robes torn and parchment hair stained with ink and blood. She was weaving spells of protection over the remaining chosen, shielding them from Araphé's leaking void. Her fingers trembled as she wrote glowing glyphs in the air with light, each letter a ward, each sentence a barrier. She wasn't a fighter—but she was doing everything she could to keep the others alive.
Still, she couldn't interfere with Karma. The power she had just given him hadn't settled. If she interrupted now, it might shatter his soul.
So she watched.
And wrote.
Prayers disguised as prose.
Araphé lunged forward, and Karma's instincts moved faster than thought. The Executioner's Blade manifested in his hands—a katana-like weapon, sleek and curved, its edge glowing with a red-and-black aura that hissed like divine fire. It was spectral and heavy with judgment, pulsing with the fury of all condemned souls.
He entered Execution Mode, his body burning with new power, senses sharpened to a knife's edge.
He struck—but the god's thorned scales were nearly impenetrable. Karma's slashes bounced off at first, the divine armor refusing to yield. Each movement took everything he had, dodging endless waves of darkness, the ground around them warping into abyssal landscapes. His breathing grew heavy. His limbs screamed.
Then came the pain.
Araphé retaliated, hurling black void spears that tore through the ground like meteors. One clipped Karma's side—ripping through his ribs and sending him flying. Blood spilled across the battlefield. His scream was swallowed by the abyss. He could barely breathe.
He hit the ground hard, coughing blood, vision flickering. But he rose. He rose anyway.
Then—Executioner's Slash connected. A spark. A fracture.
It wasn't much, but it disrupted Araphé's aura. His domain cracked for just a moment. Karma pressed on, eyes wild, driven by something deeper than fear.
Araphé unleashed a devastating wave of void, but Karma—without thinking—unleashed Chains of Contrition. Divine chains coiled around the god's power, silencing the attack before it reached him.
That was the moment.
Weakened. Exposed.
Karma raised his hand, and the sky answered.
Judicator's Fall.
A massive ethereal guillotine descended with finality. Araphé screamed as his body was torn from his divine connection. The blow didn't kill him instantly, but it severed his strength—and Karma, bloodied and broken, drove the Executioner's Blade into the abyss one final time.
He won.
But he was fatally injured.
Muse arrived moments later, the battlefield still echoing with divine silence. She hovered over him, panicked, her glowing hands weaving ink and light. "I—I didn't mean for this," she said softly, healing him. "You weren't supposed to be the one."
She returned him to his world.
Then Karma—
Woke up.
Like it was all a dream.
He sat up in bed, the morning light casting gold through the windows. He was sweating, confused. He stood up, walked to the kitchen, and made coffee with shaky hands.
Then—
Giants started falling from the sky.
"Am I still dreaming?"
Karma said, staring at the television screen in disbelief.
Every news channel was flooded with chaos—giants were falling from the sky, shaking the earth with their impact. Their massive, lifeless bodies crashed into mountains, cities, oceans.
But little did the world know—those weren't monsters.
They were gods.
The very gods humanity once worshipped.
Now dead, sprawled lifeless across mortal land.
Karma stepped back from the screen, heart pounding. His hands were shaking again.
Then something even stranger happened.
In front of his eyes, a floating status bar appeared, glowing faintly in the air like a hologram. At the top, a countdown timer blinked ominously.
Ping.
A soft sound echoed in the room as a message popped up.
"Survive the Undead Apocalypse."
Time remaining: 365 days, 24 hours, 60 minutes, 59 seconds.
58
57
He didn't even get a chance to react.
The moment the timer ticked to life, the dead rose—quiet at first, like shadows at noon. Then louder, faster, spreading through the cities like a curse. The apocalypse had begun, and it didn't wait for anyone.
Karma dropped his cup of coffee. It shattered on the floor.
Trembling, he looked up—and noticed something flash in front of him.
His ability status.
He could see it now, detailed and clear.
Executioner's Blade
Power Source: Crime and Punishment
State: Imprinted
His eyes widened.
This wasn't a dream.
Everything that happened—Muse, Araphé, the fight, the guillotine—was real.
The divine war was just the beginning.
And now the world was about to burn again.
_Skills:Crime and Punishment_
Divine execution manifests through a blade of absolute judgment.
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1. Execution Mode
Type: Transformation / Buff
Effect: Enhances user's physical and sensory capabilities.
Boosts speed, strength, reflexes, and perception of divine energy.
Crucial for survival and offense against gods.
Optional Enhancement – God-Slayer's Focus:
Temporarily reveals weak points in a god's defense.
Requires sharp reflexes to exploit revealed openings.
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2. Executioner's Blade
Type: Offensive / Debuff
Effect: Strikes with a spectral blade attuned to divine energies.
Bypasses normal defenses.
Deals moderate damage but disrupts divine powers.
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3. Chains of Contrition: Divine Interdiction
Type: Reactive / Seal
Effect: Seals the last skill used on the user for 5–10 seconds.
Interrupts the ability completely, stopping passive and active effects
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Ultimate: Judicator's Fall
Type: Finisher / Massive Debuff
Effect: Summons a colossal ethereal guillotine imbued with divine judgment.
Requires Execution Mode to activate.
Deals massive damage and severs divine connections.
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