Tyr is so dazzling and perfect, like the sun lighting up the earth, his brilliance almost breaks through the clouds and appears in front of all living beings.

But in the end the light stopped in front of the dark clouds.

Tyr's power is stronger than he initially expected. Now he can tear the clouds apart with his hand, shake the earth with his stamp of feet, and with a loud shout, countless warrior souls rise to fight for him.

He is the god of war.

Tyr asked with a complex expression:

"Why? You want to help me transform. If I was a mortal wearing the skin of a god just now, then there is no doubt that I am a true god now. I am a god in terms of identity and power."

Hewen said:

"Didn't I tell you the reason from the beginning? I never planned to fight you because I couldn't defeat you."

Tyr frowned, his expression calm.

He is no longer attacked by the power of the old gods, so he can maintain his sanity:

"Although I don't understand what you mean, I am very grateful to you. I am a bad person, but not an ungrateful fool. If you are willing, I can leave Firth now and promise not to leave until I master my own power.

Do evil again.

"My purpose in starting the war is just to gain strength. Since you helped me do it, I can temporarily retreat and let your family and the people in this city survive. How about that?"

Tyr believed that Hevin would accept his charity, because no matter what method the other party used to achieve this, he must be omnipotent now.

He is a god, and gods are not afraid of mortals. No matter how shocking and great achievements that mortal has made, it is impossible for gods to take a second look at them.

Yes, Hevin helped him become complete, but the focus of this matter is not on Hewen, but on Tyr.

No matter how complete a person becomes, he is still just a human being; only the perfection of God is meaningful.

Tyr believes that Hevin will definitely accept his generous mercy, because the divine power boiling in his body is enough to melt ten thousand Hevin himself.

Hewen said:

"I mean, I can't defeat you, so I have to kill you."

Emerald green branches and leaves grew from Hewen's sleeves, and the mistletoe circled and twisted crazily, turning into a spear.

Tyr raised his hand, intending to use his great power to make Hevin retreat. He looked at the clouds in the sky and waved his hand.

Nothing happened.

Hewen reminded:

"It's eternal winter now, you can't see the sun."

Tyr said in surprise:

"I feel your authority of winter, but shouldn't just the authority of winter be able to stop my power?"

Hewen said:

"This is the winter of Fimbull, the beginning of everything."

The sun no longer appears over the city of Forth.

Tyr can feel the loss of his power. The stronger his divinity, the faster he loses:

"What are you doing? No! Stop! This is my power, you can't take it away."

Tyr roared angrily, and the souls of countless warriors appeared around the leader of the Hall of Valor, charging towards Heven.

Tyr angrily threw himself at Heven, but before he could take two steps, a huge cold wind came towards him, stopping him in his tracks. The cold wind turned into a blade, and Tyr was instantly dripping with blood, followed by sand and dust.

It rose up, covering his vision and making it difficult for him to move.

The souls of countless soldiers were also lost in the storm, unable to even take a few steps.

All things wither, the wind blows in winter.

Tyr raised his left hand high, standing like a tall building. With a slender figure, the vengeful soul wrapped in shadow appeared in the world screaming,

There was hail in the sky, and the frost elements gradually turned into sharp swords as they fell, penetrating his body and nailing him to the ground. The villains and vengeful souls on the ground also meditated with each other and their kind.

They struggled together and bit each other with the most brutal movements.

Compatriots kill each other, the winter of swords.

Tyr gradually fell into hysteria. Like a beast that had lost its mind, he drew out the frost blade from his divine body and consumed his divine power to repair himself without restraint.

With the surge of divine power, his body continued to rise, thirty meters, one hundred meters, one thousand meters, three thousand meters, until his long hair touched the unshakable clouds and then gradually stopped.

The giant god lowered his head, raised his fist high, and swung it hard at the mortal on the ground, intending to smash him into mincemeat.

However, a foul-smelling wind suddenly came, and the roar of the giant beast was enough to shatter the souls of all things. Two stars appeared in front of Tyr, which were a pair of wolf eyes.

The huge wolf opened its huge mouth that devoured the world and pounced on the god.

Fenrir? No, it can't be him.

Tyr was almost scared to death. He thought for a moment that this giant wolf was the magic wolf that devoured Odin, but both reason and facts told him that this giant beast was just a spear made by Hevin.

It's just a monster, incomparable to the monster that shakes the earth.

Tyr hit the giant wolf with one hand, but he found that the giant beast's mouth opened wider and wider. It was so big that he could not support the wolf's jaws with one hand.

Only then did he realize why Hevin had traded his divinity for his right hand. Hidden under the honey was venom exuding an evil aura.

He grabbed the giant wolf's upper jaw with one hand, but the beast as tall as him easily closed its lower jaw, and then bit off his left palm.

Tyr held the base of his arm and roared in pain:

"Ahhhhhhhhh!"

The giant wolf threw him to the ground, opened his mouth and screamed at Tyr's throat crazily, sucking the blood of the god, a trace of greed and desire flashed in his cunning eyes.

Revenge, Winter of the Wolf.

The one-armed god and the giant demon wolf meet again.

Tyr struggled to resist the bite of the giant wolf, its teeth seemed to be venomous, its body was heavier than the earth's veins, and its claws could easily penetrate Tyr's skin.

But Tyr wouldn't give up.

Tyr roared:

"If you are also a god, then let us fight openly and pierce your heart with a spear."

Step by step, Heven climbed up the mountain-like god's body, stood on Tyr's chest, held the Mistletoe Spear high and looked down at the Lord of War.

"The spear in my hand is called the Winter of Finbul. It once brought absolute silence to the world. After piercing the heart of Baldr, the god of light and sun, this spear became the weakest murderer.

God's thing.

"To mortals, it is just a weak and petite plant. Only when it faces a true god will it reveal its most ferocious and cruel side.

"The reason why I want to help you perfect your divinity is because you just weren't qualified enough to make it angry. Finbulwinter hates those gods who don't even want to look at it, so it sacrifices its own life to fight against the most evil

The god Loki made a contract and turned into a spear capable of killing gods.

"In a sense, it's Twilight of the Gods."
Chapter completed!