The cursed sun has fallen.
The lake consumed by the curse has evaporated.
The King of Beasts has been slaughtered.
As the connections with the ancient disasters she resurrected begin to sever one by one, the heretic feels surprise. Pure admiration. Even if that resurrection was imperfect… she knew the disasters reborn were by no means weak.
Ancient disasters.
The massive walls that once blocked her way.
The walls that Cardi, Ganikalt, Belial, and she herself had struggled to overcome with all their might. The heretic was certain that the children living in this time could not surpass those immense walls.
It could only be that way.
They are children living in a false age, having lost their past and forgotten the truth. With each passing century, they wouldn’t reach the truth, the heretic was convinced.
Thus, they could not surpass.
Thus, they would not reach.
Next, and then next. Hundreds of years were more than enough to shatter the faith the Saint once cried out. But…
“……”
The heretic looked ahead in silence.
In front of her was the successor of the covenant. They who retrieved all pasts and realized the truth… the existence they had long awaited. A being that shattered her expectations and reached this place.
Raniel van Trias.
The hero of this age, a child who inherited the essence of Ashen.
“I see.”
The heretic chuckled.
Indeed, she understood now.
What the successor thinks, what the child who inherited Ashen wishes to convey, the heretic felt she finally understood.
“Surely.”
Once, on a day when that child did not yet perceive all truths, she had declared.
“Surely, I will trample on everything you have. I will deny everything you are to prove you are wrong.”
That she would trample everything.
Proving the salvation you speak of is wrong, thus proving that every path you have walked is incorrect.
“Surely.”
Long ago, that child swore so, and the heretic had responded with scorn. Go ahead, try if you can. She mocked, questioning if it could be possible for one who knew nothing of the past, living in a false now.
But now, what of it?
“I came to prove.”
“To show you are wrong.”
That child has come all the way here.
Realizing all truths and standing as the successor of the covenant, she is here to deny herself. Acknowledging all truths does not change that child’s choice, the heretic could tell.
Still, that child intends to trample on her.
The heretic Gletus wishes to deny the path she has walked, all the life she has lived. And that denial the child speaks of cannot be achieved by a single hero.
Those broken by the heretic.
Those crushed by her path. Only through them can the heretic’s life be truly denied.
Thus, that child has brought them here.
Lives already shattered, paths long ruined, yet still walking that path. Those who have not given up hope… that child has guided them here.
And those led now provide answers.
Answers the heretic never envisioned.
“This is the answer I present to you, heretic.”
The mage who had been laughed at for becoming the same madman as the heretic remained human until the very end. Refusing the heretic’s prophecy, he shattered the wall she had constructed.
“Look, heretic.”
“Am I still a pitiful human?”
The human who had lost everything. A wretched human who could not protect anything, whom she had mocked, has now become a phantom, tearing at the heretic. He turned her stage into chaos.
…Those she regarded as nothing.
…Those she thought would end as nothing.
Simply crushed beneath the path she had tread, unable to even be a small obstacle. Those who the successor led here created results that defied the heretic’s expectations. By turning her stage into chaos, they proved.
You are wrong.
Your prophecy, your expectations, your certainties are wrong.
Thus, all of your everything is false.
“This is the negation you speak of.”
The heretic chuckled.
Indeed, this is the surest way to deny the heretic. Unquestionably, fatally, thoroughly.
“But you see.”
But the heretic then asks.
“Do you think all will turn out that way?”
Do you really think everything will go as you wish?
Gleria knows. She recognizes how much the successor before her resembles Armiel, that person. The foolish way of life which holds its own shackles in pursuit of the best.
Though Gleria loves that foolishness.
At the same time, she knows well how to crumble such a person.
“Do you think you can leave it be?”
The heretic’s gaze shifted towards the remaining disaster. The bearer of the land cursed, Abaddon. That disaster has not yet fallen.
Of course, that disaster too shall one day fall.
‘Surely it will.’
That child over there is not one who inherited Belial’s will. It can be defeated. Just as Belial did in the past, that child shall stir a fierce storm to quell the disaster.
‘None other than the one chosen by Cardi and Belial. Surely it shall come to pass.’
The heretic trusts her comrades’ vision. She would never underestimate those who carry on their intentions.
But, but you see?
The heretic chuckled as she gestured.
At her gesture, the fetid waters soaring to the sky quickly receded. Beyond the receding filth was a girl confronting Abaddon. A girl who resembled the heretic herself.
As the heretic looked at the girl, she smiled.
…In the past, the countless gods horridly loathed the very notion of a Guide. But among them, the one who garnered the gods’ utmost disdain was a single human. A being known as Gletus of Regulation.
The original soul of the heretic.
But the current heretic has drifted very far from her. The broken and twisted heretic no longer resembles her.
Yet, the girl there is different.
The pure soul of that girl precisely aligns with that of the being once called Regulation. And the heretic knows that the existence that enrages the gods is.
‘The being the gods feared, the Mage of Ancient Dragons. The Guide Yormun van Dragonik.’
But.
‘The being they loathed the most, the human they sought to trample upon no matter what… Gletus of Regulation.’
The truth she had grasped firmly.
As she mulled over it, the heretic slowly raised her arm. She extended her finger. Reaching out, she pointed at the girl beyond.
“Look.”
She whispered.
The gods long forgotten tuned their ears to her whisper. They turned their heads toward the place her finger aimed.
“There lies Regulation.”
Regulation. A word that can never be forgotten.
Chik, Kiki-ki-ki-ki!
At that name, the forgotten gods reacted.
Their heads all turned. The gaze of the gods who had stayed beside the heretic fell upon Chloe beyond. The instant they gazed at her soul, their divine sights trembled.
“The Regulation you loathe so deeply.”
Punk!
“Is over there.”
The heretic released the leash of the forgotten gods she held. As if granting them the freedom to do as they wish. This was the moment the heretic relinquished control over the forgotten gods.
Boom!
The earth, the sky, the air, everything trembled. The forgotten gods roared. They rushed towards the place where the girl is, roaring.
Ka-ka-ka-ka-ka-ka-ka-BOOM!
In an effort to restrain the gods, chains scattered by Raniel were all torn away by the enraged gods. The moment they heard the word Regulation, their movements turned into a frenzy.
Thud, Boom!
With each step they took, the ground dimpled, quaking, and clouds of dust billowed up. Viewing that scene, the heretic laughed. She burst into joyous laughter.
“Even so.”
The heretic looked at Raniel.
Drenched in the blood of the gods, she smiled at Raniel, who was gasping for air atop the corpses of the gods.
“Can you still deny all of me?”
You must deny everything of mine.
Yet, I need only deny one little thing of yours.
“Junior.”
The heretic let out a sigh of disappointment.
“Don’t choose a path that’s too difficult. You will crumble. You will break. Don’t rely on others for your best. The only thing you can be responsible for is yourself.”
Gleria watched.
She saw Raniel’s eyes quivering. She recognized that Raniel’s gaze was fixated on the rushing gods, rather than on herself.
“Look at this.”
Pointing to Raniel’s trembling eyes.
The heretic tilted her head, laughing.
“Are you already trying to crumble?”
Raniel kicked off the ground and charged ahead.
Passing Gleria, she reached out towards the gods targeting Chloe, but…
Snap!
Gleria grabbed Raniel’s arm.
“Shall I tell you again?”
Gleria whispered into Raniel’s ear.
“You’ve lost, child.”
A massive fist, foot, or mace fell from the sky. The forgotten gods charged towards Raniel, who Gleria held back.
With a thunderous sound.
For the first time, Raniel’s stance faltered.
2.
Thud, blood splattered long and wide.
A tree trunk shot up from below, not from the front of the barrier. The one pierced by it was not Chloe.
Gack…
Pierced by the trunk was Destel, who switched places in a fleeting moment, pushing Chloe away. Even while groaning, Destel struck the large shield with his fist.
Vroom!
With a rumble, the barrier’s range expanded. The moment the barrier covered the ground, Destel urgently grasped the roots that had pierced his arms and calves.
Gah, gah…
From the moment it pierced him, it planted roots within his body, drawing in nutrients and growing. The roots of the tree were nearly impossible to pull out, but Destel exerted all his strength to yank them out.
His vision flickered with crushing pain.
As he pulled out the roots, Destel’s skin tore wide. Blood splattered to the ground. Destel gasped roughly, throwing the roots he had pulled out onto the ground.
“……”
Breathless, he raised his head, meeting the gaze of Chloe, who was looking at him. Faced with her trembling eyes, Destel managed to force a smile, but that smile was fleeting. The corners of his mouth quivered from pain.
“What are you doing? Hurry up and chant the spell.”
Destel grasped the large shield once more.
Clang, Kaka-KANG!
Amidst the deafening sounds of the roots striking the shield, Chloe began to draw up her mana again.
‘…It hurts like hell.’
Destel looked at the blood dripping down and clenched his teeth. It was a wound that wouldn’t heal easily even with the hero’s healing abilities. Was it because the extended roots had ripped the wound to shreds? Well, whatever the reason.
“……”
Destel kept his gaze forward in silence.
He saw Belnoa, charging towards the great tree as he dashed through the springing roots. Behind him was Chloe, unfolding numerous circuits.
…Neither of them trembled.
Even with such an enemy before them, in a situation where victory could not be assured, neither were afraid; they were instead searching for a way toward victory. To Destel, that sight felt incredibly mysterious.
How do they do that, really?
In the battlefield, Destel often felt this way. From the knights on the battlefield, those called heroes, or even from his companions.
‘Aren’t they afraid? Isn’t the very essence of risking life terrifying?’
Knights who willingly stake their lives on a single gesture. Soldiers who crawl into the fray without objection. Powerful individuals who have achieved much, yet willingly sacrifice their lives as if nothing mattered.
…None of it made sense to him.
After all, he was terrified.
Madly terrified. Even now, his heart races incessantly. Just a moment ago, that root pierced him; had it gone any lower, it would have stabbed his heart, and that would have been his end. He would’ve faced death right there.
He couldn’t hide this fear, no matter how much he tried. Destel noticed. His fingers gripping the large shield were trembling.
‘…While I am so terrified.’
Of course, Destel knows.
They are probably not unafraid either. Even if they are afraid, they are moving forward. Even Raniel said so. They’re scared, but to avoid regrets, they must overcome that fear and stand there.
‘What exactly…’
But at the same time, Destel wonders.
How can they move forward without trembling?
‘What in the world?’
How can one overcome this fear?
‘I just don’t know.’
Destel did not have the answer. He was far too frightened of death. He detested the battlefield, where one had to wager their life. He still didn’t know how to overcome this terror.
He could do nothing but stand there.
He despised this entire situation, but he had neither the courage to abandon all responsibility and flee from it nor the bravery to overcome this fear and move forward.
Thus, he must be the coward.
Thus, he must be called base.
“Load.”
As he fumbled around, clutching his shield, a voice came from behind.
“Stand by.”
It was the signal that Chloe’s chant was complete.
Destel released the shield. Along with the great shield disappearing as platinum-colored star powder, dozens of branches descended upon Destel.
Flap!
As the great shield disbanded, Destel’s coat flapped vigorously. The fluttering coat shone, creating the most basic star weapon, the Holy Sword.
Berser of the Severance.
Among the heroes Destel could imitate, he was the strongest. Until Kyle Toven’s appearance, he was called the strongest hero. The moment he gripped the Holy Sword he wielded, Destel’s divine sight became intensely focused.
…He was a cowardly and base human.
However, the ones he could call forth were radiant heroes. When he embodies them, Destel could forget himself. He could exist as a hero.
Swish.
Destel’s arm moved.
Imitating the swift blade strokes of Berser, the coat fluttered as Destel’s arm moved quickly. He severed all incoming tree trunks with the Holy Sword.
Thus, the path was made.
“Manifest.”
At the voice behind him, Destel swung the sword wide. He leaped to the side as he swung the sword.
Flash!
With a flash, a gigantic magic circle rose before Chloe. The concentrated mana began swirling wildly. In the blink of an eye, circuits that had gathered into a single point burst forth with light.
Spell-bunching.
Spell-boost.
Exterminate.
What shot forth were beams of light.
From a single flash, dozens of beams split apart, burning the encroaching roots as they advanced. The instant they were shot down by Exterminate, the roots that blocked Belnoa surged upward with a thwack.
With a thud, Belnoa kicked off the roots’ remnants and leaped. Witnessing this, Chloe spun her staff once.
With the tip of the rotating staff, she struck the ground, and circuits expanded outward. Standing at the center of the enormous circuit, Chloe shouted.
“Cataclysm!”
The earth shook.
Kaboom!
The ground that lifted up restricted the movements of the great tree. As the ground surrounded the great tree like a prison, Belnoa accelerated.
Charging forth with a storm.
Chloe continually unleashed spells.
Watching, Destel stepped back and swung his sword. He cleaved through all the roots targeting Chloe. With the coat fluttering, Destel thought to himself. He desperately reassured himself.
…Yeah, even a coward like me can do this. At least I’m not living off my junior’s blood. I’m helping out in this battlefield.
That was Destel’s last bastion.
He couldn’t solve every issue on behalf of his junior, but at least he was fighting alongside her. This was his last refuge to avoid loathing himself.
Standing firm in that refuge, Destel looked ahead.
Supported by Chloe, Belnoa charging with the storm was truly a hero of reversal. A sight that could come straight out of a fairy tale. As he gazed at such a shining hero, Destel forced a smile.
“Alright, give them a good hit.”
Like humans who recognize they cannot be heroes, Destel too immersed himself into the heroic narrative. He wished that shining hero would achieve great feats in his place.
Just then, as Belnoa swung her arm with the storm.
【■■, ■■. ■■■■■■■■■■■■!】
A roaring voice shook the sky.
Destel, Chloe, and even Belnoa couldn’t help but look up at the sky. The expansive night sky was absent. What entered their sight instead was a huge, white giant.
【■■■■■■■■■■】
【■■】
【■■■■■■■■■■】
【■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■!】
The Giant God, leaping to cover the sky, intervened in the battlefield. Following the giant, the forgotten gods entered the battlefield one by one.
CRACK!
Belnoa, struck by the Giant God’s kick, spat blood as he was sent flying into the air. The brief moment he had leaped toward the great tree just a second ago was rendered meaningless; he returned to his previous position.
Boom!
With a loud crash, Belnoa was smashed into the ground.
Destel slowly turned his head back. There lay the ground, now a deep pit. There was a hero, gasping and bleeding.
“Bel, Belnoa!”
Chloe screamed.
The sound of Belnoa choking on blood.
“…Ah.”
Destel sighed.
The Holy Sword he had unwittingly let go transformed into star powder. The fluttering coat settled. Destel turned his head to look ahead once more.
The heaving great tree, Abaddon.
The forgotten giants who had intervened in the battlefield.
As they rushed to trample this place, Destel murmured in despair.
“…It’s a joke, right?”
