Chapter 365: The Devildom (6)

The Demon King of Fury — he had created a savage frenzy in the world, true to his name. He had obsessed over playing family with those who did not share even a single drop of blood with him, and he even sacrificed himself for his children in the end. But if viewed from a different angle, perhaps he had acted as such because he was crazy.

“Didn’t you all experience it earlier? The magic of Iris, the new Demon King of Fury’s power. Didn’t you all feel just how much it shakes the mind,” Eugene uttered.

Their surroundings were still filled with the encroaching darkness, the putrid stench of rotting corpses, and the shrieking noise of flying insects. The sea of blood itself was giving off a rancid smell as well.

“The Dark Power of the Demon King of Fury can drive people insane. In severe cases, it’ll even make you incapable of differentiating friend from foe. You will end up stabbing allies in the back or worse, even slitting your own throats,” Eugene continued, the gravity of his words sinking deep into those present on the fleet.

Ivic’s eyebrows twitched slightly after hearing Eugene’s words. He stole a glance at Ortus, and in that fleeting moment, Ortus turned his gaze towards Ivic as well. Surprised at the unintended, sudden eye contact, they both shot each other a stern look before turning away with a scoff.

After laying out the problems, Eugene’s words turned hopeful. “Well… if we brace ourselves mentally in advance, it is possible to resist this corrosive power. Thankfully, we also have the Saint with us this time,” Eugene said before turning his head to emphasize his point. Kristina was with a group of people in the distance and was deeply engrossed in a conversation with them.

The number of wizards mobilized for the subjugation of Pirate Empress Iris was not large enough. There was Maise Briar, commander of Shimuin’s court wizards and an archwizard of the Eighth Circle, as well as about twenty battle wizards belonging to the Slad Mercenaries.

But in contrast, the expeditionary force included a considerable number of those clergy belonging to the church.

The Holy Empire of Yuras wasn’t the only place worshiping the God of Light. The God of Light was a deity with the largest following on the continent, with its faith even spreading all the way to Shimuin. As such, the Cathedral of Light of Shimuin had dispatched priests and paladins for this subjugation expedition. In addition, another deity, the God of Knights and Honor, held as much repute as the God of Light in Shimuin.

Ranked third in the gladiator rankings was Paladin Adol, a self-proclaimed grand warrior of the God of Knights and Honor. He was also seen lending an ear to Kristina’s words. Surrounding Paladin Adol were dozens of priests who also served the God of Knights and Honor.

The fact that they worshiped different gods and had different faiths did not matter at this juncture. Though these clergy would usually refer to each other as heretics and maintain a distance from each other, in the face of a battle against a real Demon King, they had no choice but to unite despite their different beliefs.

Earlier, the Light that Kristina had conjured, the magnificent divine power seemingly not of human origin, and the display of eight large, beautiful wings and summoned angels was a spectacle so holy that even the believers of different faiths had to acknowledge it.

It went without saying that the followers of the God of Light were greatly affected by seeing their Saint in action. Some could not even wipe away the tear streaks left behind on their cheeks as they listened to Kristina’s words intently. For them, Kristina’s words were almost like words from their god.

So, what were priests supposed to do in the battle against the Demon King?

Fortunately, all the priests dispatched for this punitive subjugation expedition were battle priests. They possessed adequate knowledge on combating demons, though unfortunately, they lacked combat experience, having been born in an era of peace devoid of wars and conflicts.

In terms of experience, they hadn’t even fought demonic beasts, let alone the demonfolk. Their battle experience was limited to hunting down deranged black wizards, nothing more. In this age of relative calm, the main adversaries of combat priests and paladins were human-created heresies or monsters.

Hence, determining what they should do in the battle against the Demon King was a crucial but difficult question, their knowledge being limited to just theories learned from textbooks.

Thankfully, that wasn’t a problem in this war.

Inside Kristina resided Anise, the only Saint in this era with actual combat experience against the Demon Kings.

Facing the Demon King of Fury, who, just like three hundred years ago, wielded power that could drive people insane, the task of the priests was clear: to staunchly protect the minds of their allies. They would have to purify the minds of their comrades. For this, they would be required to suppress their fear through divine protection, make cold, rational judgments in differentiating allies who could be saved and those who were beyond saving, and not get swept away due to their intense emotions in the heat of battle.

“It’s fine to be like that after the battle is over. But whatever happens, you must not act on your emotions during the battle,” Anise stated in a steady voice.

Regret always lingered after every battle. Could they not have saved more people? Could they not have reduced the number of corpses even slightly? What if they had done this or that instead? It was inevitable to have such thoughts.

However, Anise knew well. Irrespective of her future regrets, she had always chosen the best course of option. The most reliable way to reduce the number of casualties and corpses was to bring down the Demon King in order to secure a victory in the battle. And to defeat the Demon King and win the battle, one should not focus on the weak but only on the strong — like Anise had done by prioritizing Vermouth, Hamel, Molon, and Sienna above everyone else. They were the only formidable people on the battlefield who could steadfastly lead the fight and thrust their swords into the body of the Demon Kings.

Thus, Anise had always set her eyes only on those four individuals, indifferent to the plight of others, whether they were falling or dying. They had successively fought and won that way and that way alone. After securing a victory, she would always wander around the battlefield, healing those who she could, performing miracles here and there, and praying for the departed souls that she couldn’t protect, always bleeding from the wounds on her Stigmata. She would be washed with a sense of guilt for those she overlooked and wasn’t able to save.

“In the subjugation of Iris, the Demon King of Fury, all of us should focus on only one person. Even in a situation where most of our allies are dying, we still have to choose to protect and save only one person,” Anise declared solemnly.

Even the clergy who did not serve the God of Light knew who that ‘one person’ referred to. Even Adol, the self-proclaimed grand warrior of the God of Knights and Honor, could harbor no other doubts or objections to Kristina’s declaration.

This was because it was pretty obvious. Unlike Adol, who claimed to be his god’s grand warrior, that man was the real deal.

He was the representative of the Light, the master of the Holy Sword, and the descendant of the Hero of the past, the Great Vermouth.

He was the Hero of this era.

“Do you think we can do it?” Eugene asked. He was walking towards the helm of the royal ship, Laversia. No one was following behind him, as there was nothing they could do together at this moment.

“We did it three hundred years ago, didn’t we?” responded Sienna. She walked beside Eugene, holding Akasha and Frost in each of her hands. She glanced at the two staffs and chuckled softly. “In fact, I am in a much better condition now compared to when we killed the Demon King of Fury three hundred years ago. It’s true that the Eternal Hole has been slightly damaged… but won’t cause a significant problem.”

Sienna was sure that the Eternal Hole wouldn’t be burdened if they aimed for a short-term battle. Even if it turned into a prolonged, drawn-out battle, the magic staff forged with the Dragon Heart could compensate for the flaw in her Eternal Hole to some extent.

Sienna continued, “During the battle, you will have to use Akasha, but that won’t be an issue for me, the Wise Sienna. Let me assure you, Eugene, I am stronger now compared to three hundred years ago when we faced the Demon King of Fury,” she reiterated, speaking sincerely.

Back then, she couldn’t create the Eternal Hole. In fact, she hadn’t even completely created the Circles Formula.

Contrary to Sienna’s confidence, Anise, who was walking beside them, was a bit subdued. “I am not quite sure,” she finally chimed in. “Kristina and my divine power is stronger compared to mine from three hundred years ago, of course. After all, I have become an angel. Kristina herself possesses a remarkable level of divine power as well. But, I do not know if we will be superior to my past self from three hundred years ago.”

Kristina did not bear the sacred Stigmata. She hadn’t forcibly carved it from the Fount of Light either.

In the past, Anise managed to create miracles such as reattaching severed limbs and reviving dying people by wielding Light to vanquish darkness. However, her ability to wield such potent miracles was solely because she had bore a large Stigmata on her back.

She had been a nearly perfect Imitation Incarnation of Light, created using the remains of the first Holy Emperor and the previous Saints. Anise had been a Saint born with a Stigmata. Unlike with the other Saints, it had not been forcibly engraved but was an innate ability. The Stigmata on her back had been small initially, but it expanded and bled each time she performed a divine miracle.

But Kristina, a replica of Anise, had yet to be endowed with the Stigmata. She could not help but wonder — would she have received the Stigmata had she concluded the ritual at the Fount of Light?

‘If you had done so, Kristina, you would not have been saved by Hamel,’ Anise said with a bittersweet smile after reading Kristina’s thoughts. She continued, ‘Kristina if we consider how complete you are as the Saint, you are superior to me. Though the Stigmata has not yet marked you… someday, it surely will. The divine trace that marked me bled because my existence was incomplete, but the one that will mark you will not bleed.’

Sister, Kristina said, exhaling deeply, a burden laden in her sigh. Someday is not enough. I need the Stigmata now. I need its power for the upcoming battle.

‘Then… we have no choice but to pray,’ Anise concluded.

She understood Kristina’s urgency. They were faced with the daunting reality that they were facing a true Demon King this time, and without the Stigmata, she couldn’t rescue Eugene from a fatal injury..

“May the divine will watch over us. May the Light embrace us,” Anise muttered, her lips quivering slightly as she turned her gaze to study Eugene’s face.

His eyes were cold and devoid of the fervor of excitement. His lips were firmly closed, the muscles of his jaw twitching as he gritted his teeth — it was a familiar yet dearly missed sight. Hamel always enjoyed battles, and excitement would dance on his face every time they headed into a fight..

However, when it was time to ascend to the fortresses of the Demon Kings, Hamel didn’t smile. Not even a hint of a smile danced on his lips, leaving others guessing whether he was prepared to die or determined to survive. Anise cherished this expression of Hamel.

‘Vermouth is gone,’ Eugene thought as he slowly ascended the figurehead at the front of the ships, his movements deliberate and measured. Anise and Sienna remained stationary, not following him any further. Gripping the Holy Sword, Eugene took a quick, deep breath.

‘Molon is gone too,’ Eugene’s thoughts continued, painfully aware of the missing people from their group.

It was different from three hundred years ago. Molon, who always rushed forward to shield others, was absent, as was Vermouth, who once wielded the Holy Sword and the Moonlight Sword at the heart of their group.

Who could replace them? Carmen, Ortus, or Ivic? They hadn’t properly coordinated with each other yet, and Eugene had no intention of relying on them either.

Because it was Eugene’s role to fill the void left behind by Molon and Vermouth.

Me? Seriously? Eugene was conscious of the Holy Sword in his grip. He slowly raised it over his head and felt its unfamiliar weight. He sensed a myriad of emotions coming from behind him. There were gazes laden with various expectations, fears regarding the upcoming battle, and trust in the Hero and the descendant of Vermouth.

Then, there was faith.

“It’s heavy,” Eugene mumbled with a wry smile. He had felt this weight three hundred years ago as well when everyone pinned their heavy expectations on Vermouth and his comrades. Back then, they were the “hope,” but Vermouth always remained the true center of that hope, bearing a pressure incomparable to what Hamel felt.

Taking another deep breath to clear the noise in his mind, he ensured that his grip on the sword was unburdened by unnecessary tension.

The world remained oblivious to Iris becoming the Demon King. They were unaware that here, across this distant sea, a battle between the Hero and the Demon King had been initiated after three hundred long years.

But the people present knew. They knew, and their expectations were transformed into a pressuring atmosphere.

He grasped the Holy Sword with both his hands. He was conscious of Agaroth’s Ring on his left ring finger, which remained silent. No revelations were heard, yet he felt an added power surge through the already heavy blade.

Agaroth — the ancient God of War. Would he be craving for a battle true to his name? The Light of the Holy Sword swelled.

Whatever the people behind him expected was none of Eugene’s concern. His task, whether as the Hero or not, remained unaltered from what it had been three hundred years ago during his time as Hamel.

It was to slay the Demon King.

—It has to be you.

The voice of Vermouth echoed in his mind from the time they first met in his previous lifetime and the time Eugene spent in the stillness of the Dark Room.

“Yes,” Eugene muttered as if in response to Vermouth, his lips parting without a smile, “it has to be me who kills the Demon King.” It had been so since three hundred years ago.

Hamel had harbored the desire to kill the Demon Kings, not just one but all five.

The Light from the sword soared higher, and a pillar of radiance reaching up to the heavens burst forth from Eugene’s grasp. Despite holding such immense Light, Eugene did not waver in the slightest.

“Hey, Light,” Eugene murmured quietly, the Holy Sword trembling as it radiated brilliance. He glared at the thick and pitch-dark curtain that obstructed his way, the darkness that barred his path forward. Beyond that darkness, across the sea, awaited the Demon King.

“I am going to kill the Demon King,” Eugene declared.

The god, whose voice he had never heard, had always granted him divine power whenever he wished for it. This might very well be his first direct prayer to that deity.

Eugene exclaimed as his hands, clasped around the hilt of the sword, overlapped as if in prayer, “So you better give me your strength!”

Kwaah!

In response to Eugene’s words came a unilateral decree. The pillar of Light connecting to the sky intensified, seemingly fueled by an added brilliance from the high heavens themselves. A massive beam of light piercing through the dark barriers of the Devildom enveloped Eugene as it descended.

Eugene stood tall amidst the dazzling radiance, remaining unbothered by the blinding flashes around him.

In the midst of the luminescence, he looked ahead. His hands were clasped around the sword hilt as if in prayer. The sword emitted a light so bright that the boundary between the blade and the hilt became indiscernible. At that moment, the sword was in perfect harmony with Eugene.

“Ah…!” Anise and Kristina exclaimed in unison. The overflowing light enveloped Eugene, then expanded to ravel around Laverisa and flowed into the sea. The crimson sea was covered in Light, and the entire fleet appeared to float on the oscillating brilliance.

Anise spread her wings wide. Kristina stretched out both her hands, and the surging waves of Light reached out to touch her. In that instant, she felt a tingling sensation in the middle of her left palm. There was no blood, yet a thin line was etched into her open palm.

Then, Eugene swung the Holy Sword.

A single swing was all it took.

Kwaarrarr!

The pillar of light that connected to the sky crumbled, transforming into a massive strike that cleaved the darkness in half. Syncing with it, Kristina abruptly raised her left hand adorned with the Stigmata.

Fwoosh!

Particles of Light morphed into feathers and fluttered gracefully. The Sea of Light undulated violently and propelled the fleet upwards.

“My goodness!” Sienna had witnessed everything, but she could not help but exclaim at this extraordinary sight. She hadn’t expected to see such a miracle so soon. Watching Eugene’s silhouette flickering in the luminescent glow, she felt a stirring in her chest.

Light and the Hero; for Sienna, these epithets had been closer to Vermouth than to Eugene until now. But from this moment onward, it felt like that would no longer be the case.

She lifted Akasha and Frost with both her hands. The Eternal Hole opened, and the two staffs poured out waves of nearly infinite mana.

A tremendous wind arose. A spell enveloped the entire barrier surrounding the fleet. Winds from behind propelled the fleet forward as the Sea of Light created waves.

The fleet, embraced by the Light, cleaved through the darkness, advancing steadfastly.

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