The unexpected visage of Vermouth suddenly surfaced in the specter’s mind. It wasn’t the wizard from his concocted memories but rather the wizard he had witnessed firsthand in the Temple of Destruction.

The Hero, the God of War, the Master-of-All, the Great Vermouth.

He had been so haggard and worn, far from the grand titles, chained alone in multitudes as he sat in solitude.

The exact location where Vermouth sat remained unclear. Even as the Incarnation of Destruction, the specter could only speculate about Vermouth’s whereabouts. It was a place connected to the Temple of Destruction, perhaps where the Demon King of Destruction was sealed.

The place had immense marks, those perhaps resembling scars or sword slashes. Although Vermouth sat right atop those marks, pinpointing the location by such traces proved challenging.

The specter questioned the nature of those traces a few times, but he never contemplated too deeply. He knew that mere pondering would not unveil any answers, and he believed Vermouth himself would never desire to be found.

‘He wouldn’t want what I’m seeking.’

Perhaps it would have been different for Hamel, or so the specter had thought. However, he quickly dismissed his wandering thoughts. Instead, he pondered what he could do and searched endlessly.

Who would have thought that here, in this manner, the answer to the dormant question would be found?

‘Sword,’ the specter realized.

The answer came to him as the first thought he had upon seeing it in person. The markings had been scars left by a sword, the traces of the swing of a blade. It dawned on him as if it was the most natural realization.

The sword that left that mark was the very one Eugene was wielding now. It was a blade not forged from metal but shaped from Divine Power, drawn from existence and soul.

‘Divine Sword,’ the specter thought.

The sword formed from dark power couldn’t withstand it for even a moment. The specter belatedly conjured up defense and amplified the dark power around him, but it proved futile. A crimson line was drawn across the specter’s form. The line writhed as if alive, rampaging, and thus, everything was destroyed.

His physical form immediately disintegrated. The specter’s will could not halt the obliteration. Such was the absolute power of the Divine Sword. Yet, even as the body vanished, the part that could be termed the specter’s soul did not perish but remained.

With a roar, the rampaging wave of divine power returned to a mere line before vanishing. Eugene let out a deep breath and sheathed the Divine Sword.

With a single swing, the specter’s entire existence was demolished. However, the specter wasn’t slain. Eugene sensed this truth instinctively.

‘It remains,‘ he thought.

He could still swing the Divine Sword twice more. Could he obliterate the remaining soul with consecutive swings? Eugene wished to conclude the battle as swiftly as possible. He was especially concerned about the horde of the Nur that had escaped the castle.

‘No, it won’t end so easily,’ Eugene realized.

He felt a chill run through him. Eugene relinquished his lingering thoughts about the Divine Sword.

He knew that two more strikes from the Divine Sword could inflict fatal wounds on the specter.

But that wouldn’t suffice. The adversary was as formidable, or even more formidable than a Demon King, who would possess infinite dark power. He needed to reserve the Divine Sword for a strike that could decisively end the battle.

Eugene released the Divine Sword, and the divine power immediately scattered before returning to him.

Prominence — the imitation of Ignition through his pseudo-Cores — was amplified with a sudden surge. Eugene was enveloped in dark flames.

He quickly contemplated his options. ‘Should I use Ignition? No, not yet.’

It was too soon. Like the Divine Sword, he needed to reserve Ignition for the decisive moment. For any ordinary adversary, Ignition or Prominence would suffice. Unfortunately, the foes Eugene resolved to eliminate were genuine monsters far beyond the realm of the ordinary. The specter was no exception, and Eugene had to acknowledge this fact. Despite being cleaved by the Divine Sword, the entity… reconstituted itself effortlessly.

The specter bore the same visage as before the slash as he quickly reformed. He even donned an identical mask. However, it wasn’t that the strike had been entirely ineffective. The power of the Divine Sword had undoubtedly penetrated the specter.

‘Getting slashed multiple times would kill me,’ the specter concluded.

Simultaneously, he was riddled with another thought.

The essence of the sword Eugene wielded, Eugene’s true identity, and Hamel’s true identity were all dots that connected to a distant past. It was also related to the place where Vermouth sat, the place marked by the colossal scar.

Vermouth Lionheart.

“So it is,” the specter muttered, almost involuntarily.

He was devoid of any facial expression. He had been struck with realizations in the fleeting moment he was slashed apart.

The dark power of Destruction surged forth and swiftly formed into a sword. The specter’s figure vanished. He was too swift for the eyes to follow, but Eugene was able to capture his movements using his intuition and divinity.

A radiance burst from Eugene’s unsheathed sword and the brilliant light intercepted the demonic blade. The concentrated power in the Holy Sword stood unwavering against the demonic sword.

Sir Eugene.

Hamel.

Voices of the two Saints simultaneously resonated in his head. High above, Ramira’s form shone brighter, and an immense surge of divine power flowed into Eugene.

We’ll assist you.

The Saints’ voices merged as one, and the Holy Sword shone brighter than ever. The light flowing from the sword was not merely brilliant but imbued with a force rivaling the Moonlight Sword.

‘It’s different from when Vermouth wielded it,’ Eugene thought.

Vermouth, too, had held the Holy Sword three centuries ago. He had initially favored the Holy Sword and even utilized it to slay the Demon King of Carnage. However, the Holy Sword saw little use in battle after Vermouth acquired the Moonlight Sword.

Back then, the reason was understandable. While the Holy Sword was formidable, the enigmatic power of the Moonlight Sword was overwhelmingly superior.

But now, the Holy Sword in Eugene’s grasp shone with a brilliance incomparable to when it was in Vermouth’s hands three hundred years ago. Was it because its power was augmented by the holy power of the Saints and the priests? That was surely a part of it, but Eugene sensed that there was something more.

‘A preference?’ Eugene wondered.

It seemed the inscrutable God of Light favored Eugene far more than Vermouth.

Boom!

With a loud roar, the Holy Sword completely overpowered the specter’s demonic sword. Eugene’s movements guided the light.

The specter’s face remained unseen behind the mask. Only his eyes were visible. They were unperturbed, with a dull depth. In contrast, Eugene’s eyes blazed with fervor and clear intent of slaughter, filled with emotions unbefitting the radiance of the Holy Sword.

In that moment, Eugene and the specter mirrored each other’s movements as if they weren’t two different individuals but were standing before a mirror.

Their stances with the sword were identical. Eugene’s lips curled into an ugly smile. Naturally, he knew what the specter intended to do.

The specter also understood what Eugene intended to do.

Their swords moved in tandem and initiated a frenzy of slashes — Asura Rampage — that emitted lights of contrasting hues. The holy illumination and ominous dark energy intertwined chaotically.

The clash shattered the air, and the ground vanished under the onslaught of their strikes. However, neither yielded an inch as their swords clashed with relentless fury. For a few breaths since the onset of their techniques, their movements were completely identical.

However, the balance shifted in an instant. The specter found himself pushed back, and his demonic sword faltered significantly.

Were they on equal footing? No, it was impossible. The specter’s sword was fundamentally rooted in the techniques of the deceased Hamel from Babel. The specter honed his skills after being reformed with the dark power of Destruction and being immersed in what felt like an eternity of agony. Becoming the Incarnation of Destruction granted the specter unparalleled intuition and insight, and his combat prowess had been enhanced significantly. His skill with the sword had astonished even Molon.

Eugene, on the other hand, had lived over twenty years as Eugene Lionheart. From the moment he could wield a sword — no, even as an infant incapable of holding one, he envisioned and visualized combat. He pondered incessantly about how to engage in battle.

He overcame formidable foes, but many more remained. Eugene always prepared for the worst and never neglected his training. Even when he saw nothing more to gain from wielding a sword, he persisted in swinging it.

In the Dark Room, he envisioned an ideal self, then surpassed even that. The ideal form he once deemed perfect now seemed trivial in hindsight.

Therefore, Eugene’s sword could never be equal to the specter’s. In fact, it should never be. The specter managed to counter Eugene only due to the intuition, insight, and formidable dark power he possessed as the Incarnation of Destruction.

But he wasn’t flawless or perfect. If the specter possessed the intuition and insight of a Demon King, Eugene was endowed with divinity. The war god’s nature allowed Eugene to always forge the optimal battle strategy. Eugene’s eyes gleamed even brighter.

The specter’s Asura Rampage crumbled. Eugene penetrated the sword’s flow and severed it. Eugene’s divine power flared like fire and incinerated the demonic blade completely. Eugene was enveloped in black flames and wielded the brilliant Holy Sword. A trail of black flames followed his strikes.

Booom!

The specter’s demonic sword quickly reformed, and he attempted to block Eugene’s strikes, but when the two swords made contact, the Holy Sword forcibly twisted the direction of the demonic sword’s strike.

‘Parrying,’ the specter thought.

It was an unexpected intervention.

Mere grazes, or rather, the mere aftermaths of each strike, could easily obliterate a mountain.

With each strike, such concentrated power was driven into the foe in a transcendent battle. Yet, before the power behind the strikes could be fully unleashed, Eugene precisely deflected the incoming attack.

‘I can’t do that.’ the Specter quickly conceded. His thoughts accelerated, and each second passed like an eternity. Both his intuition and insight settled on the same answer, on the impending counterattack post-parry, ‘Lightning Counter.’

That was the name of the technique. It was known to him, yet he could not react to it. Lightning Counter was an attack that bordered on unsurpassable speed, and Eugene’s cloak was tailor-made for this technique.

Eugene took out the Moonlight Sword.

Destruction turned to lightning, and Eugene’s strike pierced the specter’s form. It outpaced even sound. Both individuals were emitting the power of Destruction, yet the powers did not mingle. Instead, Eugene’s power was met with fierce resistance upon contact. The specter knew the answer. The sword’s moonlight was no longer pure. It was tainted too much. Now, the sword was no longer of Destruction but Eugene’s.

Rumbleee!

The thunder followed belatedly. Hundreds of beams of scattered moonlight formed a cyclone. The specter recognized this technique, too. It was Infinite Purgatory. Countless slashes awaited him inside the cyclone, ready to tear through him.

The specter’s demonic sword unleashed its power while he was being sucked into the vortex. He attempted to unleash the same technique. The whirlwind of slashes generated by the dark power sought to dismantle Eugene’s Infinite Purgatory from within.

But it failed.

Despite the specter’s attempt at amplifying the dark power, Eugene’s Infinite Purgatory was completed. The specter conceded his ensnared arm and leaped backward. At that exact moment, Eugene slashed upwards with the Holy Sword held in a reverse grip as if he had been waiting for this moment.

‘Dragon Burst.’

Explosions of light accompanied the attack. The specter’s form was cleaved in two. Although he had somewhat anticipated such an outcome, being overpowered without a chance to retaliate brought him to a harsh realization, ‘The gap in our mastery of techniques is too vast.’

The specter had evolved his techniques in their own right, but the chasm between them was immense. His body started to crumble into ash from the split, and the specter retreated while recovering.

‘If we fight in the same manner, I’m bound to lose,’ the specter concluded.

Under these conditions, the specter’s definitive advantage over Eugene was his eternal stamina. As the Incarnation of Destruction, his dark power was boundless, and his immortality surpassed even that of a Demon King.

Yet, the specter knew, ‘Immortality isn’t absolute.’

The current form of the Holy Sword could inflict damage on even the Demon Kings. The Moonlight Sword, transformed by Eugene, chipped away at the infinite dark power of a Demon King. Moreover, the War God’s, the Hero’s Divine Sword — could even sever a Demon King’s immortality.

It became clear.

The War God Agaroth. The Stupid Hamel. And the Hero, Eugene Lionheart.

Through several reincarnations, from epochs long faded and forgotten, a legacy was passed down. All of it was to optimize the current Eugene Lionheart for the slaughter of Demon Kings. The current Eugene harbored more malice towards Demon Kings than any of his past selves, tailoring his entire being for their demise.

Eugene of now could assuredly slay any Demon King that ever existed and perished in the past.

“Insufficient,” the specter declared.

It didn’t matter how many Demon Kings Eugene had killed in the past. It served no purpose. What truly mattered was being able to slay a Demon King who had never been vanquished in history.

He was the warden and the sinner, a Demon King who had observed the cycle of fate and woven causality, causing world-ending calamities time and again. He was an anomaly far beyond the comprehension of fellow Demon Kings.

“Indeed, you are strong,” the specter admitted.

The disintegration of his body halted.

“But this level of strength won’t suffice,” the specter declared.

He came to know many truths through his encounter with the Demon King of Incarceration. The detestable Demon King seemed eager to experiment with the specter as a variable in the cycle of fate.

—I acknowledge your existence.

—You are unique, a being that exists only now and will not recur in the next cycle.

The specter understood, albeit reluctantly and amidst confusion. Though whether this was the correct path remained uncertain to him.

However, the specter yearned for an answer for Hamel. He knew all along that before this determination belonged to the Demon King of Incarceration, before it belonged to him, there was someone who first desired it as their will — Vermouth.

“Still not enough.” The Specter’s conclusion remained unchanged.

If you cannot kill me, if you are weaker than me, then it’s only right to end this world here.

The specter’s aura transformed. The chaotic flux of the dark power of Destruction began to move in an entirely new manner.

Initially puzzled by the specter’s nonsense, Eugene froze at the sight of the dark power’s form.

The dark power flickered like flames.

Slowly, the flames intensified.

The energy became gray flames.

“…Damn bastard,” Eugene muttered, face twisted in disgust.

The gray flames waved like a lion’s mane.

This content is taken from fr(e)ewebn(o)vel.