Most of those still in the city could not be called ordinary.

They hailed from the most renowned knightly orders and mercenary bands across the continent, including the Samar Rainforest, the magical towers, and monasteries. They were among the top talents of the knights, mercenaries, warriors, wizards, and priests. Not every single one of them was necessarily a prodigy or genius, but it was still undeniable that everyone on the battlefield was extraordinary.

Yet none of them could comprehend the phenomenon unfolding in the sky. Even those geniuses whose talents far exceeded ordinary bounds were at a loss.

The sky continued to flicker along with thunderous booms.

They could barely see figures whizzing by, and stars bloomed in the darkness as if the night sky had descended. Then, everything suddenly turned white, and bizarrely shaped lightning streaked across the sky, leaving a trail behind.

All of this happened within mere seconds. What they saw was too surreal to be the work of humans.

But they had no choice but to believe, for the incomprehensible phenomenon continued in the sky. Below the phenomenon, those engaged in battles with winged Nur in the sky could not help but shudder at the sight above them, despite their best efforts to ignore it.

It was like silent thunder — for what else could describe such a force brushing past overhead? The fighters felt incredulous power flitting over their heads.

Pegasi and wyverns, among other monsters, had their fear temporarily suppressed through holy and magical means, allowing them to confront the ominous monsters. This was necessary not only to engage the Nur but also because the battle raging above in the higher skies would instill a greater terror in the monsters.

‘The hero…?’ Raphael thought as he looked up.

Even the Crusader, who was more stunned than his usual boldness, could not help but flinch. He was even secretly envious of Apollo for having been stripped of fear. Raphael forced his trembling hands to grip the reins tighter as he wondered, ‘Is it appropriate to call him just the Hero?’

The clash of the colossal forces caused the sky to light up as if the God of Light had personally descended. The sight overwhelmed Raphael.

The difference he felt was… palpable. Although he had long known the difference between him and Eugene, he thought that the gap between them had widened even further.

Eugene Lionheart was the chosen Hero of the Light, and he was fit to be called the Incarnation of Light. Even so, he should still be human.

Yet, he no longer seemed human.

“A god?” Raphael unwittingly uttered.

What other words were befitting to describe an existence transcending humanity? Was he fit to be called anything other than a god? Yet, such acknowledgment was forbidden.

Raphael Martinez was a holy knight entirely devoted to the Light. Although he knew that he was a fanatic, he never once found his zeal shameful or harbored any doubts about it.

There were many different faiths across the continent, but only the worship of Light was absolute, singular, and true.

It should be so….

Yet, now, Raphael felt a different kind of faith towards Eugene, one not related to the Light.

It was a sacrilegious feeling.

In this world, all gods other than the Light were heretical.

That was what he had believed all his life….

Raphael exhaled shakily and drew the cross in the air.

But he wasn’t the only one feeling this way. Devout priests and paladins, all ardent believers in the Light, felt a different kind of faith in Eugene. They felt a different kind of faith in the Hero as he stood against a Demon King in the sky.

‘Have I been blinded?’ The thought flashed through Raphael’s mind, but it didn’t take long for him to arrive at a conclusion. He swung his claymore with renewed vigor.

Despite harboring such blasphemous, heretical thoughts, the light encompassing his sword remained as radiant as ever. The divine power bestowed by the Light did not wane. If anything, it felt brighter than before.

“Ah…!” Raphael exclaimed while gazing at the sky.

He didn’t need to check the fallen bodies of the Nur. The ominous aura they emitted could no longer obstruct the light. With a prayer in his heart, Raphael searched the dazzling sky for Eugene’s figure.

‘This is not heresy.’ Raphael knew this to be true in his heart. He wasn’t greeted with any divine revelation, but he was certain in his fanatic belief.

Eugene Lionheart could never be a heretic, even if he went beyond being the Hero and declared a new faith. How could he be when the Light, the parent of all, birthed and acknowledged him? To denounce such divinity as heretical would be the true blasphemy against the Light.

With this conviction, Raphael accepted his faith in Eugene and resolved to dedicate his sword to him as he had to the Light.

Dedicate his sword to Eugene?

“Haha….” Raphael laughed at the resolve that had just formed. “Would he even need my sword?”

Eugene’s sword had cleaved through a dark light — or rather, the demonic sword. Sparks flew as metal clashed with metal. However, they were formed from the clash of dark power with moonlight, and they left streaks in the sky, which were then engulfed by a brilliant light.

The Holy Sword of Light, Altair, shone brighter than any star of the galaxy enveloping Eugene. The brilliant light from the Holy Sword contrasted strongly with the dim light of the Moonlight Sword.

It was truly a beautiful and reverent sight.

That was how it looked on the surface, but Eugene’s internal state was far from beautiful or reverent. Eugene spat out blood while cursing in a way he wouldn’t in front of any others.

The miracle he willed into existence had sliced through the demonic sword, but the incomplete miracle had its recoil on Eugene as well.

The taste of blood filled his mouth as it refluxed from his stomach. The hand holding the Moonlight Sword tingled as if he was being electrocuted, and for a moment, he felt a void in the universe within his chest from Ignition’s surge.

Such was the power coursing through him. Even after using Ignition and supplementing the lacking parts with a miracle, his body protested. But soon, thanks to the light that washed over him, the creaking subsided along with the crushing pain.

Eugene wasn’t the only one tasting blood.

Mother…. On the other side of the sky, Raimira called the Saints. She seemed restless, and the light surrounding Raimira had noticeably diminished in intensity compared to before.

“It’s alright,” Kristina said as she wiped the blood dripping from her lips with the back of her hand. She chose not to turn around. She didn’t want to show her bleeding state.

But even without looking back, she knew what state the others were in.

The priests of Graceful Radiance had divine relics implanted in their bodies, and each of them was worth a hundred regular priests in terms of the Light they carried. However, they were no longer able to manifest as much light as before.

It was an inevitable outcome. Though the battle hadn’t lasted long, they had expended immense power in the short period.

Fortunately, no one had died, but some among them would not be able to join the upcoming holy wars.

Whether it was three hundred years ago or now, it seems nothing has changed, Anise’s voice emerged amidst the throbbing of the Stigmata. As the Saint, I never understood the will of the divine, the will of the Light, until the very end. It was the same even when I died and became an angel.

Upon regaining consciousness, she found herself transformed into an angel. But becoming an angel didn’t mean she roamed paradise; Anise simply existed as an angel.

Kristina had felt the will of the Light before. It had come to her as a revelation. But was that truly the absolute will of the divine? Even now, she couldn’t be certain.

It was just… perhaps the revelation was merely a pretext for being pushed into action.

Appearing in Kristina’s dreams, guiding her to Eugene, leading them to the Samar Rainforest, leading her to meet Sienna, and at the Fount of Light….

Was all of that truly the will of the Light? Strictly speaking, weren’t those all influenced by Anise’s own desires? Anise swallowed hard as her imagination began to take form.

One thing was clear. She had been the same since three hundred years ago. She may have blasphemed the light, but she never denied its existence.

But now….

Kristina, give me your hand, Anise said, forcibly cutting off her turmoil. Yet, Kristina remained unshaken even after sensing Anise’s turmoil.

For Kristina Rogeris, the existence of Light was no longer of paramount importance. She was rescued at the Fount of Light. She watched fireworks with Eugene, received a necklace as a gift, and ever since that day….

The swelling admiration and affection made Eugene shine brighter than any light for Kristina.

‘Yes, Sister,’ Kristina replied as she stretched out the hand marked with the Stigmata. Anise also extended her hand in spirit form.

Zap.

Eugene stowed away the dimming Moonlight Sword and gripped the Holy Sword with both hands. The Holy Sword now shone more brilliantly than when Vermouth had wielded it.

Light was pouring in. He could feel a light from a different source imbuing the sword. The light came from Raimira’s back, from the Saints and the Graceful Radiance.

This was…

A foolish act.

Even Eugene himself thought so. Anyone would curse him and call him an idiot for his actions.

“I know,” Eugene said with a hollow laugh while raising his hand.

Crackle.

The connection between the Saints and Eugene, woven by light, began to fade.

Sir Eugene?

Hamel, you idiot…!

Kristina called out in confusion, not fully grasping the situation. But Anise, having experienced Hamel for decades, immediately realized what Eugene was planning to do. She realized why he would resort to such an action as she cursed.

‘For others, not me,’ Eugene quickly added before the connection was completely severed, knowing well the kind of profanities he’d hear otherwise.

Soon after, the link to the saints was fully severed, and Eugene was no longer empowered by the power coming from Raimira’s back.

“You….” The specter looked at Eugene with an expression of utter incomprehension. “What on earth have you done?”

He was baffled by Eugene’s decision to sever the connection with the Saints. This wasn’t just about Eugene no longer receiving power from them. Despite being the Hero and the reincarnation of the War God, Eugene was still human.

Humans were unable to fully handle the power they possessed, and they were prone to succumbing to its backlash. They were capable of wielding forces that could obliterate cities, yet susceptible to fatal injuries from the slightest touch of such attacks. This was why the support of priests was essential.

It was the same three hundred years ago. Vermouth, Hamel, and Molon could confront the Demon Kings head-on because Anise supported them even while bleeding profusely in the background. Despite suffering broken bones, severed limbs, or ruptured organs, Anise’s immediate healing allowed them to continue the fight.

Eugene had been acknowledged by the Light. He could wield the Holy Sword and draw upon divine power. However, he wasn’t particularly skilled in divine magic. While it wasn’t impossible, his abilities in this area significantly lagged behind those of the Saints, the experts.

To put it bluntly, it was inefficient. It would be ideal for Eugene to channel all his divine power into offense and leave healing and other support to the Saints and priests.

But now, Eugene had cut off all such support. Why? The specter couldn’t comprehend it. He acknowledged Eugene’s strength; they had battled fiercely, and he had been pushed back. He couldn’t deny that power.

But without the Saints’ support, the specter would undoubtedly win if Eugene’s focus wavered even slightly in the intense battle and if he got struck even once. Victory would be inevitable for the specter.

“I don’t think a victory achieved with help is worthless,” declared Eugene.

Victory was simply that, regardless of the means. The same idea held true for war.

“That bastard Vermouth also killed the Demon Kings with our help three hundred years ago,” continued Eugene.

He had been unbelievably strong for a human, and looking back, it made sense that he probably wasn’t just a human.

But what did that matter? In the end, Vermouth killed the Demon Kings with his comrades.

“And I’ll continue to do so,” said Eugene. “But not now.”

Was it because of pride?

That was partially true, but it wasn’t the whole reason. Eugene had a reason for cutting his connection with the Saints and not receiving direct assistance from Sienna as he had in past battles with the Demon Kings.

Was it because he was alone?

“There’s no need for next time. I can end it in this era.”

The extent of the Demon King of Incarceration’s power was unfathomable. Eugene could not afford to be reckless as now in a battle against the enigmatic Great Demon King. It was possible that even all of his power, along with borrowed strength, might not suffice.

If he could not defeat the specter, challenging the Demon King of Incarceration would lead to a predictable outcome. There’d be no variables.

That was why he had to finish this battle alone, without the aid of the Saints. He felt that he had to win by himself without Sienna’s support and without calling upon Molon.

He needed to be strong, even more so, given Vermouth’s absence.

‘I need to be stronger,’ Eugene resolved.

Ignition was still active, and honestly, Eugene didn’t feel any lack of power. He still remained confident in being able to deliver a sure kill.

“I need to make sure I can experience that certainty, and you can die without any regrets… it has to be done by me alone, without any other help,” Eugene declared with a cold smile while holding the Holy Sword aloft. “I’ve decided on that, so you’d better recognize it,” he declared.

What about the fact that he had been receiving healing assistance from the Saints until now?

That was hardly something to quibble over. He was battling an entity with an undying vitality, one that wouldn’t die easily. Severing the connection with the Saints was a handicap he didn’t necessarily need to impose on himself.

“You’re insane,” the specter couldn’t help but blurt out. He knew this was a mad act, a foolish move without any need. “You’ll regret this.”

Eugene didn’t respond but gripped the Holy Sword tighter with both hands. Even after cutting off the connection with the Saints, the Holy Sword shone brilliantly as he pointed it towards the sky.

At that moment, both Eugene and the specter were struck with the same gut feeling.

The end of the battle was near.

Twilight would soon fall for one of them.

This ontent is taken from frewebnove(l).𝐜𝐨𝗺