Demon Kings were nearly immortal beings; they weren’t completely immortal, but they didn’t die easily either. They would survive numerous killings. Moreover, physical attacks hardly affected them. Even Molon, with his brute strength, couldn’t directly impact the soul of the Demon Kings by merely smashing their heads since they possessed a near-infinite pool of dark power and a similarly powerful soul.

To kill, or rather, obliterate a Demon King, it required an attack that directly damaged their soul. The most fitting method was to purify them with divine power. Alternatively, it was also possible to cut through the dark power and the soul of Demon Kings with an even more powerful attack, like one from the Moonlight Sword. Though slightly less efficient, it was also possible to damage Demon Kings with high-level magic that could affect the dark power of the Demon Kings or cut them down with sword-force.

It was possible to kill a Demon King with any of these methods as long as they were persistently applied. However, unlike humans, it was difficult to discern when a Demon King was going to die, even as they neared death.

There were still signs that betrayed a Demon King’s weakening, including a weakening flow of dark power, the shift from aggressive to defensive tactics, emotional overdrive, or, conversely, excessive calmness. Such signs were helpful in gauging how close a Demon King was to death.

Eugene had employed such methods when fighting Demon Kings three centuries ago.

But it was different now. His eyes were imbued with divinity, and he could clearly see the end of the Demon King, the specter.

‘I can see it.’

He thrust the Holy Sword twice, each strike tearing through space with the force to split it entirely. He wielded the Moonlight Sword layered with six stacks of Empty Sword. Even before that, he had slashed the specter multiple times with both the Moonlight Sword and Holy Sword.

Any ordinary Demon King would have already perished after taking such attacks. However, the specter could not be called ordinary by any means. In the first place, he wasn’t actually even a Demon King.

The specter had said it himself.

He was dying. The end was near. He was an incomplete existence, an imperfect vessel. The destructive dark power of Destruction, which filled and distorted him, was causing him to self-collapse. Eugene had seen this happen multiple times before.

Jagon had been a prime example. He was a young beastfolk strong enough to earn himself the nickname the Beast of Ravesta, and he was seen as a demon who might have even ascended to the Demon King’s throne someday. However, Jagon could not withstand the dark power he summoned and self-destructed at the very last moment. Alphiero, the leader of Ravesta’s vassals, exploded like a mosquito when he was overwhelmed by the surge of dark power without even having a chance to regenerate.

The specter was drawing dark power beyond the extreme limit of his existence, beyond the threshold of his existence. Moreover, he had caused his Core to rampage with Ignition, and he had already recovered from death dozens of times.

As a result, his predestined end was arriving much sooner than expected. Eugene could see that with his eyes. He could see the specter’s Core gradually collapsing due to Ignition’s frenzy.

Even without fighting, the specter wouldn’t last the day.

Eugene made some rapid calculations, ‘The remaining time is….’

It wasn’t plentiful. No matter how resilient he became or how far his White Flame Formula evolved, handling greater power only led to a greater backlash of Ignition. If the specter had half a day left at most, Eugene only had a few minutes left to fight.

“That’s enough,” Eugene said.

He planned to end it while Ignition lasted. That was the only choice he had since he wouldn’t be able to fight any longer once Ignition ended.

What about the Moonlight Sword?

Could he wield it again in the remaining few minutes? It was just wishful thinking. He had already expended enough energy for hundreds of attacks in one go.

But he didn’t necessarily need the Moonlight Sword. Unlike when Vermouth wielded it, Eugene’s Holy Sword had the potential to take the head of a Demon King.

The prolonged contemplation was cut short, and reality came crashing down. The specter was equally resolved to deliver a fatal blow. Despite the acceleration of his Core’s collapse with each extraction of dark power, the specter didn’t care.

He would kill.

He would win.

He would end it.

His resolve was once again forged and tempered.

Eugene faced the specter while holding the Holy Sword upright.

A line of light was drawn in the air.

It was a straight slash drawn top to bottom, a straight, vertical line. The line of light was thin enough to be called a streak, but it spread instantly and covered everyone’s field of vision.

But the specter wasn’t engulfed by the light. White flames danced in the specter’s grasp, and the spreading void countered the light.

Swords clashed. There was no sound of metal on metal. Instead, both Eugene and the specter heard the trembling of souls.

Light scattered, and flames fluttered. Eugene twisted his body to avoid the remnants of the specter’s attack. The shattered remains of the attacks were still deadly if he made contact.

He had completely severed the support from the Saints. He didn’t have his ring either. Was there a means for him to instantly heal his wounds? It could be worth trying to consciously use healing magic, but…

‘No,’ Eugene decided.

The source of Eugene’s divine power was the Holy Sword, Altair. The sword was meant to slash. It was arrogant of him to consider healing himself when he should be fully committed to slashing his opponent to death.

If that were the case…

‘I can see it.’

He could see too clearly. He knew he wouldn’t be hit by the debris of the attacks, that they would not touch him, and that he would not be swept away. He found himself guiding the Holy Sword in a swirly path. Light created countless reflections in space like a mirror and erased the numerous fragments of Destruction.

Eugene took a single step.

Though the mind perceived it as such, Eugene traveled a huge distance.

Crack.

Once again, a sound of soul trembling, or rather, cracking, resonated. Was it from clashing so many times? Was it from repeatedly using a power too overwhelming for a human to handle?

‘That might be the case,’ Eugene decided.

He could feel that the specter’s situation wasn’t much different from his own. Just as the specter’s Core was collapsing from channeling an overwhelming amount of power, Eugene’s body was being destroyed by the overwhelming power.

Just as Hamel’s body was ruined by the side effects of Ignition and led to his death, Eugene, too, was gradually tilting towards that end.

“No,” Eugene said firmly.

This was different.

He denied the sensation. The divinity embedded in his thoughts provided a clear answer.

This wasn’t a power that was impossible for him to handle. Instead, it was a power that was difficult for him to handle. Even though only a single word was changed, the meaning was completely transformed.

Eugene’s body would not collapse.

He would surpass the extreme.

He would cross the line of death.

He held onto his crumbling body with his willpower. He was forcibly twisting open a path that didn’t exist. He was illuminating the crushing dark power with light. He moved to avoid being devoured by death.

He felt an intense heat rising from the bottom of his heart. His body and soul seemed to be burning, but they didn’t turn to ash.

His body emitted a creaking sound, and there was the sound of his soul shattering. A crack was formed as a result, and it was filled with light. His existence was reforged anew.

He heard a sound.

He heard a cacophony of sounds, not those of Destruction, but of a different nature: voices — an overwhelming chorus of prayers.

They were acclamations for the Hero.

“Eugene Lionheart.”

The call was familiar, not strange in the slightest. He had been familiar with this sound three hundred years ago, and he was familiar with it now as well.

But the sound infused in this moment bore — desire.

Thousands were looking up at Eugene in the sky. The continent’s renowned knights, warriors, mercenaries, wizards, and priests held Eugene’s name close to their hearts.

Eugene Lionheart.

He was a descendant of the Great Vermouth and a member of the most prestigious family of warriors, the Lionheart family. Rumors about him were bound to proliferate from an early age.

He was born into a collateral line of the Lionheart family. He bore the core traits of the Lionheart family: gray hair and golden eyes. However, Eugene’s family was far removed from the main branch’s authority. It was considered one of the more marginalized, backward branches.

Still, he was the first of the collateral lines in the three hundred years of Lionheart history to win the Bloodline Continuation Ceremony. It was also the first time a member of the collateral line was adopted into the main family and inherited the White Flame Formula. Eugene had led a life of breaking norms from a young age, and his story quickly became a topic of interest across the continent.

The man who captivated everyone’s attention from a young age became the Hero. Despite being young, he had already inscribed his name in history, and his name was destined to become a legend or a myth.

Even now, the attention was focused on him. Everyone would give his name if asked who was leading, guiding, and ending this war.

Thus, everyone held Eugene’s name in their hearts. They shouted, cheered, and yearned for the defeat of the Demon King, the end of the war, and victory.

“Go forth.”

He had heard the same words when he broke the barrier and climbed over the wall. The words were the same, and the mission remained unchanged. He moved forward, fulfilled their wishes, and responded to their prayers.

Crack.

He had severed the support of the Saints. He could not share the burden of the massive power with anyone else. Eugene remained in a precarious state, without means to heal his wounds.

Yet, he momentarily felt liberated from the overwhelming power. It was only a fleeting moment of freedom, but he didn’t miss it.

He took a step, or rather, stepped far beyond. Eugene’s existence moved forward in such a fashion.

He wielded the Light.

Roaring flames blocked the Light, which seemed eager to consume everything in sight. However, the dark power failed to completely intercept the Light, which advanced forward without being pushed back or scattered.

Crack.

The sound of something breaking followed immediately after. Eugene saw the trajectory of the Holy Sword.

There were fragments fluttering in the air, and they were not of light but actual shards of the blade. As Eugene continued to swing, the Holy Sword broke apart.

However, that was only how it appeared on the surface. Even as the metal blade crumbled, the light did not extinguish. Instead, the light began to burn more intensely.

Eugene wasn’t confused by the situation. Now wasn’t a moment to harbor doubts.

He understood the phenomenon. It was simple. There was no longer a need for the sword to be confined within a physical blade.

Vermouth was the sole wielder of the Holy Sword, apart from the founder of Yuras. However, his sword did not shine as it did now, and the blade had never broken.

Crack.

The light diffracted and split into the expansive sky as hundreds of beams.

Just a little more.

The specter thought as such. His Core was collapsing at an accelerated speed with each further extraction of dark power. He was becoming increasingly aware of his impending demise.

But he wasn’t ready yet. He wanted to fight a bit more. To be honest, he simply wanted to win. After all, his demise was already predestined and couldn’t be altered.

The specter swallowed hard while placing a hand over his chest.

He willed his Core to surge again, amplifying and intertwining his dark power even further. He focused on combining the White Flame Formula, Vermouth’s spatial magic, and everything else he could muster with his foundation.

He based everything on Hamel’s technique. It did not belong to him, but it was what the specter was most familiar with.

The two did not avoid each other’s attacks. Instead, they confronted each other’s swords head-on, if what they wielded now could still be called swords. Eugene wielded light, and the specter held a white flame.

The clash turned into a fierce storm. Both moved forward. They were invisible from below. Those of lesser stature couldn’t even perceive the form of their battle, but they could feel it.

They were in the presence of the divine. They felt renewed respect for Eugene Lionheart, and that added to their wishes and prayers once again.

Ultimately, what Eugene and the specter sought wasn’t much different.

Both wanted to kill the Demon King of Destruction and the Demon King of Incarceration. They wanted to save Vermouth and the world.

They only differed in the process they pursued toward that outcome. What was clashing was not light and flame but each other’s convictions and resolutions. Was the winner right and the loser wrong?

To divide them with such binary thinking was the real mistake. Both of them desired the same thing.

‘Proof,’ Eugene thought.

There was no need to pass it to the next era. Eugene would end it in this ear. He would kill the Demon King of Incarceration and the Demon King of Destruction. To prove that, Eugene wielded the light against the specter.

It could not be done in this era. If Eugene could not defeat him, he had no chance against the Demon King of Incarceration, let alone the Demon King of Destruction. If he was killed by the Demon King of Incarceration and his soul captured, there was no more hope for the world. Therefore, he would pass that possibility to the next era.

‘To prove myself,’ the specter thought.

Vermouth transformed him into the Incarnation of Destruction. He was told the truth by the Demon King of Incarceration. The existence known as the specter didn’t exist in any era before, so he needed to prove his reason for existence in the current era. For him, there truly was no next.

‘Just a bit more,’ the specter told himself.

The specter had to acknowledge Eugene. He was strong, extremely so. Moreover, he was growing stronger through this battle. The current Eugene Lionheart was stronger than he was only a few minutes ago.

Had he been holding back? Impossible. He had been sincere from the start. He had distributed his power evenly throughout the fight.

Yet, he felt a significant difference between Eugene from earlier and Eugene now. However, it wasn’t disheartening. Eugene’s growth was, after all, a joyous occasion for the specter.

‘Just a little more….’

He seemed reachable. It was possible. The specter transformed his dark power into flames. He unleashed all of it.

Was it fine for him to do it?

Could he truly end Eugene Lionheart?

Was he allowed to decide the end of this era with his own hands?

Did he have such a right?

Ridiculous contemplations. He had resolved such trivial doubts long ago. The specter’s resolve remained unchanged. Hence, there was no hesitation in his actions.

And because of his desperate desire to reach Eugene Lionheart, he eventually did. The ephemeral flames surpassed the light and engulfed Eugene — at least, that was how it looked to the specter.

The flames surpassed the light only because the Holy Sword completely shattered. The light of the Holy Sword, no longer confined to the blade, gained freedom. It broke free from its shell and enveloped Eugene as a warm light. Despite the flames having the power to annihilate everything, they failed to invade the cradle of light.

Eugene momentarily closed his eyes in his cradle of light. Despite his overwhelming emotions, he could understand the light slightly. He then reopened his eyes.

He reached for his chest with his right hand.

“Divine Sword.”

A soft murmur marked the end.

Updatd frm frewebnov(e)l.com