Eugene remembered passing through the gates of Babel, the road towards the main castle. Three hundred years ago, this place was teeming with demons, undead, and chimeras, and it was riddled with traps.

But now it lay empty. Aside from Balzac, who had died blocking the way, and the Demon King of Incarceration in the throne room, there seemed to be no one else in Babel.

‘Because it’s meaningless,’ Eugene thought as he walked through the desolate garden. It was a garden without a single flower or weed. It was questionable whether this place could still be called a garden, but the scattered, neglected sculptures suggested it once served as one.

‘Recreating what was here three hundred years ago wouldn’t stop me now,’ he thought.

Too much time had passed. Back then, breaching Babel was a matter of life and death, but not anymore.

That left Eugene with more questions. Vermouth could have breached the garden alone even then. But he didn’t. Vermouth had his share of struggles in Babel, before and during his battles with the Demon Kings of Carnage, Cruelty, and Fury. Vermouth had always given his all. Eugene never thought it was just an act. It simply had to be that way.

Eugene didn’t voice his thoughts.

He had his suspicions. No, he was certain, and he acknowledged it. But he did not want to confront it. He had been avoiding it.

But now, he could no longer afford to do so. Hadn’t Vermouth already told him? He knew Vermouth’s true identity, the Oath, the goal three hundred years ago. He knew what the Demon King of Incarceration yearned for.

What decision would Eugene make after coming to know all the truths? That would be the final trial of the Demon King of Incarceration. At last, Eugene reached Babel. Now, he was heading towards the throne room.

So now he couldn’t ignore it anymore. He couldn’t look away. Eugene would learn the truth from the Demon King of Incarceration. And then… he would have to decide.

Decide.

What decision would he have to make?

—You will have to make a decision after knowing all the truths. That will be the Demon King of Incarceration’s final trial.

He didn’t know. That was beyond his guess. Eugene glanced down and saw his hands trembling with tension. He felt a subtle fear.

The battle with the Demon King of Incarceration honestly frightened him. Whether he could truly defeat that Great Demon King, he wasn’t sure. He feared defeat, that everything would end. He feared that the long-cherished wishes tied to his existence would be in vain. And he feared the truth.

“Brings back memories,” Sienna said suddenly when they reached the castle. “After we passed this place, the Shield of Incarceration blocked us.”

“Right,” Eugene replied hoarsely.

“And then Hamel, you died,” Anise commented.

Eugene gave a bitter smile and nodded. Eugene’s memory of Babel ended there. How many had been sacrificed for this door to open? Eugene looked at the gates of the main castle.

There was no longer a gatekeeper. He simply needed to open the door. Eugene slowly approached the door.

“I’ll open it.”

Sienna and the Saints nodded. No sign of life could be felt on the other side of the door, but one could never be sure. Eugene reached towards the door, prepared to draw Levantein from his cloak at a moment’s notice.

Creak….

However, to Eugene’s surprise, the door opened easily. The interior was completely empty, revealing the corridor he had struggled through three hundred years earlier. Swallowing hard, Eugene stepped inside first.

Clang.

The sound of chains echoed. Anywhere else, it might have been dismissible, but in Babel, one could not afford to ignore the sound of chains. From the moment Eugene had infiltrated Babel, the Demon King of Incarceration would show no mercy.

Startled, Eugene drew Levantein.

“…..?”

He intended to check on Sienna and the Saints, but that proved impossible. There was no one around him.

Was this an attack? If it were, there would have been some sign. Even if Eugene hadn’t sensed it, Sienna would have reacted.

‘Not an attack…. No, this isn’t an attack. There’s no malice here. Is it magic? Or a power?’ Eugene considered.

Babel was the domain of the Demon King of Incarceration. Every phenomenon here was under his control. Eugene kept his guard up as he surveyed his surroundings. In the pitch darkness, something flickered.

Chains. Countless chains melted into the darkness and entwined the entire space. As the darkness slightly faded, something else began to appear. Eugene realized what it was.

They were memories. Memories of events that had taken place here were slowly becoming visible.

“Has everyone fallen?” The Demon King of Incarceration spoke.

Startled by the voice, Eugene looked in its direction. The darkness abruptly cleared away.

Roar….Rumble….

He stood at the highest level of the Demon King’s castle in Babel, where the Demon King of Incarceration resided. It was a place Hamel had failed to reach three hundred years ago. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

The scene was unmistakable. The walls had crumbled entirely, and even the ceiling was gone, allowing the cloudy, gray sky dominated by roiling red lightning to be visible.

Below the stormy sky stood the Demon King of Incarceration.

“Do you not intend to fall?” the Demon King of Incarceration looked down and asked. That figure, that attire, was exactly as Eugene had seen on the Red Plains three hundred years ago. This was a memory from three hundred years ago.

It was Vermouth who was questioned. Vermouth, battered and almost on the verge of collapse, stood there. He was the least damaged among them.

“Molon Ruhr has fallen.”

Before Vermouth lay Molon in a state so gruesome, he could be mistaken for a corpse. His limbs were torn off, and his side was ripped open, spilling his intestines.

Yet Molon was still alive, thanks to a faint light that covered his wounds.

“Sienna Merdein has also fallen.”

Next to Vermouth lay Sienna. She clutched a long sword in her hand, a sign she hadn’t been able to use her magic as intended. Despite being stripped of her magical powers, Sienna had charged forward with her sword, resulting in injuries uncharacteristic of a wizard. Though not as severely as Molon, Sienna, too, had suffered wounds typical of a warrior and had fallen.

“Anise Slywood has also fallen.”

Behind Vermouth lay Anise, her entire body soaked in blood.

The blood wasn’t from an attack or any injuries. It was the cost of overusing her divine magic and miracles. She had bled so much from her Stigmata that her white robe was dyed entirely in red. Yet, Anise did not abandon her prayers until the end. She had lost consciousness, kneeling in a praying pose. She had allowed Molon and Sienna to survive despite their severe and potentially fatal injuries.

“Everything was meaningless,” the Demon King of Incarceration continued. “Vermouth Lionheart. Your existence is not destined by fate, yet you intervened and tried to change everything, but it was all meaningless. The axe boasted by the robust Incarnation of the Wilderness, born in the harsh lands, never reached me. The prodigy of magic that this era produced could not flaunt her magic before me. Even the false Saint, created by zealots who proclaim themselves a holy empire, could not shine in front of my dark power.”

Vermouth remained silent with his head bowed. The expression of the Demon King of Incarceration changed as he floated in the sky. He gave a painful smile as if he felt genuine regret.

The Demon King of Incarceration said, “Those who leaped into the belly of the God of Giants after watching the world’s end, the heroes of myth — they abandoned their era and the followers who worshiped them. They attempted to defy the next apocalypse, but even that was meaningless. Defying fate is a difficult endeavor.”

“They may have harbored hope and desire, but they ultimately failed. However, I do not wish to mock them. How could beings who have never lived eternity understand eternity? Hamel Dynas. The reincarnation of Agaroth was born human, and Destruction does not wait for him to realize his divinity,” the Demon King of Incarceration continued.

At Vermouth’s prolonged silence, he commented, “Perhaps all this distortion was caused by you.”

Vermouth flinched at those words. They were words he most certainly did not want to hear. He had considered the possibility countless times.

‘It can’t be.’

‘I was not wrong.’

‘I did nothing wrong.’

It was something he had desperately avoided.

“I know you were desperate,” said the Demon King of Incarceration. “You were suddenly born, and you were certain of your existence and purpose. You did not hesitate to become a seeker. Despite the gods’ disapproval, you insisted on becoming the Hero. Vermouth Lionheart, you brought Molon Ruhr out from the cold. You affirmed the existence of gods to Anise Slywood, who secretly hoped for the end and questioned divine will. You taught Sienna Merdein, who knew only vengeance, what true cause was.”

In the palm of the Demon King of Incarceration, a clattering bundle of chains appeared. As the chains unfurled, a shimmering light revealed itself.

“And then you met Hamel Dynas — a mercenary roaming the battlefield. Hamel lacked fame and skill at the time, but you drew him in as a comrade. It had to be him. He was the companion you most needed.”

“I understand. You were originally inexperienced and vulnerable soon after your birth. You needed comrades to fight alongside. Molon Ruhr, Anise Slywood, and Sienna Merdein made excellent companions. But in the end, they were insufficient. Hamel Dynas was who you needed most.”

The gaze of the Demon King of Incarceration shifted, and a flickering light played in his palm. It was a soul — the soul of Hamel, cursed and dead.

“However, Vermouth Lionheart. With your birth, everything began to twist. The Demon King of Destruction, unlike before, rampaged brutally, and the Divine Sword Altair, intended for Hamel, ended up in your hands. And even the Moonlight Sword.”

In Vermouth’s hand right now was the Moonlight Sword. He chewed on his lip as he stared at the sword, his eyes trembling as if peering into his own flaws.

“It’s a piece of Destruction you tore out while trying to mimic humanity. You eventually grasped it again after burying it yourself. Was it out of necessity? Ultimately, it was because you were impatient. Your entire journey has been just like that,” the Demon King continued.

“It’s because it was twisted. You must have thought about it many times. That from your birth, everything went wrong because you pre-empted Hamel’s fate. Haha… Ultimately, it was inevitable. Destruction did not wait for Hamel to become aware,” the Demon King taunted.

“Not yet,” Vermouth finally spoke. “It’s not over yet.”

“No. It is over,” the Demon King of Incarceration said, shaking his head. “You, a mere fragment, cannot defeat me. What you needed to do was not to come as the Hero to defeat me. It was to stand before me with the immature Hamel.”

Vermouth started, “If you had… opened the way—”

“I am a Demon King, Vermouth Lionheart. You ask too much mercy from a Demon King. I have already shown ample mercy. I did not destroy the world. I calmed the Demon King of Destruction when he began to rampage wildly. I waited here until you and your comrades defeated the other Demon Kings before coming to me. During all that time, I waited for Hamel to realize his divinity.”

The chains rattled again, wrapping around Hamel’s soul.

“I know how difficult it is to defy fate. To defy fate, one must possess the necessary qualifications and strength. And in the end, you lacked the qualifications. Hamel ultimately died a human without realizing his divinity.”

Vermouth couldn’t retort.

“If you had reached me with Hamel…. Even I, who have despaired so many times… would have accepted the possibility. Even if I had no confidence in it, I would have hoped for that slim possibility. I would have willingly led you and Hamel into the belly of Destruction.”

“It’s not over yet,” Vermouth spoke again, turning the Moonlight Sword upside down as he continued, “Demon King of Incarceration. I know it’s impossible for me to defeat you.”

“I suppose so,” the Demon King of Incarceration said with a sorrowful smile. “Just as I cannot kill the Demon King of Destruction, the Demon King of Destruction cannot kill me either. We are… bound together, forever.”

“But I can take Hamel’s soul from your hands. I can prevent you from killing Molon, Sienna, and Anise,” Vermouth declared.

“Hahaha…. Do you not want to admit that everything is over? Then let me ask you this, Vermouth Lionheart. What will you do after you take Hamel’s soul from me? The only immediate option for resurrecting the dead is to turn them into undead. But you know this method would corrupt Hamel’s soul and strip it of its divinity.”

“I won’t resurrect him immediately,” Vermouth said.

Crack!

The Moonlight Sword pierced Vermouth’s chest. Vermouth himself drove the sword into his body.

“I know that you, once again driven to despair, will no longer show mercy,” Vermouth continued.

No blood flowed from Vermouth’s chest despite it being pierced.

“You will act the same as last time and as you have several times before. With the countless causations woven into your body, bound by your chains, you will move on to what comes next,” Vermouth told the Demon King.

“Because that is right for me,” the Demon King of Incarceration said with a smile.

“It’s not right for me.” Vermouth’s golden eyes turned gray. “This era is my last. It is right for me to act now. Therefore, I won’t ask for mercy. I will make it so that you have no choice.”

The response altered the smile on the Demon King of Incarceration’s face. He slowly descended as he spoke, “You’ll make it so I have no choice? How?”

“I will break the chains you’ve drawn with the curse of eternity,” Vermouth said as a sinister dark power enveloped his body. The undulating aura looked like flames or manes. Vermouth slowly raised his hand and pointed at the Demon King of Incarceration. “I may not be able to kill your existence, but I can sever your numerous chains,” he declared.

“You overestimate yourself. Can you, a mere fragment, truly do that?” questioned the Demon King of Incarceration.

“I can,” answered Vermouth.

Vermouth took a step forward.

Poof!

The dark power of Destruction flaring around him took on other colors. Countless colors mixed into the flames. The Demon King of Incarceration stared at the magic swirling around Vermouth and muttered, “You’re not just a fragment, after all.”

The Demon King of Incarceration realized he had misjudged Vermouth. “Vermouth Lionheart, what do you desire?”

“To prevent the destruction of this world,” Vermouth answered.

“Is that the Hero’s desire? Or… the desire of a fragment of Destruction?” questioned the Demon King of Incarceration.

“I am not a hero,” Vermouth answered. “This is the desire of myself and everyone,” Vermouth responded with an unwavering voice.

The Demon King of Incarceration fell silent for a moment, then chuckled and nodded. “Have you not yet despaired?” he asked.

If Vermouth had begged for mercy, he would have been deemed unworthy of consideration. But even in the worst of situations, this being, revered as the hero yet not the hero, saving humans while not being human, chose actions that were both heroic and humanly.

The Demon King of Incarceration couldn’t help but laugh. Such a demeanor was something he had despaired and lost long ago.

Therefore, the Demon King of Incarceration whispered with a smile, “Then prove it to me. Prove that it’s not over yet. That you must not yet despair.”

Vermouth, surrounded by intertwining colors, moved forward.