There had been only one target.

Or so Athanasia had thought. But the multitude of Lutanox left her in utter confusion.

‘All of these… are his clones?’

No—more precisely, they were the swords of Emperor Lutan of Krata.

‘How could he have created so many Soul Swords?’

Forging blades infused with souls—or close to it—was no simple feat. And yet there weren’t just one or two, but well over a dozen. The amount of power required was staggering.

‘Don’t tell me…’

There was only one explanation: Elhaen had granted him that kind of strength.

‘This is bad.’

She had expected him to be bolstered by Elhaen’s blessing, nothing more. But if he could wield this much, then Lutan might already have become something beyond human measure.

‘I have to retreat.’

She needed to return to Clay with this knowledge.

BOOM!

“What are you thinking?”

One of the Lutanox slammed its sword into the floor where she had just stood.

“If you drift off like that, you won’t even keep hold of your life.”

“Save your breath.”

Athanasia’s teeth ground together.

“Bring me the real Lutan, not counterfeits like you.”

“You have no right to stand before His Majesty.”

Its eyes were cold as it regarded her.

“Even reaching this far was more than you deserved.”

“You bastard!”

Her fist clenched tight.

“There’s a limit to arrogance!”

Wooooom!

Waves of force erupted from her, crashing like a storming sea. Lutanox were hurled back, some smashed into walls, others planting their swords into the ground to keep from being blown away.

“I’m not done yet!”

Crash!

She stomped down hard. The ground cracked and collapsed beneath them. Most of the Lutanox were swallowed by the falling rubble, though one leapt toward her with its blade raised.

Clang!

Her wave, shaped like a blade, clashed with his.

Clang! Crash!

Again and again they exchanged blows, sparks and shockwaves filling the air.

“Die die die die die!”

Athanasia’s eyes blazed as she unleashed wave after wave. Lutanox parried desperately, but at last his limit came.

Wave after wave tore past his guard, some striking him full on. He coughed blood, flung backward.

“You’re nothing but the sword of a nobody!”

Elhaen was no god of this world. Those who served her were traitors to the world itself.

“You chose the wrong master—so you will be judged!”

Her fury as one cast down from godhood surged. She charged, screaming.

“Die!”

Wave after layered wave slammed into Lutanox.

Crash!

He braced with his sword, but her power ground it down. She poured on more force, pressing harder and harder.

Shatter!

The blade broke. Her waves struck him directly.

“Ghhhaaaa!”

His scream tore the air before his body was shredded. When his life finally flickered out, he returned to the form of a silent sword lying on the ground.

“Damn… thing.”

She panted raggedly.

“There she is!”

By then, soldiers were pouring back into the hall.

“Seize her!”

“Annoying pests.”

Athanasia staggered forward. She had wasted much strength on the Lutanox, but she could not retreat.

Not until she struck a blow against Elhaen—only then could she vent her boiling rage.

Bang!

Launching herself with her waves, she pushed ever forward. Soon she found herself before an ornate set of doors—the most resplendent she had seen.

‘This is it…!’

Her instincts screamed it. She hurled her fist into the doors.

“Khugh!”

They were solid. Even with her power, they did not break at once. Pain contorted her face, but she struck again and again—fists, kicks, waves unleashed in furious succession.

Crack.

At last, fractures spread across the surface. Light leaked through, as if a magical barrier had been woven into the door.

“Break—”

Her bloody hand slammed once more.

“—damn you!”

Craaaash!

The cracks spread, and the doors collapsed. Athanasia’s trembling body forced its way inside.

‘Damn…’

She had overexerted herself. Even with her recovered strength, she was far from the god she once was. She had pushed herself too hard.

‘Stay focused.’

Still, she would not turn back.

‘I can end this.’

Breaking through the Lutanox had given her confidence. If he had thrown them out to delay her, then perhaps Lutan sought to avoid facing her directly.

Now, with his guardians shattered, his strength must surely be diminished.

“Lutan!”

Her voice thundered as she entered.

“Show yourself!”

But there was no sign of him. Only stately furnishings met her gaze. With a snarl, she blasted the wall above the door, collapsing it to block any pursuers. Then she pressed deeper inside.

‘What is this…?’

The chamber stretched strangely long and deep, more corridor than room.

Then she saw it: a hole in the floor, revealed beneath a shattered cover.

Her eyes widened.

A pit.

She could not fathom what it was.

Athanasia thought perhaps Lutan had fled here. She lay flat against the floor and peered down.

A cavern.

Torches of mana-stone, burning endlessly, lit the passage.

She couldn’t fathom how such a cavern could exist here, but Athanasia stepped inside. She had to find Lutan.

After walking for some time, she discovered something strange.

“…”

Cells. Countless iron-barred cells.

And inside—

“!”

Demons. Dozens, perhaps hundreds of them.

“Wha—hey.”

But they gave no reaction to her presence. They were corpses. Long dead.

Confusion.

What in the world was this? She pressed on, uneasy. She felt certain there was more ahead.

At last, the path ended. Or rather, the ceiling had collapsed here, blocking the way just as she had sealed the door behind her.

Pushing through a narrow crack in the rubble, she squeezed to the other side—into deeper darkness.

A vast hollow space.

A pit.

It stirred a memory. Something Clay had once told her.

‘A pit… from which demons pour out.’

Lutan had been said to remain in the capital to keep it sealed.

She doubled back and tore one of the torches from the wall, then carried it with her into the chamber, pressing further on. Step after step, her feet echoed against the stone until—

“…Ah.”

She found him.

The body of an old king, slumped lifelessly.

Her eyes widened as she drew near. The emperor’s fine robes hung in tatters, his flesh long gone. Only a white skeleton remained.

“What… how…”

Lutan.

The emperor of Krata. Clay’s sworn foe. Yet here he was, long dead.

“This… can’t be.”

By Clay’s account, Lutan had to be alive—he was orchestrating everything. He had chosen Clay as Hero, sentenced him to death, and moved all the pieces.

‘Something’s wrong.’

She broke into a run.

‘I have to tell Clay.’

It was a trap. Somehow, everything had been staged. By whom and how, she didn’t know, but that only made it more dangerous.

“Haaah… hahh…”

She discarded the torch and scrambled up from the pit. Her eyes darted around, searching for a way out. She could have tried escaping through the cavern’s depths, but fear that something worse lurked there had driven her back here. Now she had to carve her own path.

Her gaze locked onto the wall. If she blasted through, perhaps she could evade pursuit.

She gathered power—

Thud!

A sword embedded itself in the stone before her eyes. A Lutanox.

Her blood chilled. She had destroyed them all, yet here it was again.

Then a voice came.

“You’ve made quite a commotion.”

A silhouette took shape, white hair emerging first as he stepped into the torchlight. Athanasia’s eyes widened.

“You?!”

“I never imagined you’d be foolish enough to come this far. Not that it matters much.”

His voice was calm, casual, while she stood frozen in shock.

“All the preparations are complete. All that remains is for Clay to set foot here.”

“D-don’t be ridiculous! You’re just another Lutanox, aren’t you? Stop imitating others!”

“Imitating? Perhaps. But my master is different.”

“What…?”

“This form—this is my master.”

Athanasia’s pupils trembled.

He tilted his head.

“Oh, did you happen to see it below? The God of Creation, Crea.”

“W-what are you talking about? What’s down there?”

“Ah, you missed it then. I disguised that place to look like something else.”

Athanasia clenched her fists.

“What are you planning? What happens when Clay steps in here?”

“My purpose is singular.” He smiled, “I will make Clay a Hero once more.”

“…What?”

“That is all I require.”

His violet eyes turned toward her.

“So then… shall we bury this little secret again?”

His steps echoed as he walked toward her.

♧

“Beatrice.”

Inside the command tent of the Demon King’s army, Clay spoke, “On second thought, perhaps I shouldn’t have sent Athanasia there.”

“And why is that?”

“She may not return.”

Beatrice let out a short breath, “Didn’t you ask me once to show you how to live unforgiven?”

“What do you mean?”

“To learn the nature of a trap of that scale, it takes someone of her level.”

She reached out and traced her finger along Clay’s cheek.

“A god restored to strength—that should suffice.”

Her touch lingered as she whispered.

“We haven’t won yet, Clay.”

“…”

“I won’t let you be lost in vain.”

Her voice fell soft, almost tender.

“Survive, Clay. Fiercely.”

That was all she wanted of him.

“Because that is our promise.”

(End of Chapter)

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