Defeating one Great Demon doesn’t magically wipe away all the threats in the north. Fernandez feigned calmness, grinding his teeth as he walked.
He looked like he could collapse at any moment. The reckless use of magic, the activation of divine power, the contamination and lingering effects of the demon, days of sleep deprivation, and intense battles. It was almost a miracle he hadn’t passed out yet.
But there was no time. Time was never on his side, and that hadn’t changed even after his return. Every hour he spent resting would inevitably lead to the deaths of sixty people.
“My lord. Then I…”
“Gather your subordinates.”
Fernandez pressed his tired eyes and spoke indifferently. Orion bowed his head without a word. Of course, he had to. His subordinates were Sadarkelisa’s minions, and the moment they realized he had betrayed them, they would stab him in the back.
“After that, I will come to see you, my lord.”
“Do so.”
Orion slowly stepped back and headed toward his workshop, where the sacrifices, his attendants, and his disciples were. Fernandez glanced at him briefly and then headed toward the port.
‘I’m going to die.’
He stumbled for a moment, his legs giving way. It wasn’t just fatigue. Cold sweat poured down his forehead and body like a waterfall. Click, click, click. His teeth chattered, and he struggled not to bite his tongue.
This place wasn’t safe. It wasn’t a place to rest and soothe his pain.
“Ugh… ugh.”
A short breath escaped his lips. His mind momentarily drifted. He was walking almost in a daze. His left arm trembled. Diemonica’s divine power was slowly repairing his body, reconnecting his nerves. It was a miracle, but it wasn’t a welcome moment.
The excruciating pain almost made him tear off his entire left arm. The trauma from forcibly shoving magic circuits into his body, the contamination from circulating hellish magic, and the spiritual and physical agony as the contamination was washed away by divine power.
“Friend. Are you alright?”
Fernandez raised his bloodshot eyes and looked at the wall. Loft was leaning against it, looking down at him.
“Where… huh. Have you been?”
“Circumstances dictate that I can’t show myself to the demons. Haha.”
Loft shrugged and lightly jumped up, approaching him. Fernandez glared at him with half-closed eyes, his gaze flickering. Loft let out a thin whistle.
“That was a very satisfying battle, friend. Your potential is becoming more and more terrifying.”
“People who fear me… huh. Were usually my enemies.”
“Well, are there any eternal allies in this world, friend?”
“None.”
Fernandez slowly placed his hand on the sword hilt as he looked at Loft. Seeing this, Loft clapped.
“Impressive. Truly impressive. Even in this state, you’re preparing for battle? I chose well.”
“What do you want to say?”
“This time, I think you’re heading in the wrong direction, friend.”
Loft waved his bony finger in the air. Blue spheres gathered and swirled around it.
“Do you know how many souls that pig has devoured? Most of them were the warriors of the great Einherjar.”
“I don’t care.”
“Haha. Listen. You’ll care.”
Loft pulled out a chair from somewhere and sat in front of Fernandez. Fernandez stood straight, planting his greatsword on the ground, and looked at him. His head throbbed from the pain, and his soul cried out.
“One day, Botan gathered our brothers and said he had read the future among the stars. That one-eyed fool declared that we should gather the souls of great warriors to prepare for the end.”
Loft hummed in a distant tone. As he gestured, a blue sphere burst, revealing the image of a one-eyed warrior holding a spear. An old man with a crow on his shoulder.
“The end… Ragnarok. The serpent devours the world, the wolf bites the moon, the world burns, is covered in ice, and the ocean swallows the land… Our brothers resolved to prepare for the end of the world. We incited discord among each clan, forever. Forever turning our spears and blades against each other.”
The image of countless warriors entangled in battle floated in the air. Occasionally, when warriors stopped fighting and reached out to each other, ‘gods’ appeared to punish them.
Mischievous words flashed in the air. ‘Cowards will fall into the abyss.’ ‘Only the greatest warriors will ascend to heaven and live forever.’
“Yes. We’re bastards. This continent could have been more peaceful. More people could have lived. But war is a forge, friend. How many heroes have been tempered in it?”
Winged women descended, lifting the fallen warriors from the battlefield and ascending to the sky. Loft chuckled as he watched.
“We called those gathered heroes ‘Einherjar.’ Weapons forged solely to kill demons, to face the end. If the wars on earth were the forge, the Einherjar were the armory. At least until a thousand years ago.”
Strong warriors swung their weapons at each other on the vast prairie. In that eternal prison where no one was hurt, a giant watched over them. The one-eyed god Botan…
A shadow approached from behind him.
“Ah, my foolish brother. Botan, Botan… This fool. The moment he fell, the Einherjar were finished. The warriors became sacrifices to the demons, devoured, and we lost all the pieces to prepare for the coming end. And all that remained was…”
The warriors burned, torn apart, and perished. Loft’s eyes wavered. It was a gaze that felt like both pain and mockery. He stared blankly at the illusion floating in the air for a moment, then spoke in a dry voice.
“Only the devastation of the material world we created.”
The north, which had repeated wars since ancient times with the sole purpose of preventing the end, was now facing the coming winter, having lost most of its driving force.
Even if they didn’t perish immediately, the destruction looming in their future was inevitable. Almost all the clans hated each other, and under the guise of ‘tradition,’ men longed to die on the battlefield.
It was nothing but madness. Fernandez thought of the burning map of the north. The north, which had lost its cause due to the betrayal of the supreme god, was nothing more than a victim consumed by madness.
“Stop it.”
“The end?”
“Our mistakes.”
Loft turned his gaze to Fernandez. Fernandez maintained his composure despite the terrible pain radiating from his left arm.
“These poor souls… Our children…”
More spheres gathered as Loft gestured. The souls that Ksharlax had devoured and spilled upon his death floated in the air. Loft touched each of the spheres gathering in his hand.
“Help these young ones.”
“We have something more important than duty.”
“Ah, a deal. Fine. But look, what I can give you isn’t particularly useful to you… How about a favor?”
“A favor?”
“Whether you want it or not…”
