Translator: CinderTL
Monen moved with agonizing slowness, each step heavy and labored, his body supported almost entirely by the seemingly ordinary longsword in his hand.
His already simple clothes were now tattered and torn, a deep claw mark across his chest rimmed with dark, dried blood.
His curse-tainted gray hair hung limp and disheveled, plastered to his sweat-soaked forehead.
His face was drained of color, each breath shallow and strained, as if he were expending every ounce of his remaining strength.
His left arm hung limply at his side, a gruesome wound stretching from shoulder to elbow. Though hastily bandaged, blood continued to seep through the cloth, dripping from his fingertips and leaving dark stains on the scorched earth.
Yet what truly chilled the heart was the thing he dragged behind him...
Balot's massive body was dragged across the scorched earth, carving a deep, wide trench through the charred ground like a tattered sack.
The abyssal demon's life flame had been extinguished completely.
The toad-like head twisted at an unnatural angle, its jaw completely shattered, the murky yellow eyes devoid of all light.
Dozens of precise, deep sword wounds crisscrossed the dark, wart-covered skin, each strike reaching the bone.
A bowl-sized hole pierced the thick chest, its edges charred black as if burned by intense heat, revealing fragments of shattered bone and dried demon blood within.
As the body was dragged, Balot's massive frame twitched intermittently, the final spasms before the abyssal power completely dissipated.
A pungent sulfurous stench emanated from the corpse, mingling with the metallic tang of blood and lingering heavily in the air.
"It seems..."
The Old King stopped a few steps from Roland, releasing his grip on the corpse and letting the massive body crash heavily to the ground.
He raised his weary yet still sharp eyes to Roland, a nearly ferocious grin twisting his lips.
"These old bones... haven't fallen apart yet."
"Your Majesty Monen..."
Seeing this, Roland frowned slightly. Just as he was about to check on Monen's condition, the luminous shadow bearing Arno's face suddenly darted past him, lunging straight at Monen.
Compared to its earlier confrontation with Roland, the soul fragment's malevolence had surged to a new height.
The palpable, almost tangible hatred was so intense that even the gravely wounded Monen could clearly sense it.
The Old King's clouded eyes sharpened abruptly, and he instinctively tightened his grip on his sword hilt.
Zzzzt... Zzzzz
Perhaps due to the overwhelming resentment, the silent, malevolent light began emitting strange, distorted sounds, like twisted radio waves.
Simultaneously, the blurred face gradually solidified, its lips moving violently as if screaming silently.
Roland's brow furrowed deeply. As his thoughts flowed, his Animal Companion trait activated silently.
In the next moment, the distorted sound waves coalesced in Roland's perception, transforming into clear, venomous human speech.
Each word seemed to be squeezed out between clenched teeth, dripping with icy hatred, and aimed directly at Monen.
"Monen, you bastard of unknown origin! What right do you have to sit on the throne?"
Arno's luminous form flickered violently, his twisted face contorted with bitter hatred.
"The blood flowing through your veins is nothing more than the bastard offspring of some long-dead king's indulgence—a lineage never acknowledged! Even you can't name your true royal father! You grew up in the shadows, never receiving a shred of care from the Royal Family!"
The glowing orb's voice grew sharper and more piercing, as if it were channeling every ounce of its soul's strength into a desperate, furious roar.
"You only emerged from obscurity after reaching adulthood, like a stone suddenly springing to life! If not for 'that calamity'—if it hadn't nearly devoured the entire Royal Family's bloodline and plunged Golden Valley into crisis—how could this throne, this power, ever have fallen into the hands of a bastard with questionable lineage like you?!"
This venomous tirade struck Roland like a series of invisible daggers, each word piercing his ears with brutal clarity, causing his expression to freeze.
Bastard son, never acknowledged or raised by the Royal Family. Suddenly appeared after reaching adulthood. Inherited the throne due to a calamity.
After rapidly piecing together these fragments of information in his mind, Roland's gaze involuntarily shifted to Monen, who was on guard against the sudden appearance of Arno's soul.
He had always assumed that a monarch as powerful as Monen would have been carefully groomed by the Golden Valley Royal Family, inheriting the throne as a matter of course.
He never imagined such a convoluted past lay hidden beneath the surface.
Just as Roland was lost in thought, Monen's clouded eyes finally recognized the true nature of the distorted light and shadow.
A complex expression flickered across his wrinkled face as he averted his gaze from Arno's venomously twisted visage and turned to Roland, letting out a heavy sigh.
"That must be Arno's soul," the Old King said, his voice hoarse and weary.
"Years ago, I promised his grandfather I would take good care of the boy. I never imagined it would end like this."
Before he could finish speaking, the luminous figure suddenly erupted in a piercing shriek.
To Roland's ears, the shriek coalesced into clear words:
"Hypocrite! You sanctimonious hypocrite!"
This desperate, hate-filled cry seemed to drain the last of its strength.
As the echoes trembled in the air, Arno's luminous form began to fade, dissolving slowly like morning mist in the dawn.
Finally, it transformed into shimmering motes of light, completely vanishing into the scorching air.
Monen quietly watched the direction where the light had faded, remaining silent for a long moment.
After a brief silence, Monen shifted his gaze from Arno's vanished form to the vast, scorched crater ahead, leveled by Roland's dragon breath.
A hint of wry amusement creased his wrinkled face, his voice raspy yet carrying a rare note of lightness.
"It seems these old bones of mine truly can't keep up with the times."
He shook his head slightly, his gaze sweeping over Roland's charred right arm.
"These young people nowadays... always making such a commotion."
Roland merely twitched the corner of his lips in response.
After flexing his still-throbbing arm, he said gravely, "His Majesty Monen, now is not the time to let our guard down."
The smile gradually faded from Monen's face. Just as he was about to nod in agreement, both men suddenly stiffened.
An indescribable chill crawled up their spines without warning.
This wasn't a change in temperature, but something far deeper.
It felt as if the very foundations of the world were trembling, the fabric of space subtly warping.
A bone-chilling hum filled the air, low yet piercing to the marrow.
Roland and Monen exchanged grave glances, each seeing the same ominous warning in the other's eyes.
Just as Monen opened his mouth to speak, the sky above Golden Grain City in the distance suddenly darkened.
It wasn't the shadow of storm clouds, but rather the light itself being devoured by some unseen force.
A pitch-black rift, visible to the naked eye, appeared as if a mirror had shattered, spreading rapidly across the sky.
The entire sky began to twist and swirl, forming a colossal vortex that sucked in all surrounding light.
The deafening tearing sound, audible even from this distance, echoed like the world itself was screaming in agony.
The ground trembled violently, the unsettling vibrations reaching even the two men standing at the edge of the scorched earth.
A sudden gale roared from the direction of Golden Grain City, whipping up sand and dust into a blinding frenzy, carrying with it the nauseating stench of sulfur and an indescribable burnt odor.
Before the two could react, an invisible shockwave erupted from Golden Grain City.
Where it struck, the human soldiers' solid formations shattered as if struck by a colossal hammer. Shields splintered, warriors fell, and the entire battlefield instantly descended into chaos.
Even more terrifying were the demons and devils.
One moment they were locked in a frenzied battle, and the next, as if their very existence had been erased, their bodies vanished silently like smoke in the wind, leaving not even a trace of ash behind.
Roland's vision began to blur, his consciousness receding like the tide.
In the final moment before complete darkness engulfed him, he forced his heavy eyelids open and gazed at the distorted sky.
There, at the center of the rift, a colossal eye slowly opened.
Its pale blue vertical pupil was as cold as primordial ice, swirling with the light of stars being born and dying.
Under its gaze, the shattered space around it began to repair itself as if time were rewinding, the twisted light returning to order.
Simultaneously, an ancient and majestic whisper, as if traversing infinite time and space, resonated deep within Roland's fracturing consciousness.
"Transgressor. Expelled. Temporal order. Restored. Boundaries. Re-forged."
With this whisper, the jagged spatial rifts above Golden Grain City began to close at a visible speed, as if an invisible hand were smoothing over the world's wounds.
Then, endless darkness completely consumed Roland's consciousness.
(End of the Chapter)
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