Chapter 78
“The Empire────?”
It was cut.
From the shoulder to the waist of the Apostle, who had spun the Dragon-Bone Spear in a perfect circle to create an absolute froststorm, even the heart lying along that trajectory—
It was cut again.
From the central corridor to the control room, every piece of material, whether living or inanimate, along that path—
And cut again.
The control room’s gateway and beyond, tearing through Tarsiyo’s flesh—Jinseong Sword… the blade of Yoniwulan.
‘This rookie…’
In that fleeting moment, Lykael’s body, holding Yoniwulan close to him, remained intact.
‘He closed a distance of over two hundred steps in an instant.’
And then… Lykael felt a faint line graze his cheek.
Before the hot blood could even trickle down the torn tissue, in that long-awaited sensation of being cut, he realized that he had lost the prey he had been restraining.
Fwoooosh───!
It was the echo of providence restoring order when a being bound by destiny dared to infringe upon it.
A supersonic explosion.
The delayed boom carried a mighty whirlwind into the control room.
“Sorry.”
The master of that whirlwind appeared, clad in the Dragon Armor, a drab brilliance emanating from the scales.
On both sides of that back armor, shimmering and flickering were the wings of the sword, the Thunder Fragrance Lingering Sword.
The red cuffs, the suppressors, unable to withstand the concentrated transcendental power, lay shattered, tumbling in the distance where they had stood moments ago.
“I’ve drawn it out.”
That very figure, in its pitifully tattered state, felt like… the last sign of fate for a fake hero with no way to return, no refuge to lean on.
Standing behind him, placing a hand upon him, facing death itself, he felt his mind and body quietly settle.
“Ah… so it comes to this, after all……”
That moment that day—
It was the first, and it would be the last time, he saw you sobbing so sorrowfully.
“Don’t ask why I drew it.”
I recalled the time long ago when you lowered your gaze and answered when I asked why you had saved me.
Did you know then that I would give the same answer in this very moment?
“I don’t ask men that kind of question. Especially not a man who seems to like me.”
**Epilogue of the Prologue,
Here Lies the Fake Hero (4)**
It only took three steps.
Three steps to leave the control room, pass through the central corridor, and reach the stairs to the fourth floor.
And there, as if he had calculated this possibility in advance, Carduel was waiting.
[Please go on ahead. Rescuing the young master from Eldia Myu (04) is nothing short of a miracle.]
“Carduel, you…?”
[I cannot escape, young master. The dimensional gate to Ikilas has already opened. Before it spirals beyond control, I must stabilize the facility. That is the duty of a guardian.]
Clang-clang-clang—!
Chains coiled and scraped, the sound of metal tearing through the stairs themselves as blades came flying.
BOOM—!
As I turned, I raised Solang’s shield to block, and it might have worked—
‘What the…?’
If it hadn’t been for Yoniwulan, the true sword that invades the very molecular structure of its target to rend it apart.
A violent storm of sparks burst out.
The shield that had been dragged along by the lengthening blade of Yoniwulan clattered across the ground.
「You actually carry four swords like that, Fae-Quarrier. Fitting, I suppose, for a fake like you.」
Fae-Quarrier.
Never had that name felt so utterly shameful.
Perhaps because the one standing before me was the original—the real one.
It felt as though he were saying, “You’re nothing but an imitation.”
「A fake, parading around as if you’re something grand. Stealing my student’s armor and techniques to parade them around—are you begging me to kill you?」
“If you’re going to say that, then aren’t you also a fake? I heard the ancient heroes had gray hair.”
「Foolish brat. What defines a hero is not the color of his hair, but the strength of his power.」
“Then by that logic, I’m a hero too.”
「You? Don’t make me laugh. If Alchaïos had been given the same chance you were, I’d already be dead.」
The restraint pin was pulled—but the situation couldn’t have been worse.
To think I’d encounter this being here of all places…
“Dragon Slayer’s memory… Who is that entity, Rilkiur, that emerged from it?”
I had once asked Setsunen, the Spirit of Thunder.
It was the first time I had ever seen him turn so pale.
– How should I put it… He was the first pillar of the Black Church, and one of the original true heroes.
– What?
– Neither I nor Myr know how it happened. But what’s certain is that Lucäel became one of the Abyss’s limbs, the being who unified all demons over hundreds of years.
– He unified the demons…?
– During the “Black Summer,” even when Myr and I combined our strength, we only barely managed to drive him back for a short while. The price was great. It was Lucäel who turned Myr into what he is now.
So Myrngadia’s body was being eroded by the Abyss not because of the Forgotten Kings, but because of the battle against the old true hero?
– And I too… lost my body, crippled beyond recovery.
Setsunen had shown me the scars across his body—
as if the seams of his soul had been torn, light leaked from every joint.
– I learned sealing arts from my father, swordsmanship from my mother. But that’s all just a story of long ago now. Speak nothing of this—our soldiers’ morale would crumble.
He couldn’t speak of the betrayal of an ancient hero.
He couldn’t even believe it.
No—enough. I have roughly five minutes left to live.
There’s no time to dwell on memories.
“Sir Carduel, take Tarsiyo and run.”
[But the dimensional gate—]
“—We can just destroy the control room, can’t we?”
That suffocating sense of transcendence.
The air itself split and screamed, glowing violet.
This… was the true summit of swordsmanship.
Even the supreme star-swords trembled, awed by its majesty—or perhaps that trembling was mine.
[Kaisen, the gate is open! It’s enormous—large enough to blanket the sky! Monsters from Ikilas are pouring through endlessly!]
The transcendental authority inherited from the Dragon King surged, pushing my body beyond its limits.
The world lost all color.
In this monochrome space, reality no longer flowed—it flickered, frame by frame, into hundreds of discrete scenes.
─ Ultimate Dragon Sword Art: Thunderclap Severance.
Aradamentel’s blade plunged deep into the floor.
Lightning coursed through the ley lines beneath, shattering stone and bursting through the walls.
The brilliant surge of energy ripped outward in waves of light and electricity—
a wide-range suppression technique powerful enough to tear apart Neigalas itself.
─ Triple Oath Severance.
The true sword Yoniwulan twisted even the concept of thunder,
ripping through light itself as it came flying.
But it’s fine.
Thunderclap Severance was designed to dull the senses—this was only the setup.
─ Oath Severance: Radiant Heat Surge.
A wave of vicious power that evaporated all darkness in blinding white.
The Oath Severance of Gaumris—
its torrents of power burst outward, even driving back Yoniwulan’s blade.
─ Oath Severance: Space-Time Annihilation.
A white flash engulfed the world, tearing even the fabric of perception apart.
This was the Oath Severance of Shurpen.
At that moment, the Thunder-Spirit Wingblades repeated every motion exactly tenfold.
Ten slashes that split not just matter but space-time itself,
each cutting along a separate trajectory.
And all the power I had poured into Solang’s shield—
「Tear it apart, Yoniwulan.」
All the frenzied light twisted into a jagged violet line, drawn inward and devoured.
‘He’s attacking—!’
I remember trying to twist my body aside,
but the world was already vanishing into darkness.
BOOM—!
Forty-four fragments of steel roared like beasts.
They shattered armor, ripped flesh, tore through ribs and organs—
a crimson spray burst across the air.
At the same time, the fragments of my soul—barely holding against the Abyss—were shredded apart.
「Yoniwulan’s special ability is Soulburst. It rends not only the material, but the spiritual within.」
I saw glimmering shards of metal—
the remains of Shurpen’s great blade, shattered to dust.
「Inorganic, organic, magic—none of it matters. It all gets torn the same.」
My vision, soaked in blood, blurred into red haze.
What I had just witnessed was power—
a power that mocked and overturned every disadvantage in an instant,
like an eagle sneering at a worm crawling on the ground.
「I’ll admit it. You were strong enough to fell Neigalas and Shalruan. But your opponent is the wrong one.」
Something flew and struck before me—
a familiar radiance, a familiar scent: the Supreme Star-Sword’s shield, Solang.
「You meant to absorb my power with that shield, then land the killing blow, didn’t you?」
Clang—
The forty-four shards, stained with blood and soul, reformed into a single monstrous blade.
「You thought I wouldn’t notice that you planted it before me on purpose?」
Kaisen bit down on a vial of dragon-blood serum, glass and all, forcing his body to regenerate—
「And this is how you wield Shurviel’s Hammer.」
Before I could react, my vision turned pure white.
My entire body burned within that searing brilliance.
「How many hundreds—no, thousands of times do you think I’ve seen these techniques before, fake? All of them—the originals, used by the real heroes!」
My body was flung into the air.
‘I… can’t… breathe—’
A crushing grip closed around my throat.
「You want to know where you went wrong? I absorbed your power into the shield, then channeled it into Yoniwulan and detonated it. Just returned your own trick to you. The name of this ability is Wavelength Reversal.」
What—
So just with the shield as a catalyst… he could use Solang’s Oath Severance?
「If Alchaïos had seen this crude imitation you worship as some great secret art, he would’ve laughed himself to death. Hero? Don’t make me—」
Before he could finish, a single shaft of condensed light struck through the air.
That power—
Lucäel recognized it instantly, jerking his head aside as the pure white radiance grazed his temple, creating a storm of wind.
“Let him go… Kaisen.”
The true sword of Eldia Kata (05), Sharillion.
When wielded by Lucäel’s fallen comrade, Sharillion once pointed toward the heavenly throne itself, its majesty feared even by the ancient kings.
Unlike that dying woman before him—wheezing, defiant, and hateful—it had once shone with divine dignity.
「Don’t whine. I’ll kill you both and send you to your mother together.」
At that moment, an orange light flared at Lucäel’s shoulder.
Had he not twisted away, his heart would have been pierced clean through.
If the true sword Hisgivyd had been in that hand, even dodging wouldn’t have saved him.
[Lucäel, why? Why have you abandoned the duty of a guardian?!]
Orange light exploded from Carduel’s body, forming the outline of a man with a bow—
his mechanical parts centered at the heart.
Lucäel’s eyes trembled as he looked upon that pitiful sight.
「Please… stop… just stop. Haven’t we slain enough? You and I—we’ve butchered the Abyss’s kings, its nobles, its beasts! And look at you now! Living on inside a heap of scrap! Is this justice?!」
For a moment, a violent silence fell.
[Lucäel, would you say it is righteous for clay to question the potter about its purpose?]
Clang—!
The blade once again split into forty-four fragments, easily restraining Carduel.
「Righteous? Look at this boy! After all he’s done, all the battles he’s fought for others, he’s left to die like this—thrown into the jaws of death just like us!」
[Lucäel—!]
「Tell me, Carduel! What value does a world have if it can only exist by demanding endless sacrifice from those with power?!」
The voices—
all those voices—grew distant…
[…They’re moving again. The wolves have returned…!]
[…Enemies from the opposite side as well…!]
[…Good work, everyone…!]
[…They’re endless—coming through the blizzard! We can’t even count them anymore…!]
[…M-my body’s freezing—help me…!]
[…Stand firm! We, blessed by the gods, shall not yield to any calamity…!]
[…This is the 4th Armored Division—our colossus won’t move! The steam core is destroyed! The cockpit door is frozen—no, no, aaaargh—!]
The wall of sound…
It grew faint and distant, yet impenetrably solid.
“Lucky bastard. Is this really the time to be sleeping?”
So vivid.
So blindingly clear.
“Still the same—huge body, crying like a kid. Haven’t changed a bit.”
In that radiant glow,
for one fleeting lifetime—
after all the years of longing since childhood ended—
the one I missed most stood before me.
“Now’s not the time to cry, kid. Don’t you hear them? They’re all calling for you—the hero.”
I couldn’t speak.
Not from pain,
but because I was afraid that if I made a sound, this final dream would shatter.
“So stand up. You have to stand, Kaisen Alter Aradamentel.”
Within that aching warmth,
the world dyed red began to blur, breaking apart into pale white light.
“Master…?”
