Chapter 94: Chapter 94

For a moment, Luke thought he had gone blind. Darkness thick enough to deceive the senses enveloped him.

Perhaps that wasn't entirely wrong. Though Luke hadn't lost his sight, , the world itself had been drained of light.

Meanwhile, laughter echoed from all directions.

The gnarled faces of ancient gray trees split like scars, erupting in unison into mad cackles. The darkness shrouding the forest dissolved, drawn inward, toward the heart of the forest. Then it took form, and those still alive bore witness.

An impossibly colossal entity loomed before them. The forest's towering trees, dozens of meters tall, didn't even reach half its height. A waterfall of black cloth draped its form, and a crown of white bones sat upon its head.

"Ahhh...!" Juan, bleeding profusely, burst into ecstatic laughter. "Ahop, my lord!"

Ahop slowly lowered its gaze. It didn't feel like a response to the name.

From the swirling darkness of its robes, something emerged. Luke realized the massive white shape was the figure's finger—far larger than even a giant's could be.

Then it pointed at Juan, a gesture like final judgment.

"Ahh, Ahop, my lord! Your lowly servant is—"

With a final, rapturous smile, Juan collapsed into a pool of blood.

Luke stared in shock at the crimson-black slick that had once been the priest. The liquid shimmered ominously, like a dark swamp.

Black Swamp Demon King, Ahop!

Now he understood the title bestowed by the Dark Church. This was no mere demon king but a god. An absolute being before whom one could only kneel in worship. A presence so overwhelming that begging for mercy was unthinkable. This entity defied human comprehension.

Luke's body trembled. This fear was unlike anything he had ever known. Only his iron discipline kept his mind from shattering.

The other survivor fared worse. Junian, the inquisitor, was a warrior trained to resist fear, a veteran of countless battles against demons. Yet the moment she beheld this god of disaster, horror consumed her.

She collapsed, her jaw slack, drool spilling as she stared up at Ahop.

Its finger pointed at her. With a sickening sound, Junian melted into a pool of black blood.

Luke sensed his own impending death.

The priest offered himself as a sacrifice. For origınal chapters go to novel•fire.net

He hadn't known such a method existed. It was likely Juan's last resort. In return, Ahop had appeared with a single purpose: to slaughter every human here.

The entire land wouldn't be corrupted by Dark Qi as originally planned, but there was no way that Luke could escape death.

Luke almost laughed. He had never expected it to be easy. A priest had been involved. The risk of death was always real. But to die , so pointlessly?

Had the Badnikers succeeded? By killing the priest, had he thwarted the plan?

Luke gritted his teeth. It was impossible.

As a Badniker, leader of the Iron-Blooded Knights, and above all, the Iron-Blooded Lord's youngest brother, he refused to die in vain.

"Haaaaah—!" he roared, forcing himself to his feet. A storm of energy surged through him.

What could he do now? Fight a god of disaster?

That wasn't the case.

His gaze snapped to Evan. He'd known of the Young Dark Pope's existence but never imagined his birth would unfold here.

At the very least, I'll take the Young Dark Pope with me.

Wreathed in his remaining strength, Luke charged toward Evan.

It was his final act.

Though Evan stood dozens of steps away, Luke managed only five before he, too, dissolved into black blood.

Luke's white sword clattered to the ground.

In an instant, three were dead—Priest Juan, Inquisitor Junian, and the Iron-Blooded Knight Commander, Luke Badniker. All of them far surpassed my current strength, yet none of them had even managed to resist before losing their lives.

Ahop's gaze locked onto me.

Fear gripped me, but not enough to paralyze me. The real problem was that I saw no way out.

What if I stay close to Evan?

If Evan truly was a Young Dark Pope, even Ahop wouldn't dare kill him recklessly. I didn't understand Ahop's method of attack, but if proximity offered any protection, it was worth trying. Otherwise, I'd die anyway.

This isn't an enemy I can reason with.

Even if I wanted to move, my body wouldn't cooperate. I was exhausted from the fighta and bleeding so heavily I was on the verge of passing out.

Still, I gritted my teeth and forced myself to take a step forward. That was when Ahop's finger moved.

And then, something unexpected happened.

The finger stopped—for the first time.

Its ominous eyes stared at me from behind the white bone mask. Somehow, I felt Ahop hesitate, if only for a heartbeat. Then the bent finger straightened again, pointing directly at me.

A gust of wind surged around me. I felt a familiar energy and turned.

She lay slumped against a tree where the priest had struck her, her silver hair matted with blood, whipping wildly in the wind.

Seren's eyes were no longer inverted. She was fully aware of what was happening.

A tempest far fiercer than before surged toward Ahop. This time, Ahop raised a finger to counter it.

In the midst of the swirling gusts, I saw it clearly—just before impact, Ahop withdrew its hand. Then, the tempest Seren had conjured tore its image apart.

The darkness faded. The awful, oppressive energy vanished along with the wind. The tree that had been radiating demonic power returned to normal.

The night forest regained its serene appearance as if nothing had happened.

"It is over." My legs gave way, and I collapsed on the spot.

Only the shattered branches from Juan's attack remained, leaving the sky exposed above.

I had never seen the night sky look so bright.

After just three days, the star-studded darkness was beautiful enough to bring tears to my eyes.

Of course, it was still too soon to get sentimental. I let out a sigh and said, "Hey, Seren. You're something else. I can't believe you defeated a demon king. Even if you are a Goodspring—"

Seren slumped against the tree. "Even if I am a Goodspring, what?"

She grinned weakly. "Didn't expect you would see me again?"

I stared into Seren's eyes and asked, "Are you dying?"

Seren chuckled softly. "I told you. The risk is huge."

"The priest?" she asked.

I looked down at Seren and asked, "Did you know this would happen?"

"Was there no other way?" I pressed.

"There could have been." Seren let out a weary chuckle. "But this is enough now."

I waited quietly, expecting more.

For once, Seren remained silent, her breathing heavy.

"What?" I finally asked. "Are you tired?"

I could see that Seren's eyes were unfocused, fogged over, instead of the usual clarity or sharpness. It seemed as though she was looking at something, though it must have been hard for her to distinguish anything.

Is her life flashing before her eyes? I wondered.

She coughed, thick blood spilling over her robe. She didn't bother to wipe it away.

"Hey, you—" I stopped myself.

Hang in there. Don't give up. You can survive. Voicing such empty encouragement felt irresponsible in this situation.

"The secret." Instead, what came out was something absurd. "You said you would tell me a secret."

"Or was that a lie?" I forced a teasing tone. "If you admit it now... I'll let it go. You were just bluffing at the time, weren't you?"

Seren laughed soundlessly before speaking with effort. "No."

"Should I?" She paused. "You know what? In fact, I know the future."

"The Goodsprings have a family heirloom, Laplace's New Book. It records events yet to come. A prophecy." She paused between words. "But no one believed it. The text was unreadable... except to me."

She then fell silent again.

"Is that all?" I asked.

"Is that the whole secret?"

Her words couldn't have been a lie, yet something didn't sit right. It was probably the truth, but I doubted the secret Seren had kept all her life was what she'd confessed before dying. There was no evidence, no logic. Maybe I was imagining things.

However, Seren remained silent. Her gaze returned to me, though she likely couldn't see my face clearly.

Was it my imagination, or was there a flicker of joy in her eyes?

It wasn't my imagination. Seren actually laughed—softly, happily. Even though she coughed up blood right after, she looked strangely content, at peace.

I couldn't understand it. How could someone who'd always been upset and irritable look so calm, almost serene, right before dying?

"My name isn't Seren."

I blinked. Somehow, those words felt heavy with meaning.

I studied her face and asked slowly, "So what is your real name?"

Seren hesitated. Her unfocused gaze drifted, as if searching through a dusty bookshelf of memories.

"My real name..." For a while, she fumbled through the recesses of her mind. "Let's see..."

In the end, her lips parted slightly. "How was it pronounced again?"

The chirping of insects grew louder.

The moon emerged from the clouds, washing the forest in pale silver.

I moved closer and closed her sightless eyes with my one remaining hand. After a moment's hesitation, I took off my bloodstained cape and gently draped it over her.

Seren Goodspring. I hoped that the girl who longed for the warmth of spring—yet resembled winter and had lived her life in the cold—would no longer shiver in death.