Ch.219Night’s God (10)

# Ideal Realization, Death of a Star

For Llewellyn, it was both his lover and sister Lucilla’s unique skill, and as far as he knew, the most powerful unique skill in existence.

Its power and might were of a kind that even Llewellyn, who could be considered highly experienced, had never encountered before.

According to Llewellyn’s knowledge, it was naturally one of the most ultimate weapons humanity could achieve.

Truly a nuclear bomb. It shaped magical power using the principles of nuclear fission, recreating and detonating it with the body as its center.

While there are many unique skills with comparable power, techniques that can project such force on this scale are rare.

Whether magic, technology, or whatever else.

Even if it were a technique belonging to an NPC, ally, boss, or “protagonist.”

And right now, what was needed was something overwhelming that could project firepower on a massive scale.

As far as Llewellyn knew, there was only one such thing.

What was somewhat unexpected was his sister’s love.

Llewellyn’s miracle was to understand a human being and closely observe their life to recreate it identically.

While manifesting the miracle, Llewellyn properly looked into his sister’s life for the first time.

‘Isn’t this love… a bit excessive?’

He shuddered upon realizing that she was prepared to burn the entire world if she couldn’t return to her brother.

Such sentiment shouldn’t be capable of creating this level of power. Llewellyn quickly dissolved these stray thoughts even as they formed.

There was an enemy.

It was approaching.

The night sky flashed, approaching while scattering sword light.

The forearm was enormous, still not fully visible.

But if there was one thing he knew, it was that this wasn’t its entire body.

Not its full power, nor its complete form. Yet there must be a reason why it couldn’t fully manifest in this world.

Even if it wasn’t revealing its full power, there was no reason to extend only an arm to deal with an “annoying fly.”

It was rational to assume there was a reason it was only showing its arm. Unless it was a being that consisted of only an arm.

So he would cut off the arm. He needed to sever the arm to remove its influence on this world.

With this thought, Llewellyn moved immediately. He firmly gripped the sword hilt with his outstretched arm, twisted his body, and concentrated the powerful force rising from his entire body.

It didn’t respond as he expected. He couldn’t focus this immense power being released to a single point, nor could he control the energy erupting from his entire body.

Only then did Llewellyn understand why his sister couldn’t use Death of a Star against enemies and had to substitute it with Heart of a Star.

This intense firepower became an overwhelming burden just by suppressing its release.

He could perhaps endure it to the unbearable limit to give allies time to escape, but there was no way to calculate how far it would spread.

This was Llewellyn’s first time using Death of a Star, and he had never seen his sister use it either.

The Death of a Star that Llewellyn had always seen was after the fact.

After all effects had been etched into the earth, after everything had been scorched and shattered by the flames spreading from the Death of a Star.

So what needed to be done wasn’t to endure and then fire the Death of a Star, nor to struggle to contain it.

It wasn’t about controlling the direction either.

It was about changing the target of release.

‘The place to release it.’

The Night Sky Sword, Starcluster, held in Llewellyn’s hand.

The target of release was that blade.

The moment he concentrated all energy into the sword with this thought.

‘Llewellyn, the sword…!’

Llewellyn’s teeth clenched, his entire body’s muscles tensed tightly, and Lorian’s words faded away.

The sword was heavy. The blade, the hilt—they were becoming so heavy that his wrist felt like it would snap.

Because the power contained in the sword was not light. Even from just this intense firepower, his muscles were tearing, and blood was seeping through his clenched teeth.

It felt as if he were trying to swing the entire world. Even Llewellyn briefly thought so in the face of this overwhelming weight.

‘I can’t swing it. Was this a mistake?’

Perhaps he should have released it without swinging, or maybe he should have thrust the sword forward instead.

As Llewellyn froze with regret and hesitation, that’s when it happened.

“Llewellyyyyyyn!”

A voice called from far behind him.

The Sword Saint.

The man who had risen to become the continent’s greatest swordsman, who had designated Llewellyn as the next Sword Saint.

He shouted.

“That is YOUR sword!”

The words made no sense. They were meaningless, and might even be irritating to Llewellyn who was barely holding the sword while sweating profusely.

Yet somehow, why?

Llewellyn could understand those words.

A sword that belonged to no one else but Llewellyn.

A technique built not by others, but built up by Llewellyn, to be wielded by Llewellyn.

A technique meant only for Llewellyn.

That’s what the words seemed to say.

So upon hearing them, Llewellyn corrected his stance.

It wasn’t a stance befitting the Sword Saint’s massive frame.

He adjusted to a stance more suitable for himself—smaller in stature but with innate strength far superior and possessing supernatural power beyond reason.

He raised his lowered stance, standing straight while pointing the sword behind him.

With tensed shoulders, Llewellyn leaned his body using his entire back muscles.

Using the principles of tree-breaking that the Sword Saint had shown him, he channeled the force starting from his toes, flowing through his entire body, through his wrist, and into the sword.

A stance that could fell a great tree with mere steel.

And flames that could kill even the world itself.

Holding both powers, the sword that had felt as heavy as a thousand pounds began to move, containing the world within it.

Crrrack…!

The anti-magic platform he stood on trembled as if about to collapse.

In fact, it was breaking apart, gradually lowering Llewellyn’s feet.

As he exerted force to withstand it, his clenched teeth shattered. Knowing they would regenerate, he clenched harder without hesitation, allowing his sharpened teeth to dig deep into his gums.

Blood spurted from his muscles, the fibers tore along their grain, and bones twisted. His heart began to beat violently from the terrible pain.

And as his heart pounded fiercely, overwhelming breaths filled his body like he might vomit. He was exhausted. An overwhelming fatigue that made him feel like he might collapse and fall asleep right there.

Just attempting to swing made his arm feel like it would break off. No, it was actually breaking.

Beyond the sound of muscles straining with a cracking noise, there was a small sound of muscles tearing along their fibers.

He somehow pulled it using all his body’s strength. Even if his arm broke off, he would swing.

A weight like carrying an entire world. A weight that could destroy a world and more.

Llewellyn, holding such weight in his hand, twisted his body with a deep breath.

Lorian’s blood enveloped his entire body, and his worried shouts disappeared beyond Llewellyn’s burst eardrums.

In the face of the world’s weight pressing down on his entire body, Llewellyn swung his sword following the gently extended guidance.

A secret technique combining Tree-Breaking and Death of a Star.

A single strike that only Llewellyn could use, that no one but Llewellyn could even conceive of.

“Star… Slayer…!”

The words spat through gritted teeth completed the technique with divine power. With the pain of his left arm bursting, blood pooled heavily inside his armor, and he forcibly swung while reconnecting that blood amid Lorian’s near-screaming voice.

The night sky reached out to block him, but.

It was already too late. The sun that had bloomed in Llewellyn’s hand vanished in an instant.

Isla, who had been watching entranced from below, and Melody, who had raised her head due to the overwhelming presence despite not being visible, felt it simultaneously.

For a moment, the sky had split.

And that sensation was not false.

Following Llewellyn’s sword swing, Starcluster scattered. The finely shattered, utterly broken Starcluster scattered in the air, and his left arm, torn along with the vambrace, took flight.

Lorian was thrown back by the impact too powerful to maintain his source, and Llewellyn staggered as his anti-magic power became unstable.

Still, he couldn’t turn his head or catch Lorian.

He just stared ahead as if entranced.

At the single strike he had delivered.

Flames spread along the path of the sword strike. The condensed flames looked more like light than fire.

The purest flame without any residue. The purest violence that even stars couldn’t imitate.

Such violence, strongly condensed, advanced in the form of a sword strike. It spread brilliantly, yet heavily, as if tracing the path Llewellyn had cut.

Was this what the Big Bang they learned about in science class was like? Llewellyn watched as nuclear flames devoured the night sky—which was no different from the universe itself—split the god of night, and rushed straight to the arm.

Condensed to the point it could no longer be called a nuclear explosion, rather a beam with overwhelming destructive power.

That was cutting through that translucent arm that seemed utterly impenetrable.

——————!

Simultaneously, an indescribable howl was heard. The space trembled with a roaring sound that was impossible to tell what kind of creature made it, or if any similar sound even existed. Even the anti-magic platform Llewellyn stood on shattered, and the black armor he still wore crumbled to dust as Llewellyn’s body was thrown back.

The rapidly receding sky reminded him of when he first fell from the heavens.

Fighting to escape from the three clans, and after his mourning was cut short, throwing himself into uncertain possibilities to flee.

But the result was different from then. Watching the rapidly receding sky, hearing the sound of air rushing past his ears, Llewellyn saw the severed forearm falling and what looked like a cross-section extending from beyond the sky.

Though he was approaching the ground quickly, he wasn’t worried.

“Llewellyn—!”

With a shout, magical power surged violently. Along with Lorian’s outstretched hand, covered in blood, Llewellyn plunged into a deep pool of blood.

Splash! The blood surged up, absorbing all the impact that would have transferred to his body and releasing it into the ground.

A deeper crater formed as blood gushed from his mouth, but.

He survived. His body, spewing blood, rose into the sky before rolling on the ground, and footsteps approached beyond the tree that had burst but was regenerating.

Did I succeed? Did I repel the transcendent being?

At least drive it from this world?

When Llewellyn raised his head with a faint smile of accomplishment, what he saw was not the severed forearm.

In the place where the severed forearm should have been.

It was a huge eye staring blankly with clear anger that even Llewellyn could recognize.

A massive being clutching its severed forearm, its face distorted with hatred, anger, and irritation.

Something enormous that should not dwell in this world.

The transcendent being who had been wielding the god of night.

It revealed its gritted teeth through the hole in the opened sky, and then raised its body.

While everyone standing there stared blankly at the sky, it was spreading its upper body wide to reveal more arms.

The arm they had struggled so hard against, using an overwhelmingly powerful technique to barely cut off.

There were dozens more pairs of them.

How could they possibly deal with such a thing?

Just as terror was about to appear on Llewellyn’s face.

The incoming wind, the dim presence that had been watching Llewellyn all this time, seemed to whisper to him.

Not to worry.

“…What?”

The words he uttered without being able to question further were followed by the spreading wind. A refreshingly pure wind blowing from the forest.

Such wind crossed the empty space, and somehow sent leaves mixed in the wind up to that high sky.

The leaves, moving in a way no one could have predicted, traveled against the sky, and somehow reached the hole in the sky that the severed arm had been blocking.

What followed was something even more unexpected.

Zzzzzzzzzz!

The moment the leaves touched it, they burned up and the hole began to close.

The hole narrowed, leaving no room for the massive being beyond to enter. The giant struggled desperately, reaching its hand toward the hole, but the extended hand was closed off with only one finger remaining.

Zwaaaaak!

When even the grating sound disappeared, only one thing remained.

The god of night that had fallen to the ground, reduced to tatters.

Llewellyn stared blankly at the fallen god of night and unconsciously said:

“…Mother?”

That was clearly Netel’s presence.