Ch.28494. The Weariness of Being Alive.

The reason I had Seraras visit and deal with Elhermina in my place was because I wasn’t in a position to do so myself.

Also…

He might deny it, but Elhermina remains a military deity—his greatest weakness and bait, and in another sense, a tool for… blackmail.

But this is my revenge and my karma.

I couldn’t allow anyone to dare interfere or meddle recklessly.

How many futures have I peered into for this purpose?

Thanks to that, my mind is now in complete disarray.

Whether this is reality or dream, imagination or conception.

Whether it’s a future I glimpsed.

Or a past that has flowed by.

The distinction has… begun to grow increasingly faint.

That’s why it’s important for humans to be anchored in the present.

At the point where I could travel between future and past, the present and reality lost their value for me.

Despite my existence being bound to the present and reality.

Moreover, the course of events changes completely depending on when Elhermina awakens.

Similarly, I don’t want her to intervene either.

Perhaps.

If I had faced the final battle using the power she gave me.

It might have been a little, just a little easier.

But that would have been clearly the wrong answer.

Given my personality and character, I wouldn’t have allowed it anyway.

If I had been even slightly blinded by greed and tried to possess the power she offered.

I would have met my downfall in one way or another.

When blinded by greed, even visible futures become obscured as if behind a veil, growing dim or disappearing forever.

Because I can envision the future I want, if I’m even slightly hasty or clumsy.

Essentially all my plans would fall apart.

In this world, there are absolutely no omnipotent abilities that bring only benefits and advantages.

No kind gods or tools that grant only desired wishes.

Therefore, the greater the risk taken, the more one gains.

Because I wanted to go beyond glimpsing the future to actually bringing it about.

When that goes wrong, the damage I must bear, the responsibility, is on a different scale from the ordinary.

‘To think I must go this far…’

It’s so cursed.

…And.

The Golden Afterimage.

I already knew Loroana wouldn’t willingly hand it over to me.

But to not even give them a chance, to judge them based on futures I’ve seen.

Isn’t that too arrogant?

So I provided an opportunity.

As expected, it was as expected.

Aureas Aurum.

The Demon King of Wisdom.

Or the Golden Demon King.

She once told me this:

Love and affection bring about the greatest deception.

Even ridiculous lies and fraud… are all buried under a single word of love.

…I entrusted Seraras with this important task because she was both bait and the perfect person for it.

Even if someone targeted what she held.

I had set traps in anticipation of that as well.

Fortunately, those concerns proved unfounded.

And the reason I personally visited the Imperial Palace to approach Elhermina and Geornia.

While it was partly to resolve the humiliation Geornia was suffering.

…It also included the purpose of meeting with Corin to extract the Golden Afterimage.

The same goes for placing the disguised items.

Knowing they wouldn’t return it willingly, staying silent would have been stranger.

The same applies to the Second Saint.

Arranging for her to meet with Seraras and then face me was part of that context.

That way, the sacred relics she possessed would be returned to Father.

Only then could Father truly be fully prepared.

Having shown that I could neutralize even the Second Saint in one breath and easily defeat Nedes, a fellow comrade.

He too would have no choice but to prepare himself mentally.

In that sense.

I would have appropriately encouraged Corin as well.

I didn’t particularly make strong demands.

Given Corin’s character and tendencies, it would happen naturally, so I only needed to provide information under the pretext of conversation to enable him to speak.

Of course, without Lyurik and Aristetis, such infiltration would have been impossible.

Everything moves organically.

Also.

I negotiated and compromised with the Demon King’s thoughts residing in the armor.

And through that, I was ultimately able to make contact with the Divine Demon.

From the beginning.

…I was already a human who had faced gods several times.

In that sense.

-That kind of request isn’t a problem for the other side. Great! I’ll cooperate!

Athena.

Through her mediation, I was able to contact the Divine Demon.

The Divine Demon is a kind of otherworldly being.

That is, an otherworld god.

They are relatively young gods who infiltrated our world, established divinity, and ascended to divine seats.

I made several proposals to him for the fulfillment of my contract with the Demon King of Wisdom, Aureas.

That was why she could manifest before me through the Golden Afterimage.

Because the contract included content that would become a matter of judgment if she did not intervene.

As for judging the acceptance of the outcome between my father and me, the legitimacy and justification of the confrontation… there was really only her.

The Divine Demon could have acted on her behalf, but… why go that far?

Also.

As I contacted the thoughts of the Demon Kings, I became able to partially manifest them.

That’s probably because I had half-shouldered the fate of a Demon King.

If just a few more days had passed, I would have undoubtedly fallen to become a Demon King, just as the Empress foresaw.

…Though that too became an unnecessary concern once I held the Golden Afterimage.

Even if the Divine Demon accepted, without the ability or means to summon it, that too would be only half-effective.

…Everything is connected organically like this.

Nevertheless.

…All processes from now on will have no connection or relation to past, present, or future.

Because.

…From this moment on.

My fate.

My destiny.

…Has achieved perfect liberation.

Therefore, from now on, there remains only pure, boundless possibility.

Though in a way, that might be the most desperate form for me.

…I must move forward.

For this moment.

I’ve been constantly remaking myself.

====

When pure white intertwines with radiance.

That color is truly noble.

Some might feel spontaneous reverence.

Others might lose their senses, their reason stolen by that radiance.

For me, it’s just light, nothing more.

The sword’s light splits the earth, and the distant fortress is cleanly sliced as if marked with a slash.

Such a sight of cracking and splitting was truly not a harmony that humans could command.

Yet he fires them continuously.

Even projecting sword energy is a high-level skill, but how many in the world could fire sword strikes that seem to truly split the world?

‘……’

Even if not at her prime, Delica once said that even Lutesia couldn’t touch a hair on Father’s head.

Besides that, the tales and achievements about Father are dazzlingly numerous.

Having tracked them all, I’ve kept them constantly in my mind.

“……”

Light and darkness.

I block and deflect with a blade of pitch-black, and when that’s not enough, I manifest a shield to somehow deflect it.

Not blocking, but deflecting.

This isn’t something that can be faced head-on.

‘Pallas Aegis.’

This isn’t a defensive technique borrowing divine power.

This is clearly another form of power that I personally manifest.

Of course, compared to what I manifested before, its effectiveness is significantly reduced.

…But does that matter?

Having returned Heba, even Hebatein to Elhermina, I no longer possess infinite drive.

‘…But.’

To protect the military deity’s only worry and concern—Elhermina—I need to use at least this much.

Of course, if he’s determined, would this even matter?

…It won’t be easy.

At the point where I cast aside the fate of a Demon King, that fate would have transferred to him.

Just dealing with that would be arduous right now.

Swoosh!

There’s no sound of air being torn or explosive noise.

But the harmony of pitch-black and white light colliding and flickering is dazzlingly beautiful.

Mere exposure to that would be beyond dangerous—it would instantly sever one’s life thread.

‘Are you trusting Mother this time too?’

Her divine ability to resurrect someone in any way as long as they’re alive.

It’s an incredible privilege.

Though she must have been forced to bear endless responsibility and duty because of it.

What meaning is there in a life constantly swayed by such duty and sense of mission?

If faith is more important than life, I can’t object.

In the scriptures, a leader of an ancient people, when the Lord commanded him to offer his precious son.

Though deeply saddened, he was about to plunge a knife into the child’s heart without hesitation.

That is the faith and devotion spoken of in the Irenis religion.

In other words, absolute obedience.

Whoosh!

The sword’s light pierces the pitch-black shield.

I form a black sword with my left hand to deflect it, and smoothly parry his approaching sword strike.

Whiiiing!

The collision of light and darkness. Intersection.

They seem to intertwine and tangle like currents.

But they strictly defend their own domains, touching then separating, colliding again—light and darkness.

“Is this all you were begging for?! To cross swords with me like this!”

“……”

In the time it takes to exchange one word, more than ten exchanges have collided and intersected.

Light becomes a trajectory, pouring down, stretching, scattering, dividing into multiple forms, targeting all directions.

I manifest a shield to block, but even that is a temporary measure.

When the pitch-black shield shatters and disperses, I thrust my sword at that opening, but it doesn’t work.

I immediately change my response to defense.

Even if I lose my sword, I reconstruct it to respond.

Even if the black sword breaks, falls away, or is crushed and scattered.

That is not the end.

As soon as the black sword in my grip is halved, I form a new blade.

Or I change the construction so the blade extends below the handle, swinging it in reverse to strike unexpectedly.

I extend the blade both up and down to respond temporarily.

From sword to spear, from spear to barbed spear, to axe, to whip, to chain sword.

The use of various tools that would have been unimaginable before. Such applications might seem like miraculous tricks at first glance…

“You’ve just learned a bunch of petty tricks!”

With one strike, one exchange, all attempts turn to foam.

I return to the shield again.

Shield and short spear.

Even those are only useful for enduring a few exchanges.

‘As expected….’

Power struggles, reflexes, overwhelming an opponent with senses or skill, employing tactics, using tricks to create variables.

Or looking for moments of carelessness, striking unexpectedly.

…All were useless struggles.

The man before me, aside from being my father, is a being against whom even a horde of battle-hardened warriors couldn’t stand.

Simply because he wields a divine sword, because divine power extends infinitely from him.

…How could his capabilities be underestimated?

The ability to fully, extremely draw out his power.

Yet even that is not excessive but basic for him to handle and command.

I realize anew.

He’s a being against whom there is terrifyingly… no countermeasure.

A being favored by heaven and watched over by the gods.

Also the root and leaf of the supreme ancient military deity.

And the supreme fruit that extended from there…

“Huh.”

From the opposing side, could there be a greater absurdity?

From the beginning, he isn’t even displaying some great technique or skill, or showcasing artistry.

Even that is merely a basic show of strength for him… I understand that a little now.

‘It makes me angry.’

Perhaps he deserves to possess such power.

If he had fallen into ambition with such power and used it throughout the world… he would probably have become a great villain or a king, an emperor ruling over fear and terror.

Or if not a king, a being equivalent to one.

…Like the one from that world, the military deity.

‘But he didn’t.’

He must also harbor resentment, hatred, and frustration crushed by absurdity.

Yet suppressing that and wielding it righteously according to his own beliefs and faith… it even seems noble.

That’s probably why those around him regard him as a great and noble being.

Or why they mock and belittle him.

No matter how sharp a sword is, the moment one believes it cannot cut them.

That sword can never be a threat.

Crackle!

Black and white light collide again.

Like light driving away darkness.

Though barely holding on.

In a way, I’m grateful.

It’s also amusing.

Somehow.

I am managing to hold on, at least like this.

“……”

Perhaps Father realized this point too.

Even now, though not his true power, he’s not holding back or reducing his strength.

Even at this moment, outside this domain, the Demon King and several missing ancient heroes were facing off.

Though the structure itself was extremely one-sided.

“You’ve… become… much stronger.”

“……”

Emotions flare up.

It’s hard to describe.

No, I understand.

The problem is that the heat and frustration are infecting not just my head but my heart as well.

Was that why?

To the point where turmoil rises, anger rises again.

Because of that, the black formation I was maintaining becomes somewhat disrupted.

White light instantly overcomes the darkness, and the sword strike rushes toward my body.

‘Anyway.’

Is this the state I’m in just because of a little emotional turmoil?

Even though the other side looks complicated enough to pour out lamentations at any moment, he doesn’t flinch at all.

Why am I like this?

If anything, shouldn’t I be the cold and calm one?

‘The world is originally…’

Absurd.

Slash!

I struck the white light with my bare hand.

“What?!”

The temporary darkness wrapped around my hand quickly dispersed.

Thud!

It doesn’t matter.

“……”

As soon as I deflected his divine sword, I raised my foot to strike near his groin.

He skillfully avoids it.

But since he didn’t fully withdraw his body from the beginning, he immediately attempted a counterattack as soon as he dodged.

‘Too late.’

Rather than withdrawing my raised foot…

‘Perhaps.’

Is it better to just throw it away?

Judgment is slow.

No matter how quick the judgment, it’s not enough to overcome the urgent situation unfolding in real-time.

In the end, at times like this.

Thwack!

“?!”

It’s time to rely on what I’ve practiced for a long time, built up gradually, continuously accumulated.

Such shabby results.

I throw my raised foot toward the white light as if striking it.

Specifically, the shin bone extending below the knee.

I collide it with the divine sword he swung like a blade.

Simultaneously.

As my leg rises, I form a new long spear in my arm that reflexively extends backward.

Also.

With my left foot that remains planted, I push in new darkness.

Then, except for some parts pushed back by the white light, the entire ground where he stands simultaneously transforms into a field of spikes.

“!!”

He lifts his body in an instant.

So nimble that I momentarily lost sight of his form.

I almost thought he had teleported for a moment.

‘Perfect.’

Rather than attack, his defense and response are more threatening.

How many battlefields and battles, how many situations has he experienced?

…To respond so fluidly even to such unorthodox tactics.

‘Ha.’

The more I encounter him, the more respect tries to surge.

…That point was increasingly adding fuel to the fire of my anger.

“……”

Come to think of it.

Back when I was learning swordsmanship, he really gave me a lot of advice.

Not absorbing it then was ultimately due to my own inadequacy.

…But that couldn’t be helped.

I wasn’t ready to accept it.

Yet he told me various things, saying I might realize them later.

…Just once or twice.

Did he think that was enough to say everything?

“Rather than putting faith in your sword… you placed meaning in the purpose and means themselves?”

“……”

Faith, he says.

“Why should I put faith in it?”

“For someone with power to wield a sword without faith… means they can do anything, intoxicated by power.”

“Couldn’t one refrain from that even without faith?”

“No. It’s impossible.”

Power, the stronger it is.

“It will try to rule us.”

How can one control a horse without reins?

Once it starts running wild, how can it be controlled?

“The moment power becomes both means and purpose, the world becomes hell.”

From that point on, it would be an unparalleled hell for everyone except those with power.

“…What if someone with power holds selfish faith? Wouldn’t that be more dangerous?”

“But others will stand against them.”

Not everyone can be righteous.

Not everyone can be upright.

That’s why we must watch over and supervise each other.

“Those who don’t believe that God watches over us have nothing more to fear. Then what will they live for?”

For their own honor, for power, for wealth.

For happiness and pleasure, for delight and excitement…

They could do anything.

“Are you afraid I’ll become such a being?”

“……”

“You’re still worried about the future.”

While I’m in a state where my insides are rotting with worry, ready to exert my full strength to eliminate what’s before me.

“…I understand. You’re in a position where you have no choice.”

But you know.

“Be mindful that by looking too far ahead, everything before your eyes might disappear.”

Once again forming a black sword above my right hand and grasping it.

“…If you’re not lamenting the finite nature of time.”

I aim.

“…You speak a hundred truths.”

He grasps his sword again too.

On the surface, he looked extremely calm and relaxed, without a single drop of sweat.

But this situation is probably among the most extreme, most vicious environments he has ever experienced.

‘Yet.’

How do you not show a single opening?

In truth, I don’t expect one.

Nor should there be.

The you I seek to defeat.

…I want you to be more perfect than anyone.

That’s what I hope for.

Because only then…

Will my futile resistance have clear meaning.

“From now on, it will be a bit painful.”

Saying that, he demonstrates his stance.

Holding the tip of the sword in his right hand horizontally, aiming it at me.

With his left hand also stretched straight, slightly bending his knees, and fixing his leg spacing in the most appropriate form.

“……”

I lifted my foot, withdrawing the darkness that had stained the ground.

Then, I transformed the black sword in my hand into a longsword and grasped it with both hands.

“When was it ever not painful?”

Fortes.

With both hands placed close to my right waist, the tip of the two-handed sword is raised diagonally, firmly raised as if to stab the opponent.

It’s like a threatening posture, as if a horned beast is about to thrust its horn.

“Living itself is wearisome.”

I have always been in pain.

So the pain you warn of.

For me, it’s rather entertainment.