Ch.301Storm (9)

The rising water column, the violent shock that shook my body.

Llewellyn felt pain and dizziness as if his very soul was being shaken.

But there was no ugly bouncing or rolling on the ground. Llewellyn stood straight, breathing heavily as he was drenched by the falling streams of water.

He was exhausted.

Following the death of a star and an intense battle, Llewellyn was thoroughly depleting himself.

It wasn’t physical exhaustion. Llewellyn’s body was a homunculus, and for a homunculus, fatigue didn’t exist.

What was truly tired was Llewellyn’s soul. His essence, where divinity flowed, and which mimicked and stored magical power and anti-magic power.

That essence was extremely fatigued. And that wouldn’t change even if Llewellyn obtained divinity and his body transformed.

Llewellyn’s soul was still Yoon Se-jin. A pitiful man who loved his sister, and might perhaps come to be loved by her.

But he couldn’t collapse because of that. Though thoroughly depleted, with only his body remaining.

When had it ever been different?

Rather, he was a Mourner. A Mourner who was also a homunculus. Llewellyn’s ideal was to shatter all adversities with his body, regardless of whether it was magic or divinity.

It was something that had left a powerful impression on Llewellyn’s mind, making him wish to resolve unavoidable situations in that manner, and it had been his identity and origin since he fell to this land.

This body was Llewellyn’s unique weapon. So Llewellyn opened his eyes while gasping for breath.

The depletion was thorough. He couldn’t feel even a handful of divinity remaining.

But he couldn’t afford not to use it. His opponent was that formidable.

He didn’t hope for the luck of winning without depleting himself. If he didn’t fight now, if he didn’t use it now.

When else would he use it?

Through Llewellyn’s sharply raised eyes, he saw the streams of water. The descending speed gradually slowed, hundreds of streams of water illuminating the universe and giving birth to light.

Within them, Llewellyn saw a terrifying sight gradually revealing itself.

It was not something that could be simply explained with words.

Countless and infinite forms.

Only then did Llewellyn realize that there were more transcendents watching and waiting for an opportunity than those who had set foot on this land, and even more who never had the chance to set foot at all.

Beyond the water streams, looking at the universe and the Milky Way, on the infinitely stretching horizon stood an infinite array of massive forms that defied Llewellyn’s imagination.

Those forms ranged from what Llewellyn could imagine to what he couldn’t even conceive.

Massive swarms of metallic locusts, twisted physical laws with will, eyeballs boiling like foam.

A massive maw so enormous it appeared to be part of the universe itself, and a giant with countless arms who had lost one arm and was directing ominous eyes toward Llewellyn.

Seeing the countless forms trampling and crushing galaxies as they surged forward, Llewellyn let out a hollow laugh.

He knew there would be no end to this fight.

If he could win by fighting, if all he would lose in battle was his life, it might be different.

But it was not a choice that Llewellyn, who had learned responsibility and shouldered it, could make.

Hoo, as he exhaled, the universe shuddered. More precisely, the water streams containing the universe trembled.

“Fighting would be meaningless anyway.”

It would be nothing more than venting anger.

Swinging fists in rage, thrusting a sword that wouldn’t reach, punishing those who had defiled this world and taken away all the good things that should exist upon it.

It was meaningless. Unless he could unleash a sword strike with the power of a dying star with every blow, unless he could kill stars with each strike.

Llewellyn knew he couldn’t kill them. To begin with, their physical forms didn’t seem to directly correlate with their death.

Then only one option remained.

He had to prevent them from setting foot in this world. But.

Only one being could do that. The master of this world and a transcendent, Netel.

Llewellyn raised his head to look at the sky. Through the water streams, he could see a faint hole in the sky.

A hole that hadn’t closed yet. He didn’t know when it would close.

But the battle was approaching right before Llewellyn’s eyes. As he doubted whether he could stop all of this.

Gradually, the water streams subsided. Within the settling water, Llewellyn stood alone.

His breathing was rough, his heart beating violently.

Not a physical response, but a response of the soul. Llewellyn looked up at the sky with half-closed eyes.

“…I see, so it all ends if you take me down?”

A twisted smile appeared. Their purpose was obvious.

The sky was collapsing. Though Netel was struggling to close it, transcendental power was seeping through the hole that still existed.

Even if he defeated them all, there were as many twisted and transcendental monsters as there were universes, as vast as the area of the universe.

They might be the end reached by a civilization, a calamity that destroyed a civilization, beings inherently transcendental, or beings that had become so.

Though each had walked different paths, they all eventually reached Netel. To harvest the fruits that bloomed and ripened only in this Netel.

Llewellyn felt Netel’s pain.

He also knew what would happen to Netel afterward.

Therefore, though he couldn’t rush.

If things continued like this, the outcome was clear.

There were enemies gradually revealing themselves where the water streams had subsided.

As Llewellyn gripped his sword hilt with both hands and lowered his eyes, the enemies revealed themselves.

The future was uncertain. The outcome of the battle was unclear.

Victory was too distant to predict, and defeat was too close to ignore.

But he couldn’t just give up.

Llewellyn still had his sword, his body.

Countless avatars and contractors rising from the ground like shadowy forms.

Llewellyn raised his sword among them.

He moved forward.

A contractor rushed at him. He cut down that mindless shadow that now threw itself recklessly without discrimination.

Instead of dispersing when cut, it grabbed his ankle. As he stopped with a jolt due to the grabbed ankle, a wave-like attack surged from both sides.

Llewellyn twisted his waist greatly and recalled the pain of one human in a corner of his mind.

Rie Hejedia. A genius who created swordsmanship to oppose nature after losing her parents.

Her swordsmanship bloomed at his fingertips. Swordsmanship that cut through rain, cleared away downpours, and split clouds.

He reached the extreme. He deflected all the attacks that had been seeping in. Among the shadows scattered in all directions, others approached from all sides.

Llewellyn withdrew Starmass and opened his clenched fist to form a claw shape.

This time, he followed the footsteps of a great warrior who was willing to gnaw at his own roots for the fate of his kind.

Swaaaaaaash, slash!

Following with a roundhouse kick. Cutting the shadow that had grabbed his ankle with the slash created by rotating his ankle, he sharply swept the area in front of him.

Then his two hands tore apart the enemy. The martial arts remaining in his body made him move.

[Explosive Leap]

Booooom!

The ground caved in, scattering debris, and with an upward kick, a form five heads taller than Llewellyn was split in half.

Yet enemies remained. In a place watched by transcendents, enemies that should have been throughout the entire pantheon were rushing toward Llewellyn.

Everyone knew. If Llewellyn fell, everything would end.

That’s why Llewellyn couldn’t fall.

Hot breath struggled to leave his body, and his heated heart kept beating as if trying to pump out divinity that wouldn’t come.

But Llewellyn continued to move.

His body contained more than just his life.

Starmass, which had somehow reappeared in his hand. Llewellyn gripped it and moved.

Mourner Ulrich. Following the barbaric yet battle-hardened trajectory he had envisioned, the enemy was split. Clang, his body flinched greatly as an attack deflected off his armor.

Sword Saint. Next, he traced his path of the sword, which was both unorthodox yet faithful to the fundamentals.

But the enemies were too numerous and were adapting to Llewellyn. Gunfire shot simultaneously from behind those who had been split by Llewellyn’s trajectory, pounding him.

Kuk, his teeth gritted. Llewellyn firmly planted his staggering steps and leaped forward.

A free and flexible jump, just like Selma would do. Followed by a flying kick and an attack swinging the sword with the momentum of the leap.

As if that wasn’t enough, Llewellyn was grabbed by the ankle and slammed to the ground.

Kwaaaaaaang!

The earth shook violently as seawater seeped into the ruins of the fortress.

On top of it, Llewellyn coughed lightly before rolling to get up.

Above the ruins of the fortress, which was even larger than the pantheon, countless enemies were revealing themselves.

His body was fine. But if things continued like this, he would be overwhelmed.

Being pushed back and eventually dying was clearly visible.

All he could do was buy time. He knew that unless Netel closed the world, only death and destruction remained.

But did that mean he should accept it without doing anything?

Can humans truly do nothing against death?

Was everything about Llewellyn truly worthless?

Did everything lose meaning just because it couldn’t match the enormity above?

Llewellyn knew that wasn’t true.

He recalled those he had mourned.

He remembered people who had maintained their will until the end against death.

He reflected on the resonance their final moments had left in him.

Truly great people worthy of mourning.

Llewellyn strengthened his resolve by ruminating on what they had left behind.

Thwack!

The head of a contractor who was just closing the distance to Llewellyn was pierced.

A bluish glowing arrow. As far as Llewellyn knew, only one person in the pantheon used arrows of light.

Before the contractors and avatars could turn their heads, Llewellyn assessed the situation and ran. Accelerating by kicking through the splashing rising seawater, he jumped and kicked.

Slaaaash!

Shadows scattered as the ground caved in a circular pattern. Light arrows pierced those approaching from the side.

Llewellyn twisted his body to grip his sword, and then heard a melody ringing in his ears.

A beautiful duet. A melody that invigorated the body just by listening.

With divinity subtly rising, Llewellyn’s heartbeat resounded.

Thump—!

A sword strike that advanced with the beat. Two swords were shot. A red figure suddenly stood close to Llewellyn.

“Were you waiting?”

A rectangular, blunt yet heavy sword. A crimson prosthetic arm and white hair.

With her back to Llewellyn, she swung her sword and smiled.

“Ideal Transformation.”

“Origin Manifestation.”

Flames also descended upon the enemies approaching the two.

“Star’s Heart.”

“Meteor Sword.”

A man and woman descending while burning. A beautiful woman with black flowing hair melting enemies while emitting light like the sun, and a man with red hair blocking enemies in the form of a knight burning with flames.

A shockwave spreading in a circle. Even amid the roaring sound, the woman’s white eyes, stained black, glared with hatred at the villains who had harmed her lover and brother.

The servants of the transcendents retreated before her. People began to appear one by one in the space revealed by their retreat.

Crack!

An elf who broke a contractor’s neck by wrapping her legs around it as soon as she landed, then smiled sweetly.

A giant who bisected shadows with a downward sword strike and let out a cheerful laugh.

A golem lined up alongside numerous black knights next to the giant.

“…Hmph, what kind of king is this? How can I trust and entrust things to you?”

Another figure appeared next to the golem.

A dragonkin with red hair and a red tail, leading his kinsmen.

A woman adjusting her fists while wearing something like comfortable martial arts attire, nodding her head.

“If you can’t trust me, step aside.”

Three people landing in place following the woman.

A woman wearing a white veil, an androgynous man with white hair and red eyes, and an elderly man in his sixties who seemed somehow powerful.

“That’s impossible. We need all our forces gathered here.”

The finance minister chuckling while adjusting his monocle, and people from Llewellyn’s memories appearing one by one.

As Llewellyn looked at them with bewildered eyes, someone approached him last.

A woman who resembled his sister.

“Mother sent a message.”

The Empress met Llewellyn’s eyes and smiled, raising the corners of her mouth.

“You are not alone.”

The entire pantheon was here.

The final battle was at hand.