Chapter 935
“Rensia?”
Raon’s eyes widened as a young girl stepped out from behind the ruined fountain.
Her delicate features carried a firm gaze. Just moments ago, he had believed Rensia to be dead, yet here she was, walking toward him.
‘An illusion? No… this is real.’
The sight of her felt dreamlike, his strength draining away. He thought he might collapse then and there.
“Rensia!”
“You survived! Kid!”
“Ah….”
Burren, Martha, and Runaan also lowered their weapons, gasping in relief at her return.
– “H-Huh?!”
Wrath’s jaw dropped at the impossible sight.
– “H-How is that brat alive?!”
He recoiled as if he’d seen a ghost.
“Raon!”
Rensia stumbled into his arms. Her complexion was pale, her body weak. She wasn’t healed fully.
“I’m so glad you came back safely! Really…”
Even now, she thought of others before herself.
“How did you….”
“Just luck.”
Roen exhaled in relief as he appeared beside her.
“When the priests and healers in Montiro refused treatment, saying they couldn’t save her, we tried moving her elsewhere. That’s when the gods intervened.”
He raised his hand toward Olga, the Saint, walking up by the fountain.
“Despite her busy duties, she used her divine power to heal Rensia. Without her, it would’ve been impossible.”
He bowed, giving credit to Saint Olga.
“Th-Thank you, Saint!”
Rensia, who’d been unconscious until now, bowed immediately in gratitude.
“It was half chance. Seems it wasn’t your fate to die yet.”
Olga smiled faintly, ruffling her hair. Her black-streaked fingers trembled slightly from exhaustion.
“…What of Chamber?”
Suppressing the turmoil in his chest, Raon asked Olga.
“She survived, for now.”
Olga nodded calmly. She reached for a cigarette, but seeing Rensia, lowered her hand again.
“Survived… for now?”
Raon licked his dry lips.
“You saw her. Wounds down to the bone, and the mental scars are worse.”
Olga shook her head.
“Even divine power can’t easily mend such damage. What she’ll be like when she wakes… no one knows.”
“Then… she may never use magic again?”
Raon’s face tightened. The fall of the Black Tower had shifted the balance of the Five Monarchs and Five Emperors. If Chamber fell too, it would be meaningless. With King Ogre still weakened, losing Chamber wasn’t an option.
“The upper dantian of a transcendent is hard to break. For hers to crack… healing her will be nearly impossible. But….”
Olga brushed bloody hair from her face.
“I’ll try. So wipe off that sickly expression. You look hideous.”
Her chin tilted in arrogance, telling him not to worry.
“Spoken like a true Saint.”
Raon chuckled.
“Thank you—for coming here, for saving others, for not giving up on Chamber.”
He drew his sword and gave her a warrior’s salute.
She had brought paladins and priests, saved the wounded, preserved Chamber despite the chaos. He was deeply grateful.
“Did you learn to grovel while I wasn’t looking? The Black Tower was our enemy too. Fighting was natural.”
Olga scoffed, waving dismissively.
“Truth is, I’m grateful you called us. I never thought I’d see the Black Tower fall with my own eyes.”
Her carefree smile was genuine.
“And what you did for Supere was more than today. We haven’t forgotten.”
She said that without him, the Holy Kingdom of Supere might have fallen.
“Ugh, goosebumps. Stop spouting that mushy nonsense.”
Raon rubbed his arms, throwing her words back at her.
“S-Shut it! You made me say it first! Damn it!”
Olga’s face flushed crimson as she grit her teeth.
“Uh…”
Rensia blinked blankly, shocked to hear the so-called Saint curse so crudely.
“Hey, kid.”
Olga beckoned her.
“Come here. You’re still pale. More healing’s needed.”
“M-Me? I’m fine….”
“Shut it and come. I was too busy earlier to finish. Girls shouldn’t keep scars.”
She insisted.
“Ah, yes.”
Rensia bowed to Raon and followed her.
“Hey.”
Olga slung an arm around her shoulder, glaring at Raon.
“Today evens the score. Don’t you dare say otherwise later.”
Declaring it a wash, she led Rensia to the makeshift infirmary.
– “That girl’s markings are darker.”
Wrath frowned, eyeing the black streaks on Olga’s limbs.
– “Even reaching her fingers… her time is short.”
‘I felt it too.’
Those lines weren’t tattoos—they were her flesh, burned by divine power.
She was sacrificing her life and soul to wield immense holy power, cleansing evil and saving lives.
“She said it’s even, but…”
Raon clenched his fist, smiling faintly.
“…I might owe her again soon.”
Before, his skills were lacking. Now, he thought he might be able to correct her twisted constitution.
‘Can you help?’
– “Hmph….”
Wrath looked at the infirmary, then snorted.
– “I can stabilize her balance.”
He nodded without hesitation.
‘I’ve thought about it. You don’t really fit as a Monarch.’
– “That’s an insult!”
‘Is it?’
Raon smirked, shoving Wrath’s forehead, and headed toward the ice cream shop where Gluttony and Lust waited.
—
“Ugh….”
Saint Olga trembled after finishing Rensia’s treatment, her black-lined fingers shaking.
“S-Saint? Are you alright?”
Rensia sat up, worried.
“Stay down.”
Olga pressed her back with a weak finger.
“Worry about yourself. A second later and you’d be dead.”
It wasn’t a joke. A delay of mere seconds and Rensia would have died. Talking at all now was a miracle.
“But if you’re hurt…”
“Adults can handle pain.”
Olga waved her hand tiredly.
“I can’t sleep yet. I never thanked them properly.”
“Thanked who?”
“Sir Raon, and everyone else.”
Rensia bit her lip, regretful.
“They helped me so much. Without them, I’d have been bound to the Black Tower even in death.”
Tears welled in her emerald eyes.
“How did they help?”
“I don’t know all of it—I was unconscious. But at first, he wasn’t even called Raon. He came as a rich man, and….”
She gripped her blanket, recounting everything.
“…And then the gate to the Black Tower opened. After that, I don’t remember. I was too injured.”
“That much I know. Enough.”
Olga nodded.
“Now you’ve said it, feel better?”
“Yes!”
Rensia beamed.
“Then sleep.”
“What? But I still haven’t—ah.”
Olga pressed a hand to her forehead, and she drifted into peaceful slumber.
“…Haa.”
Olga sighed, looking toward the fountain where Raon had stood.
“You haven’t changed at all.”
She had wondered what he’d be like after becoming a transcendent. Would his purity remain? It had. He still fought for others, just as when he’d saved the Holy Kingdom of Supere.
‘…If only I hadn’t changed.’
She glanced at the black lines covering her body, a bitter smile on her lips.
‘Too late now.’
She had burned through vast divine power restoring the kingdom, then today battling demons and saving Chamber. The lines now reached her fingers, her body chilled—her life nearly over.
‘But no regrets.’
She had nurtured indecisive Hopen into a fine Holy King, trained knights and priests until they could stand alone, and repaid her debt to Raon.
‘I can rest easy… but still….’
Olga staggered to Chamber’s bedside. Her head throbbed from the divine strain, but she couldn’t stop.
‘This one must live.’
Only if Chamber survived could the balance of power shift. Even if she died, Chamber had to endure.
“Damn, I need a smoke.”
Biting a pen instead, she laid her hand on Chamber’s head. Warm light like winter fire glowed in the damp infirmary.
—
After ordering the Light Wind swordsmen to stand guard, Raon went toward the ice cream shop by the fountain.
Thankfully it was empty. Gluttony was devouring bead ice cream by the tubful, containers rolling on the floor.
Lust, meanwhile, sat with one cup untouched, smiling eerily at nothing.
– “W-Wait!”
Wrath blocked Raon at the door.
– “Are you really going in? That stalker’s inside!”
‘If I don’t, Gluttony will eat your share too.’
– “…!”
Wrath swallowed hard as Gluttony licked the tub clean.
‘And once support arrives, no more bead ice cream for a while.’
Raon tapped his head.
– “Ghhk….”
Wrath trembled, torn between food and fear.
– “Damn this world! Nothing goes my way!”
Clutching his head, he groaned.
‘I owe them thanks anyway. I’m going in.’
Raon pushed the door—
“W-Wait!”
Jayna rushed up, her face pale.
“What is it?”
She was tasked with reporting all events to the Five Kings. If she looked this shaken, something was wrong.
“I can’t reach headquarters. Or Balkar.”
She raised her eyes to the still-dark sky.
“I think something’s happened to the other Kings!”
—
The throne room of Owen radiated crushing oppression, as if suffocating the soul. Yet today, it was shattered.
A massive chandelier lay in ruins on the floor. The red carpet was soaked in bubbling blood.
The knights of the Lion, sworn to their king, lay dead with fear frozen in their eyes, their blood forming a path to the throne.
Goooooooh!
The throne itself was split in two. Leaning against the cracked wall, Black Sword Lord Lecross coughed black blood.
Squelch!
An elegant man in blue robes stepped forward, treading on the blood of the knights. With a mere gesture, the Lion Throne crumbled.
“Black Sword Lord. Was your name an empty title? Or…”
Derus Robert. Once counted among the Six Kings alongside Lecross, the absolute swordsman bared a chilling smile.
“…Have I simply grown stronger?”
He tilted his bloodstained blade, stepping over the ruins toward Lecross.
“Derus Robert….”
Lecross lifted his sword with effort.
“Why are you here?”
“You struck at us. Did you think I’d sit idle?”
Derus shrugged. His soul itself seemed different from when he was the Sword Saint.
“When Chamber moved, it opened cracks in your network. We have decent mages too, you know.”
His smile was merciless.
“Not a rescue mission—revenge. The irony suits, doesn’t it?”
Lecross twisted his lips. They had anticipated possible strikes from the Five Demons. Measures were prepared.
‘The problem is….’
He furrowed his brow.
‘This man’s strength exceeds all expectations.’
Derus Robert’s power was nothing like before. Even at full strength, Lecross struggled to hold him back.
‘How…? In such a short time?’
He’d left the Six Kings not long ago. For him to grow this much… he must have been hiding it all along. It felt like facing Glenn.
“If one Demon falls, so too must a King. Soon there will be Four Kings, Four Demons.”
Derus lifted a finger.
“No—Three Demons.”
Lecross slashed down, blue light shaping into a lion that split heaven and earth.
Lion Spirit Sword—Armed Judgment.
A colossal strike tore through the hall, roaring at Derus’s soul.
Kwoooooooh!
Derus raised his sword, white light erupting as it clashed head-on. The explosion shattered the throne room and palace alike.
‘Did it work?’
Derus’s presence shrank sharply. Perhaps not dead, but wounded. Lecross retreated, drawing breath—
Fwooosh!
Cold pierced his back. He twisted, but too late. Derus’s blade had already pierced his shoulder.
“I aimed for your heart. Impressive dodge.”
Derus tilted his chin in faint admiration.
“But it matters little—hm?”
He paused, sensing something.
“…Faster than expected.”
He exhaled sharply and turned.
Gooooooh!
Scarlet lightning streaked across black clouds, the sky itself howling.
Dust from the fallen palace shrank away as a red-eyed swordsman stood upon the knights’ blood.
“At last.”
Glenn Zieghart. The man who slew the previous Holy Sword Alliance Leader, who bore the name Thunder God. The greatest swordsman of the continent drew his blade.
“Derus Robert.”
(T/N: DAMN! ANOTHER CLIFFHANGER!! SORRY GUYS!!)