Valrik's battle had reached its deadly climax. His body was riddled with wounds, every breath he took felt like a sharp blade cutting through his lungs, yet he did not stop.
In his grip, he held the demonic worshipper with the Shard of Power by the throat, dragging him along as though he were a human shield full of nails.
On the other side, the last remaining opponent was still standing. Blood leaked from his wounds, but his eyes remained sharp, calculating. He moved cautiously, keeping his distance, launching attacks from afar without daring to approach.
A coward… but a clever one.
And then—The enemy suddenly retreated and fled.
Valrik exhaled heavily.
His fingers trembled slightly—not out of fear, but from the sheer exhaustion that battle had inflicted upon him.
His body was covered in dozens of open wounds, and thanks to the fatal flaw of the second stage, his pain was now amplified fourfold.
But then—
BOOOOOM!!!!
A massive explosion shook the sky.
His eyes widened instantly.
Flames devoured the horizon, thick black smoke rising like a dark omen, but none of that mattered.
The explosion… came from the palace.
His wife… his son… his daughter…!!
His mind went blank.
The corpse in his grasp slipped from his fingers without him realizing, and his legs moved on their own.
He leaped between the burning houses at an impossible speed, the suffocating smoke meaning nothing before the terror gripping his heart.
Along the way, corpses littered the streets, the remnants of both allies and enemies.
Blood painted the ground like a slaughterhouse.
But amidst this living hell—
Two brutal battles raged below.
The first… The Grand Elder fighting Nyktos, the prodigy of their clan, in a ferocious clash.
The second… Louskas, weaving through the corpses, facing three demonic worshippers alone.
Their battles were terrifying.
It was a true fight to the death, making every other conflict in the vicinity seem meaningless.
« What the hell is he doing here?! »
But what froze him was something else.
Louskas was fighting three enemies… alone!
Even though he was injured, even though his entire body was drenched in blood, he did not back down.
But… he had no chance. Three against one? Impossible.
Valrik clenched his teeth.
« I have to trust him. »
Without looking back, he sprinted toward the palace.
His speed doubled, the air around him howling like a storm.
There was only one thing on his mind—
Getting there in time.
******
Inside the Grand Palace, Cindra Draven held her daughter, Anna Solan, tightly in her arms. The little girl was shaking uncontrollably, her wide, tear-filled eyes staring at the horror before them, while her mother's hands were white from how tightly she was gripping her.
In front of them—
The massacre was over.
Hundreds of corpses lay scattered across the hall, whether they were from the Solan Clan or the demonic worshippers, it no longer mattered.
And in contrast—
Only four men remained standing.
At the forefront stood Osian Solan, the Head Guard.
An old man, over a hundred years old, yet still a warrior that should not be underestimated.
He could have been the Grand Elder, but he chose to remain a guardian, to protect his people until the very end.
But now, he stood against a foe that should never have been here.
Before them, a towering demonic worshipper stood still.
Long red hair, a massive muscular build, and a mask adorned with three black horns.
Three horns.
Fear crawled into their bones.
« Damn it… What is he doing here? »
Terror was painted across everyone's faces—even Osian's—but the old warrior tightened his grip on his sword and shouted:
« Stop shaking! Remember what we swore upon! Why did we fight to get here?! »
The four remaining soldiers trembled but responded with a roar:
« We swore to protect the Chief! We swore to protect the Lady! We swore to protect the Clan! »
Without hesitation, Osian charged toward the enemy.
His body moved with strength, his sword gleaming as it cut through the air—
But he didn't realize something.
He was alone.
The four soldiers had not moved.
It wasn't that they had abandoned him.
They simply could not move.
Fear had paralyzed them.
But it was too late now.
He had already reached the enemy—
And swung his blade in a decisive strike.
But the demonic worshipper did not move.
With a simple flick of the back of his hand—he countered the strike.
CRACK!
Osian's hand shattered.
In an instant, his body was launched through the air, crashing into the palace walls.
Cracks spread across the stone like a web.
« A fly. »
The worshipper muttered in disgust behind his mask.
He raised a finger, and in front of it, a tiny black sphere appeared.
It was barely visible to the naked eye.
Then, it shot forward.
BOOOOM!!!!
A devastating explosion erupted, obliterating the palace wall.
And Osian…
Vanished with it.
Fragments of his body scattered amidst the dust.
The worshipper then turned to the trembling soldiers.
With a simple wave of his hand—
Their heads rolled to the floor.
Without resistance. Without a sound.
Cindra's eyes widened in pure horror.
She couldn't move.
The pressure of his aura crushed her completely.
« Is… this the end? »
The worshipper took slow steps toward them, walking with absolute certainty as if all of this was just a waste of time.
But before he could get any closer—
BOOOOM!!!!
A violent explosion of dust!
Valrik had arrived.
His fist blazed with raw power, hurtling toward the worshipper in a devastating strike—
But just before it landed—
It stopped.
The worshipper had caught it with one hand.
A faint smile could be seen beneath his mask.
« Oh? The Lawbreaker, Valrik… You are as strong as they say. »
Valrik gritted his teeth in fury.
« You're in the Third Stage… but your aura is at the Fourth. What the hell is this?! »
The worshipper chuckled.
« Don't worry about the reason… »
« After all, the dead have no need for answers »