Under the night sky, a heavy silence settled over the ruins of Mt. Inwang’s summit, which looked as though the entire peak had been obliterated. Ravana’s proposition echoed through the chilly air with a bizarre, oppressive weight. It was no longer a battle between a god and a man. It was a pact of primal struggle, where two beings who had lost everything staked their final moments against one another.
I spat out a mouthful of blood and staggered to my feet. I truly had nothing left. My magical energy was drained, and my physical vessel had reached its absolute limit. But kneeling here would be a humiliation worse than death.
I gripped the empty air with a trembling hand. Nothing was physically there, but my will was scraping together the last flickering embers—the final fragment of an Authority remaining within me.
“…Fine. I’ll carve my final flame into that filthy mythology of yours.”
At my words, Ravana’s remaining heads offered a faint smile. It was a grin of pure satisfaction.
[That is a King’s answer, Usurper!]
Using his one remaining arm, Ravana hoisted an iron club the size of his own body. Dark red divine power squeezed out of his form like blood, coating the weapon. It was the final drop of the Authority of Shiva, the God of Destruction, that remained within him.
I brought my hands together. Between my palms, a tiny spark flickered like a heat haze. It lacked the world-melting majesty of the Pāoa. It was a light smaller than a candle flame, wavering dangerously as if it might blow out at any moment. Yet, within it lay the essence of Pele’s Authority—the power to return all things to their beginning.
We took our final steps toward each other.
Then, we moved simultaneously.
[Bellow! This is the final song of the Ten-Headed King!]
Ravana’s iron club swung down with a roar that threatened to tear space itself apart.
I thrust the last ember forward, whispering its name with every shred of strength I had left.
“The Nameless… Primordial Flame.”
In that instant.
All colors and sounds vanished from the world.
Before Ravana’s destructive strike could even touch my spark, the very ‘concept’ of his attack was obliterated. Power, form, intent—everything returned to the primordial ‘Nothingness.’ This erasure traveled up the iron club, through Ravana’s arm, and surged across his entire body.
[Ah… so this is… ‘Purification’…]
For the first time, all ten of Ravana’s heads wore an expression of peace. In this moment, he escaped the status of a patchwork existence stuffed with the stolen powers of many gods and finally returned to being a single, pure soul. His massive body began to dissolve into particles of light starting from his feet, scattering like stars in the night sky.
[Usurper… your name… what is it…?]
Just before his final head turned to ash, he asked. Amidst my fading consciousness, I barely managed to open my mouth.
“Min-jun Jeong. The guy who was unlucky enough to become the seventh Campione.”
At my answer, a gallant smile broke across Ravana’s last remaining face.
[Gahahaha! Splendid! King who has struck down Ravana, the Ten-Headed King of the Underworld! I shall await the battlefield where we meet again!]
With those words, the being known as Jiha Daegukjeok—who had become Ravana through Mythic Syncretism—completely vanished as a handful of light. And my consciousness, along with the tiny spark I had nurtured at the end, burned away entirely.
THUD.
My body collapsed limply on the spot where Ravana had disappeared. Everything was over.
How much time had passed?
“Situation terminated! Bio-signals of the target confirmed!”
“Secure the perimeter! Are there any additional threats?!”
Ropes dropped from helicopters that had appeared in the sky with a thunderous roar. Agents wearing black tactical gear, marked clearly with the insignia of the Four Divine Guardians, descended rapidly to the summit. Though they looked horrified by the devastation that resembled a battlefield of gods, they moved with mechanical precision.
“Found him! The target is over here!”
One agent discovered the fallen young man and shouted. Medical personnel rushed over to check his condition.
“Pulse is unstable! Profuse bleeding and total exhaustion of magical energy! We need to evacuate him immediately!”
“Get the stretcher! Hurry!”
It was at that exact moment, as the agents scrambled to move the Godslayer Devil King onto a stretcher.
THOOM—.
A low, heavy sound that seemed to swallow all other noise vibrated through the ruined mountain peak. The roar of the helicopter blades and the urgent shouts of the agents lost all meaning in the face of that single sound. It was a grand, overbearing noise, like the tolling of a massive temple bell.
THOOM—. THOOM—.
The sound came rhythmically, drawing closer. Finally, the agents of the Four Divine Guardians realized the nature of the sound. It was footsteps. It was the sound of dozens of steel combat boots striking the ground in perfect, simultaneous precision—a march that felt like a holy ritual.
Beyond the ridgeline of the ruins, they finally emerged from the darkness.
Pitch-black armor, polished to a perfect, dustless sheen. A crimson cross, vivid as blood, emblazoned on their chests. And on their backs, knights carrying massive greatswords crested the hill in flawless ranks. Their gait was not the rapid pace of combatants but the disciplined, majestic stride of a triumphal legion declaring victory. With every step, the earth rumbled low, as if submitting to their weight.
The twenty-odd black knights halted, surrounding their fallen King in a perfect semi-circular formation as if preordained.
“THOOM—”
With the final step, they stood motionless, like a singular, massive steel monument. The frantic movements of the Four Divine Guardians agents came to a miraculous halt before that overwhelming majesty. Their busy efforts were reduced to a pathetic commotion in the face of the black knights' solemn silence.
That wall of steel parted silently from the center, as if a royal guard were opening a path for their monarch.
Between them, a man walked out slowly. He was a black knight like his subordinates, but the quality of his armor was in a different dimension. The obsidian steel was polished so finely it reflected the stars of the night sky. Delicate silver filigree adorned the edges and pauldrons, and a golden laurel wreath emblem surrounded the crimson cross on his chest. He wore no helmet, revealing blonde hair that glowed faintly in the moonlight and deep blue eyes of unfathomable depth. He radiated the dignity of a general who ruled the battlefield, not a mere soldier.
The moment the on-site Team Leader identified the man's face, he gasped. The hardened mental strength of a trained soldier crumbled like a sandcastle before primal terror.
“The… The representative knight of the Bronze-Black Cross… ‘Diabolosso’…! Alessandro Gaspare!”
Ignoring the Team Leader’s shock, Alessandro looked briefly at the battered form of his King. A spark of cold, murderous fury ignited in his blue eyes.
CRACK!
In the next instant, Alessandro seemed to blur, and the Team Leader collapsed before he could even scream. Starting with him, the surrounding Four Divine Guardians agents fell like autumn leaves before overwhelming power. Resistance was meaningless. There was no room for discussion. It wasn't an act of neutralization; it was more akin to clearing away insects.
Having cleared the vicinity in a heartbeat, Alessandro picked up a small camera that had fallen to the ground. His cold gaze pierced through the lens, looking directly at whoever was on the other side.
“Are you watching? You who orchestrated this? I do not know who you are, but!”
His voice was frozen with rage.
“You dared to cast the King in the role of a hunting dog, planning to safely harvest the spoils behind His back. You presumed to use this person as a disposable tool.”
Alessandro turned his gaze toward his unconscious master. What flickered in his eyes was faint, but undeniably a mix of profound awe and fury.
“I give you this warning. When this person opens His eyes, that shall be the hour of your judgment.”
After speaking, he threw the camera to the ground and crushed it under his boot.
“Escort my Lord.”
At Alessandro’s command, two black knights approached with movements devoid of any disarray. They lifted the King’s body with such reverence it seemed they feared a single speck of dust might touch Him. There was no hesitation, no hint of disrespect in their motions. It was as if they were tending to their wounded God.
And so, Alessandro and his order turned back the way they came, the darkness once again swallowing their rhythmic,
THOOM—, THOOM—
majestic footsteps.
Central Control Room, Four Divine Guardians.
“Communication lost! The video signal from the site has been cut!”
“Ambush by hostile forces! Confirming all agents have been neutralized!”
Dozens of monitors went dark simultaneously, throwing the control room into chaos. Only one person, Team Leader Kang, sat pinned to his chair. His entire body was shaking like an aspen leaf. Alessandro’s blue eyes from the monitor and that ice-cold warning would not leave his mind.
The Bronze-Black Cross—one of the prestigious magical associations of Europe, a faction that would always be counted among the top five. And Alessandro Gaspare, the one who held the title ‘Diabolosso,’ reserved only for their greatest knight. His direct intervention meant this situation had far exceeded any level he could handle.
A desperate groan escaped his lips.
“…We thought He was a blade we could tame. But we have committed the madness of trying to put a dog leash on a Devil King who has slain a god…”
With those words, all strength left Team Leader Kang’s body. His forehead hit the desk with a thud, and he did not move. The urgent reports and alarms of his subordinates that had been blaring just a moment ago fell silent as if by magic. The control room was filled only with the cold, mechanical hum of machinery and a silence deeper and colder than death itself. No one dared to open their mouth. Everyone had realized the terrifying implication of their leader's words.
Team Leader Kang closed his eyes. Soon, it would be heard. The tolling bell of ruin, summoned by their own arrogance.
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