Chapter 296: Blessing of the Miracle (2)

People in this world grow up listening to myths from childhood.

They dream as they hear tales of those who carry out the judgment of the gods.

‘I want to be like them, like the angels!’

Innocent children feel a pure admiration.

They liked the angels more than the gods themselves.

After all, angels had more elements to spark the imagination.

With wings as white as snow, they soar freely through the skies and annihilate evil. They bring justice.

They shatter the night and announce the dawn. Ivory feathers fall as if embracing those seeking salvation. The morning sun casts its light, hiding their facial features.

But beneath the shadows of that face, their eyes emit a sublime glow. They extend a warm hand and speak to humans.

— Do not fear the darkness. We have come.

Romanticism. It is the essence of heroes and the legacy of angels. Even if they were once irreconcilable enemies to the ancients, the modern world doesn’t know those stories.

History is written by the victors. And the angels always were. That’s why they are the protagonists of myths. They are the symbol of the sacred. People revered them.

Among them, Metatron was called the most radiant. He was an angel in a league of his own, considered almost a demigod. Speaking of his power and nobility tired the tongue.

That was, at least, until he broke the coffin and appeared.

“Grrrrrr…”

Metatron bared his teeth fiercely and drooled uncontrollably. His growl was more like a bear’s or a beast’s. And it wasn’t a metaphor. The man truly seemed like a wild animal.

“Let me present! This is my older brother, Metatron!”

Kuarne spread his arms as he introduced him. He openly declared that this man with clouded eyes and inhuman growls was Metatron.

The crowd was baffled. Thousands of eyes shook.

‘Metatron…?’

It was a figure entirely opposite to the one they admired in childhood. Metatron had shackles on his ankles. They’d been there so long the skin had torn, leaving bloody scabs.

The air grew tense. Heroes and demons swallowed hard.

Whooooooosh.

The energy Metatron radiated weighed heavily on their shoulders. Their hearts beat so hard the left side of their chest ached. The being they so respected as children now resembled a god of death.

Metatron turned half his body. His right shoulder trembled. A storm erupted instantly. And it wasn’t a metaphor, but a true storm.

A sonic boom. The leader of the dark elves, Rog, only moved his eyes. His pupils shrank. It was a bodily reaction to an incredible spectacle.

“T-this…”

A punch. A simple punch. With just one blow, dozens of demons were annihilated. And they weren’t even in direct range.

It was the air pressure. The whirlwind generated by the punch tore through the enemy formation like a train through a tunnel.

‘…Is this even possible through brute strength alone?’

Rog glanced sideways at Kuarne, who smiled sweetly. His half-hidden eyes glinted mischievously.

‘Kuarne did something strange.’

And indeed, he had. Kuarne had manipulated the air to make it lighter, amplifying the power of the blow. It was a technique the brothers used when they were both angels.

“Just as I expected… you’re amazing, brother.”

Kuarne said with admiration. Although he had supported with his magic, in the end, it was only auxiliary. The true destruction was purely Metatron’s doing. If an ordinary hero had thrown that punch, it would have been just a breeze.

Time, which had seemed frozen, resumed its flow. At the same time, heroes and demons aligned precisely. The demons conjured magic shields, while the heroes raised steel barriers with their shields.

Metatron’s bare feet crushed the ground. The earth sank like clay.

Boom!

He charged at full speed. A battle of one versus many—a war between man and army—had begun. One attacked, many defended.

“Damn it. What kind of strength is this?!”

Thirty tanks held up their shields with all their might. They were warrior-class heroes. All were renowned experts, even blessed with multiple boons.

Even so, it was overwhelming. The shield wall deformed under the pressure of the punch. The impact penetrated not only the shields but also muscles and bones. They couldn’t relax a single muscle. Their bodies remained tense, sweat and blood flowing equally.

And the demons were even worse off. Unlike the heroes, they were taking the punches directly.

“Why are we the ones doing close combat?!”

Metatron’s muscles were etched with runes of annihilation. Perhaps his brutality toward the demons was part of his very nature.

Crash!

The barriers were continuously shattered. Many demons who tried to counterattack instead of defending exploded on contact.

Metatron rampaged wildly among the dust clouds. He moved at subsonic speeds, alternating punches between magical barriers and steel shields. His drooping arms swung like scythes, reaping lives. The muscles in his arms, layered and visible, moved clearly.

Groups of hundreds fell with a single blow. The back of his fist crushed the demons. His hands were soaked in blood. The blood that hadn’t yet dried dangled like whips from his fists. It was a violent dance with no intent to defend.

Metatron was strong. His mythical strength was felt vividly. That he had massacred Gregory alone was no exaggeration. And even so, he was weakened. Both feet were chained, so he was only using his fists.

Just punch, crush, and destroy. Metatron’s attacks were destruction incarnate. They had no name. They weren’t techniques.

Craaaaack—

That alone made him invincible. Not even elemental magic could pierce his hardened muscles.

Fire, which should burn like lava, barely singed his skin. His strength and endurance were off all charts.

‘To face this guy, you’d need at least a Corps Commander.’

Changseong gritted his teeth. He was holding the shield with his back alongside the tanks. He couldn’t resist using only his arms. His feet were sinking deep into the ground.

‘Kuarne…’

Through the narrow gaps between shields, he observed him. That bastard was just watching the chaos from afar.

“Why isn’t he joining Metatron?”

If Kuarne joined in, the balance would shift instantly.

Both heroes and demons had already lost many of their top fighters after the previous battle.

While they were still standing as best they could, the survivors were exhausted.

‘If Metatron and that guy work together in this situation…’

Just imagining it was chilling. But Kuarne merely cast spells to support Metatron.

‘Something’s off. Even if he used a massive spell, just watching like this… something’s definitely going on.’

After watching him for a while, Changseong made a decision. He shouted at the Swordmaster with all his might.

“Nibelung!”

Even amid the uproar, his voice reached the Swordmaster’s ears. Upon seeing him, Changseong smiled.

“Wanna dance a sword dance with me?”

Leaning on his shield, Changseong raised his spear. A fierce smile spread across the Swordmaster’s face.

“Sure. My hands were itching anyway.”

Without hesitation, he drew his sword. The sound of metal was crisp.

“The best defense is a good offense, don’t you think?”

“Exactly. That definitely sounds like something a friend of mine would say.”

Changseong stepped away from the shield. A gap just wide enough for one person opened in that wall of steel.

He inhaled deeply as he saw the battlefield before him. His chest swelled.

‘Metatron is fighting the demons for now.’

His heart pounded hard. Oxygen sped up his brain activity. He began to read the overall picture.

‘Meanwhile, we need to get to Kuarne.’

Changseong was the first to charge. The Swordmaster followed. Mid Sage, Meian, Mao Lang, and All Mute joined too.

As soon as they left, other tanks closed the gap with their shields.

From between the shields, the tanks watched the backs of the six heroes.

“They’ve offered themselves as bait.”

The moment they crossed the defensive line, they accepted their possible death. In the most dangerous situation, they chose sacrifice. The mark of a true hero.

“Yaaah!”

One of the tanks roared. The shout, legless but full of strength, spread quickly. The tanks, who had only been retreating, began to advance. The dealers pushed them from behind, sharing the burden.

The heroes advanced slowly but steadily.

Six heroes were running. Changseong led the front. To his right were the Sword Master, Mao Lang, and All Mute. To the left, the Poison twins.

“I think Metatron is being controlled,” said Changseong, not looking back. Meain added, “Which means Kuarne is the parasite. Got it.”

Meain signaled to her sister. Media nodded.

The twins split to either side, as if one had turned into two. That’s how twins are.

“All Mute, come with me. All you need to do is disrupt Metatron’s five senses with your blessing. Even if it’s just for a second.”

Changseong said. Instead of replying, All Mute opened her hand, then clapped loudly.

A buzzing sound echoed outward like a shockwave.

Metatron’s fist faltered. He raised his clouded eyes and started glancing around, as if he had just awakened. All Mute’s blessing had temporarily robbed him of vision.

With that, they gained time to approach Kuarne.

Changseong shifted his gaze from Metatron, bracing for any emergency.

“Mao Lang, you’re with me. Kick that model face of his, I’ll stab him in the gut.”

Said the Sword Master. Mao Lang flexed her calves.

“I’m gonna turn that pretty face real ugly.”

Legends of the past and the new generation understood each other perfectly. The distance to Kuarne closed instantly. One of the Poison twins struck first.

“How useless.”

Kuarne frowned and deployed a barrier. It was a slimy membrane like a soap bubble that deflected the point of impact.

But it burst. The Poison twins ripped through it with their claws.

It was Media’s [Blessing of the Poet]. It allowed her to foresee the immediate future. Seconds earlier, she had predicted what kind of barrier Kuarne would use and informed her sister.

At that moment, Meain provided the solution. She was the only mage among the heroes, deeply versed in sorcery. During the fight, she had been analyzing the weaknesses in air-element magic. She finally found a breach. Now they could respond flexibly to barriers.

The barrier was broken. The Poison twins moved to the sides. It was the next group’s turn.

The Sword Master’s blade left his hand and flew freely. A supreme technique of telekinetic sword control.

Its hum carved a chaotic path before plunging down like lightning. The edge targeted Kuarne’s face.

Kuarne turned his head. A bloody line drew itself across his left cheek.

On the right side came the metallic sound of Mao Lang approaching with a kick to the temple.

Kuarne caught his leg and flung him away. But Mao Lang landed without issue. Kuarne’s martial arts level wasn’t very high. He was manageable.

Kuarne’s face didn’t look good. He was pouring his magical power into mentally controlling Metatron. Just maintaining control of his brother was already exhausting him.

“…Now that I think about it, this is your fault.”

Kuarne looked up with a hardened expression. A ray of light burst from the corner of his eye.

“You were the one who corrupted that being.”

He laughed coldly as he muttered.

“This all… ends here.”

Kuarne’s skin began turning black. Two horns sprouted from his forehead, and his pupils slit vertically.

Ten pairs of bat wings emerged from his back, covered in blood and mucus.

A demon.

The six heroes paused. Kuarne gave a twisted smile and declared. His appearance was more monstrous than any demon.

“With your skin, I’ll weave an offering for Him.”

At that moment, a comet descended with a trail toward the ground. Gazes split between Kuarne and the falling star. Two phenomena occurred simultaneously, confusing everyone.

— Fear not the darkness.

A voice echoed, as if to calm them.

— I have come.

Ivory feathers touched the ground. A young man with radiant blue eyes.

[The Blessing of the Miracle manifests.]

…Leon van Reinhardt. Heroes, demons, and even Metatron were left speechless at the sight of the hero.

From a blind spot on the field, Kang Geom-Ma smiled in satisfaction.

Then closed his eyes.

‘The protagonist always appears at the end.’

Now it’s time to look toward the abyss. The true protagonist is still there.