Chapter 352: Ragnarok (4)

Generally, a giant is said to be a person of great stature.

But.

Bwooooooo!

Sometimes, a “giant” also refers to a historical figure or hero who defined an era.

Not for their visible size, but because the spirit within them is colossal.

Swoosh!

The banner had an imposing presence.

At the tip of the tightly held lance, an energy gathered that seemed intent on piercing the heavens.

Son of the Swordmaster, father of the Swordmaiden.

Orion von Nibelung looked up at the sky for a moment.

The sky was clear.

How long had it been since he last felt the Grace of the Sun God? A blend of joy and sorrow made his nose burn.

Though war loomed before his eyes, Orion’s heart was full. Orion and the summoned were heroes who had once ruled their era.

Veteran soldiers who preferred combat boots to soft slippers, and war songs to lullabies.

As Orion felt that elation, he saw an old man with completely white hair.

His wide eyes were astonishing—because never, not once in his life, had he shown such an expression.

“…Father.”

A chuckle escaped along with his whisper.

It was strange to see the ever-strict Swordmaster so surprised.

“I wanted to be recognized by you.”

It was time to speak honestly.

“I always thought that stern yet gentle image of yours was the comfort of the strong toward the weak. I might have even had a bit of an inferiority complex toward you.”

Shing.

“I’ve thought about it for decades. And now I know.” He drew his sword.

“Father, you simply loved me sincerely.”

Orion von Nibelung raised his sword.

A beam of sunlight filtered through the clouds, descending along the blade.

“I’m sorry. My arrogance caused you pain.”

From afar, the warriors’ banners began to tilt to the side, like pages of a book being closed.

The precision of their formation sent chills. The carefully aligned battle energy fortified the battlefield.

Fwoosh.

Once the vanguard had deployed all banners, Orion lowered his gaze from the sky.

Then, he looked sternly at the enemy.

“Thank you, Heavenly Sword.”

A golden light flashed in his eyes.

“For giving me this chance to apologize.”

The tips of the banners were sharp.

All the warriors pointed them—at those insectoid demons baring teeth like rabid sharks.

“All of you!”

These were warriors who spoke not with words, but with spears and swords.

“Arms forward!”

Kwooooom—

With each step of the giant, the earth trembled. Charge after charge.

Both armies surged forward with fury toward the enemy.

BOOOOOM—!

Waves of light and darkness interwove.

Michelan alone waved his banner among the others, lifting the heroes’ morale.

“May the blessing of the gods be with us!”

Episode: Gigantomachia

“…What’s happening?”

“And you’re still surprised at eighty, old man.”

Media said it with a satisfied smile.

However they had come to this point, what mattered now was that they had another chance.

“Waaah—aaaaaah—!”

A victorious cry pierced the sea of demons.

The swords, spears, and banners impaled them one after another.

And they weren’t even mounted. Still, their speed was astonishing.

The heroes’ long-suppressed thirst for battle had transformed into omnipotence.

Who could stop a veteran with sky-high morale?

The insectoid demons also charged with the ferocity of evil gods, but were swept away by overwhelming force.

From above, it looked like a golden wave devouring a bright green swamp.

The war on the plain was literally dazzling—it stirred the heart of anyone who saw it.

The army of the dead held nothing back. Their majesty surpassed even that of their descendants.

With a single blade of steel, these warriors had etched more than one line into history.

Warriors who entrusted their backs to comrades.

With all their strength, they carved a path through the blood-soaked carnage.

The sound of clashing metal was oddly comforting.

Slash!

Orion von Nibelung charged forward, sword in hand.

Every demon touched by his blade was cleaved in two, dying instantly.

He wiped the blood from his face and quickly repositioned.

“The King of the Dead is watching us!”

The warriors roared in jubilation, following their commander.

All their pent-up resentment exploded in their strikes. Bursts, shockwaves, cracks—blood boiled.

If anything like an invincible army existed, it was them.

Thump, thump.

The Swordmaster placed a hand over his chest.

Media smiled so broadly it made the corners of her eyes tremble.

“We can’t shame ourselves before our ancestors, can we?”

The Swordmaster smiled too.

“That’s right.”

“Let’s go.”

Meain of Total Force unfolded her crossed arms.

“Siegfried, Media.”

“Yes.”

“Mhm.”

The Swordmaster and Media narrowed their eyes.

They sharpened their aura.

They honed themselves.

They separated their presence from the world.

In a state of absolute concentration, they traced the threads of mana.

They reversed the anomalies of the world. An idea possible only due to vast experience.

Crackle, crackle, crackle.

Time slowed. The moment the Hero of the Seven Stars locked her gaze, the world resumed its normal flow.

Awakening of the Blessing

The awakening consumed life.

That’s why Meain Poison had always sternly warned them.

All the Seven Stars were at the edge of that limit. But now, the situation had changed.

Mana had flooded the human realm—just like when Balor Joaquin once built a “special pavilion” to shield his disciples.

That mana, normally toxic to humans, now prevented the Seven’s blessings from being devoured by corruption.

Hff—!

Media felt a chill down her spine. The omnipotence almost numbed her brain.

The sword she carried was aimed directly at the giant’s eye.

But just before it struck, Media flipped like a gymnast.

And leapt.

BOOM!

She stabbed. The giant grabbed his eye.

As she landed, Media sprinted up his arm and instantly reached his brow.

“Stay still.”

Crash!

The blow landed hard. The giant’s head jerked backward.

On the back of his neck, another woman delivered a powerful kick with a leg arched to her waist.

Booom!

The giant’s head swayed like a rubber ball on a string.

As they watched the two women in action, the Swordmaster and Changseong didn’t stand idle.

Behind the Swordmaster, ten swords spread in concentric circles—his ultimate multi-sword technique.

Immediately afterward, the circles expanded, targeting the giant’s eyes, neck, center of the face, chest, back of the knees, and inner elbows.

The Swordmaster also jammed his sword into a rock fissure and advanced zigzag through the gaps.

Clang-clang-clang!

The blade cut cleanly, not even dulling against the stone.

“Grandpa!”

“Abel.”

For a brief moment, he locked eyes with his granddaughter, who had climbed onto the giant’s body.

They nodded, as if they had rehearsed the move countless times, and immediately sliced off a rocky protrusion.

As they did, green crystals began to sprout from various parts of the golem’s body.

No one needed to say it aloud—it was obvious those crystals were its vital points.

The Swordmaster and Abel lunged at them with purpose, guided by the sinister sound of air being cleaved by their blades.

“Shail!”

“Yes, sir.”

Shail circled the golem’s feet, weaving silver Karon threads into his spear.

Ryozo’s bow was also connected to those same threads.

Like Gulliver tied down by Lilliputians, they wrapped the golem’s entire body with the strands, restricting its movements.

The giant, more and more immobilized, began to collapse.

“Bwahahaha! You look great, Nibelung!”

Changseong shouted from solid ground. That was where his duty lay.

Richard of Mura charged forward like a raging buffalo.

Any demon in his path who crashed against his armor went flying like a rag doll.

Upon arrival, he quickly drew his spear, Gáe Bolg.

And hurled it.

However, he was too far from the golem. Even if it hit, it wouldn’t have enough power to shatter the chest crystal.

“Niece!”

“Yes!”

Rachel advanced, crushing demon heads and shoulders beneath her feet.

One of the ancestors cupped his hands into a stirrup, boosting her into the air.

Her pink pupils glinted between the strands of her two-toned hair as she floated upward.

Midair, she caught Gáe Bulg, twisted her waist forcefully, and threw it with all her strength.

Crack!

The golem’s chest caved in—but didn’t break. The finishing blow was still needed.

Whoosh!

A gust swept the battlefield. Only tattered wings floated in the air.

The warrior Leon van Reinhard appeared like lightning.

He drove his foot into the crystal.

The green light flickered dangerously. He struck again—and again.

Slash! Slash!

His fingers trembled from the shockwaves of impact.

Tiiiiiing.

A sharp, gleaming sound filled the air. The crystal shattered. Leon’s eyes briefly glazed as the ground quaked.

It was the shockwave of the colossus falling to its knees, then collapsing beneath him.

***

=You bastard!=

The enemy’s roars were always pleasant to hear.

They weren’t so different from victory cries.

Especially if it was a scream at the end—this feeling was hard to describe.

=Coherence…! How much coherence must you destroy to be satisfied? You’re one of those blinded by the small, unable to see the great. Ah, oh suppression, what path are you walking?=

“You’re the one who keeps calling me apostle of destruction.”

I charged at him. Our swords clashed and I slashed as if drawing a cross.

A wind-blade in the shape of an X surged toward the old knight.

Ragnarok held no weapon—but deflected the blow diagonally.

He wasn’t ordinary. But that’s all he was.

“My sword merely fulfilled its duty. Don’t you think it’s hypocritical to blame me for that? You were the one who, with conquest and plague, turned this world into a complete mess.”

=I was simply exercising suppressive power rightfully=

“Then mine is self-defense, bastard.”

I lunged again. An immeasurable surge of energy built up with every swing.

I didn’t care if there would be no reconciliation. My stamina was finite, but my will to fight was endless.

Even if my muscles tore like threads, my resolve fastened like buttons.

Amid a great turbulence, my allies were the anchor keeping me from being swept away.

Eliminate all that is unnecessary.

Let only two actions remain.

Cut. Cut.

Parallel thought is simple, but its destructive power is immense. Even Ragnarok, who defended relentlessly, began to falter.

A coward who shoots from afar doesn’t have the guts to face a blade head-on.

I cornered him. The landscape of the world collapsed. We intertwined and fell in a dive.

The madness of war burned closer than the sun’s heat.

=Curse you!=

I was alone. In a way, I still am.

=How can you fight alongside those vermin…?=

Only Yu Sein could hear the torment my body endured, forged into a sword.

And even then, only a fraction.

=Suppression Apostle…!=

The remnants of sashimi were a pair. On them, one by one, touches of light began to land.

I don’t move forward alone. When I begin to drift toward the wrong path, those around me become my rudder.

That’s why—

The path of my sword was straight.

They supported my mind, which wavered like a tightrope walker, and held it steady.

I didn’t hesitate to draw my sword, no matter the beast before me.

They were like me—and I, like them.

Into Murasame, I infused a bolt like a full beam.

The color of the soul had changed, and so had its light.

A deep blue radiance.

The color of the universe’s flesh soaked into my hands and into the two sashimi blades I wielded.

Thud.

The skull trembled and slipped. It fell from the sky to the earth.

From afar, Yu Sein, watching the scene, murmured.

“…Three against one.”

The living.

The dead.

And the gods.

The Apocalypse was decreed by them.