Certain Death

Facing the annihilation of all his followers, Karlra did not even consider stopping it.

Since it could no longer be salvaged, the best course was to make the most of what remained.

In any case, he could not take them out with him...

Karlra reached out and clenched his hand. The souls of those dead followers, along with the people killed by their counterattacks, were all swept into his grasp.

Although there were not many souls, they were at least Knight-class in strength, so their quality was fairly decent. They could barely serve as an emergency supply.

Without the slightest hesitation, he swallowed them in one gulp.

Using a Demon's Talent Abilities, Karlra directly converted every one of them into pure power, replenishing the portion of his strength suppressed by the world's power.

With a source of replenishment, some of the power suppressed within him immediately recovered.

After glancing at the small fry surrounding him, Karlra made a rough calculation and gained a general sense of the situation.

He thrust out an arm, caught the arrow flying toward his head, and casually drove it into the Soldier beside him. The movement flowed like drifting clouds and running water, nearly becoming instinct.

As a Demon who had lived for nearly a thousand years, Karlra might not have had much experience in other matters, but his experience in slaughter was absolutely abundant. His combat skills had long surpassed the mortal realm and entered the sacred. So long as an attack did not exceed the limits of his ability to handle it, he could basically make the best response in an instant, as naturally as breathing.

If these humans had not stained their weapons with holy power—which was like poison to him—he could have fought his way out at the cost of minor injuries. He would not have needed to be as cautious as he was now.

But these humans were disgusting precisely because they had prepared too thoroughly. Every one of them had been equipped with Holy Items provided by the church. Either they carried talismans on their bodies, or their weapons had been coated with Holy Water and sacred medicines. It truly made him miserable.

Holy Water was meaningless to ordinary people, but to him, it was like concentrated sulfuric acid. It could corrode the fur on his body that served as his defenses. And the Scriptures endlessly muttered by the priests were especially piercing to his ears, leaving him dizzy and muddled.

Poisonous insects that could be crushed beneath one foot, yet could still make you suffer if you were careless.

That was how Karlra viewed the people besieging him.

Though he looked down on them, he still had to face them carefully.

After being splashed with more than half a bottle of Holy Water again, feeling the stinging pain all over his body, he finally reached the end of his patience. The magic power within him automatically spilled out, winding around his body.

The fur on his body began to press tightly against his skin, while an invisible suit of armor formed from airflow emerged over his surface.

It blocked off the Holy Water being flung at him.

At the same time, translucent airflow blades more than a meter long extended from his fingertips, greatly increasing his attack range.

With one sweep of his claw, the blood inside several armored Soldiers before him sprayed in every direction. Their armor shattered at once as though made of paper, while their bodies were chopped into chunks, as if several horse-cleaving sabers had struck them at once. Their deaths were hideous beyond measure.

Fear immediately appeared on the faces of those attacking nearby, making Karlra throw back his head and laugh.

Safi, who was directing the battle, could not help frowning at the sight.

Their strength, agility, and constitution were not even on the same level. If the basement had not been relatively narrow, leaving little room to evade and forcing the opponent to withstand many attacks head-on, they would probably have had no way of dealing with him at all!

Given the current situation, even if they could wear him down and kill him, the sacrifices required would certainly be horrifyingly great.

The church's secret scriptures recorded this clearly: although coating weapons with Holy Water and sacred medicines could continuously harm Demons, the souls of those who died would become supplements under the Demon's power, continuously healing it.

The more we kill, the stronger he gets. What an evil race...

After thinking for a moment, he handed the badge in his hand to the Leader of the chanter squad beside him, who was responsible for reciting the holy canon, and had them pray with Holy Song to continuously awaken the power within it.

Then, with a solemn expression, he took from his robes a small bottle covered in strange patterns.

He treated it even more seriously than the holy badge.

Saint's Ashes.

The corpses of the most devout ascetics, processed through a Special Ritual after death, cremated in a holy land, their ashes stored at church headquarters and prayed over by believers day after day for decades—only then could such a small bottle be made.

To Evil Creatures, it was the most vicious poison!—

He used a small knife to cut a wound into his palm, then poured the flowing blood into the bottle.

Safi closed his eyes and began chanting a secret incantation known only to bishops and the Pope.

A faint golden light overflowed from the mouth of the bottle, flowing across the ground and slowly spreading outward in every direction.

Though Karlra, who was slaughtering to his heart's content, had not noticed the sight, the sixth sense honed through countless brushes with death played its crucial role. It made him sense danger in the unseen, and he immediately turned his gaze toward the object in Safi's hand.

Killing intent boiled in Karlra's eyes. "You bastard!"

A round, translucent sphere formed instantly in his hand amid a fierce gale, and he hurled it toward Safi, who stood with his eyes closed and chanted the spell.

Several priests immediately leaped forward, trying to block the blow for Safi!

Yet their sturdy bodies were like thin paper before that attack. They could not even delay it in the slightest and were instantly pierced through by the overwhelming force, blossoming into spiraling sprays of blood in midair.

"Bang!"

Karlra's furious blow collided with a pale golden barrier just before it struck Safi.

The intense airflow gathered within immediately erupted, its force like a bomb made of air!

As translucent ripples swept outward, every object nearby, even Soldiers clad in heavy armor, was immediately flung away by irresistible force.

Bones and flesh alike were ripped apart before that force, which ignored all conventional defenses. Blood slowly seeped through the gaps in their armor and clothing...

When the dust settled, apart from Safi himself, shielded by golden light, and the chanter squad protected by the badge—

The dozens of people who had originally stood around them had all died on the spot.

Ignoring the blood slowly flowing from his ears, Safi knelt on one knee and solemnly recited the final incantation.

At that moment, the small bottle in his hand turned into golden powder, slipping through his fingers. Accompanied by faint prayer-like sounds that seemed almost illusory, it automatically rushed toward Karlra.

Karlra's expression changed drastically at the sight of that golden powder. He smelled the threat of death within it.

He knew this attack could not possibly be evaded, and if he tried to take it head-on, he would lose at least most of one life. Gritting his teeth, he transformed every scrap of magic power in his body into a spear wrapped in a whirlwind and hurled it with all his strength!

There was no sound and no impact. The instant the two came into contact, the power of Saint's Ashes seeped into the spear formed from Karlra's own magic power as cleanly as a hot knife slicing through butter.

Although Karlra's power was fundamentally far higher than this world's Supernatural Power, he had been weakened several times over. Facing a holy relic that the church had spent an enormous price and decades creating, he was inevitably at a disadvantage.

Holiness and evil—two utterly opposing concepts.

They restrained and canceled each other out. When one side held the advantage, it would inflict crushing damage upon the other.

Just as fire could be extinguished by water, and could also completely evaporate water dry, they stood in opposition, yet neither possessed an absolute advantage.

After realizing that his power was weaker than the other side's, Karlra's face became incomparably grim. He immediately tried to discard the spear in his hand, but it was already too late!

The power of Saint's Ashes passed directly through the spear formed from magic power and reached Karlra's body.

In an instant, the arm that had first come into contact with Saint's Ashes became like a wax statue about to melt. Its fur fell away, its flesh turned into pulp and dripped to the ground, and even its bones groaned beneath unbearable strain like machinery fallen into disrepair over many years.

Looking at the wound still spreading, Karlra did not hesitate at all. Enduring the agonizing pain, he used his other arm to gouge off the contaminated arm along with the connected flesh around his shoulder.

What relieved him was that he had acted decisively enough.

Before the severed arm even hit the ground, Karlra saw that it had already become boiling blood that churned without cease.

After inhaling only a trace of the heat rising from it, Karlra felt dizzy and lightheaded.

He hurriedly moved several steps to the side.

But how could the besiegers around him let him go? The Holy Water and medicines in their hands were poured specifically onto his wounds. They were clearly intent on beating a dog that had fallen into the water, making him feel utterly stifled as he could only dodge...—

Turning his head, he looked at the goat-headed Demon that had fallen into an absolute disadvantage.

Jem Woz held his knight's sword and looked at Richard Woz, who was covered in wounds. He lightly shook his head and urged, "Uncle, I will give you one last chance. Stop wasting your efforts and surrender!"

In truth, if he had not specifically given the order, Richard would have died under the Soldiers' siege long ago. He would never have lived until now.

"Jem, as a father, I only want to save my daughter..."

Seeing that the other man still refused to change his mind, Jem sighed softly. "She cannot be saved. We both know that even if the Demon saves her, it will certainly do so in a way that no one wishes to see. It would be meaningless except to make Sena suffer even more, because Demons are creatures with no goodwill toward humans."

After giving a bitter smile, Richard still stubbornly said, "Perhaps... but I still want to try."

With a wave of his hand, Jem signaled for the people beside him to withdraw. He took a step forward and assumed the stance unique to Royal Secret Swordsmanship. "For the safety of the nation, I cannot give you that chance. Forgive me, Uncle.

"But at the very least, I will let you die at the hands of a fellow member of the royal family..."

"Then I will trouble you."

Richard was stunned for a moment, then revealed his usual smile and assumed the same stance.

The same swordsmanship, nearly equal strength—but Richard knew perfectly well that he had no chance of winning from the very beginning, because his injuries would not allow it.

Yet facing Jem, who was completely unscathed, Richard did not think there was anything wrong with his actions. On the contrary, he was pleased by Jem's manner.

Cautious, leaving his opponent not a sliver of opportunity.

He was a suitable candidate for King, at least better than someone like himself who so often hesitated and wavered.

More than a dozen exchanges later, Richard looked at the sharp sword thrust into his body and smiled. In a voice only he and Jem could hear, he said, "Jem, you truly are outstanding. As for your father's death, your other uncles and I vaguely knew some things, but none of us ever blamed you. Instead, we felt you had done the right thing. Given Arles's state of mind at the time, he had become utterly unreasonable and was no longer fit to be King.

"His continued rule would have meant nothing but plunging the nation into crisis.

"You need not worry about their opinions either. Though they never said anything, after witnessing with their own eyes how you reversed the duchy's decline through your actions, they are all satisfied with you and believe you will become a good King!

"As for your mother, you need not worry too much about her either. No matter how much she hates you, she is still your mother. Perhaps she will hate you for ten years, perhaps twenty, but in the end, she will still forgive you. So put down the burden in your heart, and keep going..."

"...Goodbye, Uncle."

Gently closing Richard Woz's eyes, Jem Woz could not quite tell what he was feeling.

Perhaps it was heaviness, perhaps something else. In any case, he did not feel happy...

And in the distance, with Richard Woz's death, Karlra's struggle was also nearing its end.

Before long, as vast amounts of Holy Water seeped into his body through his wounds, his body gradually fell into weakness.

In the end, a sharp sword pierced through his eye socket and stabbed into his brain!—

While Safi and the others were still celebrating loudly in the basement—

In a street corner not far from the Beast Arena, a small, thin beggar opened his eyes from sleep.

Gazing in their direction, he spat disdainfully and said in a low voice, "A bunch of damned lower life-forms. You cannot even destroy a soul, and you think you are worthy of killing me?"

Karlra had known while he was in the basement that some other existence had set its sights on him!

That traceless gaze had made him feel a fatal threat.

And then Safi and the others had added to his troubles!

Left with no choice, he could only put on an act, secretly escaping at the cost of abandoning most of his power.

After moving this frail body a little, he got up and headed toward the outskirts, preparing to find a secluded place to restore his strength.

But before he had taken more than a few steps, he froze.

He felt as though he had smelled a familiar scent!

It had not come from this body's sense of smell, but from the sense of smell belonging to his Demon's soul.

Following the direction of that scent with his gaze, he saw a figure above him in the sky, leaning against the clouds with the moon at its back, calmly watching him. There was no fear, no disgust, and no delight in its eyes—only the indifference one would show an insect.

With Demonic vision, after seeing through the other's false and laughable human exterior and clearly perceiving the true nature whose intentions were utterly undisguised, Karlra understood the other's identity. He also understood who had altered his Magic Circle, and he understood one more thing.

That was, he was about to die...

Karlra was incomparably certain of it.

This chapter ran over four thousand characters, exceeding my usual three thousand. I originally wanted to cut off a thousand characters so I would have a thousand fewer to write for the next chapter, but after thinking it over, I did not do so, because it reads more smoothly this way~