The Nonexistent Legend

Dust and the stench of blood spread through the air, slowly clogging his nose and mouth.

Echaint drew the Yin Iron scimitar behind his back and threw all his strength into blocking the rain of blood hurtling down at him.

A dull sound, like chopping through wood.

The scimitar cleaved through the tip of the Extermination Destruction Cone without resistance.

It had gone too smoothly—so Echaint immediately shot backward without pausing. Sure enough, the scarlet spearhead flowed back together like water and struck the spot where he had just been.

He had not even had time to celebrate dodging that blow.

"Huh..."

The flies in his mind began buzzing in surprise.

"You're amazing... darling... you're amazing... I never knew you were so amazing... oh... if I'd known you were this amazing..." they hummed softly.

"But you can't!!!!!"

In an instant, the voice sharpened like steel needles stabbing into him.

"You can't, you can't... you can't, you can't... you can't, you can't, you can't, you can't..."

Following Beelzebub's score, the orchestra of flies played thunderous music.

Beelzebub's words washed over him like a tsunami.

Echaint felt as though his heart were a tightly squeezed balloon, on the verge of bursting.

This was truly awful.

Fortunately, his thoughts could still move...

Yifomiet rode the wind toward him, his bulging eyes staring blankly ahead.

He even maintained a guarded stance.

"I knew even if you didn't tell me. You used the power of faith too..."

Echaint forced himself to keep stalling with words.

He was nearly coughing as he spoke, and the wings that had once obeyed him like his own arms had turned soft and powerless.

Do I still have a chance?

He swiftly glanced down from the corner of his eye and adjusted his position.

A brief quarter of a breath.

Yifomiet spotted his opening and appeared before his face in a flash, spear raised.

Echaint turned his gaze back, lifted his blade, and barely managed to block. The Yin Iron scimitar collided with the Extermination Destruction Cone.

Black particles erupted and scattered, while scarlet fragments exploded across the sky like bloody needles.

Echaint gasped for breath. Pain shot through his arm like an electric current.

The wound on his forehead began to sting and numb. He could feel a small stream of molten-gold blood disobediently running down his chin and leaving his body.

Whoosh—

The pair of broad horns atop Yifomiet's head blazed fiercely as he lunged at Echaint, carrying a gale with him.

His body expanded another ten feet, completely blotting out the night sky above Echaint.

There was no choice.

Echaint wrapped his weary wings around himself, making his body into the most streamlined shape possible to reduce resistance.

Gravity carried him downward.

Thousands upon thousands of sharp scarlet fragments from the Extermination Destruction Cone grazed past overhead.

Yifomiet did not hesitate and plunged after him.

The two beings rapidly approached the ground, one after the other.

"You became a god in the human world and accumulated the power of faith from your believers."

Echaint spoke as he fell, nearly coughing up his lungs.

"And the identity you had them worship would naturally not be some insignificant wandering demon, but a God of Destruction with limitless power. That changed your path..."

Yifomiet's expression changed. All four of his arms gripped the spear shaft at once, thrusting hard toward Echaint.

A rain of wicked flames poured down.

Fragments of blood poured down.

Corrosive black smoke of destruction poured down.

Three cones of different colors descended upon Echaint like three bizarre nets.

"Was I right?"

Echaint strained to reach out and grab. The shattered upper half of a demon god statue in the form of an archer flew diagonally through the air, blocking the portions of the three cones that were about to touch him.

Small openings tore through the three nets as they passed around him, and the demon god statue exploded into pieces midair.

Dozens of large statue fragments struck his face and neck, cutting long, thin wounds.

This thing can hurt me too...

Under Beelzebub's absolute suppression of rank, the demonic part of his body had been completely locked down, leaving him as fragile as a rag doll.

His untransformed body was facing Yifomiet, the Hand of Destruction, as well as destructive power that could not heal and would only worsen his condition.

Could he withstand the next blow?

Whatever.

He continued:

"You completed your transformation... no, you didn't change your domain, so it was merely an ascension."

The wind howled.

The ten crimson floors of the Disaster Stone Tower flashed past before his eyes like joints of bamboo. Molten-gold blood continued streaming from his forehead, scattering into the Yan Feng.

Echaint closed his eyes. His voice was weak, but even so, he had to get the answer he wanted.

"I don't know how you changed your anchor—perhaps it had something to do with changing your name. I also don't know what terms you promised your believers to complete the transition... something to do with your family?"

Crack—

Yifomiet's roar tore through the air.

The sound of something breaking through the air.

He threw the spear.

The Extermination Destruction Cone. That deadly spray of blood suddenly filled Echaint's vision.

In his material sight, the tip of the Extermination Destruction Cone rapidly enlarged before him.

An unstoppable blow against his fragile body.

At the same time.

He passed the second-to-last section of the Disaster Stone Tower.

Splash!

Crystal-clear water sprayed into the sky.

Echaint crashed heavily into the round pool on the first floor of the courtyard.

That familiar pool of clear water.

The one where the Fallen Angel Cult had prayed three thousand years ago.

The one where the Fallen Angel Cult still prayed today.

Three thousand years of prayer.

Echaint opened his eyes.

White light.

The white light of order surrounded him.

The energy of order surrounded him.

The holy water created by three thousand years of unceasing prayer surrounded him.

Echaint clenched the horn chain carved with his name—his anchor.

The flies seemed to sense something. They became restless.

"My darling, darling... what are you doing..."

Screams. Screams. Screams piercing through his brain.

"You're not allowed, not allowed, not allowed, not allowed, not allowed, not allowed!!!!"

The vibration of the flies' wings could no longer be heard at all. It was as if Beelzebub had grabbed his ears and was screaming into them.

His heart hurt unbearably, his lungs felt unbearably stifled, his arms were exhausted, his wings were exhausted, and the constant bleeding made his mind swim.

He clenched both fists.

It was fine.

He had already prepared those words. No one could interfere with him.

He said:

"I hereby promise every lost lamb, every displaced fallen angel."

"I, Echaint Sinkardesto, the First Fallen Angel, the Primordial Guardian, the Spirit of Supreme Purity."

"You shall shed blackness, shed filth, stay far from chaos, stay far from weakness."

"I shall take you back to the land of order, the sacred land, the eternal land. I shall take you home."

His voice was sincere, shining like holy light.

"By order above, I hereby promise!"

The holy water boiled.

The scarlet Extermination Destruction Cone plunged beneath the surface.

Yifomiet hesitated for a moment, then flashed backward to avoid those sacred splashes.

A dazzling figure suddenly shot out of the pool.

Echaint held that scarlet spear between his teeth. His golden eyes shone brightly as he stared straight at the towering, mountain-sized bull-headed demon whose pressure was overwhelming.

His heart's desire had been fulfilled. The transformation was complete.

Origin, destination, and path. The three had become one, completed within the corresponding environment.

The transformation was complete.

"My darling... you... you abandoned me... you..."

Beelzebub's voice became nearly inaudible. The flies lodged in Echaint's mind were pulled out by the roots.

The King of All Demons' suppression of rank no longer affected him.

The Yan Feng stirred his tattered black-and-red robe. Yet he radiated light.

The nonexistent legend.

The First Fallen Angel, born in hell.

Don't worry~ he'll change back~