Chapter 170

“Got a hunch, I see.”

-What about?

The Youth with white hair standing shoulder to shoulder with the Golden Girl.

He pointed at Carriel and said:

“Achieved divinity but lacks neither divine authority nor divine rank. Then if he’s a warrior and hero, a true warrior… wouldn’t that make him someone’s avatar?”

-Can’t say for sure what’ll happen later, but not right now.

The Demon King snorted in response.

“You might not have them in your era… but in that time period, there existed a position comparable to heroes and warriors, though differing greatly in purpose of existence and meaning.”

Holy Son.

A term widely known to refer to the son of god, but it isn’t all-encompassing.

Still…

-However, he ain’t no saint.

Carriel had yet to fully rid himself of personal feelings.

Revenge, retaliation, and resentment still lingered within him.

Ironically, these small emotions became the biggest foundation supporting him.

Thus, while he could become the Holy Son, he couldn’t possibly ascend to sainthood.

Who knows how things will change down the line?

The youth asked curiously:

“We overcome crises, obstacles, trials, and resistance as we move forward. That’s why we’re heroes and warriors, and eventually regarded as gods. Ultimately, worldly affairs boil down to whether or not problems are solved, don’t they?”

-Still, you guys were born to be such beings.

For someone who was born as nothing, becoming a hero is akin to a miracle.

Let alone becoming a god, being exalted as one?

Close to impossible.

Moreover, being the son of god is a position attainable only by birth.

It’s innate, congenital conditions.

Like royal bloodlines.

And most gods were originally born as gods.

Even those who became gods later on were mostly demigods.

Aside from that, there are only revered idol gods or false gods.

Or great heroes, warriors, and kings whose achievements and records are insurmountable.

Even they are merely praised and celebrated by the world.

Truthfully, there’s no way of knowing if they truly ascended to such positions.

Rather, they might be wandering through the most wretched hells or realms of the dead, miserably struggling for all we know.

Even the ancestors of the Berke Empire became spirits haunting Carriel, didn’t they?

Had Carriel not been there, they would’ve easily turned into undead with just a little push.

Therefore, the existence of saints and holy sons is inevitably the most urgent and earnest need for those in dire straits.

Only such beings can understand and embrace them.

But when the living, the foolish, and the blinded suppress and exile him…

The sliver of salvation and the opportunity smaller than a needle’s eye given to them becomes nothing but bubbles in an instant.

-As you say, the duty of warriors and heroes may be like that… but this is different.

A holy son is one who protects, awakens, and ultimately saves.

Not one who repels enemies, solves problems, shatters obstacles, slaughters foes, and crushes resistance.

“If the world needs such an existence, then it must be an era unlike ours, one that requires peace, coexistence, and altruism.”

-No. That’s a reckless statement underestimating the world’s ignorance and evil.

Savagery exists in every era.

Unreasonableness and non-coexistence exist in every era.

The structure of the world doesn’t yearn for harmony.

It’s chaos.

If cultivating an orderly garden upon the territory of chaos is civilization, then the rise and fall of prosperity naturally exists within it.

To begin with, territory and resources are limited, and cruel desires are embedded within sentient beings.

The strong torment the weak, yet heaven and earth merely watch.

They acknowledge and permit it.

That’s how it should be.

Also, even if the foolish waste their time and energy, unless someone enlightens them or they realize on their own, humans will keep repeating the same mistakes.

“I’ve heard you well. Since I’ve let you observe this much, consider my dignity somewhat preserved?”

-Hmm…

One corner of the Demon King’s mouth curled up.

This utterly outrageous Military Deity doesn’t respect me.

It respects the essence of myself that I’m unaware of.

An extraterrestrial being.

Too many things come to mind because of this.

Is it referring to one who isn’t called?

Or one who absolutely shouldn’t be summoned?

Or perhaps one who has never been called for even a moment?

An extraterrestrial being.

There are so many kinds and numbers of them, scattered like dust and sand throughout the world, making it impossible to pinpoint anything.

“This place is imbued with the power of time. Thus, I can face you here despite normally being unable to meet. However, I consider this arrangement orchestrated by time, infinity, fate, and destiny.”

…

Javan Akarana.

The parent of dual deities.

The fleeting deity of eternity.

The origin of all things.

Yet, a forgotten space deity.

The subject of one principle.

“And in case of any unforeseen calamity, I’ve kept an eye on this place so I can arrive instantly. Now that this scene has entered my sight, their escape or retreat is now impossible.”

-That’s right. You can fly anywhere.

The most important thing for victory is timing.

When that ability transcends to the level of authority, you gain exclusive control over impeccable timing.

For example, he possesses the authority to appear before his enemies at the most opportune moment whenever he seeks victory.

It would surely be the most despair-inducing authority to his foes.

And to his allies, the proudest and most reliable authority.

For instance, this isn’t coincidental; it’s the moment the trapped giants in the abandoned temple are trying to break out, and this guy appears.

“By the way, something just occurred to me.”

-Say it. I’ll humor you for appearances’ sake.

“What do you think is the most crucial aspect of victory?”

-Everything.

Not just one thing.

All conditions relevant matter.

If there’s anything lacking, you can only clumsily try to fill in the gaps with what remains.

“But no one can obtain everything, right? So what I mean is, among what I possess, there’s something most honorable for that person.”

-A heart that doesn’t yield. Are you talking about willpower?

“Exactly.”

Indomitable spirit.

A heart that doesn’t yield.

“That’s undoubtedly originated from me. Does that mean he’s my descendant or one who inherited my will?”

-Nah… It’s not entirely wrong. The guy who’s his father has a deep connection with you.

So, normally there’d be no answer.

No matter how powerful a being is, there’s always some way to approach them.

However, for someone destined to never lose… brute force alone isn’t enough.

Strength, wisdom, techniques, skills, stratagems, strategies, and highly sophisticated plans…

All of these are merely minimal requirements.

“Still, even after witnessing me, he shows neither reverence nor awe towards me. If he simply doesn’t recognize me, it means I’ve been forgotten in his era, doesn’t it?”

-Glorious light fades eventually, like the setting sun. You should know that.

“Even so, that would be after an unimaginably long time, wouldn’t it?”

The boy sentenced to downfall showed no disturbance whatsoever.

“Then it doesn’t matter. I already know there’s nothing eternal in this world.”

The sun will also extinguish someday.

No matter how glorious a moment comes, it will eventually become part of the past.

Struggling not to be forgotten ultimately leads to being forgotten anyway.

That’s how we progress to different futures and another future.

Stagnating in the past and being shackled by past glories…

“Words of a loser.”

-Hmph.

The kid seems to have straightened out his thoughts.

To an absurd degree.

The Demon King started getting irritated despite his outward expression.

So hitting him with words and language… is impossible.

Normally, mocking him with words would have been possible once communication began.

But he doesn’t do it.

Because this guy doesn’t listen to anyone’s words from the start.

Really…

…Reminds someone of his character.

When that bastard matures, does he turn into this kind of guy?

…

Carriel.

You probably sensed it instinctively.

That’s why, unlike usual, you reduced your words and immediately responded with combat.

“That’s enough.”

Boy.

As he quietly pronounced judgment,

the fierce clash between Carriel and the golden warrior suddenly cracked apart.

“―!!!”

Though desperately suppressing it, Carriel’s movements were deteriorating in real-time.

The black lightning that pierced through bulls and swept around disappeared abruptly,

and Carriel, finally kicked by the warrior, tumbled and barely managed to get back up.

“……”

Yet, he immediately regained his stance,

his face remaining calm.

Truly remarkable patience.

“Even fighting in perfect condition would’ve been tough, carrying such burdens must be extremely arduous for him.”

-…What can you do? That’s his fate.

Due to the injuries sustained from the current Demon King earlier, various pains are surging like convulsions.

Otherwise, the current variables wouldn’t logically exist.

“Terrifying curse.”

The boy seemed to identify it instantly.

However,

he sympathizes but offers no mercy.

The steel-like warrior charges forward with bear-like momentum, swinging a massive golden sword.

In that split second,

a dark trajectory swelled dramatically around Carriel.

Thus defending against the blow,

Carriel suddenly began thrusting and sweeping with his enormous pitch-black spear.

“Remarkable.”

Even the boy couldn’t help but exclaim briefly in admiration this time.

-…Impressive handling.

Whether it’s a broadsword, a cross sword, or a one-handed sword,

what Carriel learned was a method to wield all types of weapons.

Holding the long spear with both hands, he raises it vertically in front of his chest.

Kuung!

The spear strikes the ground vertically.

Para.

The distance should be sufficient now; originally, he would transition to Grate, resting the sword on his shoulder,

ready to strike or swing at any movement, maintaining a firm posture.

But this isn’t a sword.

Therefore,

Fortes.

Pulling the spear shaft toward his waist with both hands,

he’s ready to thrust the spear at any moment,

capable of striking with both hands.

The spear tip diagonally targets the golden-sword-wielding warrior’s chest clearly and directly.

-…

Ultimately,

in the end, what he can trust is this.

Authority, ability, tricks…

if all of these disappear,

what remains is this.

“Hmph.”

The warrior dashes forward with a short laugh.

Stepping back half a step, using Bettyta-Grate-Para-Fortes transitions to deflect the opponent’s weapon,

simultaneously aiming for the opponent’s waist.

The difference in build.

Otherwise, it would’ve targeted the neck.

“Hm!”

The golden sword emits a sound reminiscent of a colossal axe while slightly gasping.

Once again, swiftly transitioning through four postures in succession to deflect it and counterattack.

Not an attack but defense and guarding.

Using this as a basis to lead the opponent to collapse and disrupt their flow,

but the opponent isn’t easy either.

Thus,

the spectacular battle between Carriel wielding the pitch-black spear and

the warrior ruthlessly smashing and slashing with the golden sword fiercely ravaged the surrounding space.

“Indeed, skill has reached divine precision.”

The boy withdraws his intention to intervene and continues watching the fight, marveling again.

Surely, his warrior must be more noble, grand, and absurdly powerful than the golden sword he holds.

Yet this young man,

enduring the vicious curse,

bearing the resulting pain completely,

steadfastly confronts without faltering—how could this not be beautiful?

In the brutal battlefield where blood splashes, flesh flies, tears apart, bones shatter and pulverize,

if one finds beauty in life-threatening combat and bloodshed, fierce struggles and martial arts,

isn’t that certainly a grave lack of seriousness and a severe insult to war?

Yet one cannot help but feel that way.

Truly, rarely seen and hard to experience… bliss.

The god of battlefields, the god of combat, the god of war.

Right now,

before the merciless god stands the fragile yet unyielding warrior’s resistance and struggle,

leading the boy to firmly resolve anew.

His fighting spirit and determination guiding this spectacle,

the boy recalls a familiar sensation.

Here and now, another myth rises.

Still, don’t relax, warrior.

Even a glorious journey…

once past its midpoint and nearing its end,

often falls into swamps and mires of filth.

It’s an incredibly common conclusion.

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