The lifeblade in Aslan’s left hand, no, the sword now called Lewena, quivers.
A one-edged sword dyed the color of abyssal shadows. It resembled the pulse Aslan had used to strike Lewena’s neck.
Holding the dual blades of purity and the single blade of the abyssal sword, Aslan glared ahead.
Gooo ooo ooo!
The tyrant dragon roared.
Dududududud!
The possessors charged.
As Aslan watched the incoming wave of blackness like a tidal surge, he tightly grasped Lewena.
In response, the abyssal sword writhed, distorting the abyss even further.
The warping abyss, the darkness stained black. Watching the abyssal sword as it sucked everything in, Aslan steadied himself.
Having secured a perfect vessel, the abyssal sword began devouring the abyss entirely.
Aslan, feeling the sword, thought.
To the abyss, there is no death.
Lewena, who had become completely part of the abyss, was the same.
She was undoubtedly dead, yet not truly dead.
Though her self may be gone now, with the sword serving as its vessel, if the entire abyss could be consumed, anything was possible.
Perhaps she could regain her self.
With that hope, Aslan pulled his left hand.
Krekkekek!
It was as if the world hung on the tip of that blade. A sturdy force flowed up his arm, pulling the space darkened by the abyss towards him.
Space warped and twisted. Aslan didn’t follow this distortion with his eyes.
Calculations were left to fate. Transcending human limits, Aslan relied on fate to chart his trajectory, then swung his arm.
Space shattered.
Kwadekdekekdekdek!
The space seemed forcibly torn apart, shattering.
The possessors rushing along the swing’s path were swept away, broken, and devoured.
Amidst the grating sounds of destruction, flying possessors and the tyrant dragon. With a head tilted back from the blow, the tyrant dragon retreated, causing Aslan to frown.
After the slash passed, his arm broke.
As soon as it broke, it regenerated through the pillar of creation infused with purity.
The roar accompanying the creation carried an oppressive weight akin to an entire world.
Still, Aslan did not stop.
Pain could not kill Aslan.
Thus, what followed was vivid and beautiful destruction.
Like an artist painting a long line across a canvas, Aslan’s swing caused the space to warp into a fatal strike.
Kwarrrrrr!
An avalanche-like sound. The names of the swept-away possessors were erased in real-time from the system window.
This was close to the manifestation of erosion taking the form of a fatal strike.
This power was only possible within the abyss, destroying the abyss from within.
Simultaneously, it was both a scene created by Lewena and an opportunity.
The sole chance to kill the abyss and, for the first time, eliminate the evil deity.
Even the possessors ensnared by the abyss understood this. They rushed before Aslan could swing the abyssal sword again in his left hand.
Rushing priests. Toward them, Aslan extended purity.
The foremost attacker was a possessor dressed like a pirate, wielding a cavalry sword.
Swinging the cavalry sword, creating wind where none should exist, the blade approached.
Aslan blocked it by extending purity.
Kaang!
And he didn’t stop there. Moving half a step forward, he pierced the forehead. Blocking while simultaneously striking.
Eejik!
Twisting the wrist, the forehead pierced alongside it, the head shattered and scattered. Despite only the jaw remaining, which should mean death, the possessor moved.
Aslan drove his knee into the jaw.
Chjeok! Tilting body and shattered jaw. Gripping the refined purity, Aslan swung widely.
At the waist, the body split into two. The pirate fell apart. Behind him, a cowboy appeared, aiming a gun. A nine-shot revolver.
Before the gun could aim at him, Aslan turned his body.
Nine shots. Clumsy panning. Most of the rushing bullets were blocked by the raised purity, but the last one grazed his eye.
Fortunately, he had already turned his body. The bullet entered through the eye and exited via the orbit.
Though he lost his right eye, regeneration didn’t take long, restored by the pillar of creation.
But before the vision in his right eye returned, Aslan rushed forward.
10m, 8m, 5m, 3m.
The narrowing distance. The cowboy quickly reloaded, but Aslan reached him first, kicking him.
Kwaang!
A front kick to the chest. The cowboy’s chest caved in. But a possessor consumed by the abyss did not stop.
Ssreung, revealing a Bowie knife. Grabbing the leg and lifting it. The intent was clear: to sever the ankle.
But it was too slow. Twelve years of experience weren’t something easily overcome.
Aslan twisted his waist, still grabbed by the ankle, and lightly jumped, kicking the cowboy’s head.
Peoseok! Flying abyss. The headless cowboy fell, and Aslan, due to the overexertion of the jump, also fell to the ground.
Towards such an Aslan, the fallen cowboy rose and charged, and the possessors approached.
Ddeudek…!
Before their charge could conclude, Aslan moved his left arm, now fully recovered.
The abyss shaking the very space resisted the erosion of the abyssal sword, knocking down the possessors.
Towards the kneeling possessors, a black meteor descended.
A sweeping horizontal slash rising from the ground as Aslan stood.
The abyssal sword crushed and swallowed the possessors.
As if eating a large bite, the abyss disappeared, and the names of the possessors rapidly vanished. Those swept away found another rest.
The possessors had no means to counter.
Only the tyrant dragon managed a reaction.
Kuoo ooo ooo!
A howling wind. Aslan was startled. Far away, the tyrant dragon widened the distance, lowering its stance to prepare a breath attack.
The power of void and chaos that annihilates everything it touches.
Clearly, a breath capable of eradicating even the abyss. To be hit would mean not just death but the impossibility of rebirth.
But Aslan soon regained composure.
That breath doesn’t obliterate everything it touches; it only annihilates the point of contact.
Then the task was simple. Clenching his teeth, Aslan swung his broken, pain-ridden left arm.
A loud shout. Alongside the cry that seemed to shake off the deep-seated pain, a horizontal abyssal strike flew.
Kwuuuuuuuuuung!
Kwagagagagagagaga!
The abyss tore through space, and the breath erased it. At the moment of collision, a corner of the abyss disappeared, and a shockwave destroyed everything.
Among the scattered corpses of the possessors, Aslan saw the severed abyss wavering.
From within it, a roaring-like sound seemed to emanate.
His arm was bleeding profusely now.
Only the dragon king’s arm remained intact; the upper part had crumbled.
Yet Aslan did not stop. Regenerating through the pillar of creation, Aslan shouted.
Exhaling a lungful of breath, Aslan swung the abyssal sword.
Bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders, despite his arm breaking and crumbling, he swung the sword.
Agony surged through him, his vision grew hazy, and he blinked.
But he did not stop. There was no better way to fight against the evil deity.
The opponent was a monstrous god capable of repeated resurrection and recreation of anything consumed.
There could be no more advantageous conditions.
If he couldn’t kill the abyss here and now, there would be no next chance.
Seizing this opportunity, Aslan strained every effort to swing the sword.
Abyssal sword now larger than purity, stretching five meters in length.
It advanced, consuming, tearing.
Beyond seizing the opportunity, Aslan aimed to create a miracle.
While swinging the sword, Aslan thought of Lewena.
Lewena had bid farewell.
She chose death.
She transferred her soul into the unfamiliar vessel of a sword.
Knowing her self might not remain during the process of consuming the abyss.
Knowing that, effectively, death was inevitable for Lewena as an individual.
Had it been the old Aslan, it would have been a painful farewell to accept.
Painfully continuing the mission until reaching an inevitably unhappy parting.
But it wasn’t so for the present Aslan.
What was needed for happiness were people and love.
He believed there could be no happiness through unwanted farewells or sacrifices he didn’t wish for.
He couldn’t afford to lose precious people each time he killed an evil deity.
What Aslan desired was a happy ending.
Survival.
Rather than living a life unworthy of living, he decided to gamble on even the slimmest possibility of a miracle.
Aslan kills the abyss to save Lewena.
Even if it meant killing a god, an impossible feat.
“Aaaaaaa!”
The greatsword swung. Fueled by rage, the sword struck the tyrant dragon, and the dragon, struck, tilted violently and was pushed back.
Possessors caught in the sweep were swallowed.
With the thunderous roar accompanying the rolling dragon’s massive body, Aslan clicked his tongue.
Still countless possessors remained, and the dragon hadn’t been cut down.
Upon assessing the situation clearly:
The dragon’s scales, having entered the abyss, had regained their original strength.
Likely due to divine power mixed within.
Considering the ancient deity’s trait of maintaining divinity even after death, transformed into white steel, it made sense.
Through these divine powers and scales, the dragon resisted and endured the abyss’ consumption.
Only by killing and consuming could victory be achieved.
As Aslan clutched the greatsword, recalling the act of star-slicing, the dragon transformed.
It wasn’t just Aslan whose resolve had changed.
Even the proud evil deity and high priest had done so.
Void and chaos recalled an old grudge upon seeing Aslan.
They saw a familiar shadow.
A hero and deity with crimson hair and golden eyes.
The god of war and knowledge.
Void and chaos died to this god. Their blood spilled to elevate this god to a supreme deity.
The twice-tempered god of dragon-blood killed void and chaos.
What was happening now seemed similar.
For the dragon, it felt like a humiliating history repeating itself.
So the dragon thought: it wouldn’t happen twice.
Goo ooo ooo ooo ooo!
The dragon’s roar. Its body began to deform.
Making a krekkekek sound, something protruded from its body.
Dozens of massive heads sprouted, fitting its enormous frame.
Abandoning its original form maintained through pride, it thrashed desperately for victory, even if it became grotesque.
Discarding dignity, pride, and rationality.
Only to kill Aslan.
Dozens of heads sprouted. So many they felt like tentacles. Each mouth opened.
And within, power manifested.
The power of annihilation that destroys everything it touches.
Confused yet responding, Aslan gripped the abyssal sword, ignoring the space-traveling possessors, and swung the purity and abyssal sword.
Using his entire body’s balance in the swing.
One strike was enough; posture didn’t matter.
When swinging together with purity, the abyssal sword drew a black trajectory, colliding with the breath.
—!
In a soundless space, a fierce shockwave spread.
In the suicidal charge of possessors, knives and spears pierced Aslan’s arms and legs.
Arrows struck his side, knees were pierced, and telekinetic forces battered his head.
Hammers struck his spine, and blood spurted from his mouth.
Possessors, cleaved in half by purity, were scattered by the shockwave, and Aslan, too, was thrown and rolled across the ground.
Possessor corpses rained down like rain toward the ground.
Among them, Aslan gasped for breath, gripping the abyssal sword while observing the fractured abyss.
‘This is beyond me alone.’
Aslan realized this.
Naturally, since the enemy was a god.
Even with the exact countermeasures, victory seemed out of reach due to the disparity in power.
How much abyss must the abyssal sword consume was unclear.
The enemy was gradually becoming unscrupulous and adapting to this battle and Aslan.
It was regrettable.
Regrettable was one swing of the sword and one step to cover the gap afterward.
It was impossible for a lone hero to kill a god.
Aslan lamented this fact.
And while lamenting, he rose again.
Regenerating his tattered body through the pillar of creation, he vowed.
To kill the god here and now.
Vowing thus, he lifted the sword.
The dragon seemed to respond, manifesting power through dozens of mouths.
The desired outcome was clear: total annihilation. A breath capable of destroying the universe formed in those mouths.
Aslan did not retreat, gripping the abyssal sword, waiting for the moment it was fired.
Just as he was about to swing the sword,
Kwajik!
Suddenly, something flew toward the dragon.
Through the fading darkness from repeatedly swinging the abyssal sword, heading toward the emitted breath.
Before Aslan could react to the breath, it appeared and pierced through the dragon’s head.
Kweddekk!
The thing embedded in the dragon’s head.
Aslan recognized it.
It was a sword.
A flamboyant and chaotic blade resembling fire, broader and longer than most swords—a greatsword.
The beloved sword of war and knowledge, Victory.
When Aslan recognized it, a hole tore through the air where the sword flew from.
The hole cracked, breaking the space.
As the space shattered, fragments of the abyss fluttered like glass.
Breaking the abyss, someone appeared, flying in like a meteor plunging into the ground and kicking the dragon.
A small figure, easily dozens of times smaller in size than the dragon. Yet the power contained within its body was far from ordinary.
KwaAAAAAAAAAAANG!
The small human soared in and kicked with godlike strength, pushing the dragon back.
Pushed so forcefully that it rolled on the ground.
Kurrrrrrr!
When the rolling dragon stopped, the person who had kicked it grabbed the sword embedded in the ground.
When Aslan felt one inch of coordination and one slash insufficient,
Only humans could fill that gap.
Monsters don’t cooperate, but joining hands for the same cause is a privilege of humanity.
That’s why the person, Angela Tail, appeared.
Willingly extending her hand, she pulled the greatsword from the ground.
And starting with her, spaces around shattered.
From the broken spaces emerged people one by one.
Aslan’s traveling party, those who leaped into this abyss to help Aslan.
Recognizing them, they too recognized Aslan and descended to the ground.
With the stage set, Aslan, grateful, gripped his sword.
Today, here, the god shall die.
