A human cannot overthrow a deity.
The will and strength of humans were too feeble to subdue the world.
No one was unaware of this fact.
Even Aslan, who charged forward with a cry, accelerating and riding the hellish winds, knew it well.
Centering his strength around his waist, he swung his blade without losing momentum as he ran.
Though it might seem unstable at a glance, due to the technique honed to perfection, there wasn’t a single opening in the attack.
Kagagak!
Yet, the white sparks that flew from the streaks of his blade did not reach the life of the deity.
Eventually, the forelimb coming to take his life approached.
When Aslan blocked it with purity, a shockwave like a heartbeat spread out, halting the forelimb.
“Ereta!”
Aslan shouted, but Ereta silently threw back the two short weapons she had retrieved into her hands.
“AAaaack, Thud crack!”
The two flying short weapons—a hand axe and a hammer—plunged into their marks, burning poison and opening a path. Then, Ereta spun her battleaxe around her waist, scattering flames.
The scattered flames pushed back the poison. But this repelling only lasted for an instant.
However, that instant was enough. Ereta charged forward, and above the trajectory of her run, a massive shadow loomed.
“Shit!”
With a rumbling vibration akin to thunder, the giant shadow soared through the air.
It was a rock torn from the spot where Angie had been hurled.
The remains of the city turned into rock that flew and embedded itself into the dragon, causing a piercing sound as it crumbled into dust.
The rock didn’t leave a single scratch on the deity.
But it was enough to create an opportunity to approach.
Angie drew her greatsword and charged, becoming a crimson streak heading toward the dragon.
Kwaaaaaang!
Kooong, Wharrlllek!
Kagagak, Jjeeng!
Leaping up and swinging her greatsword, she struck the dragon’s head, then got hit by its flailing forelimb and was sent flying.
She twisted her body mid-air to land safely.
While Angie was pushed back, Ereta’s axe spewed flames, cutting into the flesh of the poison-spitting dragon.
Aslan’s purity intercepted the dragon’s attack with a bright streak.
It looked like an ant defending against a giant’s assault.
It was a perilous fight.
Watching the fight, even those standing by involuntarily gripped their weapons and prepared to charge.
But before they could move forward, some collapsed.
Thump! Kneeling down and gasping for breath was the green entity with silver eyes glowing faintly with light.
He had been poisoned.
And as the poison caused his legs to falter, he couldn’t advance any further and fell to his knees.
All he could do was watch the fight.
From where he sat, various scenes came into view.
Among the corpses littered across what used to be someone’s home, people were sacrificing their lives, wielding weapons against the mountain-like dragon.
The green entity looked down at a corpse whose identity was now lost, specifically the remaining lower half.
The upper body had melted away, but the actions of the person were faintly etched into his memory.
He had pushed Richard away to protect him, taking the poison instead.
That way, he was forgotten.
He screamed horrifically as he died.
Although his name was forgotten due to the incomplete melting, the terrible scream remained in memory.
Richard, too, remembered the scream, even if he couldn’t recall the name.
So Richard fought with the full armor that the sacrificed individual once wore, throwing punches filled with resentment.
Because of the indescribable emotions he felt within himself.
Every time his fists connected, scales flew off, and the tail that shot forth failed to surpass Richard, rebounding each time and shattering the innocent ground.
Still, these attacks weren’t non-threatening.
Every time an attack missed, deadly poison was sprayed all around.
The green entity understood that this battle wouldn’t last long.
The spreading poison was lethal.
The flapping wings and whipping tail were as fierce and sharp as divine punishment.
Anything they touched was severed, bone and flesh alike, and wherever they passed, poison followed.
Closing the distance was a matter of risking one’s life.
Even the elves who used lightning and thunder as stepping stones struggled to get close.
The green entity watched all this and thought he must stand up.
But he couldn’t.
“Hmph.”
Blood welled up in his mouth and spilled onto the ground.
The poison was rapidly invading his innards from his side.
Even instinctual self-repair couldn’t stop the rapid dissolution.
If he hadn’t been able to use magic, he would have melted away and died much faster.
Moreover, only his body was being repaired.
His soul wasn’t.
“Why am I here?”
His disintegrating soul slumped gracelessly. With hazy eyes, he stared ahead.
This wasn’t a fleeting thought born from fatigue during the battle—it was a pure, honest question.
In truth, he couldn’t remember why he was here.
The pain of the soul dissolving was almost painless.
But those whose souls are dissolving experience an existential crisis.
One who is forgetting their existence forgets themselves first.
“Cough… Hmph.”
Another spew of blood. The blood mixed with internal organs was murky, almost iridescent.
The green entity blinked as he looked down at the blood.
“I…”
He couldn’t remember his name.
Neither could he recall why he had come here.
He remembered nothing.
Instead, visions appeared.
Like how a poisoned person sees hallucinations or hears phantom sounds.
Through the poison in his soul, he saw fragmented and broken pieces of his past.
Without understanding that it was his own history or comprehending what this phenomenon was, he slowly faced his past while dying.
Sometimes he was a child. A child who trained tirelessly, striving to reunite with his lost family.
At other times, he was a merciless soldier. In the name of eliminating the empire’s enemies, he had slain many without mercy.
Occasionally, he was a caring father and a kind grandfather. Though he spoke little, he was loved.
But mostly, he was a watcher.
He wielded a sword for the empire.
A sword that shone with a brass-like brilliance, astonishingly sturdy.
The poison in his soul dissolved his existence, while the poison in his body corroded his organs and skeleton, making his hands tremble.
Trembling hands let the sword slip from his grasp.
Clatter. Like the fallen man, the sword rolled along the ground. He looked down at it with blurred vision.
A slightly long hilt, a thick blade.
A crossguard shaped like folded wings.
Ancient letters carved into the brass.
A sword given only to the Empire’s Greatest Swordsman—the Watcher’s Sword.
The old green entity looked at the sword and recalled something.
Amidst fading memories and the obliteration of his existence, only this stood clear.
An unforgettable name.
Empire’s Greatest Swordsman.
He was the Empire’s Greatest Swordsman.
Creak.
The small groan of the sword scraping against the ground. He picked it up and wobbled as he stood.
Kooong!
Before he could take a breath after standing, he fell again. His legs wouldn’t support him.
But he had to stand.
Wobbling, with his legs giving out and blood streaming from his broken nose multiple times, he kept getting up.
By the end, even fate retreated, unable to force him to kneel.
The Empire’s Greatest Swordsman stood tall, gripping his sword.
And he murmured.
“I am… the Empire’s Greatest Swordsman.”
There was no one to respond. No one was watching.
His existence was faint. Dim like a blurred star, dark like the night before dawn arrives.
His name was forgotten.
His family was forgotten.
His accumulated history had evaporated and disappeared.
But the training ingrained in his body remained.
The sword he had swung for over 160 years didn’t betray him.
Thus, the old man extended his sword amidst wavering illusions.
Countless past moments flashed by. Memories passing through him, dissolving and disappearing.
Among them, something remained unforgettably.
A brilliant light.
Even amidst the agony that vaporized his soul, this figure shone brilliantly.
It was a man.
A man holding a sword ablaze with pure white light, slicing through stars.
Someone whose name and face were blurred beyond recognition.
But the old man knew him.
He was someone who fought even in death.
Even after death, he swung his sword, aiming to reach the deity despite a stopped heart, severing stars.
In the end, this man had protected what he sought to protect, even after his death.
Resham witnessed the man’s technique.
A sword strike that surpassed death to reach the deity.
A skill far beyond comprehension.
Ordinarily, the old man wouldn’t understand, let alone replicate such a sword strike.
But things were different now.
Having ceased futile resistance and embraced the pain, he could see it now.
He barely understood.
The essence of the sword strike.
The anguish and regret of a man desperately reaching for the stars, and the hope he finally attained.
Thus, ■■ thought:
There is no sword strike the Empire’s Greatest Swordsman cannot master.
Clank.
Not understanding the situation, still dying,
even amidst the agony of having his very soul erased, his nature never abandoned its tenacity.
Gripping the brass-colored sword, the old man took his stance.
Spreading his legs, lowering his posture, pulling the sword backward and gripping the tip of the blade with his other hand.
Determination and tenacity.
Even amidst the annihilation of his existence, his unyielding nature persisted.
With blurred vision, he traced the path of the sword. The tightly gripped hilt groaned.
Kagagak.
He was the Empire’s Greatest Swordsman.
The Empire’s Greatest Swordsman fights for the empire.
He wields his sword for the people of the empire.
He sacrifices his life for the future of the empire.
Then, something appeared before him.
[Resham]
[Level: 6]
[Remaining Stats: 15]
[Strength 3] [Agility 3] [Health 3]
[Mana 6(4)] [Spirit 1] [Luck 1]
Something incomprehensible.
He recognized it.
The poison dissolving even his soul also dissolved the many things built upon it.
It dissolved his existence and his history.
It dissolved limits.
The limits of life, existence, and the boundaries of Resham, who was once known.
Holding onto the eroded boundaries, he moved by instinct.
[Resham]
[Level: 6]
[Strength 3] [Agility 3] [Health 3]
[Mana 6(4)] [Spirit 16] [Luck 1]
Following his instincts, he poured all his vitality into spirit.
Taking his stance,
then a gale blew.
The fierce wind tousled his hair.
As his existence faded, Resham was no longer recognized—not by his companions, nor by the poison-spitting dragon.
A sword strike beyond recognition cannot be avoided.
He gripped his sword.
The watcher handling the schools of creation and mutation dissolved alive under his own exhaled breath.
The old healer of restoration school had his arm, along with his shield, dissolve from poison, collapsing mid-fight.
The fighter of manifestation school detonated fireballs and was devoured.
Amidst all this, the Empire’s Greatest Swordsman waited outside everyone’s recognition for the perfect moment.
For his final blow.
Even if he would be forgotten and erased, he had work to do.
He knew this would be his last.
Thus, it was right to stake his life.
Reproduction alone was insufficient; he aimed beyond it.
Having surpassed limits long ago, he defied death itself.
Thus, the extinguishing flame blazed brightly.
[Strength 0]
Muscles withered and twisted.
[Agility 0]
Eyes lost their focus, bones stiffened.
[Health 0]
The body crumbled.
[Mana 2(0)]
The heart stopped, the blazing mana quietly solidified and died.
[Luck 0]
All senses vanished, and an overwhelming darkness arrived.
[Spirit 30]
Still, he did not fall.
His sword blazed brightly.
The radiant light consuming life.
A sword strike surpassing divinity.
Upon sensing this, the poison-spitting dragon instinctively perceived danger.
The chilling killing intent reached Tiamat’s skin.
Phey could perceive the distortion of space.
Aslan intuitively knew this was the moment.
Amid dozens of metallic sounds rising in an instant, Aslan floated in mid-air, gripping his sword.
Not knowing what was happening or what to do,
his body moved faster than his thoughts.
He took his stance.
Stretching his sword behind him, he gripped it low.
Holding the tip with his other hand, he concentrated.
What was needed was a transcendent level of concentration enabling the use of skills beyond divine techniques.
He utilized it all.
Numbers appeared in Aslan and Resham’s fields of vision.
[Remaining Spirit: 20]
[Remaining Spirit: 30]
A skill unused because its timing was unknown.
A skill restrained because using it with insufficient effect would be self-destructive.
A skill dangerous if recovery allowed counterattacks.
Aslan instinctively realized now was the time to use it.
[Remaining Spirit: 10]
[Remaining Spirit: 15]
As the spirits of Aslan and the dying green entity simultaneously began to deplete, the superhuman concentration allowing transcendence of divine techniques reached its limit.
[Remaining Spirit: 0]
[Remaining Spirit: 0]
And when the bottom was revealed, light surged from the distant horizon.
‘Star Cutting.’
‘Star, Cutting.’
The mouths of the two men moved, and their sword strikes shot out.
From above and below.
From outside and inside perception, from both sides.
Like splitting day and night, light poured forth.
A sword strike dividing light and darkness. Twice.
A sword strike cleaving life and death, aiming to sever even the deity.
Finally, it reached the star.
―!
The two sword strikes advanced soundlessly.
The poison-spitting dragon, seeing the two lights blazing like stars, tried to block them with its wings and twist them aside.
Kwaagagagagagagaga!
Its wings were cut off, and deep gashes resembling scissors’ marks were carved into its body.
Dragon blood erupted like a fountain.
A roar of pain resounded, and the evil deity deprived of divinity writhed.
The blood spurting from the cut was no longer turbid dark green.
The acidic and poisonous properties gone, it turned red.
Under the crimson rain, the watchers and the weary party members gazed at the poison-spitting dragon.
Truly, humans cannot overthrow a deity.
No matter the miracles or training, humans cannot overthrow a deity.
But it’s different for monsters.
Humans always defeat monsters.
Under the crimson rain, humans charged toward the monster.
