Chapter 508

Eljure stared at her right arm, which had disappeared below the elbow, with an expression of disbelief. Her green eyes trembled in shock. Just like the villagers she had loved, who had been impaled on stakes and burned before her eyes.

“Kuh…!”

Blood gushed from her twisted lips. The moment she tried to manifest her magic, a shockwave disrupted her precisely arranged magical formula. The surging mana twisted and broke, ravaging her insides.

‘I have to control the mana…!’

Her blood vessels snapped one by one, and her heart thudded violently. Blood from her damaged organs surged up her throat and spewed out. Damien’s greatsword had only severed one arm, but the runaway mana tore through her entire body, leaving severe wounds.

Eljure fell like a hunted pheasant, a long trail of blood streaking through the air.

Struggling to hold onto her fading consciousness, she desperately tried to control the mana and cast a barrier spell. But the hastily erected mana barrier shattered the moment it touched the ground.

“Kuh…!”

A crown of snow erupted as Eljure screamed in agony. Excruciating pain surged from her lower body. Though she had somehow survived, her legs were twisted in unnatural directions, and her right arm was gone. Only her left arm remained intact.

‘It hurts. Why? How could I, not even Ai-shan Gi-or, be defeated by mere children like this? It’s absurd. Of all times, Jin-eun had to…!’

Just moments ago, Eljure had been overwhelming Damien and Milia, but a single moment of distraction had led to an irreversible outcome.

The mana she had suppressed and scattered was now barely enough to heal her. Even focusing solely on healing would be a close call.

“To end like this…! I can’t stop here, not like this…! I…! I…!”

Eljure tried to push herself up with her trembling left arm, but her body betrayed her. Her hand slipped, and she fell face-first into the snow again.

“Kyah…!”

Her body refused to obey. Unlike Diraid, who had grafted a monster’s body, or Belcus, who had received the Evil God’s blessing, she was just a mere magician. Her injuries were too severe for her to endure.

‘Kist… where is Kist…! He couldn’t have been defeated by a half-fairy, so why hasn’t he returned? If only that fool were here, this wouldn’t have happened…!’

Cursing her absent subordinate, Eljure flailed pathetically in the snow.

‘I have to get up, I have to…! If I don’t…!’

Damien, who had fallen with ice spikes embedded in him, and Milia, who was kneeling and gasping for breath, leaning on her bow. In her current state, Eljure couldn’t fight back against either of them.

Her mana was already at its limit, barely enough to repair her damaged organs and reconnect her torn blood vessels and muscles.

But as Eljure finally managed to get up, she realized that neither of them had made a move.

They couldn’t.

Both Damien and Milia had exhausted all their strength in their last attack and had already collapsed.

Eljure, using her now powerless illusion staff to prop herself up, finally noticed that the two had been unconscious all along.

“…Ah, ha. Haha, ahahaha! Kelok! Kuh…! Huhu… That’s right, that’s how it should be! If I’m in this state, there’s no way you two are fine!”

Eljure burst into laughter, a belated sense of victory washing over her.

She had won.

She was certain. Even if her mana was nearly depleted, killing unconscious people was as easy as crushing bugs!

“Haa… haa… Go to hell, you wretched demons!”

As Eljure, her bloodied lips twisted into a grin, prepared to send a small blade toward their throats.

“That’s enough, heretic Eljure.”

…Her hope was over.

The radiant light of order, judging evil, bathed the snowfield in golden hues. Looking down at the golden longsword resting on her neck, Eljure weakly hung her head.

Seilon, the Golden Seilon, the strongest judge of the Astraea Church. Even at her peak, he was an opponent she could never defeat.

‘…I should have just run away from the start.’

But it was too late for regrets. She had wasted the time and opportunity given to her, indulging in sadistic pleasure, and now the price had come due.

“It’s over, Eljure. The Goddess of Order and Justice, Astraea, forgives no evil. The retribution for your sins will consume you!”

Looking at the group rushing to the fallen two, Seilon declared Eljure’s execution with stern anger.

Her crimes—worship of evil gods, cooperation with demons, countless acts of cruelty, and city-scale terrorism—each deserved death.

“Retribution…? Retribution? Don’t make me laugh…!”

The word “retribution” seemed to strike a nerve. Eljure’s face twisted into a snarl as she spat out venomous hatred.

But with her completely subdued, all she could do was scream.

“I, I only sought revenge! For the people who loved me, for those I loved, for my innocent hometown people who were brutally murdered by the church bastards!”

Eljure screamed, recalling the final moments of her hometown.

Even now, over a decade later, she remembered it vividly. The names of each villager, the faces that had smiled at her.

…Their final moments, screaming in the flames.

They had simply loved each other without discrimination, sharing everything, creating a paradise. At least, Eljure believed so without doubt.

But the Imera Church, seeing only the surface, scorned them as depraved, branded them as evil god worshippers, and slaughtered them mercilessly. To her, it was a horrific nightmare, an act of unspeakable hatred.

That’s why Eljure abandoned miracles and learned magic, rose to the top of the cult, and cooperated with demons, but never worshipped the evil gods.

The moment she worshipped an evil god, the false accusations the Imera Church had pinned on her hometown would become true.

For five years, she lived driven by revenge against the Imera Church—no, the Holy Kingdom—leading hypocrites who put on airs of righteousness to their doom.

Every time she saw Imera priests sneaking into brothels, Eljure could only laugh bitterly.

Beneath their veneer, these filthy humans had dared to “judge” her hometown as righteous arbiters. It was disgustingly absurd.

—

Of course, Seilon had no interest in her circumstances.

“Is that all your excuse? It’s a tired story, one I’ve heard countless times. Unfortunately, I don’t care about your grudges. Such excuses are all too familiar.”

As a judge who had defeated countless evildoers, the lamentations of sinners were all too familiar, to the point of boredom.

They all tried to justify themselves with tragic pasts, but to Seilon—and to anyone—it was nothing but shameless sophistry.

Eljure’s excuse was no different.

“Do you know what all sinners deserving judgment have in common? They all lack shame, refuse to acknowledge their wrongs, and believe only they are right. Like you.”

“Ha, are you introducing yourself? If that’s the case, then you—!”

“Silence.”

Seilon cut off Eljure’s protest and raised his sword, wrapped in divine light.

“You said it was revenge for your hometown. That you committed these atrocities out of revenge… Then tell me, did the residents of Arvil kill your hometown people? Did the bakers, the young girls, the fathers protecting their families, have anything to do with your hometown?”

Of course, they had nothing to do with it.

Most of Arvil’s residents were simply living peaceful lives, caught up in the calamity of the Reverse Ascension Society.

“That’s…”

Eljure was momentarily speechless, but quickly found words to rationalize herself.

“…Yes, they’re accomplices too! None of them stood up to condemn the church’s evil deeds! Instead, they clung to the church, feeding on the scraps it gave them! So they’re accomplices!”

“Is that what you think?”

Seilon’s gaze grew colder. Colder than the winter wind. Disdain and anger urged him to pass judgment.

“The mindset of sinners is always the same. All ugly, all despicable. Heretic Eljure. There’s no need to wag that foul tongue any longer. Your time for defense is over. Now, Astraea will weigh your sins.”

Seilon’s divine light carved sacred runes into the air, forming a ring of light. The Light of Judgment. Sensing her impending death, Eljure’s face twisted grotesquely.

“Seilooooon!”

With her last ounce of strength, Eljure swung a blade of mana at Seilon. Seilon didn’t even bother to defend.

Eljure’s final strike shattered like glass the moment it touched Seilon’s armor.

And then, the Light of Judgment poured down on Eljure, who glared at Seilon with eyes full of hatred.

“Kwah…!”

The golden light of retribution began to tear through her body, piercing and crushing her.

“Kuh, keh, kyaaaaaah! Imeraaaa, Imeraaaaaaah!”

With a final, desperate scream, Eljure was torn apart by the torrent of light.

Her last cry echoed like a fading echo.

—

Seilon burned Eljure’s remains to ash, then, with Rana and Agnes’s help, treated Damien and Milia’s injuries. Both needed at least half a month to recover.

Meanwhile, Nigel and Leonor set out to find Hersh, who had gone missing. They didn’t think she had fled; if she was fighting someone, they wanted to help.

But they couldn’t find Hersh. Instead, Hersh found them.

The half-fairy, chased by Kist, stumbled out of the forest a short distance from Arvil, her body covered in wounds, blood dripping from her. In her right hand, she clutched Kist’s severed head.

“I got lucky. I managed to hold out thanks to the Cloak of Concealment and the forest’s blessing, but Eljure’s scream gave him an opening.”

Hersh, boarding the carriage, collapsed backward with a tired smile and fell asleep.

Confirming the safety of the group, Seilon turned his gaze toward Arvil.

Only Belcus remained. He was a notorious demon, but… Seilon didn’t think his saintess, Hashal, would lose.

‘Still, I should check.’

With the threatening enemies all defeated, Nigel and Leonor alone would be enough to protect this place. Deciding so, Seilon stepped out of the carriage and turned toward Arvil.

Just then, the central bell tower of the city collapsed, and a pillar of dark mana rose into the sky.