Chapter 110

Chapter 110
Alon utilized every method at his disposal to strike a final, conclusive blow against the Receiver, Basiliora.

After that, he had reached his limit. All his prepared resources were spent, and his mana core was left completely depleted.

And still, in spite of everything—

Aaaaaaaargh−!!!!Aaaaaaaargh-!!!!

Basiliora, the Receiver, remained alive. The entity contorted its form within the wreckage of the shattered altar, letting out a distorted scream. Alon let out a soft, frustrated click of his tongue, though his face showed no emotion.

Naturally, Alon had never assumed Basiliora would be easily overcome. The devotion given to him by the Thunder Serpent Tribe had elevated Basiliora to the status of a protective god.

‘If I did not hold divinity myself, I would never have even tried this,’ Alon reflected.

The foundation of Alon’s strategy rested on one essential point: Alon himself held a “rank.” Strikes from those without a divine rank only caused reduced harm to deities. Thus, Alon was confident he could inflict significant injury upon Basiliora, in spite of his divine nature. He didn’t entirely know why he possessed a divine rank, but that was irrelevant.

This basic truth meant he could injure Basiliora and bring him under control. Following Alon’s design, Basiliora was overcome, though not slain, and now lay subdued.

‘The true test starts now.’

Boom—Rumble!

As Basiliora’s enormous figure thrashed wildly before him, Alon carefully retrieved a ring from an inner pocket. It was the glowing, deep red ring given to him by the Archmage Heinkel. Without a second thought, Alon placed it on his middle finger and looked toward Basiliora.

“Basiliora, Receiver of Power, you now have two options.”

Killme!Destroyme!!Kill me! Destroy me!!

Basiliora flailed uncontrollably, hurling fragments of stone in every direction. Still, Alon stayed composed, continuing to speak.

“Option one: become my servant. Option two: perish here, immediately. Which will you choose?”

It was a calm question, yet Basiliora shook with violent rage in reply.

Hah!DoyouthinkIwouldeverlowermyselftobeyourservant?!Justbecauseyou’reemboldenedbyyourbacking,donotthinkforasecondIwouldeverserveamerehuman!

“Then, the only path left for you is death.”

Doit!Killme!Doyouthinklosingtoahumanwouldstripmeofmyhonor?Don’tmakemelaugh!

The discussion ended at once—but that was unimportant. In reality, this was exactly what Alon had wanted.

“Well then, let me tell you something intriguing.”

Whatnonsenseareyouspoutingnow?

“Your decision hardly matters. Whether you resist or accept—either way, you will be mine.”

Saying this, Alon thrust the crimson ring forward, as if he had been anticipating this very instant.

“By the great covenant of Kalguneas, I now claim authority over the vanquished.”

The moment he finished speaking, the ring burst into an intense scarlet radiance.

Wha—Whatisthisssss—!!!!

Basiliora’s gigantic body started to be drawn into the ring.

Boom! Crash! Crack—!!!

As the immense shape of Basiliora was steadily pulled into the ring, the platform beneath him fractured further and fell into the void.

A slight, contented smile briefly touched Alon’s otherwise stoic expression.

‘Good. It all unfolded as intended.’

The reason Alon had presented Basiliora with a choice was never to bargain or give him a say. It was only to provoke a “confession of defeat.”

The “Kalguneas Pact Ring,” bestowed upon Alon by Heinkel, held the ability to enslave a defeated foe, tying them to the wearer as a servant, similar to a familiar.

…Although, originally, Alon had planned to use the ring to capture and bind a young dragon in the area Heinkel described, not Basiliora.

This was not a game, so Alon had been seeking a familiar to place inside the “Kalguneas Pact Ring.” Once he learned he himself possessed divinity, he finally selected Basiliora as his goal.

“Phew.”

Alon looked at the ring, which had drawn in Basiliora’s massive form in just moments. The once simple crimson ring now displayed the detailed pattern of a serpent.

As Alon examined the freshly etched mark, he permitted himself a faint, almost invisible smile of triumph.

“Phew—”

Releasing all the built-up strain, he lay back and relaxed. The sky, once gray and dull, was now filled with a multitude of stars.

“It worked,” he whispered, marking the successful execution of his scheme. His body felt completely spent, yet the feeling was not an unpleasant one.

***

Three days had gone by since Alon drew Basiliora into the “Kalguneas Pact Ring,” transforming him into a familiar.

“Really, we cannot thank you enough.”

The leader of the Thunder Serpent Tribe, Wise Ashgul, gave a low, respectful bow of thanks. Alon shook his head gently.

“There is no need for such profound gratitude. I had my own purposes to fulfill.”

“No, we must. Because of you, we, the Thunder Serpent Tribe, have been released from Basiliora’s control and have reclaimed our liberty.”

Ashgul’s aged eyes creased with sincere happiness. After a short conversation, Alon spoke again.

“Then I will remain for just one additional day.”

“Stay as long as you wish. We of the Thunder Serpent Tribe will do all we can to make you comfortable. Please, be at ease.”

Alon walked outside, his mind turning to his own thoughts.

‘Honestly, I would rather depart this jungle right away.’

Now that he had subdued Basiliora, Alon had no further reason to stay. Still, he chose to remain one more day, mainly because of Reinhardt and Deus.

…More precisely, because of Reinhardt.

‘He took Basiliora’s attack directly, so it’s to be expected.’

While Deus appeared tired, he was not seriously impaired. Reinhardt, however, had been in a completely dazed condition since the day before.

‘…He probably pushed his abilities too far.’

As Alon was deep in reflection, a voice broke his concentration.

“Ah—hello!”

Looking up, he saw a young girl bowing respectfully before him.

“Well, I am…”

The girl started to introduce herself awkwardly, but Alon soon realized who she was.

“Are you feeling better now?”

“Y-Yes…!?”

“You were exposed to the rain for a long time.”

At his query, the girl faltered, unable to form a quick reply.

“She is fine,” another voice responded.

It was her older sister, Syrkal, who came forward from behind. Her face held a cheerful smile, a stark contrast to their first meeting. She cast a fond look at her younger sister before giving a deep bow to Alon.

“We are so grateful to you.”

“Did you not already express your thanks yesterday?”

Alon remembered Syrkal bowing to him repeatedly on their journey back to the Thunder Serpent Tribe.

“Even if I thanked you a hundred times, it would not be enough for what you have done for us. Thank you so very much.”

Once more, she bowed deeply, leaving Alon slightly taken aback.

“If you are ever in need, please come to me. I will use all my strength to aid you.”

“I will remember that.”

“Oh, and this evening, we are having a celebration. You must join us—it is essentially in your honor.”

After delivering her invitation, Syrkal led her still-embarrassed younger sister away. As they departed, their happiness was clear to see.

The sisters shared a look of pure delight, their faces glowing with satisfaction.

Alon felt an inner smile. A profound sense of achievement and contentment rose within him.

The trust Alon had earned from the Thunder Serpent Tribe’s chief provided him with another potential benefit.

‘Maybe I can request a favor about that later,’ he considered as he went back to his temporary quarters.

The sky, which had been cloudy since his arrival, was now bright, with the sun beaming down.

***

The experimental subjects created by Duke Komalon were formidable entities, each one mighty in its own right.

This was not by chance.

The endless experiments carried out for the Duke’s investigation into Abyssal Entities had yielded these beings. The majority of them—except for rare cases like Carmine—had once been celebrated fighters in the Allied Kingdoms.

Furthermore, only those who had fully endured the transformation into Abyssal Entities were considered worthy of being labeled “subjects” by the Duke.

In other words, these subjects were powerful individuals who had completely assimilated the core of Abyssal power. Their strength was unquestionable, and they were well aware of it.

But overconfidence was a perilous trait.

Even after arriving in the jungle under orders to assassinate Marquis Palatio, they held back from attacking immediately, even after finding him within the Thunder Serpent Tribe’s lands.

Instead, they concealed themselves with great care, biding their time for the perfect opportunity—the moment Duke Komalon had specified as ideal for performing the assassination.

That moment was supposed to arrive tonight.

Until everything fell apart.

“Ugh—!”

Experimental Subject 1 vomited blood, staring ahead in shock.

The scene before him was unbelievable: the mutilated bodies of more than fifteen experimental subjects, beings as strong as he was.

‘What… is this?’

Even as blood flowed from his stomach, Subject 1’s mind worked frantically to comprehend the situation.

But no matter how hard he tried to remember the events, only two scenes stayed in his memory:

The first was Subject 3’s head suddenly exploding the instant he announced they would carry out the assassination that night.

The second was the “horror” now laid out before him—the vision of all the experimental subjects, himself included, butchered.

As Subject 1 stood there, bewildered and bleeding, his eyes caught sight of a figure moving calmly through the blood-drenched field.

A girl with a long horn growing from her forehead and a self-assured smirk on her lips.

Having single-handedly wiped out the experimental subjects, the girl glanced briefly at the shocked man as if evaluating him. Then, with total indifference, she kicked his face with savage strength.

Splat!

A gush of blood followed as his head was crushed, dropping heavily to the ground.

The girl, apparently done with her task, turned and started to walk away.

A man materialized beside her as she left.

“Boss, why did you bother getting involved personally? You could have just sent the subordinates to take care of this.”

The man, whose blue skin shimmered faintly under the moon, was twice the size of the dark-haired girl. His question hung in the air as they walked.

The girl answered shortly, “Just wanted to.”

“…Just wanted to?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm.”

The blue-skinned man turned his eyes toward the Thunder Serpent Tribe’s village, more specifically to the feast happening among its people. His gaze fixed on one particular person.

“Boss.”

“What.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Go on.”

“…What is so remarkable about that human that you would intervene personally and even get your hands dirty?”

His voice held clear annoyance, and his forehead wrinkled deeply as he tried to understand.

The girl hummed in thought, as if weighing her words carefully.

After a brief pause, she spoke.

“Oh.”

Drawing out the sound, she finally replied, “It’s that.”

“…‘That’?”

“Yeah, that.”

“…What is ‘that’?”

“Justification.”

“…I beg your pardon?”

The girl—no, the Queen of the Hundred Demons—grinned with a sinister edge as her strange eyes glowed faintly.

“That human is my one and only ‘justification.’”

Her smile widened, her gaze brimming with playful glee, as if she found the whole situation incredibly amusing.