Chapter 214

Chapter 214
## Chapter: 214
Chapter Title: True Despair

I hunger for more.

My longing has no finish line.

It is the force that tears through established boundaries, demolishes restrictions, and ignores every shackle.

An eternal dominion so overwhelming that even the celestial ones felt jealousy toward it.

Unrivaled, with no equal to stand beside it, it is undeniably the supreme transgression.

Therefore, I crave.

I yearn and I yearn further, striving to attain that flawless state of grace, the peak of all things.

Yet this essence is neither holy nor malicious; it is a thing closer to the foundational reality.

Whatever exists on the far side of the portals of truth—I shall claim it as my own.

All you deities!

You primeval entities from the void!

And you, the force of ruin!

Not one of you possesses the strength to stifle my desire.

—Excerpt from the Chronicles of Avarice—

Thump!

King Frederick.

He snapped the aged volume shut inside his lavish coach.

“Your Highness, you seem troubled.”

King Frederick let out a dry laugh at the observation made by the veteran warrior sitting across from him.

“Me?”

“Is there a weight on your mind?”

“. . . A weight.”

King Frederick turned his gaze toward the coach window in silence.

Mirrored in his pupils was the grand citadel of the Ballan Kingdom.

Pride.

He who treats every living soul in existence with contempt, viewing them as nothing more than wandering dust.

For a being who hunts for “entertainment” above all other vices, could he truly be bothered by a concern?

Inconceivable.

It could not be so.

‘And yet . . . .’

. . . Something was gnawing at his thoughts.

To say he felt entirely at ease would be a deception.

Naturally, a pathetic realm like the Ballan Kingdom wasn’t even worth his notice.

What was currently churning in his brain.

‘Greed. That wretch has surely clawed back into existence.’

The seven arch-fiends that walk the earth.

Envy had likely been put down by the Martial Deity Karas, and into that vacuum, Greed had returned.

However, the resurrection of Greed was the most illogical event, even for one such as Pride.

He could have made peace with the emergence of any other arch-fiend.

“Are you familiar with the seven arch-fiends?”

“Entities of the same nature as Your Highness?”

The veteran warrior replied without missing a beat.

He was fully aware that King Frederick was the embodiment of Pride.

As the premier blade of the Iron Kingdom, he understood that Pride was the horror that had consumed myriad stars.

Pride gave a slow, deliberate nod.

“Indeed. How deep does your understanding go?”

“The seven fundamental vices that have existed since time began: Pride, Avarice, Envy, Wrath, Lust, Greed, and Sloth. I understand they are the physical vessels for those primal urges.”

That was the ceiling of mortal comprehension.

The arch-fiends rarely moved in the light of day.

Consequently, the gathered wisdom of the human race regarding these demons was pitifully lacking.

The motivation for their clandestine operations was straightforward.

‘To avoid the scrutiny of the heavens.’

The inherent hunters. The deities, who served as their ultimate antithesis, monitored the demons’ every twitch.

That was the reason demons could never look toward the firmament.

The second they raised their eyes, the deities would lock onto their coordinates.

Currently, with nearly every deity snuffed out by the “Bringer of Ruin” or drained of their sanctity, demons could stare at the heavens without fear.

‘Before Ruin manifested, it was the deities’ golden era.’

The gods once gave their secret arts to humanity without reservation.

Mankind progressed in the ways of the blade and the arcane through celestial teachings, even poking at forbidden truths.

During this era of frantic growth and exchange, the demons had no alternative but to shrink away.

Lurking within the bodies of weak animals or human shells, staying as invisible as possible—that was their path to endurance.

As human mental vanity was satiated through their bond with the deities, the demons who thrived on human longing became desperately frail.

‘While every other demon hid in shadows, that one was the outlier.’

There was a single anomaly.

A demon who felt no dread toward the gods.

. . . . . . Greed.

He never blinked when looking at the sky.

Whenever the whim took him, he tilted his chin and stared into the celestial heights.

If a deity came down to deliver a sentence, he greeted them with a thunderous roar of laughter, meeting the challenge head-on.

A demon entirely separate from his kin.

Perhaps that was the reason.

Even the deities were reluctant to strike Greed.

Eventually, they would walk past him and look the other way, even when he stood directly in their path.

A true freak among freaks.

Pride could not grasp his nature at all.

His obsession was singular.

The absolute zenith of combat skill!

‘Where is the joy in that?’

Tedious.

Entirely, maddeningly monotonous.

In truth, Pride wanted nothing to do with him.

The other arch-fiends likely shared that sentiment.

‘The world shifted when Ruin appeared.’

The arrival of Ruin was a celebration for the demonic kind.

The deity of devastation, who leveled everything, was perfectly suited to the demons.

They reclaimed their evaporated strength and no longer had a reason to hide.

To the demons, Ruin was a welcome ally.

But it seemed Greed did not agree.

‘Greed was imprisoned by the sister deities. While trapped in that seal, he threw a challenge at Ruin and vanished.’

The specific particulars were unknown to him.

Nevertheless, the version of Greed that confronted Ruin had been bound by the two goddesses, Lea and Pina.

Even stripped of his essence, Greed fought Ruin and was rumored to have been erased afterward.

Ruin was not known for showing mercy to those who defied him.

‘He wasn’t erased entirely.’

He should have been totally annihilated.

And yet, Greed had clawed back.

And at a moment no one could have predicted.

‘Whose skin is he wearing now?’

He rubbed his jawline.

He couldn’t see that far into the mystery.

But it was strange regardless.

Greed was like a deathless spirit that refused to stay down when broken.

A creature so puzzling even the heavens had thrown up their hands.

So he had entertained the faint possibility that Greed might still be breathing.

And if that were true.

‘I was certain Wilhelm was the vessel for Greed . . . . . .’

Perspiration gathered on Raiga’s brow.

‘As the seconds tick by, it’s reaching its peak.’

He could no longer treat this as a game.

This was no longer a simple exchange of killing intent.

It was a frantic struggle for survival.

No space to inhale. No room for stray thoughts.

It had been this way since the goat-masked figure finalized “that.”

He couldn’t shift his focus for even a millisecond.

‘He condensed his aura once more. That has to be a Sword Orb . . . !’

The energy pulled inward at the tip of the blade into a flawless ball!

A shape created by the extreme compression of sword aura.

It sparkled like a polished gem, no bigger than a fingernail, yet the horrific power pent up inside was obvious without needing to feel it.

The second it erupted, everything within a fifty-meter radius would be turned to mist instantly.

Total disintegration.

Anyone caught in that blast, himself included, would be in grave danger.

‘According to the archives left by the architect of the Eight Houses, the Sword Orb is a force known as the Celestial Jewel. It holds the power to fell even the gods!’

Gulp!

For the first time, Raiga felt a dry lump in his throat.

However, crafting a Sword Orb drained a massive amount of internal energy.

The goat was certainly feeling the strain.

‘. . . . . . Is this where we both fall?’

The dance of mere intent was over.

The moment he revealed that power, it was like stepping over a point of no return.

If a detonation occurred here, the lush terrain and every part of the Eight Houses would be erased without a trace.

Zzzzzziiiiiing!

At that exact moment.

Raiga’s own aura flared to massive proportions.

It grew like the weapon of a titan, pushing against the air as if ready to split the firmament.

The blade of total extinction that butchered everything in its path.

Raiga’s hidden art, a thing that made the masters of the underworld tremble!

Kwarrrrumble!

The environment roared with the sound of a storm as their blades met in a world-shaking collision.

‘A hit.’

Even a master of the Sword Orb couldn’t stay upright after a direct strike from his steel.

The proof was right there: the goat’s right arm, the one holding the blade, collapsed under the sheer pressure.

But.

Raiga looked down at his own limb.

‘The kickback . . . . . .’

It was the same as the goat.

No, it was even weirder—his own arm was twisted at an impossible angle.

What was happening?

The damage was too catastrophic to be simple recoil.

‘It doubles the force sent back. But my technique is designed to bypass such feedback.’

. . . Nonsense.

There was clearly a reflection effect at play, but Raiga had the inherent trait to “cancel damage reflection.”

Essentially, this mirroring effect was so powerful it completely overwhelmed his ability to stop it.

But how was that possible?

‘And there’s more. The shock was lighter than it should have been. This creature has some kind of armor against penetration.’

. . . . . . Penetration was a top-tier physical force.

Raiga’s strikes typically ignored all protective gear and barriers.

But the goat was an outlier.

It was definitely soaking up the penetration.

Whether such a trait was even supposed to exist, he didn’t know, but his instincts were screaming the truth.

‘. . . . . . Insane.’

Reflecting double the damage and harboring a mysterious resistance to piercing strikes.

Even Baal didn’t have tricks like these.

What kind of monster was he facing?

‘If I take his life, I lose mine as well.’

He gave a slow nod.

This kind of heart-pounding pressure was a luxury he hadn’t tasted in centuries.

He couldn’t even remember the last time his blood had run this hot.

Consequently, it was exhilarating.

His ancient drought finally felt like it was ending.

A spring in the middle of a wasteland.

What a delight!

“Fine. I’m going to end you.”

Raiga pulled his lips back in a jagged smirk.

Clench the hilt.

Drive the blade.

Parry, cut, lunge—a seamless flow of combat.

Initially, he had been walking in the footsteps of Wilhelm’s memories, but that had changed.

He had merged with the essence of Wilhelm, going beyond him to carve out a fresh trajectory.

‘Not enough.’

But the realization hit him quickly.

He hadn’t truly overtaken Wilhelm yet.

He was missing too much to actually leap over him.

He had caught a glimpse of what lay beyond, but making it his own would take an eternity of practice.

[The Primeval Garb provides Penetration Resistance.]

[The Primeval Garb’s 210% Damage Reflection is triggered.]

[Hemorphage status is active.]

[Entering a state of vital collapse.]

At this pace, he wouldn’t be able to drop the man in front of him.

He was falling short.

Of course, a win wasn’t out of reach.

By walking away from the trial.

By admitting he had hit his ceiling and taking the prize!

His gut told him that by seizing the legacy known as “Wilhelm,” he could bypass this catastrophe.

But.

‘I refuse.’

Not this way.

I crave.

Greater strength.

Wider horizons!

Even if it meant his heart stopped beating, he would never look back with regret.

[Insufficient energy to maintain Sword Orb.]

[Physical endurance is in freefall.]

[Critical! Death is certain if the bleeding isn’t stopped.]

[Critical! Death is certain if energy hits zero.]

He ignored the flashing red signs telling him to quit.

Giving up now was no different from dying.

His mind was slipping into darkness, and his legs felt like lead, but.

He did not falter.

No matter the cost, he . . . . . .

Would take the next step.

Crack!

It happened then.

Raiga’s steel smashed against the goat’s face-covering.

This mask was the Primeval Garb in a different shape.

It was supposed to be indestructible.

Crack!

And yet, it split into two jagged shards.

Thud!

As the mask shattered and hit the dirt.

“What . . . is this . . . ?”

Raiga’s panicked eyes locked onto his.

Gaze filled with revulsion—and pure terror.

And in a heartbeat, he knew why.

[The host’s vitality has dropped below the point of no return.]

[The Primeval Garb’s hidden inscription, ‘Origin of Despair,’ is now active!]