Chapter 215

Chapter 215
## 215

## Unconquerable

—

Grooooar.

The firmament thundered.

The earth trembled violently.

“…Something is wrong.”

Standing upon a jagged precipice, the Black King directed his gaze toward the origin of the disturbance: the Beyond.

However, the scene manifesting within the Beyond caused even the Black King to tilt his head in sheer bewilderment.

What resided there was Despair.

One of the four legendary entities recognized as the Four Evils!

The beast, which had remained dormant until this moment, had abruptly broken into a wailing lament as if enduring intense agony.

“Aaaah…”

“P-Please, make it stop…!”

Simultaneously, a multitude of insectoid creatures shuddered uncontrollably at the base of the cliff.

These were all monstrosities fortified by the Black King’s unique hidden traits.

Every single one possessed the might of a mountain-dwelling overlord, yet they had surrendered their sanity to the shrieks of Despair.

Paralyzed by terror, they had abandoned all purpose.

They were consumed by hopelessness, reduced to vessels of primal dread.

‘…Phermon. Even you are trembling.’

Then there was the Sovereign of Insects, the Ant King Phermon!

The crowning achievement of the Black King’s ingenuity, evolved into the supreme insect through mutant hidden traits—even he could not evade the influence of Despair’s cry.

He attempted to maintain a facade of calm, but his antennae twitched incessantly.

‘The magnitude of Despair’s power exceeds hidden traits.’

Because of this, one fact had become undeniably transparent.

The Ant King Phermon’s hidden traits were not limited to Mutation.

He also carried the Iron-Blooded Lord’s Heart.

Even that unbreakable willpower, which provided absolute stability in any crisis, was insufficient to withstand the cry of Despair.

This proved that Despair maintained a fundamental superiority over hidden traits.

‘And yet, Despair itself is agitated. What force could possibly provoke such a reaction?’

…

It wasn’t merely the insects that were in a state of unrest.

This was a response of a magnitude never witnessed before.

Precisely what entity could cause Despair to vibrate with such instability?

‘Only a fellow member of the Four Evils could disturb Despair so deeply.’

To the Black King’s knowledge, only the Four Evils were capable of eliciting a response from it.

But Baal was deceased.

There were no indications that the other members of the Four Evils were returning to life.

The marginal chance involving the Four Kings was also dismissed—they had been entirely assimilated, so it could not be their residual consciousness.

Grooooaaar.

Despair persisted in its howling.

A sound saturated with misery, resembling the heartbroken sob of one who has lost something irreplaceable—a cry of infinite grief.

After observing the lament for a long duration, the Black King summarized the condition of Despair in a single thought.

“…Much like a female feline in heat.”

—

“Hah!”

With a jagged, desperate breath, the man lunged into a sitting position.

Saturated in a cold perspiration, he struggled to open his eyes and immediately surveyed his environment.

‘A nightmare?’

Radiant sunlight and a gentle draft entered through the casement.

This meant the darkness of night had already passed.

Which made the situation all the more perplexing.

The recollections of the previous night felt exactly like a dream.

It was inconceivable that they were grounded in reality.

Yet to discard it as a mere fantasy was difficult. The experience had been far too visceral.

‘What did I witness?’

Raiga, the commander of the knights.

As the leader of the Palga, he spent a long moment staring down at his palms.

Had it been a night terror?

His hands shook as if gripped by a palsy.

He attempted to steady them, but the tremors refused to subside.

‘I was certainly at the Palga training grounds.’

He retrieved the memories from the depths of his mind.

The location he frequented every time he visited the imperial palace.

A confidential site accessible solely to the successors of Palga.

In that place, he had encountered someone.

‘Whom did I meet?’

Raiga knitted his brows.

A dim, lingering image.

Fragments of a memory shattered and torn, as though they had been deliberately wiped away.

‘Truly… a goat. I encountered the goat.’

Ugh.

A sharp migraine struck him like a wave of vertigo.

This was his biology issuing a warning.

Do not force these memories to return.

Do not attempt to pull them into the light…

‘I traded blows with the goat. Then, I demolished its exterior.’

Raiga pushed forward with the recollection in spite of the warning.

He had enthusiastically swung his steel against the goat that had finished its Qianghuan.

He had even dominated the encounter and managed to crack its outer shell.

But why?

Why had his subconscious violently suppressed the memories of the previous night?

‘When the shell shattered… what stepped out was not the goat. It was something entirely different.’

What?

What had his eyes seen?

Brrrr!

The convulsions in his frame only intensified.

Crunch!

Raiga ground his teeth and squeezed his fist until the skin turned white.

He, a hunter who had executed countless legends and retrieved shards of ruin, could not tolerate cowering before an unidentified entity.

“Ah.”

Soon, as the memory broke through to the surface, the color drained from Raiga’s face.

Now he grasped why he had regained consciousness in his bed rather than at the Palga training grounds.

“I…”

…

But no, it was preposterous.

Unthinkable.

He had never engaged in such a display since the day he was born.

Gazing out the window with a ghostly complexion, Raiga spoke in total disbelief.

“…Did I… actually flee?”

—

Primeval Armor.

The wooden staff that originally served as the vessel for the first flame possessed no distinct shape.

It was simply an instrument for transporting fire.

Even when tempered with the first flame, it could not adopt the characteristics of protective gear.

However, when merged with the Purified Fragment of Despair, that wooden staff transformed into armor.

Armor.

The invention of mankind, designed to deflect spears, blades, arrows, and the like.

The Primeval Armor pushed that objective to its absolute limit.

It redirected damage back toward the aggressor and provided a defense that was utterly impenetrable.

Yet, that was not the true essence of the Primeval Armor.

[The secondary name etched upon the ‘Primeval Armor’, ‘Primeval Despair’, is now active!]

Primeval Despair!

When the wearer’s condition reached its breaking point, the armor altered its fundamental essence.

Utilizing the Purified Fragment of Despair that gave it physical form, it summoned a completely separate manifestation of ‘Despair.’

Much like Eve being fashioned from Adam’s rib—connected, yet entirely distinct.

-Grooooar.

Raiga found himself unable to move upon witnessing that ‘shape.’

The mere sight of it induced paralysis.

It existed on a plane far beyond any beast he had ever encountered.

“You… are not that goat. What in the world are you?”

One fact was certain: it bore no resemblance to the goat he had been fighting moments before.

It inhabited the goat’s frame, but it was not the goat.

‘…It is a monstrosity that obliterates anything projecting hostility.’

Instinctively, Raiga suppressed his killing intent.

He sensed that even a grain of aggression would trigger its assault.

An entity he could not strike—and must not.

But in the absence of hostility, it remained stationary.

‘The only intent I perceive from it is the desire to protect itself.’

Self-preservation?

No, it felt more akin to guarding something held within.

It must be a guardian that manifested to shield the goat.

‘Like a set of armor.’

If it resembled anything, it was armor that shielded its master.

The abstract, conceptualized version of such protection.

If that was the case, a strategy existed.

If it only responded to malice, he could strike without harboring any.

No thoughts, no purpose.

Raiga shut his eyes and emptied his consciousness.

He allowed his blade to swing according to its own momentum.

“…!!!”

But he could not complete the strike.

Instead, he retreated a step.

“Hah! Hah!”

His respiration became frantic.

Cold sweat drenched his skin.

Just now, within his subconscious, Raiga had witnessed his own demise.

“What is this…”

He could not process it.

Was it not merely interpreting his mind and reacting?

He had discarded all malice, so what was the meaning of that vision?

‘It was no hallucination. Had I followed through with the swing, I would be dead.’

A premonition born from a lifetime of combat and survival instincts.

Even the most microscopic intent to attack, and that horror would have acted instantly.

Not through logic, not through the subconscious—it was impossible.

‘I cannot slay it right now.’

No strategy for killing that monster entered his mind.

…

At least, not at this moment.

‘It cannot sustain that form indefinitely. It is incinerating all of its mana.’

Yes. He simply had to be patient.

Until the transformation concluded.

It would not take long.

It was draining mana at an astronomical rate even now.

However, he soon realized that line of reasoning was flawed.

‘Time…?’

Everything decelerated.

It felt as though time itself had ground to a halt.

And it was more than just that.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

In that suspended moment, his heart hammered against his ribs as if it might explode.

His mouth went dry, and tremors seized his body.

The images of his own execution replayed without end in his mind.

That entity would not even permit him the luxury of waiting.

After what felt like an eternity of hours,

‘Curse it.’

…

Raiga was left with no choice but to retreat further.

No solution manifested.

Unconquerable.

Regardless of how he analyzed it, the only method to defeat ‘that thing’ was to kill the host before it could emerge.

Conquering it while in that state was a mathematical impossibility.

Raiga backed away ten more steps, then pivoted and fled the vicinity entirely.

He barely managed to return to his private quarters.

‘Why won’t it stop?’

Even after erasing his malice and his desire to kill, nothing changed.

Distance provided no sanctuary.

The despair radiating from the monster refused to dissipate.

To make matters worse, the visions of his death continued to haunt him.

Raiga suffered in silence for a long time.

Only one path remained.

Wipe the memory away completely!

Stay far away until a different method of conquest could be discovered.

But the issue was…

He had remembered it.

He had stubbornly pulled it back the moment he woke up.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

His pulse quickened once more.

The manifestation of Despair, the sight of his own end—they refused to leave his thoughts.

Raiga’s face twisted in a pale grimace.

“…Goddamn it.”

—

He opened his eyes within his chamber.

The night saturated with the Great Moon’s Will had come to an end.

‘My head is throbbing.’

He gave his head a firm shake.

…

He recalled the battle with Raiga, having fully integrated the memories of Wilhelm.

The final memory was the activation of Primeval Despair.

Everything that followed was a total void.

Knock. Knock.

That was when the interruption occurred.

While he was organizing his thoughts, someone rapped on the door.

“Who is there?”

“An initiate of the Palga Knights.”

…

A voice he recognized.

This was certainly Isabella.

Why had she arrived at such an early hour?

“Enter.”

Creeeak!

The heavy door swung open, and as he expected, Isabella stepped inside.

However, he could not show that he recognized her.

Raiga might have dispatched her with a hidden agenda.

Even if that wasn’t the case, there were too many observers.

“What is your purpose?”

Adopting a mask of indifference, he questioned her, and Isabella spoke slowly.

“The Captain requests your presence.”

“The Captain?”

“Captain Raiga has summoned you.”

He hadn’t misheard her words.

Yet he could not fathom what intentions Raiga, the leader of the knights, had in calling for him.

They were hardly on amicable terms after their duel.

Furthermore, with no memory of what happened after Primeval Despair was unleashed, meeting Raiga in this state could be a death trap.

“If he has business with me, inform him that he should come here himself.”

He could not permit himself to appear as a subordinate being summoned.

If the Golden Mask or any other leaders of the Reaper Church discovered this, it would cause unnecessary doubt.

Thus, he offered a firm rejection.

“…I will deliver the message.”

Isabella retreated without any sign of resistance.

…

This behavior was also strange.

Summoning him, yet yielding so effortlessly?

Was the matter not urgent?

Even if it was, he had no intention of moving now.

Publicly, he was a high-ranking member of the Reaper Church, and the Palga Knights were the Church’s sworn enemies.

Within the confines of the imperial palace, where eyes were everywhere, he would not move of his own accord.

But as if to prove his assumptions wrong,

“…Let us have a word.”

…

Raiga, the captain of the knights.

He had arrived in person.

It had been less than five minutes since Isabella’s departure.

His eyes held a look that was almost desperately pressing.