Chapter 292

Chapter 292
Chapter 292

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Who is the Most Powerful?

It was beyond sight.

It was beyond sensation.

No one present could pinpoint the exact second Sansha’s life had been snuffed out.

The only undeniable truth was that a warrior of Sansha’s stature had failed to even command the full attention of the Knight King.

But who, exactly, was Sansha?

“The former title holder was…”

“That titan, ended in a single breath…!”

For those who knew Sansha’s reputation, the shock was paralyzing. His form and execution had been flaws away from the divine. Even those who had ascended by consuming the essence of stars found his speed nearly impossible to track.

Yet, Sansha—the man who had stood as an insurmountable peak to all others—was now nothing more than a corpse on the dirt, his head rolled away, defeated with a triviality that felt almost insulting.

‘Flawless in design, yet lacking the soul of completion.’

Lyca offered a silent critique of the fallen man. Sansha had dominated the Tower of the War God for an age. Lyca had heard the whispers for years—claims that he mastered a multitude of styles with perfect fidelity to their origins.

The man was undeniably a powerhouse, yet he was a titan within a small pond. To claim the title of the strongest while chained to the Tower of the War God carried inherent restrictions. Observing him now, it was clear he lacked the experience of facing an entity truly superior to himself.

This raised a question for Lyca: What if he had been the one standing there?

‘The instant his blade moved, the very fabric of the air was claimed.’

Time within that specific pocket of reality had slowed to a crawl. Wilhelm’s blade had instinctively seized dominion over the surrounding space.

Was that the extent of it?

‘He mirrored Sansha’s own energy back at him with absolute precision.’

The golden drake conjured by Sansha had been a manifestation of terrifying martial intent, capable of leveling a fortress with ease. Yet, Wilhelm had merely gathered that raw power, redirected its flow, and sent it crashing back into its creator.

It was as effortless as a lone finger creating a massive disturbance on a still pond. Lyca recognized it instantly: the zenith of martial efficiency, a supreme art.

‘…The legends of the Knight King were not exaggerations.’

Two Knight Kings stood as pillars in Pangenia: Wilhelm and Lyca. They had never crossed paths. While the world loved to debate their respective prowess, a true comparison had always been a fantasy.

How does one measure the living against the departed? There are boundaries to logic when trying to rank two masters who have never shared a battlefield, based only on theory and ghost stories.

And yet.

‘The deceased has walked back into the light.’

The man the world was certain had perished. His very belongings were scattered across the lands as holy icons. The Empire currently held two of his treasures: the ‘Path of Light’ and the ‘Holy Path,’ offered as the ultimate rewards for this very competition.

It defied every law of reality. But after witnessing the fall of Sansha, there was no room for skepticism. The man was, without question, the Knight King Wilhelm.

Huuuuup.

Lyca’s lungs burned, and his palms grew slick with anticipation. He felt the urge to strike at this very moment. He craved the exchange of steel!

“Will you… accept my challenge?”

However, a different figure stepped into the gap.

……The Pure White Knight, Serengeti.

With eyes burning with a chaotic mix of feelings, she leveled her blade at the sovereign she once served. Wilhelm responded, his voice shifting to a tone far removed from the coldness he showed Sansha.

“If the blade is yours, I will always receive it.”

Serengeti’s resolve flickered. He was kind. Just as he had been in the old days. It felt as though she was facing the Wilhelm of the past, who had never turned away her training strikes.

Though her mind was a storm of questions, she remained silent. A warrior’s true words are found in their steel.

“……Then, I am coming.”

The words had barely left her lips.

Sheeeeeeek!

Serengeti coiled her frame like a high-tension spring and lunged, utilizing every ounce of her physical elasticity.

Cha-eng!

Metal bit into metal. At a distance where they could feel each other’s breath, Serengeti poured her soul into every swing.

Cha-eng! Cha-eng! Cha-e-eng!

The onslaught continued for a long stretch. she lashed out repeatedly, striking and striking again without pause.

“Heek! Heek! Heek!”

Serengeti’s breath came in ragged gasps. She couldn’t find an opening. Of course, she couldn’t.

“Did I not instruct you repeatedly to keep your heart out of your edge?”

“……”

“You remain a handful, don’t you?”

“……”

Ah. Serengeti fought back the swell of tears. Now that their blades had met, the truth was undeniable. This man…

He was the massive oak that had always shielded them, providing a sanctuary of shade. This was the Knight King Wilhelm, the man to whom she had sworn her life!

Furthermore, only one person ever referred to Serengeti as a ‘handful.’ In that realization, another truth surfaced.

“That vessel is…”

She had wondered if the Demon King had possessed his old remains, but that wasn’t it. This wasn’t Wilhelm’s original flesh. It carried his presence and his face, yet there was a phantom quality to it. It was as if he were inhabiting a borrowed shell.

It was a nuance only Serengeti could detect, having stood by his side through a thousand duels.

“I entered into a wager with a ‘God.’”

……A gamble with a deity?

Wilhelm had no love for the divine. Despite being hailed as the Goddess’s Knight, he was a man of no faith. This was a secret shared only with his inner circle. Serengeti had to know more.

“What sort of wager…?”

“Whether I can dismantle this Tower in the span of ten hours.”

“……!”

“And this form belongs to the one who acted as my ‘God.’”

“What do you mean…?”

The logic escaped her. A bet with a divinity, using that divinity’s own body as a vessel? Was he a temporary phantom summoned through a celestial medium?

She wanted to pry deeper. She had a lifetime of things to say. But.

“Rest now. You look as though you’ve carried too much for too long.”

Tuk!

Like a marionette with severed cords, Serengeti’s strength vanished, and she slumped toward the stone.

‘A-Ah, no…!’

She tried to look up at him, but her mind was already sinking into darkness. Wilhelm watched her fall, a ghost of a smile touching his lips before vanishing behind a mask of cold iron as he turned his head.

“……I have anticipated a duel with you for a long time.”

His focus settled on Lyca. The Empire’s First Sword. The anomaly who had crushed all opposition on the 25th floor! The peak of mortal potential and the man dubbed the strongest in all of Pangenia.

He lifted his weapon and aimed it at Wilhelm.

‘He has matured. And his spirit remains unbent.’

Internally, Wilhelm felt a surge of pride as he thought of his brief clash with Serengeti.

Serengeti. That impulsive girl was still breathing and carrying his legacy. Back in the Order, she was a constant source of chaos. As the lone woman and the youngest among the elite, she had a habit of being overly talkative only with him, which had led to many awkward moments. Once she started discussing the way of the sword, time seemed to vanish.

He wished he could have lingered in the moment, but his time was a flickering candle. Wilhelm examined his current hands.

—You dog-like God! I will reduce every world you’ve touched to ash!

The dog-like God. The wretched entity that had stolen his body and used it like a tool! That God’s own physical form was what he inhabited now. Through the power of the Throne of the Sun God and a massive influx of Golden Rules, Wilhelm’s essence had been anchored here.

‘Pina. You were the one guarding my soul.’

The twin deities, Rhea and Pina. Rhea had fallen against Ruin and shattered into 32 fragments. Pina had thrown herself into the void to shield Wilhelm’s spirit from the Demon King. Because of her sacrifice, Wilhelm had endured within her will.

He had returned, but he was far from content. Why was he forced to complete the trials of a dog-like God in that being’s place?

—You cannot best Randolph. I have sculpted him with my own hands.

……Without that blatant insult, he might have refused.

Park Hyunmyeong. The God who once puppeteered him. When that man claimed his greatest masterpiece wasn’t Wilhelm, but Randolph, a spark of pure spite had ignited.

But the situation was precarious. Park Hyunmyeong’s vessel was flawed and an ill-fitting cage for Wilhelm’s power. Even reinforced by Golden Rules, the mismatch was evident.

—If it is you… I can place my faith in you. Assist us, Wilhelm.

Karas. That moronic crow had surrendered everything he owned. Even though Wilhelm had never asked for the gesture. People always project their hopes and burdens onto others without permission.

—These humans, Caw!

—The Goddesses… are meddling once more, Caw!

The God of Ill-Omen and the God of Ash. The twin avian deities were repulsed by Wilhelm’s presence. Wilhelm felt the same about them.

Regardless, he had taken the bet. Ten hours of absolute freedom. He would tear through the Tower in that window. Using the intent of the Goddesses, Wilhelm had crawled out of the ‘Gap’ and manifested here.

‘It is more tolerable than I anticipated.’

It allowed him to see his troublesome student again. Even the man named Hudson, for whom Serengeti had such longing, was present.

‘Is this your choice, Serengeti?’

Skeptically, he noted the man didn’t seem particularly formidable; strength should be a man’s foundation, and Hudson appeared incredibly fragile. Yet, he was her choice. Perhaps his strength lay in a realm Wilhelm couldn’t yet see.

‘…Seia. Your light hasn’t dimmed.’

Saintess Seia was unchanged. Her beauty was still blinding, a reflection of an inner grace that surpassed her physical form.

The world had shifted. But the core remained. The principles he lived by and the things he would die to protect were still there.

‘……You dog-like God.’

Was this the reunion you wanted? A chance for peace? Don’t bother. Wilhelm simply wanted the dog-like God to feel his pain. There is no greater violation than having your own body moved by another’s whim.

‘Observe. You have no choice but to be a spectator. See how I use your flesh, and see how your will is ground into the dust.’

It would be a nightmare to endure.

And Wilhelm would be the one to provide it.

Lyca shut his eyes. A kaleidoscope of mental duels raced through his thoughts. From that infinite sea of imagery, he snatched a single blade existing only in his mind.

This was the Heart Sword Domain he had recently unlocked. In an instant, his psychic image flooded the environment.

Chwa-ang!

It was intercepted. Wilhelm struck down the Heart Sword—an attack that should have been invisible and intangible. Lyca wasn’t surprised. He doubled down, focusing his Heart Sword with a singular, murderous intent. The pure desire to end his foe became a blade aimed directly at the spirit.

Chwa-reureureuk!

……Still, it failed. It wasn’t just blocked; the Heart Sword seemed to dissolve, melting away like ice in warm water. It couldn’t even get close to Wilhelm’s center.

‘Circulation, then.’

Circulation was the rhythm of the natural world. Wilhelm held the power to reject anything that didn’t belong to nature. Even a Heart Sword. Without making physical contact, it was impossible to breach that barrier of flow. If he had won with a mental trick he’d only just learned, Lyca would have found the victory hollow.

‘First Gate.’

Lyca abandoned restraint. Using the secret arts of the Eight Excellences against another human was usually forbidden. He hadn’t even unleashed them against the Golden Goat in the Empire. But Wilhelm, a man back from the grave, was beyond such rules.

Hwa-aaaaak!

Lyca’s skin burned a deep crimson as the first seal cracked open.

Kwareung!

The floor shattered under his first step. Lyca’s blade moved with the speed of a lightning strike, aimed at Wilhelm’s shoulder.

Chwa-ak!

Yet, the blood that sprayed was from his own right arm. Despite his readiness, he had been countered. Wilhelm hadn’t merely parried; he had invited the strike into his flow, absorbed the momentum, and redirected the edge in a seamless reversal.

“…Heh.”

It was baffling. He had never faced a style so liquid. The raw power of the First Gate was meant to be absolute. Even a titan should have buckled. But that rigid, overwhelming force had been neutralized by pure softness.

Yet, in that failure, a realization struck. A wide grin split Lyca’s face.

‘I’ve won.’

……Because in this specific battle, he knew now that losing was an impossibility.