Chapter 364

Chapter 364
## Chapter 364

A chill ran through him as he observed the Demon King’s power swelling with every sunrise.

There appeared to be no ceiling to this growth.

Day after day, the monarch demolished barriers and pushed past his own constraints relentlessly.

The current incarnation of the Demon King was a creature that lived for no other purpose than the pursuit of absolute might.

He could scarcely be categorized as a sentient being anymore.

Had the dormant essence of ‘Destruction’—once suppressed by the vessel of Wilhelm and the celestial influence of the Goddess Pina—finally stirred to life?

One reality remained undeniable.

In the entirety of Pangenia, no soul existed who could hope to challenge the Demon King.

Yet, despite his unrivaled status, the Demon King hungered for more strength as if he were perpetually lacking.

That insatiable greed was the source of true dread.

It was a boundless, paralyzing fear.

One could not even guess the heights of power he intended to scale.

Mammon forced his wandering thoughts back to the present.

“I shall deal with the matter immediately. I guarantee the coming incursion will yield results that meet your approval.”

“For your sake, they had better.”

The Demon King’s patience had worn thin following the failures of the previous campaign.

The First Lord Ahram, tasked with the initial strike, had vanished into thin air without launching a meaningful assault, and Isera had met a pathetic and fruitless end.

“I shall… depart now, Lord Demon King.”

Mammon lowered his gaze in a deep bow and began his exit.

He felt the weight of the need to repay the Demon King’s leniency and live up to his expectations.

Every passing moment was of the utmost importance.

As he moved away, Mammon shot a side-long glance at the Seventh Lord, Basara.

‘I will climb past you, and every other Lord standing in my way.’

He had no desire to remain stagnant as the Third Lord.

He viewed this current task as a stepping stone to claim the rank of the Seventh, or perhaps even the Eighth Lord.

The Seventh Lord, Basara, was a particular nuisance among their ranks.

In Mammon’s eyes, she possessed the least amount of reverence for the Demon King.

He found it intolerable that someone of her disposition might enjoy the Demon King’s favor.

“Seventh Lord Basara.”

“…Yes, I am listening.”

Once Mammon had cleared the room.

The Seventh Lord, Basara, was left in isolation with the King.

She remained rigid, her chin tucked low.

The atmosphere was thick with a crushing pressure far more intense than anything she had previously encountered; it felt as though the very air was being squeezed from her lungs.

Fwoosh!

The Demon King was no longer restraining his malevolent energy, using it like a physical weight to stifle the Seventh Lord.

It was a cold, deliberate shift in demeanor compared to how he had addressed Mammon.

Then, the Demon King spoke.

“Are you finding life on Earth to be to your liking?”

“….”

…’Has he seen through me?’

Despite her meticulous efforts to mask her activities, he had clearly perceived the truth.

‘But through what means?’

‘Could it be… that he was aware from the very start?’

‘Even so, he couldn’t possibly grasp the specific intricacies.’

‘I wasn’t so reckless as to leave a trail.’

‘Perhaps he is merely casting a net to see what I reveal.’

However, the Demon King’s subsequent remark shattered her composure entirely.

“A person of your talents would surely have uncovered the origin of ‘Wilhelm’—the essence of ‘Greed’—by now, wouldn’t you?”

“….!”

—

The Knights of the Round Table had returned to life!

This revelation tore through Pangenia like a wildfire.

When the Pope himself verified the claims and issued a formal decree, the resulting chaos was inevitable.

“-What on earth is happening?”
“-Didn’t they perish during the Great Expedition?”
“-I clearly remember reports of them dying with smiles on their faces?”
“-Don’t tell me they just feigned death this whole time?”
“-But why? What would be the point?”
“-Perhaps they were waiting for the emergence of the Tower of Destruction?”
“-And who is leading them now?”
“-Does anyone actually have facts?”
“-This is insane. To think they possess the strength to topple the ‘Tower of Destruction’—a place even the Constellations abandoned…”
“-I checked the World Tree forums, and even they are clueless about the identity of the Round Table’s master.”
“-Is it Phantom?”
“-Don’t be ridiculous. Phantom is Wilhelm. Wilhelm was spotted at the Tower of the War God.”
“-He’s the one who shared the strategy guide.”
“-If it were Wilhelm, the Knights would have confirmed it. He wouldn’t hide it.”
“-The announcement specifically mentioned a ‘new master of the Round Table,’ so it definitely isn’t Wilhelm. Then who?”
“-One thing is for sure: the Seven Heroes Association is finished after pushing all those lies.”
“-LMAO, are those frauds still trying to operate?”
“-What are they even doing now?”
“-Public sentiment is so toxic toward them, they’re likely hiding in a hole somewhere.”
“-Man, this is legendary. I never would have guessed the Round Table was still active.”
“-Where did Ruin disappear to?”
“-Is it possible the Round Table took down Ruin as well?”
“-This is just beyond belief…”

The news of the Round Table’s revival was a cultural earthquake.

It was seared into the collective consciousness so vividly that no one could doubt its reality.

Headlines across both Pangenia and Earth were dominated by the story, placing the Order at the absolute center of global discourse.

Naturally, a specific question began to dominate the conversation.

“-So, does the ‘Order of the Round Table’ answer to the Valan Kingdom?”
“-Aren’t they an arm of the Goddess’s Church?”
“-They follow a new master now, so they must be an independent entity.”
“-If they are free agents, the recruitment offers must be staggering…”
“-Every sovereignty, from the smallest fief to the largest kingdom, is likely scrambling.”
“-I’m dying to know who wins their loyalty.”

The mystery of their affiliation was the topic of the hour.

However, just as that debate peaked, a new piece of information surfaced.

“-Did you hear? The Goddess’s Church is about to appoint a new Pope.”
“-What? Did the current one pass away?”
“-No, word is he’s resigning of his own volition. They’re timing the election to coincide with the Goddess’s Festival.”
“-Who’s the candidate? Is it the master of the Round Table?”
“-That’s unconfirmed, but it seems invitations to the Holy City of Adrium for the festival are being sent everywhere.”
“-Yeah, our city just got one too.”
“-Hold on. Have you seen the guest list? The three major merchant syndicates are all confirmed.”
“-The Iron Kingdom is attending, and even the Empire is sending a delegation.”
“-The Round Table is listed as attendees as well.”
“-So, essentially, the whole world is descending on the city to catch a glimpse of the Round Table, not the new Pope.”
“-I can’t miss this. I have to find a way to get there.”
“-Wow… this is starting to look like a full-scale gathering of humanity.”
“-No kidding…”
“-The sheer scale of this event is going to be historic…”

—

Pledge.

“…Her condition has seen significant improvement.”

Inside a grand chamber provided by the Papal State.

Priest Andrew, having finished his medical assessment, let out a heavy sigh.

In the wake of the Outer God’s defeat and the collapse of the Tower of Destruction, he had undergone a transformation of his own.

The shadow of his former corruption had vanished entirely.

He was now simply a man of the cloth, performing his duties with genuine sincerity and care.

“But… why does she remain unconscious?”

Isabella, who had been watching his every move with bated breath, asked softly.

Her gaze drifted toward the bed.

There lay Sonora, locked in a deep slumber.

Though the grip of the Outer God had been broken, Sonora had not stirred since her rescue.

“Well. Physically, her recovery seems absolute… It is difficult to say. It appears the barrier may be a psychological one…”

Priest Andrew answered, his brow furrowed with concern.

He had administered every blessing and restorative tonic available, yet she remained unresponsive.

Despite her vitals returning to normal, she would not open her eyes.

The likelihood of a deep-seated mental trauma was high.

Priest Andrew shared his theory.

“You mentioned she was confined in a nightmare realm for a vast period of time? It is probable that she retreated into the depths of her own mind after being subjected to such terror for so long. Especially considering the trauma that followed.”

The void between the Abyss and the mainland.

Surviving even a decade in such isolation was a feat beyond human endurance.

The sheer psychological toll must have caused her mind to fracture or hide away.

Furthermore, serving as a physical vessel for an Outer God was an ordeal that would make an immediate recovery almost miraculous.

“Then what can we do…”

“We must convince her subconscious that she is finally out of danger.”

They needed to anchor her back to reality, making her understand that the world outside was real and that the entity that tortured her was gone.

This required constant communication, even if she seemed unable to hear them.

Isabella reached out and tenderly grasped Sonora’s hand.

“Sonora. It’s Isabella. I’m right here.”

As Isabella spoke, her eyes clouded with emotion.

At the very least, she was breathing.

This was a far kinder reality than the years spent believing she was gone forever.

Compared to a decade of mourning… this state of affairs was overflowing with hope.

In that moment, everything felt like the hand of fate.

She wondered what her life would look like if she hadn’t crossed paths with Randolph in that desert outpost.

‘If I hadn’t encountered Lord Randolph… I would have spent my final days never knowing that Sonora was still in this world.’

It would have been a hollow tragedy.

She would have died as a mere pawn for the Desert Queen, never reclaiming her identity or finding her lost kin.

That was the reason.

‘Give me one year of service. In exchange, I will liberate you and help you discover your heritage.’

That had been the original pact he offered.

And it was the reason she remained by his side long after that year had concluded.

Isabella’s devotion to Randolph—or rather, Park Hyunmyeong—had evolved into something unshakeable.

Her trust in him had resulted in Sonora’s rescue and her own personal redemption.

She had every reason to believe in him, and no reason to ever turn away.

“You’ve truly transformed, Lady Isabella.”

Priest Andrew remarked unexpectedly, watching her.

“…You believe I’ve changed?”

“I do. When we first met, you looked like someone who had forgotten how to smile.”

“….”

“To be blunt, I was intimidated to even speak to you… It was so intense that even Lord Hudson admitted to me that he found your presence quite daunting.”

“Was I truly that severe…?”

“I can laugh about it now, but… yes, you were quite formidable. You seem like an entirely different individual now. I mean that as a high compliment, of course.”

“I see…”

Isabella gave a small nod.

For a man as kind-hearted as Priest Andrew to make such a comment, she realized her previous demeanor must have been truly dark.

‘I… have changed quite a bit.’

She knew exactly why that was the case.