Chapter 387

Chapter 387
## Chapter 387: End of the Line

“…The victor is Sir Isabella of the Knights of the Round Table!”

Kasim’s brow furrowed in a deep scowl. He had entered the arena with the absolute conviction that he was untouchable. He had been so certain of his invincibility that he believed even an intentional loss would be impossible! Yet, the reality was a bitter pill to swallow: he had just been beaten for the third consecutive time.

‘How can this be?’

The logic escaped him. The Knights of Radiance were entities of the same nature as Kasim himself. Since they shared the same peak level of combat mastery, it stood to reason that no mortal in the human domain should be able to stand against them. In truth, he could see that this woman, Isabella, did not actually possess his level of raw technical skill.

And yet, he had fallen. He had been conquered despite holding a clear advantage in ability. What haunted him most was the lack of an explanation. His power, his kinetic responses, and the profound complexity of his blade-work were all vastly superior, yet the result remained unchanged.

“That’s three wins in a row for her!”

“Isabella? I’ve never heard that name before today.”

“She’s taking down knights that even Sir Serengeti couldn’t touch, one after another…!”

“Ha, she must be some secret weapon hidden away by the Round Table.”

The crowd was swept up in a fervor. Every soul gathered within the Holy City Adrium watched in awe. Isabella’s massive blade seemed to be carving out miracles in real-time. But their fascination wasn’t limited to her martial prowess.

“She is stunning…”

“I can’t look away from her…”

“She’s like a solitary blossom growing on a jagged cliffside.”

It wasn’t merely Isabella’s spirit that had evolved; her entire being had been transfigured. She bore no resemblance to the woman who once ruled the desert city as the Snake Princess. Her time governing the desert city of Paisalmer had granted her an untouchable dignity, and through a gauntlet of hardships and spiritual breakthroughs, her physical form had reached a state of total refinement.

The alignment of her frame and musculature had achieved a flawless, geometric perfection. Her radiant, flawless complexion and her stature surpassed the elegance of any high-born lady. Since the rescue of her companion Sonora, her gaze had gained a newfound depth of tranquility. There was no longer any burden that could shake her, nor any obstacle she could not surmount.

—You have transitioned into a celestial body yourself, my child.

These were the words of her patron star, Jormungandr. Isabella had become a star in her own right—a brilliant source of light that radiated outward to cover the world. Within the realm of Pangenia, there was likely no other being who shone with such intensity. She had reached a state of internal and external completion.

—You are truly magnificent.

Perhaps that was the source of her magnetism. Isabella now radiated a peculiar allure that commanded the attention of everyone present. It was a presence so potent that even Jormungandr recognized it. Yet, it was a beauty that inspired distance rather than approach—a true flower on a cliff, breathtaking but unreachable.

“…”

This magnetism was even potent enough to pierce the ego of the demon of Pride. King Friedrich, the ruler of the Iron Kingdom, found himself staring at Isabella with a look of utter bewilderment. Such a thing should have been impossible. He was the personification of Pride; he was a being who viewed himself as the pinnacle and regarded all others with disdain. His self-love was so total that he rarely deigned to truly notice another person.

‘Have I… lost my focus to her?’

Pride snapped back to his senses, his expression darkening into a grimace. He found it hard to stomach the fact that he, the avatar of Pride, had been staring mindlessly at a human woman as if under a spell. For a being who had existed for countless ages, this was a jarringly alien sensation. Was it because of her streak of dominance over the Knights of Radiance? No, the truth was far more elementary.

It was because she was beautiful. Because she possessed a quality that he lacked.

‘I must… possess her.’

He wanted to taint that purity. He wanted to shatter her spirit and claim her for himself. As Isabella continued her sequence of duels, that dark craving only intensified.

“Next to face the challenger: Sir Alberto of the Knights of Radiance!”

The moment the herald announced the name, Sir Alberto stepped into the ring.

“Wait, isn’t Alberto the second-in-command?”

“The hero who supposedly lopped off the left arm of the malevolent deity…!”

The spectators erupted. Even if the other knights were obscure, the names Kasim and Alberto were legendary, guaranteed a place in the annals of history. The crowd leaned in, breathless to see how this clash would conclude.

“…Ah.”

It happened then. Just as she came face-to-face with Alberto, the vice-captain of the Knights of Radiance, a sudden change took hold. Isabella’s frame began to shudder uncontrollably. The instability didn’t stop there.

*Clang!*

Her fingers went slack, and Isabella let her blade slip. A collective gasp went through the crowd as the weapon hit the stone. For a warrior to abandon their steel while facing a foe was unthinkable. Was she paralyzed by dread? Had the exhaustion of the previous fights finally broken her?

“No…”

Isabella gripped her own shoulders, her knuckles white. She sank into a low crouch, her trembling growing more violent as she stared at the floor in a state of visible terror. Something catastrophic had occurred—something that defied the natural order of her world.

She had always felt the presence of the man who had molded her into the woman she was today. She had been constantly aware of a spiritual link—a thread of providence that bound them together. That connection had been her anchor, allowing her to endure every trial. She had only recently escaped the solitary confinement of her internal darkness, learning to feel the light and voice her soul.

But now, that bond had snapped. There was only one event that could cause that thread to sever.

“N-no… it can’t be…”

Tears blurred Isabella’s vision, yet her mind recoiled from the truth. She could not accept the devastating reality of Park Hyunmyeong’s passing. She sensed the void moments before anyone else could perceive it. And in that instant, her world was swallowed by shadows once more.

—

The magnitude of the power within the Golden Spirit was overwhelming. Even without fully integrating its essence, Mammon was no longer the entity he once was.

“Basara! You were always the one I detested most!”

The Third Lord Mammon, drunk on this new divinity, exerted crushing pressure on the Seventh Lord Basara. Under normal circumstances, Basara was peerless; she only sustained harm from those for whom she felt a genuine emotional spark. However, the situation had changed.

‘The fundamental rules are being bypassed.’

The energy emanating from the Golden Spirit existed on a vastly superior plane of existence. It was actively deconstructing her nature and manually overriding the conditions of her invulnerability. This was no mere elemental.

‘The Golden Spirit is a titan with the standing of a Chief God.’

The title of Chief God was reserved for the foundational deities who served as the core of the pantheon. It was whispered that even Ruin found it difficult to permanently eliminate a Chief God. The two goddesses were examples of this rank. While the goddess Pina had perished at the Demon King’s hands, she had already been stripped of her status, falling below the level of a minor deity. But the Golden Spirit currently manifesting was a different story; it possessed the undiluted authority and power of a Chief God.

Because of this, Basara couldn’t even attempt to replicate its essence. Decoding such a force was beyond her reach. The Golden Spirit was a mathematical impossibility for her skills. Yet, as the Seventh Lord, Basara was not one to fold.

“You always treated me with contempt. To a grand Dragon God, a lowly spirit like me must have seemed like dust, didn’t I?”

“…So you’ve recovered those memories as well.”

The Golden Spirit had a way of forcing one to confront their own hidden truths. In his origins, the Third Lord Mammon had been a common spirit until the Demon King elevated him to a primal state. Mammon had lacked those memories previously, likely because that knowledge served no purpose for him.

“I have touched the ultimate truth. I have become the truth itself.”

Mammon’s eyes burned with a piercing gold light. A swarm of lesser golden spirits circled him, radiating a constant glare that hemmed Basara in. Each time a ray of that light grazed her, Basara’s protective “condition” drifted closer to dissolution.

“Ghk, g-g-ghk—!”

Suddenly, Mammon’s body began to contort. He had channeled a volume of power that his vessel could not contain, and he was beginning to lose control.

*Rumble!*

*BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!*

The discharge of light grew exponentially, a chaotic force of pure annihilation that threatened to unmake everything it touched.

“I-I-I…!”

A primal spirit, regardless of its strength, was an insufficient container for the full might of a Chief God. Basara unleashed her demonic aura in a desperate bid to contain the fallout.

‘If this continues… there will be nothing left.’

The destruction wouldn’t be confined to this void; Earth itself would be erased. She doubted there was anything in existence capable of halting the Golden Spirit’s rampage. She had to intervene. She had to end it right here.

*CRACK!*

In that desperate moment, a figure burst through the wall of the subterranean chamber. A rider appeared on horseback. Basara stared in confusion.

“…The Sunken Emperor?”

His presence was an anomaly. He should have been unable to breach the Golden Spirit’s sanctum. The Sunken Emperor remained perfectly still, his gaze fixed on Mammon and Basara as if he had anticipated this exact crisis. He wasn’t alone, either.

—O, Golden Spirit!

—We implore you, stay your wrath!

—We have arrived…!

The Spirit Kings had appeared. Agnis of Fire, Um of Earth, and Shandi of Wind—who now also carried the essence that once belonged to Iquerel of Water. However, they were far from their peak. Agnis and Um were diminished to tiny, flickering sparks on the brink of fading away.

*Thump!*

Abruptly, the violent surge of energy ceased.

“…Was this your design from the start, Sunken Emperor?”

Basara finally understood why the Sunken Emperor had struck the guardian of the tomb at the Mountain of Earth. He had seen this coming. His objective had been to gather the Spirit Kings from the various peaks to act as stabilizers for the Golden Spirit. His earlier aggression was simply a means of removing the obstacles to this goal. He was likely the one who had liberated Shandi from the seal as well.

The Sunken Emperor finally spoke, his voice heavy. “The ordeal is far from over.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is merely the opening act. The contractor has perished.”

“The contractor? You mean…?”

“The human who held the pact with the Spirit Kings of Fire and Earth.”

“…”

Park Hyunmyeong was dead? It wasn’t an impossibility given the scale of the conflict; anyone would have struggled to survive. And yet, the news felt heavy and wrong.

“The two Spirit Kings will vanish shortly. Once they do, the Golden Spirit will fall back into its rampage.”

A second rampage would be unstoppable. With the contractor gone, the dissolution of the Spirit Kings was inevitable. They were merely delaying the end. Basara struggled to process the news of Park Hyunmyeong’s death, feeling an inexplicable ache in her chest that she couldn’t identify.

She gritted her teeth and looked at the rider. “…What is the path forward?”

“Invoke your status as a Dragon God. If you speak now, the spirit will provide an answer.”

The status of a Dragon God? Basara shook her head instinctively. She had discarded that identity long ago. She was a biological anomaly who never truly fit that role. She didn’t share the Dragon Gods’ inherent drive to shield the world, and she had never viewed herself as one of them. What could she possibly ask of the Golden Spirit?

Regardless, she pressed the Sunken Emperor once more. “Ask it what, exactly?”

The Sunken Emperor looked toward the ceiling, his eyes inscrutable. Of all the entities in the Abyss, he remained the most enigmatic. His motives and insights were impossible to gauge, yet he clearly possessed knowledge that surpassed everyone else. He seemed to hold the map for what came next.

The Sunken Emperor turned his gaze back to Basara.

“Ask for the way to bring Park Hyunmyeong back to life.”

He spoke the name clearly—a name that, by all rights, he should never have known.