Chapter 1071
Chapter 1071
—That miserable deity refuses to pay any heed to his own worshiper! Has he genuinely kicked the bucket or what?
Wrath fixed the notification with an intensely furious scowl while hurling relentless profanities at the demon god.
‘He is pushing his luck a bit too far…’
Raon shook his head, half-worried that the monarch might actually draw down celestial wrath, and turned his attention toward the floating system window.
[A monumental feat of historical proportions has been accomplished.]
[Every single attribute rises by 100 points.]
Naturally, the very first notification concerned stat growth.
‘At this point, raw attribute increases don’t carry the weight they used to.’
His physical capabilities already stood at the absolute apex, even when measured alongside other Transcendents. Having blown past mortal thresholds to stand shoulder to shoulder with the ranks of Angels and Demons, mere numerical gains rarely piqued his enthusiasm anymore.
‘Even so, receiving a hundred points in one go is a whole different matter.’
With a hundred-point surge flooding his system simultaneously, a vivid transformation rippled through flesh and bone that had seemingly met their absolute ceiling.
A wave of pure exhilaration washed through him, strongly evoking the sensations from his novice days when he first seized and ingested portions of Wrath’s power.
—Even as I spoon-feed you raw strength, you dare maintain that attitude!
Wrath knitted his brow in utter irritation.
—You linger in an indefinite threshold right now, but once you crush through that ceiling, an entirely separate expanse will unveil itself.
The little demon shook his tiny head, asserting that the mortal vessel had by no means reached its ultimate culmination.
—Discipline yourself so that the flesh commands its own motion, rather than merely waiting on commands from the mind.
Wrath reached out and poked Raon right between the eyes, admonishing him to never disregard physical cultivation and parameter enhancements.
‘Does that mean you plan to keep supplying me with attribute boosts until that day arrives?’
Raon let out an amused chuckle and cocked his head slightly.
‘Much appreciated. You truly are the tree that keeps on giving.’
—Wait, what? Hey…
Wrath’s eyes went completely blank for a second before he leaped up, thoroughly startled.
—Not on your life! You won’t squeeze another speck of power out of me ever again!
He flailed his small arms frantically in the air, telling Raon to cease with the absurd jokes immediately.
‘He never fails to be amusing.’
Smirking, Raon directed his gaze down toward the succeeding notification.
[The brand-new trait has been manifested.]
The second revelation was the creation of an entirely fresh trait.
‘Now what could this do?’
Riding a wave of genuine curiosity, he inspected the operational mechanics behind the new ability. mitigated hemorrhaging from open wounds while vastly accelerating the bodily synthesis of fresh blood. Having finished reading through the description, Raon casually clicked his fingers together.
‘This is exceptionally practical.’
Armed with such a trait, sustaining grievous injuries amid brutal skirmishes would no longer cause rapid blood loss, allowing him to extend his combat endurance well beyond his previous limits. It could hardly be more suited to his style.
—Ugh…
Wrath’s pupils quivered as he peered at . It seemed nothing about the trait brought him even the slightest pleasure.
[Trait has advanced in tier.]
[Trait has advanced in tier.]
[Trait has ascended by two stages.]
[Trait <Snow Flower’s Veil> has advanced in tier.]
[Trait has advanced in tier.]
[Trait has advanced in tier.]
[Trait has advanced in tier.]
[Trait has advanced in tier.]
[Trait <Asraka’s Fighting Spirit> has advanced in tier.]
[Trait <Heaven’s Kill> has advanced in tier.]
[Trait has advanced in tier.]
[Trait has advanced in tier.]
—W-why on earth are there so bloody many!
Wrath ground his fangs together, grumbling that simply scanning the massive cascade of upgrades was making his neck stiff.
‘To be fair, even I have to admit the list is enormous.’
Given how agonizingly drawn-out the confrontation had been, coupled with how every single second stood perched on a knife’s edge of lethal peril, it was natural for an abundance of traits to break through their previous thresholds. Even so, the most crucial update had yet to emerge.
[You have earned the heartfelt appreciation of the departed spirits.]
[The trait <Soul (Spirit) Sword> has transitioned into the independent trait .]
The lingering souls tethered to the Blade of Requiem had bestowed upon him an invaluable parting treasure before dissolving from the mortal realm. At long last, he could manifest and deploy the Soul Sword without relying on the physical blade.
‘Of course, mastering it again will demand relentless effort.’
Because Soul Sword had reset its mastery tier back to the preliminary 1-star rank, its destructive output had dipped substantially, and manipulating it would prove far more delicate.
Still, having already traversed this exact journey once before, ascending back to those heights would be well within his capabilities.
—Now that is a proper attitude.
Wrath abruptly struck a grand, self-important pose, lifting his chin high into the air.
—A true Sovereign does not cry over what has slipped through his fingers; he concentrates on refining the instruments that remain in his grasp!
He gave Raon a hearty clap on the shoulder, insisting that he etch that principle deep into his memory.
‘Understood…’
Once upon a time, he would have instantly brushed it off by reminding the monarch that he had no ambition of becoming a King, but over time, his inner nature and outlook on things had undergone significant shifts.
‘And now, the final piece.’
—Still more? You’re telling me there is another one?
Wrath began flopping about frantically like a stranded fish, wailing that his mind was about to snap.
‘This is genuinely the last one.’
[A unique title, , has been bestowed.]
‘Soul Slayer?’
Judging by its designation, the title appeared to be the fruit of severing the life of the Leader of the White Blood Religion via Soul Sword. All the same, accepting the distinction sat slightly awkward with him, considering he had merely delivered the conclusive Soul Sword strike while Rimmer and the multitude of wandering spirits had shouldered all the preliminary burdens.
—What kind of idiotic drivel are you babbling now!
Wrath wrinkled his snout into an irritated scowl.
—If you intend to wallow in that sort of cowardly guilt, then cough back up every single morsel of power you’ve purloined from me so far!
The little demon let out an aggressive snarl, insisting that he himself had never once received an ounce of fair recompense.
‘He has a point there.’
A subtle grin touched Raon’s lips as he nodded. It seemed Wrath, in his own peculiarly prickly fashion, was attempting to bolster his spirits. Drawing reassurance from the monarch’s blunt retort, he brought up the detailed documentation for the title.
A distinction awarded exclusively to martial masters who have cleaved the metaphysical soul of a foe using a blade forged purely from mental intent. Marginally enhances the sheer devastation and velocity of blades born from mental force.
A soft gasp of admiration escaped Raon the moment the mechanical description registered in his mind.
‘This is monumental.’
Soul Sword represented an exquisitely lethal martial discipline capable of settling life-or-death clashes in the blink of an eye. Even a marginal elevation in its cutting speed and raw potency could bridge the gap against adversaries previously thought unreachable, making this reward nothing short of staggering. Looking at the long trajectory of his path forward, this singular distinction might very well stand as the most impactful reward gained today.
—W-why would that blasted system hand over something like this!
Wrath shrieked the exact instant he finished scanning the title’s parameters.
—To forge an achievement of that caliber requires draining an absurd quantity of my very own essence!
He launched into a tirade against the cosmic framework, demanding to know whether it had entirely lost its sanity.
‘Weren’t you just lifting my spirits a moment ago, only to flip your stance this quickly?’
—Lifting your spirits? Lifting them?! When did I ever do anything of the sort!
Wrath scrunched his features, vehemently denying that any such sentiment had crossed his mind.
‘Hah…’
Raon exhaled an empty breath.
‘So that was what you truly felt all along?’
Evidently, Wrath had not been offering encouragement earlier at all, but rather pure, unadulterated ridicule. Whatever warm affection Raon had momentarily felt toward the creature evaporated into thin air.
“Good grief…”
Just as Raon let out a soft murmur with lowered eyes, the heavy entrance of his chamber creaked open, and Evelyn stepped inside, garbed in an impeccably pressed maid’s attire.
“Ah…”
Raon’s eyebrows twitched into a subtle frown upon noticing her.
‘Of all the people to walk in, why Evelyn?’
He had hoped to carefully catalog the notifications and map out his cultivation regimen in peace, but Evelyn’s arrival practically guaranteed things would spiral into chaos.
“I see your eyes are open.”
Yet, defying his fears of a boisterous outburst, Evelyn moved inside without raising her voice, gently pressing the wooden door shut behind her.
“Eh?”
Raon shifted back instinctively, unnerved by the unsettling curve of her lips.
“What is the reason for shutting the door…”
“Simply because I wished to keep you entirely to myself the exact second you returned to your senses.”
Her radiant, flawless smile looked to him like an utterly bone-chilling smirk.
—That completely deranged female…
Wrath tucked his tail between his legs, refusing to even cast his gaze toward Evelyn.
—She dropped by every single day, keeping her eyes glued onto your face without blinking for twelve uninterrupted hours. I genuinely believed my heart would stop from absolute terror!
He let out a raspy wheeze, claiming that the maid’s possessiveness had outstripped the sins of Lust itself.
‘Ugh…’
The moment Wrath’s revelation reached his ears, a frigid tremor raced straight along Raon’s spine. Reflecting on it now, he vaguely recalled hearing her delightfully joyous voice echo faintly in his ears even as consciousness fled him back within the White Blood Religion’s stronghold.
“M-Mother! Father!”
He blurted out calls for his parents like an abandoned toddler, but not a single sound stirred from beyond the room.
“I took the liberty of casting an acoustic dampening ward.”
Evelyn lightly rested a slender leg onto the mattress, whispering that they ought to pass some wonderfully blissful moments in company.
“Uh… wait, hold on!”
Raon blurted out, rapidly retreating further against the headboard. A sudden stroke of inspiration struck him to derail her advance.
“C-Come to think of it, what unfolded following my collapse? What became of Darkan? And how did the Head of House fare?”
He hurled inquiries about the aftermath of the battlefield in a desperate bid to steer her fixation elsewhere.
“Hmm…”
Evelyn froze mid-stride, her lips pursing into a mild pout without offering an immediate reply.
“I am forbidden from discussing those matters.”
“Pardon? Why on earth not?”
Raon blinked in astonishment.
“Grandfather specifically declared that he would convey the details to you with his own mouth. He requested that you make your way to the Lord’s Manor the second you regained consciousness.”
Evelyn let out an audible, sorrowful sigh, admitting she lacked the authority to overlook Glenn’s direct orders.
—Good heavens, this wretched clan houses yet another lunatic obsessed to the core…
Wrath gasped sharply as realization hit him like a physical blow.
—That ancient coot with a grandson-fixation! During the alternate twelve hours when that madwoman wasn’t pacing the floor, that old fossil was occupying the seat right beside your head!
The cataclysmic strife had reached its terminus, leaving a desolate hush draped across the central grounds of the White Blood Religion Headquarters. From the soil where the pools of bleached gore had melted away, a scarlet mist slowly gathered and began to rise.
[…annihilate them.]
A youthful woman’s chilling murmur resonated softly through the churning vapor. The cadence dripped with unadulterated venom and slaughterous intent.
[I shall butcher every single wretched one of them!]
It was undeniably the voice belonging to the Leader of the White Blood Religion. The lingering psychic remnant she cast into the world the moment her soul shattered had pulled itself from the depths of the earth, guided by its own malice.
[Once I rebuild my supremacy, Raon Zieghart and Martha Zieghart… no, I shall eradicate the entire bloodline of Zieghart from this earth. And Derus Robert! You will follow right after them!]
The Leader’s residual will radiated a staggering depth of rancor, craving nothing less than the absolute ruin of both the Zieghart lineage and the wider world. With a sharp rush of wind, the crimson fog coalesced into the silhouette of a bat and soared directly toward the sky.
[I belong to the eternal, exalted bloodline…]
Yet, the moment the creature unfurled its leathery wings and darted into the canopy fringing the adjacent port city, a dazzling lance of pristine white radiance erupted from beneath the foliage, skewering the Leader’s manifestation straight through the core.
[Screeeech!]
A piercing wail tore from the Leader’s psychic remnant as it tumbled violently to the dirt.
[Ughh…]
Convulsing in agony, the creature angled its perception upward, only to witness a figure crowned with waist-length pale hair stepping out calmly from the tree cover.
[You… it’s you!]
“You emerged precisely as anticipated.”
Lawrence. The man who had embedded himself deep within the Holy Sword Alliance with the solitary ambition of hunting down the Leader of the White Blood Religion, tilted his jaw.
“Your persistence to cling to life surpasses anyone I have ever known.”
A mocking curve graced his lips, having accurately predicted that her remnant will would attempt an escape.
“Granted, I hardly envisioned that only a hollow psychic trace would endure, devoid of even a true soul shard. It seems Raon’s Soul Sword functioned with remarkable precision.”
Lawrence clicked his tongue with a faint edge of dissatisfaction.
[H-how did you discover this place…]
“I am here simply because I am who I am. Because my understanding of your wretched nature runs deeper than anyone else’s.”
He gave a slight, freezing shake of his head.
“Ah, but existing merely as a disembodied echo, perhaps such logic is beyond your comprehension?”
Lawrence scoffed, reaching down to snare the fluttering, bat-shaped vestige of the Leader within his grasp.
“Left unhindered, you might have managed to piece together a fresh soul by feeding on the hatred and blood of mortals to regain your might, but your journey ends here.”
A merciless smirk crossed his face as he tore the bat-shaped Leader’s wings from its torso and ignited them to cinders.
[Screeeech!]
A horrifying scream of sheer torment burst from the residual trace of the White Blood Religion Leader, practically indistinguishable from the shrieks her living flesh would have produced.
[W-wait! Stop! I have the means to…]
The lingering presence flailed in utter panic, bleeding out faint traces of sanguine aura in a frantic bid to preserve its existence.
“Silence. Simply cease to be.”
As Lawrence unleashed the brilliant, snow-white flames coalescing within his palms, the Leader’s remaining echo began to combust violently alongside its chimeric bat vessel.
[Aaaaargh!]
“Denier Zieghart’s judgment was spot-on. A monster like you should never have drawn breath in this reality.”
With words steeped in solemn finality, Lawrence silently observed the ultimate vestiges of the White Blood Religion Leader dissolve into absolute nothingness.
“Haa…”
Lowering his eyelids, Lawrence expelled a profound, heavy breath that seemed laden with the weight of decades, as though countless conflicting sentiments were colliding inside him all at once.
“Is this truly the end of it…”
Rector materialized from the shadows behind Lawrence, his voice carrying a subdued rumble.
“Will this solitary act bring you genuine closure?”
He narrowed his gaze, quietly questioning whether Lawrence’s heart would truly find peace with this.
“The authentic incarnation was slain by Raon and Martha, whereas the thing you just snuffed out was merely a hollow echo. Even had it slithered into the shadows to regain its strength, the entity born from it would have been fundamentally distinct from the Leader.”
Rector furrowed his brow, visibly troubled that Lawrence might feel cheated out of his rightful vengeance.
“This suffices.”
Lawrence brushed off his sleeves, an air of tranquil closure settling over him.
“The bonds tying those youngsters to that blade ran far deeper than my own. Merely bearing witness to their culmination granted me all the resolution I required.”
A subtle, knowing smile touched his lips, expressing that watching Martha and Raon prevail in that clash had been enough to settle his spirit.
“Furthermore, neither you nor I were absent from this conflict.”
Lawrence gently stroked his chin, noting that their discreet backing from the shadows had played a vital role in securing triumph.
“Even acknowledging that…”
“Our focus must shift toward the horizon. Derus maintains surveillance in every conceivable corner, which validates our decision to keep the Holy Sword Alliance concealed from this theater.”
Lawrence shifted a steady, resolute gaze onto Rector, urging that their efforts be directed toward the trials ahead.
“The burdens of that future belong to my shoulders alone. They are not yours to carry…”
“You presumed to meddle in the course of my existence, meaning I must meddle in yours to balance the ledger.”
Lawrence snorted dismissively, striding past Rector toward a secluded cavern nestled in the forest’s heart. Laid out across the subterranean stone were figures clad in pristine robes resembling Angels alongside assassins in midnight masks, every single one of them paralyzed with unblinking eyes.
“We must heave these carcasses into the ocean depths, so begin your preparations.”
Until this moment, the heavy congregation of nearby witnesses had made disposing of the bodies impractical, but now that the warriors of the Five Kings had evacuated the region, the path to drowning the corpses was finally clear.
“Very well. It shall be done.”
Even as he murmured his compliance, Rector cast his eyes back toward the desolate ruins of the White Blood Religion Headquarters. A tender, proud smile softened his rugged features as his gaze lingered on the scorched ground where Raon had persevered until the very end.
“You fought magnificently, my grandson.”
‘Considering the hour is this late…’
Raon clicked his tongue softly, observing the silver moonlight cascading through the glass panes.
‘Waiting until daybreak before heading over would be the wiser choice.’
Although Glenn had commanded him to present himself the instant he opened his eyes, heading out in the dead of night felt improper; greeting the Lord’s Manor after the sun rose made far more sense.
‘Having successfully ushered Evelyn out of the room, perhaps I should surrender to sleep again?’
Just as he let his eyelids droop to seek rest, since his physical vessel remained somewhat battered by residual fatigue, the sharp, whistling cadence of blade-wind drifted over from the shores of the nearby lake.
‘Could that be Sister?’
A warm, instinctive smile played across his mouth as he picked up the distinct resonance of the swordsmanship aura he had personally imparted to Sia.
‘Her precision has advanced dramatically.’
Merely judging by the crisp whip of the air, it was evident how far Sia’s blade craft had matured. Given that a prodigy endowed with her sheer talent applied herself with such relentless dedication, rapid progress was only natural.
‘Splendid. Keep pressing forward like that… Wait, what?’
Just as Raon prepared to let the rhythmic slicing of Sia’s sword serve as a soothing melody to drift off, an oddly familiar masculine voice carried over from the water’s edge. Recognizing immediately that the cadence belonged to neither Edgar nor Julius, he focused his internal aura straight into his auditory senses.
“Does the trajectory align like this?”
“Flawless! Your latent talent is positively overflowing! Why, you’re practically treading on your brother’s heels at this rate!”
“Are you serious?”
“I would never jest about such things! How about exchanging a few moves with me?”
Sia and the unknown speaker were conversing with the lighthearted warmth of long-time companions.
‘A spar? Just who on earth could that be?’
Unable to stifle his burgeoning curiosity, Raon pushed the window sash open and slipped outside. Approaching the edge of the lake, he discerned the silhouette of a towering man lingering beside Sia, closely observing the arcs of her sword.
‘The silhouette of that head seems remarkably familiar… Wait, what?!’
Raon’s mouth fell wide open the instant he recognized the man’s posture from behind.
“D-Darkan!”
The exact shape of Darkan’s skull, an image burned into his mind through countless grueling sessions during their beggar training days, was standing right there alongside Sia.
“What under the sun are you doing here?!”
“Ah! So you’ve finally opened your eyes!”
Darkan pivoted around, flashing an entirely bright and breezy grin.
“Your sister’s approach to the sword is thoroughly captivating! Mind if I test her mettle with a friendly bout?”
He offered a casual wave toward Raon, precisely as though greeting a close acquaintance after a brief afternoon stroll.
“Absolutely out of the question!”
Raon could no longer hold his composure, his voice cracking into a thunderous roar.
“You out-of-your-mind lunatic!”
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