Chapter 830

Chapter 830
“What in the world is this…”
The agonizing sensation finally began to fade, yet a strange, unidentified presence continued to entwine itself around him. It didn’t feel hostile, nor did it seem intent on causing him harm. Ghislain was deeply unsettled by this bizarre feeling, unable to place its origin.

Eventually, he connected it to the only thing that felt remotely similar: Resonance—that fleeting, profound vibration one feels when momentarily bound to another soul. Though it lasted only a heartbeat, the sensation was unmistakable.

“Deneb?”

Her name surfaced in his mind without warning. He couldn’t explain why; it was nothing more than a sudden, piercing intuition. Ghislain shook his head violently to clear his thoughts. Now was not the time to be sidetracked by such ghosts. He shifted his gaze back toward the location where Julien and Deneb were stationed.

*Rrrrrumble!*

The gathering shadows were accelerating. The frantic energy of the battlefield had vanished from his senses. In fact, these ominous signs had surfaced even before his duel with Grondal had commenced. Something catastrophic had clearly befallen Julien and Deneb.

Gnashing his teeth, Ghislain began to sprint toward them.

“…Forgive me.”

His initial intent was to prioritize the rescue of the mercenaries. However, since Lionel was positioned along the most direct path, he was forced to stop there first. With Grondal on the move, it was highly likely that the elven forces or the imperial battalions—perhaps both—had targeted the mercenaries. While the dragons had presumably focused their might on Julien, the remaining infantry still posed a lethal threat to his weary comrades.

There was no time to regroup or conduct a wide-scale rescue. The walls were closing in.

*‘Please, don’t do anything reckless—just survive until I get there…’*

Tyron and Osvald had ascended to the ranks of superhumans, and the rest of the mercenaries were formidable in their own right. If they focused entirely on defense, they might hold out. But they were already exhausted from their clashes with dragons, and their enemies were seasoned killers. At this rate, their lives were in grave peril.

If they fell…

A cold, murderous fury erupted in Ghislain’s eyes.

*‘…I will make them pay. Even if I don’t survive to see it, I will ensure someone exacts my vengeance.’*

He would hunt down every last traitor. Fueling his broken body with pure rage, he pushed through the physical agony.

*Rrrrrrrrumble!*

The sky was hemorrhaging darkness, which now flooded the streets of the city. It was reminiscent of the way the Adversary used to exert total control over a space—a faint yet poisonous energy radiating in every direction. Ghislain couldn’t comprehend why this was occurring. The Adversary was supposed to be dead. The war was meant to be over. Yet, the atmosphere here was thick with the very essence that constituted the Demonic Realm.

*‘It can’t be…’*

Ghislain suppressed the terrifying thought before it could take root. Navigating the dense, encroaching gloom, he spoke aloud.

“Astion, we might actually have to sacrifice your life today.”

— *Do it. That is far better than leaving Deneb to rot here for eternity. The others would agree.*

“…Understood.”

He hadn’t managed to link up with his men, and his body was nearing its breaking point. He decided he would serve as the ultimate distraction, pinning the dragons down so that Julien and Lionel could seize Deneb and escape. It would be a slow process, but eventually, those two would find a way to shatter the seal. It was the only viable path. His comrades would live to see justice done.

Ghislain steeled his resolve to face death and ignited the remnants of his power.

*Kwoaaaaaang!*

He tore through the wall of darkness and threw himself forward.

—

“Keurk!”

Julien spat a mouthful of blood, his face gaunt as he surveyed the field. The two dragons he had been fighting had doubled to four; those previously occupied with Lionel and the mercenaries had pivoted to him. Even a warrior of Julien’s caliber could not prevail against four dragons simultaneously.

Yet, he didn’t feel the weight of despair.

*‘Astion… Deneb… please, make it out of here…’*

His goal had always been to facilitate their flight. Everyone else was gambling their lives on that same hope.

*‘If I am the only one who has to die, it’s a price I’ll pay.’*

With that thought, Julien retreated a step, transitioning into a purely defensive stance to buy every possible second. Including Arterion, five dragons were now present. The longer he held their attention, the better the chances for his allies.

Arterion, reading his intent, let out a mocking sneer.

“Hero, are you truly clinging to the hope that the Saintess will slip away?”

“……”

“If that is your prayer, let me shatter it. If she were truly capable of escaping, do you think I would be standing here instead of hunting her myself?”

“……”

“This entire city is encased in a barrier we have been meticulously weaving for days. Neither Astion nor the Saintess will ever leave this place.”

“……”

Julien was struck dumb. They hadn’t just been preparing a seal; they had spent days engineering this entire trap. Had they planned for this specific betrayal from the start? Were they so determined to discard Deneb, the woman who had saved their world?

Julien spun around, desperate to reach Astion and help. But the realization hit him instantly: he was far too late.

“Julien—!”

He looked up toward the sky. High above, Deneb was clutched in the massive claws of a dragon. She was imprisoned within a repulsive, glowing magic circle composed of raw mana.

“Deneb…”

Julien’s eyes fluttered shut. Only two dragons had returned to him. That meant one had stayed behind to deal with Astion. Within that suffocating field of magic, Astion wouldn’t stand a chance.

One by one, his family was being erased. Julien found he couldn’t even summon tears; his heart was simply too full of leaden sorrow.

*‘Ghislain… we…’*

What had been the point of their struggle? They should have stayed in their quiet village and lived simple lives. He could no longer recall the spark that drove them this far, or why he had ever thought this world was worth saving. There had been no grand destiny—they had simply kept moving forward until they reached this dead end.

— *It is like a perfectly written tragedy. A fate that cannot be evaded, no matter how much we struggle…*

The Adversary had spoken of fate repeatedly. Had he seen this coming? The word felt like a physical weight on Julien’s chest. Was this the predestined conclusion? Was all their effort truly meaningless against the momentum of fate?

*Fwaaaaaaaaa!*

Julien’s wounds began to knit back together. High above, Deneb was desperately channeling her remaining divine essence to heal him. But once strength is truly gone, it does not return easily. Even at full health, the odds were impossible. Deneb was a captive, and seven dragons now loomed over the battlefield. Even if the Adversary himself rose from the grave, he could not overcome such a force alone. A Dragon Lord’s power was on an entirely different scale.

Despite the futility, Julien raised his blade once more.

“…Deneb.”

He would give everything to reach her. There was only one path left. To ensure Deneb wouldn’t be used as a bargaining chip against her will, he had to slaughter every dragon in his path. It was an impossibility, but surrender wasn’t an option.

As he gripped his sword and prepared for a final stand—

— [@# the one is…… %$#@]

A ghostly, distorted voice echoed within his mind.

*‘What was that?’*

Julien paused. He had definitely heard a voice speaking directly into his consciousness, though the words remained a garbled mess. It was too fleeting, and his focus was too fractured to decipher it. He scanned the area, hoping against hope that an ally had appeared.

But the city remained a graveyard of shadows. It was as if the sun had been extinguished forever. Julien blinked back his confusion and focused. He must have been hallucinating in his desperation.

*‘There is no one left to help us.’*

The world had turned its back on the Saintess and the Julien Mercenary Corps. Even if Iralniel had experienced a change of heart, it was far too late to matter. He was alone.

Arterion gestured, and the magic circle containing Deneb drifted toward him.

“Saintess, you should be the one to convince the hero to stand down.”

“…Please, stop this.”

Deneb wept, her head shaking in denial. The thought of being entombed in darkness forever was terrifying, but the sight of her friends dying for her was unbearable. They had just won. The war was supposed to be over. They were supposed to be happy.

How had they ended up back in hell?

“Please… there has to be another way.”

Arterion watched her cry. He noticed that even now, her eyes held more grief than hatred.

*‘Is this what it means to be a Saintess?’* Or perhaps it was her innate nature that allowed her to hold the title. For a fleeting second, a sense of guilt pricked at him. But he hardened his heart and spoke.

“I am truly sorry. This is the only way to ensure the world’s safety.”

If any other option existed, they wouldn’t have chosen to sacrifice her. Their respect for her was genuine; every dragon felt a debt of gratitude to the Saintess and her mercenaries for ending the war. But their duty superseded their feelings. Dragons were born for one purpose: to end the conflict with the Demonic Realm. It was their singular reason for existing.

“Saintess, we shall see how long your resolve lasts.”

“Stop… I beg you…”

“I have no desire to kill the hero. Out of all your companions, he is clearly the most precious to you.”

“……”

“But the longer you resist, the more violent we must become. Subduing a man of his caliber requires us to use lethal force.”

Deneb stared at him with trembling eyes, unable to find the words. No one could be expected to calmly accept an eternity of isolation and darkness for the sake of a world that was currently betraying them.

Seeing her hesitation, Arterion issued a cold command to the other dragons.

“Subdue the hero using any means necessary. Break him until he is on the brink of death so we can seize control of his mind. If he dies in the process, so be it.”

The moment the command was given, the dragons readied their power. Julien was a warrior even they could not afford to underestimate. While their numbers guaranteed victory, a prolonged fight was inefficient. They needed to crush him instantly.

They tightened the circle around him until the air itself felt heavy enough to choke him. A freezing, lethal intent filled the sky.

*Kwoaaaaaaaaa!*

Six dragons unleashed their collective breath at the solitary man below. The heavens seemed to shatter, and the ground groaned under the pressure. A cataclysmic surge of mana, bright enough to incinerate the very concept of light, surged toward Julien.

And in that moment—

The mysterious voice returned, ringing clearly inside Julien’s head.

— *…I can help you.*