Chapter: 232

“Don’t stop me!!”

“Then I’ll die.”

Ivan brushed aside Isabelle’s blade and looked around. The troops surrounding them were collapsing like a puppet with its strings cut.

The mana webs were slowly being pulled back.

In such cases, there are two possibilities: either they are gathering strength or preparing to escape. As is typical for spiders, they often retract their webs to conserve their energy.

It was still a point where the nest was not yet complete. It meant they were caught off guard as well.

So, this was the most critical moment. A point to exploit their weakness.

“Isabelle. Stop.”

Clang—!!

Ivan wedged the blade between the axe handle and broke it off, stepping back. He could see Isabel calming down quickly from her excitement.

Her gaze was fixed on one spot. Ivan’s shoulder and left abdomen. Blood was gushing out.

“Ugh— I’m sorry, sir. I momentarily lost focus… Well, honestly, that was also your fault. But… um… is it okay…?”

“Hmm.”

Due to the elevated blood pressure during the body enhancement, he was losing too much blood. His head felt slightly dizzy. He hadn’t paused for blood clotting until now.

Ivan took a deep breath, carefully opened a healing potion, and applied it to the wound with care, as if handling an explosive just before detonation. Sss—. The potion made a peculiar sound as it sealed the wound in an instant.

“It feels like I’m applying hydrochloric acid…”

“This is a healing potion.”

Ivan brushed aside Isabelle’s remark and rummaged through the saddle. Clink, he pulled out two black vials containing transparent liquid.

When he opened the lid, a terrible stench wafted out.

“That doesn’t seem like a healing potion…”

“It’s a deadly poison.”

Ivan replied briefly and immediately drank the poison. Isabelle, shocked, rushed forward.

“You’re insane! Why would you drink something like that!? You’re not a dog, so don’t just gulp down everything!”

“Wait.”

Ivan pushed her away and drank the other potion immediately.

“This is an antagonist.”

“Are you really mixing poison with an antidote? Why…?”

“It’s not an antidote; it’s an antagonist.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“They’re two types of deadly poison that have opposite effects.”

“Why would you…?”

“Because it’s necessary.”

“What about me?”

“It’s not needed for a maiden.”

Naturally, she wouldn’t fall for the charm. Knowing that, there was no need to administer any drugs to Isabelle.

The charm of that entity is mana poison. It’s not something that can be solved with a chemical antidote. It was a toxin that devours mana and dismantles a human’s will.

Then, it could be resolved by the most dramatic drug to awaken the will. Naturally, that means deadly poison. There is nothing that can stimulate will more intensely than survival instinct.

Therefore, he swallowed two types of the potions. Each one was already lethal on its own. The moment the balance of this mix deviates even slightly, it would lead to total body destruction.

This means that he would enter a critical state the moment he loses control of mana or loses his sanity. If he loses his sanity even for an instant due to that entity, he must be able to awaken immediately.

“The preparation is complete. Let’s go.”

“If something feels weird, you must puke it out. I’ll pat your back!”

“Worry about yourself. Did you come for a picnic?”

Isabelle grumbled as she moved her feet. Ahead, towards the huge barracks flying the emblem of the Papal Enclave.

Where the Pope would be. Where the Seven Dragon Lords would likely be.

As they walked, it felt like they were on a path to the king’s throne, guided by the guards without any resistance or noise, quietly reaching the barracks.

Before them, the barrack doors opened gently. A dazed bishop stepped out, and bending deeply, greeted them.

Come in.

A soft voice emanated from within the barracks. A voice that felt both feminine and masculine echoed directly in his mind.

Just hearing that voice clouded his sanity for a moment. Ivan felt the deadly poison writhing within him as he continued to walk.

He saw the small back of the Pope. An old man with white hair knelt in prayer.

Before him was a purple curtain. Beyond it, the silhouette of a slender woman was visible.

“Sir, you’re still conscious, right?”

“Fortunately.”

Isabelle let out a breathless sound. The heavy scent of musk, the aura of the demon realm suffocated the barracks.

From beyond the kneeling Pope, a low voice continued.

Godslayer. The downfall of Abiditas. I do not wish to fight you.

“I find that hard to agree with.”

We have no reason to fight. Unlike those fools who call themselves gods, I have no intention of exterminating humans. I will protect humans and fight against them… I can be your only means.

“There was another being who said such things.”

Ivan tightly shut his blurred eyes and moved instinctively. With the same precise step as always.

This wasn’t the realm of calculations; it was already a realm of embodiment. Even while being aware of the toxins churning within, he didn’t know whether he was speaking or merely thinking.

It was dizzying. The bizarre colors and the scents overwhelming his senses blurred his perception. He gave up trying to respond; it was beyond his will. It was the curse of the Seven Dragon Lords.

But he continued to walk. Not with will, but with certainty. With faith.

In his mind resonated the sound of that entity, quietly disputing from within. Even now, he was constantly picking up the fragmented thoughts, sharpening only his desire to kill, stepping forth.

“That creature is dead.”

Why? I will take care of you. You will thrive more than ever before in history, and I will gift you a safe enclosure and a peaceful world. Isn’t that the essence of the gods you speak of? Is there any reason I cannot do it?

The entity’s voice was desperate. It sounded as if it were not so much under a threat to its life, but rather filled with a sense of regret.

Do not waste this opportunity. I do not wish to fight you. That intention seeped through.

He almost stopped due to the dizziness. At that moment, someone tightened their grip on his shoulder. Glancing back, Isabelle was murmuring continuously with her eyes tightly shut as she moved.

“Maiden, maiden, maiden… it doesn’t work on maidens. Ugh… I’m going to kill him.”

It seemed she was already half enchanted as well. Still, her steps held no hesitation. Ivan leaned against Isabelle’s shoulder and took another step forward.

Did you think there was something wrong with my methods? You aren’t trying to say that humans have free will, are you? Nations, races, societies, religions, economies. You are all merely puppets of something you’ve created, aren’t you?

He continued to walk, unsure whether the thoughts swirling in his head were his own or generated by that entity.

The sense of smell quickly numbs as a sensory organ. Even then, it was being blocked, yet he still felt the heavy musk. He could not even trust his own senses.

This was not a real sensation. It was yet another illusion of the Seven Dragon Lords. Something a human cannot react to.

Why do you think I cannot? Your kings devour dozens or hundreds in a day. Your society casually swallows thousands, and your nation takes tens of thousands in wars. But I only need to consume a few of humanity.

Humans are originally carnivorous creatures that eat humans. You could not develop without exploiting yourselves, could you? You bear the yoke of ethics and laws to oppress yourselves. If all those subjects, all of them, became just me, would that not be so different from the world you have enjoyed thus far?

Godslayer. Truly. I do not wish to fight you. You can die far more usefully than this. Do not hasten your death by opposing me. Your value can be utilized in a better place.

“There’s too much talk.”

Ah, I’m right in my thinking.

As he stepped forward, Ivan finally grew certain.

Passing by the kneeling Pope, he took another step toward the purple curtain.

Now, apart from that entity’s white silhouette, he could not see or feel anything. He could not feel Isabelle’s support.

He did not know if he was lying down or standing. The sensation of moving his limbs felt foreign. The pounding of his heart sounded like the waves from a far-off world.

Yet, he sensed a warmth rising within him. Yes, this is it.

The instinct to survive. The longing for life. The most primal instinct that even the Seven Dragon Lords cannot fully eradicate.

Thump.

His heart beats. Expanding his perception, he feels the blood vessels. The pressure of the aorta receiving blood flow from the heart. Broader, he can hear the cries of the internal organs being infiltrated by toxins.

Blood dripped from his fingertips. With the heightened blood pressure, his eyes turned red. Blood vessels in his eyes burst.

He felt his liver dying. The deadly poison far exceeding lethal doses was destroying his body.

This was it. This was the only sense he possessed, the only sense he could rely on.

The instinct for life.

Even taking steps with the resolve to face death, his body was desperately trying to survive. Feeling that, Ivan unconsciously let out a low laugh.

The Hero has lost the future, the Knight has fallen into flames. The Berserker is immobile, and the Saint has lost God. What strength remains for you now? Why would my other competitors, those beings you call the Seven Dragon Lords, fear you any longer?

They don’t. They are lurking for opportunities, moving even now. The moment you disarm yourselves. They believe there is no better chance than this.

You have thrown away your strongest weapon. You now stand at the brink of annihilation. Thus, I have come. To save you. To prevent the extinction of you humans.

I am the last hope prepared for you.

Will you truly choose to oppose me, nonetheless?

Ivan gazed at the entity, lifting the curtain.

The face that had appeared to be Chernovika warped, becoming Elizaveta, then the features of the late king, and absurdly, the faces of Enrique and the Saint also appeared.

Many other longed-for faces flickered over the entity’s white hair. The emotion felt was singular: pity. Yes, it was pity that the entity was speaking of. As if this was its only mercy.

Ivan looked down at it with his reddened eyes and spoke.

“Humans are terrifying.”

…What?

“You fear humans.”

The Seven Dragon Lords called themselves gods. They possess fragments of gods. Strong enough to still wield sacred power.

When such beings were brought down by mere mortals, the emotions they felt were certainly shock and fear.

Thus, there were no Seven Dragon Lords that directly blocked the Hero Party rushing at the Demon King. Which immortal would willingly reveal themselves, witnessing that even gods could die?

The gods follow the god. The lord of every lord in this world. The greatest monster. The Demon King. It even fell by the Hero’s hand.

The Seven Dragon Lords feared humanity. They were wary of the potential of those beings that could even slay gods. Therefore, after the Demon King’s death, they all hid and fled to the edges of the world.

And now.

With the Hero Party disbanded and each one collapsing over time, they must have thought this.

This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. They must ensure extinction before humanity regains strength.

That is the very proof of fear.

“Your pretense was pathetic.”

Ivan raised his hand. Though he felt nothing grasped in it, it was still straight—firmly as if he were about to swing an axe.

The entity was feigning pity. Just as its kind usually do, it swayed with emotions as bait. Below that, within the black shell, an emotion entirely contradicting that was lurking.

Fear.

The greatest fear held by an immortal. The fear of the unknown, of oblivion and death, something it had never experienced throughout its lifetime.

A looming despair of death.

Toward that.

Step forward.

The right foot moved forward, bearing the weight.

The left foot stepped back lightly.

The weapon held in the outstretched hand aimed directly toward the sky, yearning for the distant heavens.

Senses were sequentially severed. With Clink, clink, the nerves connecting his sensory network were blocked.

He inhaled deeply, breathing halfway out while bracing himself tightly.

Crack—!!

His abdomen twisted. His shoulders screamed as he forcibly pulled beyond the strength granted to him.

In this slow world where even time seemed to be dissipating, countless scents, colors, darkness, fear, chaos and pleasure, dizzying helplessness and overwhelming omnipotence pierced through the blocked senses.

In this elation, as if under the influence of drugs.

He recalled a single thought.

The most powerful strike he had envisioned, the one he had seen, the one he had wished for, the one he had envied.

“The— strike of Maximilian.”

The thought turned into vocalization. Whether intended or not. In a battle happening in the realm of ideas, he quietly remembered a man’s back.

And he lifted his gaze to the sky covered in dark clouds that day.

The man holding the sword while looking to that sky.

“Tear the sky apart.”

The stained glass shattered vertically.

From beneath the split barracks, sunlight poured in.

Among the scattered webs, a white body was splitting and crumbling.

Underneath the sun, the immense monstrosity cloaked in a shell slowly revealed itself.

Now, you have no more chances left.

The monstrosity trembled its jaw as it concluded.

Now, you will have to face the gods.

It clattered and retreated into the darkness. As if hating the sun. Soon, its traces scattered. The musk faded away like a residue.

And Ivan, thrusting his axe into the ground, knelt on one knee.

“Sir!!!”

Isabelle, who had been staring blankly at him, rushed in. Still, Ivan’s gaze remained dazed, staring toward the direction where the entity had vanished.

In the meantime, a low voice resounded.

“Hasn’t it always been so?”

“Pardon?”

“Humans have always lived opposing the gods, haven’t they? Natural disasters, powerful monsters, painful diseases, famine and hunger, wars and death. The names of the gods approaching us have changed each time, but there has not been a single moment where they were welcomed.”

Ivan closed his eyes and spoke. Blood dripped, pattering down his chin.

“But will you surrender? Will you succumb to the inability to resist? No. We overcame diseases to create medicine, built armies to fight monsters, raised embankments to prevent disasters, and advanced agriculture to overcome hunger. We have always reached this point by opposing those gods that covet us.”

Ivan let go of the axe handle.

“So be afraid. Our history has been the process of conquering the gods, and any names of gods yet to be conquered will merely be names to challenge.”

Whether it was a mere thought or a direct utterance, Ivan softly murmured before collapsing.

“Sir!! Sir!!!”

“Isabelle.”

“Yes! Yes!!”

“When the legion regains consciousness, head toward the Papal Enclave.”

To where the fallen spirit of the fleeing god resides.

Towards the throne built by the Seven Dragon Lords.

To eradicate the last remains of corruption left in this southern land.

“What about you! Stay conscious!! The poison! What about the poison!!”

“If I don’t die, I’ll be alive.”

It was a joke.

Ivan chuckled softly as he ruffled Isabelle’s bangs and then fainted.