‘It feels distant.’ Vermouth couldn’t help but think so despite being right beside Eugene.
The flames, born from the White Flame Formula, had become something entirely different now. Those clear, intense flames were indeed the divine flames that affirmed Agaroth, Hamel Dynas, and Eugene Lionheart.
Vermouth looked sideways at Eugene while shuddering. Eugene’s eyes blazed like flames as he glared at Destruction. He sensed Vermouth’s gaze and turned his head towards him.
"What's up, you bastard?" Eugene asked with a chuckle. "Think you can do better than now?"
Vermouth blinked several times, taken aback by the sudden question. He couldn’t comprehend Eugene’s words at first, but soon, he recalled something he had said long ago and let out a curt laugh.
"I was wondering what you were on about. Did my words hurt you that much?" Vermouth asked.
"Usually, the one who does the beating doesn't remember. It's the one who gets hit that remembers. Because it hurts,” answered Eugene.
"I said it for your sake,” said Vermouth.
Thinking about it now, there were reasons for those words. But Hamel could not have guessed them at the time.
So, Eugene scoffed and joked, "For me, huh? Fucking hell. Out of nowhere, you smack me on the back of the head, then say, do better, bastard .""I thought that kind of advice was right for you,” responded Vermouth.
Now, it was Eugene's turn to blink dazedly. Indeed. Hearing those words at the time had been incredibly infuriating, but it was those words that drove him to push himself to the limit. But was it truly thanks to Vermouth? Wasn't it Hamel who decided he would one day get back at the bastard for hitting the back of his head? He was the one who had become determined to one day beat that bastard.
"Let's go," Eugene said without a retort.
Of course, voicing such opposing thoughts would only cheapen the moment, and Eugene knew this well. Thus, he put on a serious expression and glared at Destruction. Seeing that determined profile, Vermouth unwittingly smirked. He was simply pleased being able to exchange such trivial banter with his comrade.
"I’ll go first,” said Vermouth. He patted Molon on the shoulder and moved ahead, glancing back at Eugene, saying, "With how you are now, even if I go ahead, you can catch up to me in no time.”
Molon laughed heartily at that. Then, the three of them laughed together in front of the fearsome power of Destruction. Molon stomped the ground and surged forward, laying his axe flat. Destruction's numerous arms and bursts of dark power immediately flew toward Molon. But there was no need for him to swing his axe.
Sienna had cast a spell. A thick beam of light obliterated Destruction’s arms and dark power. Thanks to her swift response, Molon reached the body of Destruction without needing to swing his axe.
Crack!
He swung his axe immediately after, cutting through Destruction’s thick legs. It was as if he were slicing through a giant tree in one fell swoop. Molon spun around amidst the swirling dark power and color. The following strikes sliced off more of Destruction’s legs.
Vermouth moved, too. He crossed the space in an instant and reached the heads of Destruction. While his sword could easily sever destruction's neck without resistance, slicing its heads tens or even hundreds of times would not kill it.
'The weakened heart.' Vermouth and Eugene shared the same thought.
However, targeting the heart didn’t mean they could easily reach it and destroy it. They had failed once already. The spear forged from divine fire had perfectly penetrated the body of Destruction but failed to reach the heart. Even if Vermouth had torn it open and weakened it while exiting from the body of Destruction, the sinister and ferocious waves of dark power were still fiercely guarding the heart.
There was no other way forward. They had to keep slicing. They needed to continue cutting through the thick curtains of dark power before they could drive the divine sword into Destruction’s guarded heart.
It wasn't far now. Eugene could feel that their victory was imminent. The heart had seemed unreachable before, but after Vermouth’s emergence, it was now within reach. But Destruction’s end wasn’t the only thing that was near.
They were inside the belly of Destruction. Waging a prolonged battle here was an impossible feat from the start. If it were merely about holding on, they could last a long time, but they burnt through their energy at an alarming pace as they gave it their all against Destruction. Sienna was already at her limit. Although she forcibly held herself up and continued to cast spells, it wouldn’t be strange if she collapsed at any moment.
"Not yet,” Sienna gasped, feeling dizzy and tasting blood in her mouth. She felt hollow inside. Her grip on Mary felt numb.
And Mary was heavy. For a wizard, to feel their staff heavy was a truly dangerous sign. But Sienna didn't stop. She had already felt the weight of the staff hundreds of years ago. Was this the worst she had ever been? No. Sienna chewed on her lip and forced her hands to move Mary. The Sage's voice no longer reached her. The soul power she had received from the World Tree was fading, and the dark power she had received from Noir, along with her own mana, was nearly depleted.
But this was not the worst yet , Sienna thought again. This was not a dire situation. It was a challenge that could be overcome. Although her strength was exhausted and her body slow and heavy, her mind was clear. Her thoughts were infinitely expanding. Suddenly, there was no dizziness in her head.
Rumblee!
With a roar, the magic Sienna released rained down from above Destruction. Thousands of arms sprouted from Destruction's back and resisted the magical downpour, but the magic infused into its limbs and caused explosion after explosion within Destruction's body.
Sienna coughed up blood and staggered as she barely managed to raise her head. Her vision blurred a bit more. But despite the blurring and shaking, the flames were still distinct.
"It's okay," Sienna said assuringly.
She shook her head and smiled. She could sense Anise and Kristina trying to approach her. Even if they wanted to heal her, her injuries weren’t the kind that could be treated.
Moreover, the Saints were just as strained as her. They were already overwhelmed with just fine-tuning the divine energy that Eugene had unleashed.
"I wish I could watch more, help more,” said Sienna.
She didn't want to collapse yet, but it seemed she had no choice now.
"I know," Sienna said as she smiled faintly and looked ahead.
She saw flames that seemed capable of burning everything. Yet, it was also brilliant and seemed capable of illuminating everything. Although Eugene had stepped forward later than Vermouth and Molon, he was already standing beside Vermouth, severing the head of Destruction.
"I know well," Sienna said as if to herself.
She saw the flames merge. First, Vermouth struck, and Eugene hammered divine fire into the path Vermouth opened. Sometimes, Eugene struck first, and Vermouth covered him.
Sienna knew them too well. She had always watched their backs.
She knew. She knew that with Eugene and Vermouth as they were now, they could do it. Hadn't it always been so? Even against an enemy that seemed utterly invincible, even if it were a Demon King, if Hamel and Vermouth fought together, they could win. It would be the same now. Although Sienna's divinity was not of victory, she was as sure of victory as Eugene.
Therefore, she gathered all the remaining mana and gathered it into Mary. This was the last spell she could use in this battle. Sienna raised Mary high above her head.
She slowly knelt down and brought Mary down. With a thud, Mary stood upright on the ground. Vines wrapped around the staff started cascading down, and petals started to fall. Things that shouldn't exist here were born. Things that could be called symbols of life — grass, flowers, trees — began to sprout around Sienna. A forest was instantly born in the belly of Destruction, where only a void existed.
This was magic that even the wizard Sienna Merdein could never have wielded. Yet, it was a miracle that only she could perform, coloring the belly of Destruction not with ominous shades but with the colors of life.
"Bloom." Sienna’s voice was faint, but it was filled with determination. Her command activated the magic.
Whoosh!
Countless buds and the flowers of trees blossomed. Sienna closed her blurry eyes as she felt the fragrance fill the air.
Boom!
All of Destruction’s legs buckled amid abundant life. Molon took a step back as Destruction collapsed, but he did not glance back. This magic was a miracle wrought by Sienna. All the flowers and plants were swallowing Destruction's dark power and wilting in the process.
This was her last spell. Sienna could no longer cast magic, nor could she fight.
"It’s not enough," Molon said with a wry chuckle to himself.
His end wasn't far off, either. A severed arm wasn't the issue. Being exposed at the forefront to Destruction's toxic power was what afflicted Molon.
He had given his all. He had been desperate. But had he fought enough to satisfy himself? He questioned before laughing heartily. He had split open Destruction’s wound and cleared the path to the core. That was all. He hadn't managed to destroy the heart. He didn't consider cutting off Destruction's limbs several times a significant feat.
Up above, Hamel and Vermouth were fighting together.
'What can I do now?' Molon wondered, then stopped.
That was the wrong thing to ask.
'What should I do?' Molon thought instead.
He recalled what he had done in battles fought alongside his comrades. Molon always took the lead. While he attacked when there were opportunities, his primary role was to receive attacks. Hamel and Vermouth were freed to focus solely on attacking because Molon could take the hits.
To be attacked meant to immobilize the enemy, to render them incapable of movement. His role was to make it easier for Hamel and Vermouth to engage in combat.
He understood. Molon put on a bright smile while lifting his axe. Crack! He severed the rotting legs of Destruction. Normally, they would have regenerated instantly, but now, the process was noticeably slower.
Thus, Molon could proceed with his intended task. He summoned all the strength he could muster, all the force he could draw from within himself. The concentrated power caused Molon's entire body to glow red and tremble. The force was so intense it even shattered the axe in his grip.
It didn’t matter. Right now, he had no need for an axe to sever. The divine fire responded to his will as it formed an axe. The divine power he had drawn forth as Eugene’s Incarnation enveloped Molon.
Boom.
Molon’s foot stamped the ground. He looked up, his eyes meeting those of Eugene and Vermouth as they beheaded Destruction. Molon grinned at them.
"I am…."
Molon had done what he needed to do. He would fulfill his duty with the one arm he had left. Though it would have been better if he had both, circumstances dictated otherwise. Molon approached the slumping figure of Destruction and raised his right arm high.
Craaack….
He grasped the body of Destruction with his fingers. However, as large as it was, what Molon had grasped was merely a fraction of Destruction’s figure. Yet, the strength contained in his hand allowed him to seize all of Destruction.
Crunch!
His teeth shattered from being clenched too tight. Blood spurted from Molon's eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. Still, he did not stop. The many legs that had collapsed were forcibly torn apart by his strength.
Booom!
Molon finally drove the body of Destruction into the ground.
"Molon Ruhr," he yelled.
He had expended all his strength, no, summoned more power than he had drawn before. Was this also a miracle? Molon raised his head, but now was not the time to look up. Thus, he turned around. This miracle was not wrought solely by Eugene's divinity.
"So that’s how it is," Molon said with a nod and a smile.
He could not afford to fall first in a battle. It was necessary for his comrades to defeat the enemy for victory. Molon always had to remain standing, even if he were caked in blood.
— Idiot .
Every time Molon forced himself to endure, Hamel would come over and call him an idiot , tossing him behind and taking over his role. Vermouth didn’t use harsh words but sometimes did the same.
But after returning from the Devildom, Molon could no longer afford to fall. The harsh, barren tundra, scant of resources from the start, was left with truly nothing after the war. Molon had to rebuild his tribe and the tundra as both a chieftain and a hero.
Thus, he became a king. For all his subjects who revered him, he could not afford to collapse, and the same had been true in Lehainjar.
But it was different now.
"It's fine,” Molon murmured with a smile. Now, it would be alright to fall. Molon thought this as he knelt down.
[Ah….] One of the Saints gasped.
Sienna had fallen, and so had Molon.
Kristina and Anise watched it happen as Eugene’s wings. Their comrades had fallen. It was the Saint's role to prevent such occurrences, but in this battle, they could not afford to. They were wholly supporting Eugene's power.
[Sister, Sir Eugene, I….] Kristina's voice was heavy with labored breaths and interspersed with sobs.
She whispered while pushing against Eugene's back, [I believe that today, this holy war will end as everyone's victory.]
[Yes,] Anise replied in the same tone. She smiled brightly. She supported Kristina with one arm while reaching out with the other to Vermouth. [I can hear them.]
Different murmurs, yet their prayers were not dissimilar. The Saints heard the world's prayers for victory, filled with worshipful hymns. The flames grew fiercer, and there was light. Eugene’s gaze headed towards Vermouth, and Vermouth returned the gaze.
Destruction could no longer stand with its legs shattered, but the multitude of arms and heads on its back continued attacking Eugene and Vermouth in unison.
The voices could be heard.
A warm light was pushing against their backs. Despite the flames being so intense, the light was not burning hot but warm as it connected to Vermouth. It was a stark contrast to the excruciating pain he felt when wielding the Holy Sword in the past. What Vermouth felt was the complete form of divinity.
The power that once felt distant, the movements once uncatchable, were now perfectly aligned with him. Like countless times before, both of their swords moved in unison and met the enemy’s attacks seamlessly.
[Do you see?] The unified voice of the Saints whispered to Vermouth.
Vermouth found himself turning back. He saw the light he had seen within Destruction, and he heard the voice that had kept him from forgetting himself amidst the swirling turmoil.
—The Radiant Eugene.
—The Great Vermouth.
They had never met. Yet, he knew them. They were the descendants born from Vermouth, the lineage created solely for Hamel. The Lionhearts were now shouting the names of Eugene and Vermouth together. Despite centuries passing, their characteristics had not altered: ash-gray hair and golden eyes. Most importantly, they held the lion emblem on their left chest.
A woman swinging her blood-soaked arms could be seen, as well as a man yelling and swinging his swords behind her. They were followed by knights. The girl who had been given the demoneyes was shedding bloody tears while her older brother supported her and led the young knights.
Vermouth had ignored and even marginalized the collateral branches. It was natural to think they would hold grudges, but even they were now joining in, shouting their ancestor's name.
[Everyone…,] the Saints said.
It was not only the Lionhearts. A man with the emblem of Kiehl unleashed a massive wave of sword-force. There were also knights and warriors carrying the emblems of other kingdoms and holding the flags of their mercenary bands. There were also the indigenous people of the Great Forest, those who had previously been massacred to set an example on Uklas Mountain. Their young chieftain stood before Destruction with countless corpses behind him.
Even the wizards, who should have been at the rear, were fearlessly fighting at the front. The great spirit summoner screamed as the colors of Destruction continued spreading, but she did not retreat but instead continued flailing her arms toward Destruction.
Despite having no more summoned creatures to command, the Archwizard in red did not retreat but led other wizards of different colors. Above, a young dragon not yet fully matured was breathing fire, carrying both wizards and priests on its back.
[They all…,] the Saints continued.
Despite continuing to pour out from Destruction, the Nur could not advance into the world. There was a noble cause to stop Destruction in its tracks, and the army gathered under this banner was now blocking the path of the Nur.
"Ah…," Vermouth gasped as he looked further afield.
He saw the end of the world. He had left it to Molon to defend. The white, snowy mountain was now stained red. The Nur continued to pour out from there, though it was a pitifully small force compared to the place where the Demon King of Destruction descended.
But the Nur couldn't come down the mountain. Countless had died, their blood staining the snow red, yet Molon's descendants did not despair and led their troops. Knights and mercenaries with sun-scorched skin, more suited to the sea than snowy fields, blocked the Nur just the same.
[Sir Vermouth, these are your descendants,] the Saints affirmed.
Three hundred years ago, the world should have perished. All beings would have died, and the Demon King of Incarceration would have moved on to the next era, starting anew in an empty world. But the world did not end then because Vermouth had made a pact with the Demon King of Incarceration, sacrificing himself to reseal the Demon King of Destruction. They had obtained that reprieve three hundred years ago.
[No, Sir Vermouth,] Kristina said, shaking her head in denial. [It wasn't just a reprieve.]
Vermouth looked up at Kristina. The young Saint, resembling Anise, prayed to Vermouth as a representative of the generations born three hundred years later.
[Sir Vermouth, you opened the future for the world,] she stated.
Without Vermouth, nothing in the current world would exist.
"Is that so?" Vermouth nodded with a faint smile. "I was truly….”
— The Great Vermouth.
"The world... truly considered me…," Vermouth choked as he said.
He did not wipe the tears that streamed down his cheeks. Vermouth turned his head with a smile.
"Considered me the Hero," he said, smiling even more broadly.
Dozens of gaping maws appeared. Vermouth swung first with the chained sword he had received from the Demon King of Incarceration. After cutting off all of Destruction’s heads with that sword, Vermouth laid it down.
Then he picked up another sword. The new sword he now held was not the one from the Demon King of Incarceration. There was a relentless calling. The Light gently pushing his back, as well as the light seeping from deep within Vermouth himself transformed into his sword.
"Hamel,” he called out.
This was the sword of the Hero responsible for saving the world three hundred years ago, the one responsible for opening the future. The Hero paved the way.
"Eugene Lionheart,” Vermouth called.
At the end of the path he paved, Vermouth pushed Eugene forward.
"Now it's your turn."