David, the hero of a story Evan Helvin had cherished since childhood, had always been his favorite. David was small but clever, and in moments of crisis, he had a habit of asking himself the same question: "Question, how do I cross this hill?"
Once, a cruel giant named Goliath blocked the path at a hill's bend, asleep right in the middle of the road. David needed to reach a pharmacist in a nearby town urgently to treat his sick sister.
After careful thought, he found his answer. That same day, under a sky thick with clouds, the dusk light flared a deep, ominous red. David crept up beside the sleeping giant and shouted into his ear, "Fire!"
Startled awake, Goliath sprang to his feet and charged down the hill, mistaking the scarlet sky for a forest fire.
This was why Evan admired David the most. Though small, frail, and without any special power, David knew how to summon bravery for those he loved. Thus, from a young age, Evan believed courage defined a true hero.
Question, am I brave? To this question, Evan's answer was always the same. Of course!
Since childhood, he had been fearless. If he spotted an interesting insect, he would climb trees over ten meters tall without hesitation. He was always the first to cross the stone bridge over the stream. Around age seven, he led his group to visit the neighboring village for the first time. Evan liked this side of himself. To him, true courage meant never fearing challenge or the unknown.
That belief never wavered—even during his darkest moments at the training camp or when the arrogant Charon, who was now lying here like a corpse, had mocked him.
What about now? Was he still brave?
Evan asked himself this question often, but now he could not answer so easily. He knew his own cowardice better than anyone else.
Why don't I fight?
That question had an answer. He didn't want to expose his miasma.
Then am I going to die like this?
At times, he thought that would be better. He didn't know anymore. If the Memories of Evil had completely devoured his personality and the darkness had swallowed up his identity as Hero Disciple Evan, he would have been free from this inner torment.
His restless eyes scanned the surroundings.
How will these people react when they find out that I am a Young Dark Pope?
Charon, gasping for breath as if at death's door, had softened slightly but would never treat church members kindly.
The same went for Seren, who had revealed unexpected sides in the Otherworld. The more prestigious and noble the lineage, the deeper the hostility and hatred toward the church. It was an ingrained animosity born from birth.
Even Perist, the root of all this chaos, was not a church member. She was just painfully naive and foolish.
Then there was the dean, Alderson Marbour. This Seven-Colored Archmage represented the empire and would never tolerate the existence of a church member, let alone a Young Dark Pope.
Evan imagined all of them staring at him with revulsion.
"Are you a Young Dark Pope?"
" Hah. As expected from the son of a defeated knight."
"Could it be that the entire Helvin family is a den of evil?"
Then his father's face surfaced in his mind—deep lines etched into his skin, eyes warm with a tired smile. He had given up the sword long ago and had taken up cooking instead. In Evan's delusion, that same father looked him in the eye and said, "You are my disgrace."
It was only a fantasy, yet one that felt dangerously close to becoming reality.
Evan likely had the most stamina left out of everyone here. Getting knocked out so badly by Deathberry had spared him from using his powers as a Young Dark Pope. He still had strength but didn't step forward. He couldn't. He acted like someone who had run out of options and believed that was enough. If the nightmare brewing in his mind was about to come true, then dying would be easier.
Then Seren and Perist's voices drifted like whispers in a dream.
"No way."
"Ah, it is miasma..."
Evan stared blankly at Luan.
Why? A flood of questions filled his mind. Why are you still able to fight? Why can you use miasma? Why aren't you hiding it?!
Evan didn't know the reason. He couldn't even guess. However, it was clear that Luan could manipulate miasma.
You... are a Badniker. Compared to the fallen Helvin family, the Badnikers were a Great Family. Their head was the Iron-Blooded Lord, the empire's strongest demon hunter and a man who hated both the church and demons more than anyone else in the world.
Evan shuddered at the thought, even though it was not his story. He knew how ruthless that legendary man was and how he showed emotion only when the church or bloodline was involved. He could barely imagine the Iron-Blooded Lord's reaction to the worst possibility—that a church member came from his own bloodline. How could he accept that?
Isn't Luan afraid? Or would he rather have his identity exposed than die?"
Evan studied Luan's expression and saw neither fear nor hesitation. That lunatic was laughing. He laughed at the moon in the sky, at the madness that shattered people's spirits. He wielded miasma without hesitation.
Beneath the blood-red sky, Luan's purple flames wrapped around his sword, burning as mysteriously as hellfire. Luan, the master of those flames, looked like a demon in human form.
At first glance, it seemed like two great demons were locked in battle. However, to Evan Helvin, the boy who once admired heroes, this figure appeared nobler than any hero from fairy tales, someone he could never hope to imitate.
***
Seren looked at Perist coldly and asked, "Are you sure it is miasma?"
Perist flinched at Seren's blunt tone but nodded slightly. "T-that's right... That... It is definitely miasma..."
Her confirmation carried weight. After all, she was one who had been communicating with the demon king. Although she was not a church member, her constant exposure to the miasma had likely sharpened her ability to sense it.
Truthfully, Seren felt a swell of confusion. That fellow had always unsettled her, but this time it felt excessive.
Is he a real church member?
It made no sense. Luan's reactions, attitude, and very behavior contradicted everything. Even now, just watching him raised doubts. Why would a church member wield miasma and fight against a demon king he supposedly served?
"Damn..." She could not grasp his intentions or the situation. Yet one thing was clear. I need to help.
Luan needed her aid immediately, or they would all perish. She could use the forgotten god's blessing, Frost, one more time, and had been waiting for the perfect moment to turn the tide.
Suddenly, Perist's eyes widened, and she gasped—the moon was falling from the sky.
"Crazy!"
A meteorite strike here? If that happened, timing would no longer matter. Seren's skin turned pale as snow.
What followed next was an energy beam that pierced the demon king, swirling purple flames, and the blood-red moon sliced in half.
The moon shattered, scattering countless fragments across the sky like a fiery meteor shower.
***
Perist coughed as the thick dust stung her eyes and scratched her throat. Despite coughing repeatedly, her stomach refused to settle.
How... am I still alive?
Unfortunately, the moon had crashed near Building 6, close enough that she had been caught in the collision's aftermath.
Perist had felt death's cold grip. The size and number of fragments had dwarfed anything before. If previous shards had been a light drizzle, this was a torrential downpour, like the harshest days of the rainy season. No one could escape being drenched by rain that could tear buildings apart.
A sigh escaped her, and her breath misted in the cold air.
My breath? She looked up at the sky and finally understood why she had survived.
A pure white ice wall surrounded her. It was far from whole—cracked and shattered like a glass window smashed by a rock. Only then did Perist realize who had saved her.
"Ah..." A murmur behind her caught her attention.
Startled, she turned to see Seren pinned beneath a pile of rocks. "S-Seren..."
Seren sighed in self-reproach. It was a matter of skill once again. Blessings were never meant for training, and the forgotten god's blessing was even worse. A power that strained the body could not be wasted in training.
Perist muttered, "Why did you—"
"The dean's safety comes first," Seren interrupted firmly.
"I see..." Perist bit her lip and fell silent. Only then did she notice Alderson focused intently on his casting.
At that moment, Perist felt awe. Even in such desperate circumstances, Seren never lost sight of victory. She made decisions with cold composure, willing to weigh her own life on the scale.
Was this the mark of one destined to become a hero?
A person like this... I... Suddenly, Perist reached for one of the rocks crushing Seren.
It was impossible. The stone was so heavy that even a giant could not lift it easily. It wouldn't budge no matter how many hands tried.
Seren asked in disbelief, "What are you doing?"
"I'll move it!"
"It is too much for you." Seren's right foot already felt numb. Her ankle was likely crushed badly beneath the rubble.
"Still!"
"Forget it. By the way, why are you acting like this all of a sudden?"
"It isn't sudden..."
It never was. Perist simply couldn't fully express her true feelings before. She was ashamed. Still, she had meant it when she said she considered Seren a friend. This girl had been the only one to approach her when everyone else kept their distance. She saw that beneath Seren's cold exterior lay a warmth true to her family name.
A short distance away, Alderson chanted steadily, fully aware of the situation. Unlike the confused young heroes, the old mage did not dwell on Luan's case.
What did it matter that he used miasma? What mattered was that Luan desperately carried out the plan they had discussed. They could sort out details later.
For now, Alderson and Luan had their roles to fulfill. Luan would buy time, and Alderson would gather power for the finishing blow.
The miasma hadn't vanished, so the demon king was still alive.
Where was he? How would he appear? Could they respond in time? Could he hold on that long?
Alderson pushed down his rising anxiety through chanting, steadily purifying his mana.
***
My entire body felt numb, weighed down by layers of fatigue and pain. I knew I could no longer move, yet I still had to.
When I split the blood-red moon in two, I realized I had only cut through its outer shell. It felt like slicing through a thick armor protecting its wearer. The opponent was not a living being but something abstract in the realm of perception, so I couldn't fully explain why it felt that way.
However, I was certain. Even as the halved moon shattered and its fragments rained down like a meteor shower, I kept my gaze fixed on the sky.
Before long, something emerged from the shattered blood-red moon and hovered in the air. It was a pitch-black sphere that devoured everything around it. At the same time, a bloody haze of energy swirled around it.
The moment I saw it, I understood. That was his real form.
My head throbbed. It was a similar sensation to the first time I encountered Ahop or Tantata. And in that suspended moment, Seren's words echoed in my mind. "Ones that multiply and regenerate. They're annoying and show no effort or emotion."
Now that I had a rough grasp of what she meant, there were more than a few things to discuss.
I want to get off. Literally, I had a desperate urge akin to leaping off a runaway carriage. Picture this: you're riding through a frozen wasteland, ice stretching in every direction, and up ahead loomed a sheer cliff. Anyone would want to jump off before reaching it. That's exactly how I felt.
"It really feels like a good time to get off," I muttered, though I didn't truly mean it. Jumping off a moving carriage usually ended in death or severe injury.
In that case, it was better to run harder, build momentum, and leap with everything I had over the cliff ahead.
I controlled my breathing and dropped the Yin-Yang Dao and Seven Sins Sword to the ground, hoping to lighten my body even slightly. I planted both feet firmly and faced the opponent with clenched fists. Then I tilted my head and asked the monster, "Second round?"
The ominous sphere no longer hovered in the sky but floated just above the ground. Its surface offered no features, no expression, yet it felt as though it were staring directly at me.
Naturally, I received no reply.