Chapter 237: What Comes Next… Is the True Killing Move
“Meteor?”
In the palace garden, Shiltina paused in her act of drawing her sword.
She instinctively raised her head and looked up at the twilight-draped sky.
A crimson meteor streaked across the silent night, its blood-like brilliance illuminating Shiltina’s eyes.
In the ancient legends of the Western Continent, the blood-red meteor was known as the “Disaster Star”, an ominous omen every time it appeared.
Even now, as scientific advancement and public awareness have risen, superstition has faded… yet the “Disaster Star” remained an extremely rare astronomical phenomenon, only appearing once in many years.
But Shiltina quickly noticed something strange—the trajectory of the crimson meteor did not originate from the far end of the sky, but from the earth.
Within that crimson radiance surged an indescribable sense of destruction and silence, as if even before striking its target, it had already incinerated its body and soul, thereby blooming into the most dazzling brilliance.
It appeared so familiar to her eyes.
In the briefest moment of realization, Shiltina understood the source of that familiarity—
It was “Fantasia Collapse,” the superior skill of her own Nightblade “Infinite Blade,” which she had only recently mastered—an ability surpassing even “True Name Liberation.”
That sensation of annihilation, silence, and devastation… could only erupt when the very foundational structure of a Fantasia Armament shattered and unraveled—that was the ultimate burst of destruction, a final song before ruin.
And yet, that skill was supposed to be one she alone possessed.
Because the price of using it was too immense—bordering on unbearable—even Shiltina had only ever simulated its use within her mind and had never actually unleashed “Fantasia Collapse” in real combat.
But now, this very moment, the meteor that tore through the night sky was undoubtedly “Fantasia Collapse.”
And in Shiltina’s understanding, there was only one person capable of replicating someone else’s Nightblade and turning it into their own—
Last.
In that instant, the “Super Intuition” of the War Chariot Sequence exploded within Shiltina’s heart like a piercing siren—almost like a lament.
It was only then that Shiltina suddenly became aware of a truth she had unconsciously ignored for over a month—
Be it herself, the Gravekeeper Quasi-Angel, or Allen, ruler of the Empire… all of them had subconsciously overlooked Last in the ongoing contest between the Gravekeepers and the Royal Family.
To Shiltina, Last was someone she instinctively wanted to protect—so delicate before the Gravekeeper Quasi-Angel, like a helpless kitten, invoking a desire to shield him. If she didn’t follow her father’s will, complete the wedding, draw the Holy Sword, and ascend the throne… then she would not have the power to protect him.
To Allen, Last was a satisfactory son-in-law—an acceptable pawn used to pressure Shiltina into yielding and inheriting the throne.
To the Gravekeeper, Last was nothing more than spoils placed on the table—should it win the contest with the royal family, it could take this “Shoreguard” as its prize.
Everyone assumed Last would certainly attend the wedding.
Just like in a game of eagle-and-chicks… the weak, defenseless chicks would obediently follow the mother hen, cowering beneath her wings in hopes of evading the eagle’s talons.
But Last was not a chick to be butchered, hiding under the hen’s wings for protection; not a cute pet curling behind its master, playing the innocent.
Nor was he the vase-like princess in hero-versus-dragon games, captured by the evil dragon, whose only role was to become the hero’s prize after the final battle and a mere part of the end-credit CG.
Back in Deep Blue Port, Shiltina had already known—
Beneath the youthful, handsome face… was a demon from hell, one even the Abyss would tremble before.
And a demon who had wandered through hell for hundreds of years—once returned to the living world and finding the object of his vengeance—how could what he felt be fear or retreat?
It could only be madness and joy.
Just as an Ally of Justice requires an “Evil Dragon” to give their justice meaning…
It wasn’t just the Gravekeeper who saw Last and the “Fool’s Library” within him as prey. From the very beginning, the moment the Gravekeeper Quasi-Angel appeared, Last had already marked it as his prey too.
Even if the price of hunting that prey and pursuing his ideal—
Was “shattering into dust.”
Boom—
She no longer cared about the Holy Sword still embedded in stone, nor about the nobles, bishops, and dignitaries gathered in the grand hall, waiting for the wedding of Shiltina and Last to commence…
Shiltina suddenly stamped the ground and soared into the air.
Her figure transformed into a red-and-white stream of light, racing straight toward the end of that meteor’s trail in the sky.
…
Sound vanished.
Following that, color disappeared too.
The world fell into utter silence, leaving only the erupting, scorching stellar brilliance.
There was no margin to detour, no timing to evade.
Even for a Quasi-Angel, whose intuition was so absurd it could “predict the future,” it was utterly impossible to sense a killing intent bursting forth suddenly from a stone.
By the time the Gravekeeper, who was transmitting intelligence, sensed the anomaly—
The crimson bullet forged by “Fantasia Collapse” through “Sevenfold Perspective” had already pierced his heart.
Then came collapse.
The chain reaction of collapse spread endlessly—not just from the fantasy-condensed bullet, but from the breakdown directive it imposed on everything it touched—
Be it the Gravekeeper’s flesh, the walls of the house, or the ground surrounding it…
All was penetrated and devoured, drawn toward the distant other side of the night sky.
Then, explosion.
A seal of light engraved itself across the heavens, dyeing the imperial capital’s outskirts in blood-red.
And then—
From a far distance—
The delayed shockwave finally reached the royal capital, dispersing rainclouds, shaking buildings, flattening forests, and tearing through the earth.
The land was scorched into pale ash.
Not only the house itself, but a surrounding area spanning nearly a kilometer—rock and forest alike—was erased into nothingness, leaving behind a vast bottomless crater.
Had the Gravekeeper not chosen a remote and uninhabited residence to conceal itself, the devastation would have claimed countless lives.
At the bottom of the crater remained only crystallized white solids—residue of high-temperature cleansing.
Shiltina’s “Infinite Blade”—it truly deserved to be one of the only two Nightblades rated “Forbidden” by the Arcane Tower, capable of threatening even Legendary beings.
When Last, at the peak of the Sixth Tier, activated “Fantasia Collapse,” the highest skill of “Infinite Blade,” the resulting destructive force had already surpassed the Legendary Realm.
A typical Legendary caught off guard would have been completely vaporized, not even ashes remaining.
But—
From within the crater engulfed by smoke and chaos, a radiant figure suddenly shot into the sky with a thunderous roar.
It was a creature with a commanding form, black-scaled wings stretching from its back.
With wings outspread, it hovered a thousand meters above, surveying the land with an awe-inspiring gaze.
That form—wings veiling the heavens, ruling from above—was like that of an angel executing divine will.
Indeed, this Gravekeeper was worthy of calling itself an “Angel.”
Every member of the Gravekeepers engraved their fate imprint upon the “Eternal Night Stele.” In most cases, that imprint served as a protection—allowing them to return from history even in death—
Just like Noah at the Battle of the Fractured Coastline. If not for Sisel erasing his entire information state using the “Pseudo Black Hole,” then even a Supernova Explosion would not have stopped Noah from resurrecting through the Astral Realm after a long slumber.
However, for Gravekeepers who had surpassed Legendary and sought to ascend as true angels, the imprint on the “Eternal Night Stele” became a shackle—
Limiting their fate imprint to that tiny stone slab, unlike true angels who could leave traces throughout the River of Time.
But aside from that temporal limitation, this Gravekeeper was already an angel.
That sharp-featured, black-scaled, winged figure was a symbol of its touch upon the angelic domain… though humanoid in shape, every angel’s essence had long since transcended human limits and stepped into the realm of Mythic Beings.
Suspended above the world, the Gravekeeper looked down upon the forested mountains draped in night, tracing the meteor’s origin.
Soon, it locked its gaze onto a fire-monitoring platform halfway up the mountain—and the boy atop it, holding a shattered sniper rifle and gazing slightly upward.
“Last, the Shoreguard…”
“I see now. That attack just now, one that nearly threatened my life—was it the result of you exhausting the power of the ‘Fool’s Library’?”
From the distant sky, the Gravekeeper spoke with majesty.
His voice carried both joy… and barely restrained fury.
Fury, because he had been wounded by a mere insect—not even a Legendary, just a peak Sixth Tier.
That crimson shot through his chest had carried such maddening destruction that even as a Mythic Being, caught off guard, he had taken no small damage.
As a Quasi-Angel, even ordinary Legendaries were weaklings in his eyes—let alone a non-Legendary insect?
But the joy—
Last, the very target of this operation, had not fled but had chosen to show himself.
The protection of Grey the Fate Angel rendered all prophecy and divination useless on him…
If he had truly resolved to hide, never appearing even if the world crumbled, and the Empire refused to cooperate with the Gravekeepers to hunt him—then the Gravekeeper would indeed have been helpless.
But unexpectedly, Last had delivered himself instead.
With that one shot, their fates had become deeply entangled—reducing the fog of fate and ensuring Last could no longer escape.
“You appeared before me, preemptively attacked, all because of the confidence given to you by the ‘Fool’s Library,’ didn’t you?”
“Indeed, that shot was powerful—strong enough to erase a defenseless Legendary—but before me, it remains insignificant.”
“The difference between an insect and divinity… is power.”
The Gravekeeper murmured, “People always think that through science and technology, they can steal the power of the gods.”
“That by persevering in development, mortals can one day reach the divine realm. But in truth, you’re still so very far away… so very, very far.”
“This is the difference between the angels of the divine realm, and you base human insects… a gap as vast as sky and earth.”
His majestic voice rolled in with the storm, shaking the entire observation platform where Last stood. Metal fragments from “Sevenfold Perspective” scattered in the wind like stars.
Such was the power of an angel—needing neither action nor gesture. A single word, a single thought, was enough to manifest natural phenomena.
Yet before the almighty, divine-looking Gravekeeper Quasi-Angel, Last merely raised his head slightly.
“For a fake, you sure talk like you’re the real thing.”
“A true angel wouldn’t have wings as hideous as yours—neither human nor dragon—like a mongrel of polluted blood.”
Last murmured softly as he gazed at the distant figure.
He couldn’t help but recall the sight of Emis back in the Nightworld—how her mechanical angel form unfurled its steel wings in such perfect beauty… a majesty that this half-man, half-dragon hybrid could never reach.
“And also…”
In Last’s hand, a pale silver light slowly gathered.
It was a revolver—a heavy revolver named “Iron-Marked Moon.”
Then, he raised the muzzle of the revolver—
And gently pointed it at his own temple.
“Watch closely.”
“What comes next… is the true killing move.”