Chapter 239: The Final Shoreguard
Boom, boom——
Within the illusory Tower, the twenty-one Sequence Long Stairs were collapsing one by one.
First were those dim, yet-unawakened Higher Sequence Stairs. Then came “Forest”, “Hermit”, “Sun”, “Justice”…
Next followed the “Moon” representing Dean Silver, the “Death God” representing Akxia, and the “Fate” representing Grey…
Everything within the Tower’s body was disintegrating, dissolving into that searing, eye-piercing blaze that devoured the firmament.
In the end, within the Fool’s Library teetering on the edge of collapse, only two cards remained——
The “War Chariot” symbolizing Shiltina, and the “Tower” representing Last himself.
“Last, Last……”
“The final Shoreguard?”
From the depths of his spirit, Grey’s gentle voice responded.
“So, deep inside that black-haired, black-eyed little boy from the past… was such a grand dream hidden all along…”
“It truly… makes one feel a bit ashamed.”
Though it was merely a lingering imprint, a wisp of her remnant shadow left within the Fool’s Library… Last could clearly feel Grey smiling.
In his memories, that girl who once stood at the end of the Starry Sea with sorrow in her eyes to bid farewell… was now revealing a beautiful, tear-streaked smile.
Boom.
The penultimate Stair representing the “War Chariot” shattered into fragments, radiant points of light drifting among the clouds.
“As expected, even among all the Shoreguards across the ages, Brother Last… you were always the most special one.”
“I, Leader Sisel, and all those Shoreguard predecessors of past civilizations… the reason none of us succeeded—thinking back on it now, it might have been because we lacked that same resolve to burn all bridges behind us, that conviction of ‘none but I shall prevail’, that unwavering faith in eventual success.”
“Always watching the retreat—how can one ever see the path ahead?”
His voice paused slightly.
“So——”
“If it’s you, Brother Last… you will surely succeed.”
“Only one who has endured that kind of hell… can step into the deepest darkness, into the depths of the Abyss…”
“And then, sever the fate that binds all Shoreguards.”
……
Grey’s final words vanished along with the collapsing Fool’s Library.
At the same time—
The final Sequence Stair, the “Tower” representing Last himself, also crumbled.
Behind him, that towering structure piercing the heavens was utterly erased into nothingness.
Along with its master’s incinerated body and soul, it became the one fantastical bullet loaded into the revolver’s cylinder.
“Well then——”
“Farewell, Gravekeeper.”
From ten thousand meters above ground, the devil whose wings flapped with sinful corruption—neither clearly angel nor demon—pulled the trigger.
The pitch-black bullet spun as it burst from the barrel.
Despite originating from fantasy, its surface was etched with intricate, resplendent runes symbolizing the Seven Deadly Sins.
There was no earth-shattering explosion, no roar to split the skies, and yet the bullet devoured all light, flying straight toward the Gravekeeper.
Far above the earth, the half-human, half-dragon Quasi-Angel instinctively tried to flee—only to find he’d already lost the ability to struggle.
The moment the Fool’s Library had materialized, Last’s aura had completely locked him in place. Dodging was impossible—he couldn’t even move a single finger.
This shot, fired at the cost of a broken Sequence and a scorched spirit, was a bullet aimed directly at origin itself.
In the instant the trigger was pulled, the causal chain had already been reversed.
This was a magical shot that overturned the world’s order and reversed causality.
First came the “effect” — “the Gravekeeper’s heart pierced by the shot” — only afterward emerged the “cause” — “Last pulled the trigger, the bullet left the chamber”.
No escape, no evasion——
It was a destined verdict, like fate itself.
A fraction of a millionth of a second later, the armor-piercing bullet engraved with sin tore through the mythic body of the Gravekeeper, that dragon-like Mythic Being.
The scale armor once harder than diamond, the body of an Ancient Dragon unscathed even by nuclear detonation—at this moment, a massive cavity burst open in its chest. Through that hole, clouds tinged with dusk were visible beyond.
But it did not end there. The moment the Gravekeeper’s draconic body was pierced, the fundamental particles that composed his existence, along with every ounce of data and information, all collapsed in unison.
Damage to the physical body alone might kill a true pureblood Ancient Dragon—but it could never kill a Gravekeeper. As one whose Fate Imprint was inscribed on the Eternal Night Stele, as long as the mark upon the stele endured, he could always return from the River of Time—even if reduced to dust.
Yet that bullet, born of fantasy but striking at origin… did not merely end his physical life, but destroyed the Gravekeeper’s origin—the entire wheel of fate from the Age of Gods until now.
His fate was wiped clean from the River of Time. From this moment onward, not a single trace of this Quasi-Angel Gravekeeper would remain in the flow of history—
Even the mighty Eternal Night Stele, capable of reversing time itself, could not resurrect someone who had never existed within history.
……
The high-altitude clouds suddenly shattered.
In the roaring storm, every citizen of the Imperial Capital saw that piercing beam of light cut through the overcast sky, illuminating the darkened heavens—violent and pure.
And then, all that remained was a beautiful sky dyed in the colors of the setting sun.
Almost simultaneously, far above the earth, that vast, demonic silhouette vanished.
The sinful wings of the Fallen Angel collapsed rapidly, erased into nothingness in mere moments.
Amidst the drifting black feathers, Last shed his illusory form—the fleeting specter of Sataniel.
Only the frail human figure remained, no longer sustained, falling helplessly toward the earth under gravity’s pull.
Such was inevitable. That demonic form akin to the Sataniel of myth had been a fleeting performance achieved at the cost of breaking his Sequence Long Stairs and his Nightblade “Fool’s Library”, briefly touching the symbol of the Angelic Domain.
But that power had never truly belonged to Last. Like a meteor streaking across the sky, it was a short-lived brilliance—unsustainable.
Now, with body and soul both burned out, his Sequence and Nightblade shattered, all that remained was the wasteland and broken ruins after the Tower’s collapse and the fire’s destruction.
The only reason he could barely maintain consciousness now… was because of the lingering heat within the ashes of that burnt wasteland.
At this moment, any ordinary person could take his life… no, no outsider was even needed. In his current state, the impact of falling from ten thousand meters alone would be enough to end him.
But at that very instant, a massive floating airship swept past the clouds, narrowly brushing past him.
In that fleeting moment, Last used the last of his strength to seize a dangling rope ladder from the airship.
His frail figure hung there, swaying. Threads of illusory golden light shimmered across Last’s body, making him resemble a wooden puppet stitched together by a puppeteer.
And that enormous airship, under the watchful gaze of countless people in the Imperial Capital, slowly glided past the clouds, heading toward the distant mountains beyond the outskirts.