The towering spire crumbled. "In the name of the Light!" Elijah cried out. A gray bolt of lightning came crashing down from the heavens. Its force, unleashed from Elijah's fist, surged toward Caron in the blink of an eye. But Caron only smiled calmly and twisted his blade slightly. The blade of Guillotine, charged to the brim with mana, bent the path of the descending power in that fleeting moment. As the spire collapsed, Caron's body began to fall with it. Yet he showed no sign of panic. Instead, he smoothly called upon Pluto's power. Darkness wrapped around Caron. Simultaneously, he summoned a clone and caught the falling Bantus in midair. Caron landed lightly on the ground, and Bantus followed, landing safely beside him. The moment Caron's feet touched the ground, he turned to Bantus and said, "From this point on, the choice is yours. You've seen it with your own eyes—the so-called Saint has fallen. Whether or not you still choose to stand in the Light is up to you." That was all he needed to say. Bantus nodded with a resolute expression, and Caron turned his gaze back to Elijah. Elijah was now a hulking monster, an unholy creature radiating Perverse Mana that slammed into the ground like a meteor. The impact of Elijah's landing unleashed a massive shockwave in all directions. Caron drew up his mana, shielding himself against the blast. Caron's sea spread out around him and devoured the shockwave. The sheer force of it churned his sea into chaos, but Caron controlled it with practiced ease. A metallic taste filled Caron's mouth. The force of the impact had twisted a few of his internal mana channels. But that sharp taste only brought his mind into sharper focus. "Caron Lestooooooon!" Elijah roared as he charged, eyes rolled back in rage. Each of his steps made the earth tremble. The lunatic had completely remodeled his own body. The so-called Saint had willingly embraced the ways of dark mana—and in doing so, had left behind the realm of humanity. Caron met Elijah's furious charge with an emotionless swing of his blade. A crescent of dark blue light shimmered through the air and rode forward like a wave. "Let's start with your leg," Caron said. The crescent grazed Elijah's thick right ankle. He staggered from the loss, but only for a second. In the blink of an eye, his ankle regenerated. Not even trolls—famous for their regenerative abilities—could heal that fast. "Now I'm curious," Caron murmured. He was wondering what would happen if he sliced off that bastard's head. Would it grow back from the stump, or would a new one sprout from his body? "Guillotine, what do you think will happen?" Caron asked. "You think that matters right now?" Guillotine asked. "It does," Caron answered. "Why is that?" Guillotine asked. "Because I want to give that bastard the worst pain imaginable," Caron declared. Simply beheading him wouldn't be enough. Death was too lenient for Elijah. Caron intended to render him completely helpless, make him beg for death—and then deny it. And to do that, he needed to know if the head was the core, or if it was something else. "A perfect test subject," Caron muttered, his lips curling into a brutal smile. Until now, he'd always had to restrain the power of his signature technique. But not here. Not against Elijah. That brute had a body as hard and resilient as steel. And the spire had already collapsed into ruins—there was no need to worry about collateral damage. "Caroooooon!" Elijah shouted as his massive fist flew toward Caron. The air compressed around it, giving rise to a bone-chilling boom. The punch came from someone who had never learned proper combat techniques, but at the last second, the path of the strike suddenly changed. Caron kicked off the ground and leaped backward just in time. Elijah's fist slammed into the exact spot where Caron had just been standing. A cloud of dust billowed from the impact. "You really are just a beast, huh?" Caron said with a wide grin, looking at Elijah. Crimson light gleamed from Elijah's eyes. It was a familiar energy. Guillotine began to hum and resonate in response. There was a reason why Elijah had charged so confidently. That wasn't martial arts. It was pure instinct. A combat style that existed solely to kill. The same kind that demonic monsters used. "...The Demon King of Slaughter," Caron muttered. The one he had faced near the Southern Great Forest. Elijah was clearly imitating that destructive power. Guillotine's vibration confirmed it—and more than anything, there was that heavy, suffocating killing intent seeping into his mind. Power like that couldn't belong to anyone but the Demon King of Slaughter. "Well, damn. They got me good," Caron said. Only now did he realize that these bastards hadn't just hunted the Demon King near the Southern Great Forest. They had collected samples to complete their own research. "You claim to follow God, and yet it wasn't enough to mimic demons—you had to copy a Demon King too? I mean, I'm an atheist, sure... but you? You're definitely going to hell," Caron said. A memory resurfaced—when he first encountered a fragment of that Demon King. That heavy bloodlust that had driven everyone around it mad. If Elijah released that power here, the countless people in the fortress would be overwhelmed by it. That would mean mass casualties. Caron had taken on this bothersome mission to avoid just that. There was no way he would let things go Elijah's way. "Back then, I received my comrades' strength. But not anymore," Caron said. The difference between his past self and now was enormous. Now, standing at the threshold of 8-Star, he couldn't be overwhelmed by mere killing intent—not even when it was . The murderous intent Caron harbored toward the demons was entirely his own. No one had the right to impose it upon him. That was precisely why he said, "Seems like your god does exist after all." He smiled as he shifted into a stance. It was the form to unleash his signature technique. Nothing fancy—he simply planted both feet firmly on the ground and held his sword in a middle guard. The tip angled slightly toward his opponent. "If I'd arrived even a little later... Your current form would have been far more complete, wouldn't it?" Caron remarked. The thought alone, of the Order of Truth and Elijah having perfected demonic power even further, was horrifying. The damage could have grown into something utterly irreparable. But Caron had come at the right time, with the right allies. He thought that perhaps this was the so-called will of the Light they all claimed to serve. "The Light desires for His children to rule above all! With this power, we shall forge even more glorious history!" Elijah screamed as he charged. Blades resembling the Hall of Slaughter's weapons began to erupt all over his body. Dozens of floating swords took shape in midair, all soaring toward Caron's neck in a vicious volley. But Caron didn't flinch. He simply stepped forward. "I'll rip your body to shred—!" Elijah roared, swinging his fist with a grotesque grin. But at that moment... The sea surged forth. An unstoppable tide, stronger than even the most immense power, swallowed Elijah whole. Elijah stretched out his hand, trying to part the sea. But even his overwhelming strength that mimicked the Demon King's power was useless. The sea would not yield. It felt as if time itself had stopped. An illusion? Elijah thought. He wondered if he was hallucinating. He desperately tried to part the sea by unleashing his Perverse Mana, but all his efforts were swallowed up effortlessly by the vast ocean. The more he struggled, the more it felt as if he was being dragged into the depths of the abyss. The moon, Elijah thought. His eyes locked on a single point in the air. There, a vivid, ominous moon hovered above the waves. "Power you can't control is no different from a curse. Trust me, I know that feeling well," Caron said In this space, only he moved freely. He approached slowly, his steps deliberate, and sneered. "But even I wasn't as bad as you. Trying to snatch power without effort? That's why you're being punished. Maybe you'll understand... when you reincarnate." Elijah couldn't comprehend Caron's words. Bloodshot eyes glaring, he reached toward Caron. For a brief moment, his halted fist twitched. Caron watched with a calm smile, then said coldly, "That is—if you're lucky enough to be reincarnated." Caron swung his blade in a clean, simple arc. No flash, no flourish—just a single stroke, from top to bottom. The moon disappeared behind a wave. Then it split. And split once again. ...Dazzling, Elijah thought. A flood of pure white light spilled through the dark blue darkness. Elijah thought it was unbearably radiant. He wondered how such brilliant light could dwell within someone so monstrous. Shards poured down like a torrential storm, mercilessly tearing through Elijah's body. He couldn't resist. No matter how powerful he had become, there was nothing he could do beneath the downpour of destruction. Agony unlike anything he had ever known pierced through every nerve. Thᴇ link to the origɪn of this information rᴇsts ɪn N()velFire.net He looked down and found a fragment of the shattered moon stabbing through his chest. It gleamed with an eerie, unnatural whiteness. Reflected in its surface... was a face. A face dyed in blood-red flesh and twisted in monstrous contortion—no one would mistake it for anything but a demon. Elijah realized it was his own. "Ah..." A quiet gasp escaped his lips. He wondered how it had come to this. Questions stormed through his mind, but no answers followed. The brilliant light he had so desperately chased didn't belong to him—it had chosen Caron instead. Once again, Caron's sword flashed. That radiant light—the one Elijah had chased his entire life—shone just before his eyes. He reached out, trying to grasp it. But it slipped through his fingers. That was the last vision Elijah ever saw. His head dropped to the ground, pitifully, as if it had no weight. Caron slowly walked up to it and spat on the severed head. Then, without a word, he hurled Guillotine far into the distance. The blade pinned Elijah's right leg just as he tried to flee. "If you were going to run, you should've done it earlier, you bastard," Caron said as he smirked down at Elijah's twitching leg, then calmly turned his gaze toward the fortress. Chaos still reigned within. Fanatics clung to life, the guilty sought redemption, and with both the Imperial Army and the Papal Guard invading, battles had broken out everywhere. "Let's end this," Caron said. He quietly lifted Elijah's severed head. Unlike the illusion of Elijah's head he had once held at the Vatican, this time it didn't dissolve into dust. "The heretic Elijah has been slain! Those seduced by the fallen one—drop your weapons at once! Commit no further sins!" Caron shouted, lacing his voice with mana. Meanwhile, Saintess Seria unfurled her wings, as if she'd been waiting for her cue. The dark clouds parted, and a single beam of light poured down through the heavens. That light clearly fell upon Caron. He smiled faintly as he felt the warmth of sunlight wrapping around him. She's gotten good, Caron thought. Seria now understood what kind of staging had the strongest effect. Since she had set the stage, Caron decided he might as well play along. He raised his sword high—and Guillotine's dark blue blade blazed pure white in an instant. Weapons clattered to the ground. One by one, the combatants dropped to their knees and began to pray. "...Have mercy on this sinner..." Caron watched the praying masses with a faint smile. But despite the sacred atmosphere, the thoughts inside the Warrior's head were far less holy. Man, how much am I even supposed to charge for this...? Caron Leston, the ever-pragmatic Warrior, looked around in satisfaction. The rebellion had been crushed. It was a resounding victory—undeniable by any measure. In truth, this was the moment the Holy Kingdom all but fell into Caron's hands.