* * *

“Did you really follow me all the way here? Haha! You walked right into your own grave. Should I call you admirable or just plain foolish?”

Sellev burst into loud laughter but suddenly changed her expression. Her eyes gleamed with hostility as she instinctively blocked the entrance behind her—a hole in the fortress wall leading to a side path.

Normally, it would be thoroughly protected by multiple layers of magical barriers. However, at this moment, Emilia had temporarily lifted the barrier to allow Sellev to move more conveniently. If someone passed through the wide-open entrance, they could enter the fortress without any obstacles. Sellev had planned to return quickly and ask Emilia to seal it again.

‘If I return empty-handed without having killed Cadel Lytos, and on top of that, let an intruder into the fortress…… Even I won’t be safe.’

Emilia’s anger had already reached its peak. Sellev had no intention of adding fuel to that fire. She positioned herself firmly in front of the entrance, blocking it with her entire body, and glared at her opponent.

“Didn’t you watch your father die with your own eyes? I thought you would have run away in fear. Then again, you were never in your right mind to begin with.”

“……I kept thinking about it the whole way here.”

A chilling air still lingered around Lydon. Each time he spoke, a faint white breath escaped his lips, and frost formed on his skin. He had yet to fully stabilize the energy of his rampage. But despite the discomfort, he kept his gaze fixed on Sellev, showing no signs of suffering.

“When I first met you in the Empire, I should have killed you then. If I had done whatever it took to end you, none of this would have happened.”

“Hah! You? Kill me? Keep dreaming.”

“But the past won’t change, no matter what I do. So now…… I’ll make sure you regret it.”

As Lydon took a step forward, a pool of ice formed beneath his feet. With each slow stride, the ice spread, expanding the range of the cold.

“You’ll wish you had killed me back then. That you had driven a blade through my heart instead of my father’s. That’s what you’ll come to realize.”

Between the strands of his wind-tossed blonde hair, his exposed red eyes glowed ominously. Sellev, momentarily taken aback by the overwhelming aura, quickly summoned her magic. Raising both fists, now dyed black with power, she scoffed at Lydon’s murderous intent.

“I already regret it. I should have killed all of you back in the Empire. I never expected you to become such a nuisance.”

As if their brief exchange had been a silent signal, the two charged at each other.

* * *

Having eliminated all the enemies in the garden, the allied forces were able to reach the castle’s main gate without difficulty. Along the way, they encountered no resistance—a fact that could only mean one thing.

“All troops, hear me!”

Ector, standing at the front, raised his voice as he looked up at the towering castle walls, now shrouded in demonic energy.

“Are you weary? Do you wish to abandon everything and turn back? Does the sorrow of fallen comrades weigh on you? Does the fear of battle and the thought of defeat gnaw at your heart? Then think! Our deaths mean the death of the human realm itself! Our families, our beloveds, the beautiful sky, the fresh air, the laughter of children—imagine the moment when all of it is drowned in screams of terror! If the sight of that future is less terrifying to you than death, then fine! Turn back now and leave this place.”

Atop the high walls stood a line of High Demons, exuding a far more formidable presence than any enemy they had faced before. Unlike the garden, where hordes of lesser demons had filled the ground, the ones perched on the walls carried an aura so overwhelming that their mere presence was suffocating.

“But! If you do not turn back, then know this—your deaths will be glorious! Honor and hope will remain in your wake!”

Yet not a single knight retreated. Not one among them broke formation. In the tense silence, they all understood—the final battle was upon them.

“Fight! Use your very lives to break through the walls and reclaim the peace they have stolen!”

As Ector unsheathed his greatsword with a resounding cry, a low battle roar spread through the ranks, shaking the air itself. The atmosphere, already charged, ignited with the unyielding resolve of the human warriors.

With the command from their commanders, the knights surged forward while the magicians began their incantations. The vanguard, protected by the magical barriers cast by their allies, focused their strength on the tightly sealed main gate.

“Don’t hesitate! The magicians are shielding us! Keep striking—unleash your sword energy!”

Among them, Dreyfe and his battalion took the lead, launching relentless sword strikes at the gate. Though each attack was devoured by the demonic energy surrounding it, they did not falter. No matter how strong a barrier, it would eventually crack. If they combined their strength, they could bring it down. With that belief, they pushed forward—until it happened.

“……!”

Sensing something, Dreyfe instinctively pulled back. The moment his feet touched the ground, a straight-line attack sliced through where he had just stood.

Feathers.

Black feathers were embedded in the ground before him, forming a sharp dividing line. Dreyfe’s eyes snapped upward, following the ominous sign, and there, the first of the High Demons revealed itself.

With a voice laced with amusement, the demon spoke.

“Haha! How long has it been since I’ve had a real battle? I’ve been waiting for this moment, waiting for you to reach the castle gates! Now, entertain me. Go on—struggle as much as you like, foolish humans.”

A fan, half-concealing his face, swayed gently in his hand. Long, silky black hair cascaded down to his waist, framing pitch-black eyes and pale skin, where deep blue veins stood out starkly. His androgynous presence carried an overwhelming demonic energy—one, unlike anything Dreyfe had ever encountered before.

His name was Atlas Monstel.

Originally, he was meant to be Cadel’s opponent. However, Cadel had taken an unexpected route, slipping away through the castle’s back path in search of Lydon. With this unforeseen shift, the enemy that Cadel was supposed to handle was now left to the knights.

Not that they knew this. And even if they did, nothing would have changed.

“Why do demons all talk like they were mass-produced in a factory? You must’ve put a lot of thought into that little speech while waiting for us, huh? Too bad—it’s dull as hell!”

Dreyfe shouted, condensing his sword energy. Atlas responded with a radiant smile.

“Oh, but I do love a feisty one. The more you resist, the more satisfying it is to kill you.”

Without hesitation, Dreyfe unleashed a barrage of sword energy. For a brief moment, a strange glint flickered in Atlas’s eyes. He twisted his body effortlessly, dodging the strikes with ease, then flicked his fan with sharp precision.

In its wake, countless black feathers rained down.

Dreyfe rolled to evade them—

And then—

Screeeeeeeeech—!

A piercing scream, sharp enough to rattle the brain, shattered the air.