Ken staggered toward the crater. Even though he hadn't taken a direct hit from the noble, his wounds had worsened from the effort of fighting a mid–low-rank corrupted. Still, he needed to see this. He wanted to witness it with his own eyes: a battle between two beings that defied every limit—like watching a god fight a demon.
Careful not to trigger a collapse at the crater's edge, Ken leaned forward. He saw both opponents staring each other down. The terrain around them was literally beginning to melt; even from his distance, he could feel the heat rising. The Behemoth was covered in wounds, its towering form still standing. And Thaloren faced him with a defiant stance, ready to end the fight… and he was wearing two gauntlets.
Thaloren took a deep breath. The temperature climbed to unbearable levels as his power surged; his hair swayed within an orange aura. Both gauntlets vibrated before fully activating.
"That's impossible…" the Behemoth growled, glaring at him. "A summoned one cannot possess two sources of power! It violates the rules!"
"Normally, yes," Thaloren confirmed, taking a step that melted the ground beneath him. "But I'm not an ordinary summoned one. To become one of the strongest, absorbing Omega energy alone isn't enough. I am the summoned of Yarro, god of the Twin Suns, so my gloves contain power drawn from each sun."
"It's still cheating," the demon snarled, stomping the ground. "The agreement stated that summoned ones would receive only minimal aid."
"Maybe," Thaloren replied with a shrug, "but this is a war. And it's not exactly fair to send someone in with a wooden sword when the enemy brings a tank, don't you think?" He lifted his gaze toward him. "The winner decides what was fair and what wasn't. That's how it should be."
The Behemoth growled and ripped a stone column from the ground, hurling it at Thaloren. But it didn't even touch him: it disintegrated into molten magma as it neared. Thaloren barely had time to look up before the noble lunged forward and punched him, slamming him into the ground. The entire area trembled and began to crumble.
Ken watched in astonishment. The Behemoth staggered back, his hand aflame as he desperately tried to put out the fire. He looked up just in time to see Thaloren in front of him, delivering a direct punch to his face.
The blow lifted the Behemoth off his feet and launched him against the wall. He tried to rise, but Thaloren was already charging his next attack, focusing energy into both gauntlets.
"Double Fusion…" he murmured.
From each gauntlet, a small sphere of energy emerged, spiraling around one another before merging and firing as a beam that struck Tiberius head-on. A burst of plasma lit up the entire area.
Thaloren remained still for a few seconds, breathing heavily as smoke rose from his body.
"Even if his power is absurd, his body is still that of a mortal," Ken muttered irritably as the heat hit his face. "That's why he never uses this power, isn't it? Besides breaking the rules by wielding two gauntlets, this energy would incinerate anyone who gets within a hundred meters. Just like Daion… another moralistic idiot."
Thaloren looked at his arms, thoughtful. The faster he ended this, the fewer unnecessary risks he'd face. He clenched his fist and raised his head just as the Behemoth burst from the smoke with brutal speed, landing an uppercut. Thaloren shot upward and crashed into one of the cavern walls.
"It won't be that easy," the Behemoth growled. When he stepped on the ground, fragments of stone rose around him and, with a gesture, wrapped themselves in corrupt energy before shooting toward Thaloren. The summoned one sighed, exhaling steam like a locomotive.
"Right on time," he murmured, spreading his arms.
All matter near him turned to magma before even touching him, falling to the ground like burning rain as he levitated. Tiberius refused to accept it: he grabbed a fragment and hurled it with force. The rock ignored the temperature for an instant and struck Thaloren. It exploded into dust, though it achieved little, as the summoned one emerged from the smoke cloud immediately after.
The Behemoth tried to counterattack, but Thaloren, taking advantage of his flight, circled him and descended to the ground. With barely perceptible speed, he unleashed a barrage of blows to the corrupted one's stomach, lifting him slightly and making him spit blood. He finished with a palm strike that detonated in a frontal explosion.
The noble rolled across the ground, dazed.
"The difference in power is obvious," Thaloren said, approaching step by step. The Behemoth stared in disbelief: a summoned one was beating him senseless. "I've waited fifty years for an opportunity like this… a chance to show you bastards the power of a summoned one at his full potential."
"With cheating, anyone—" the Behemoth began, but Thaloren struck him in the face, knocking him down again.
"This is my victory!"
When I first arrived in this world, I was thrilled. I saw it in a far more magnificent state; the Wastes were much farther away. You could see beautiful towns, landscapes so stunning they took your breath away… And I, a confident summoned one, blessed with immeasurable power.
During the first years, I had barely any difficulties. Very few creatures could keep up with me. I was fascinated by the idea of being a hero, and thanks to my blessing, the rewards were always generous: beautiful women, plenty of money, and respect. I was also one of the few summoned ones who truly cared about this world's inhabitants… though that didn't make me an altruist. I never lacked sex, food, or entertainment.
Over time, my power kept growing little by little, until one day I made a mistake. While fighting a mid–high-rank demon—a captain of a summoned squad—I lost control. We crashed into a town and, intoxicated by power and the thrill of combat, I ended up burning the entire place to ash without even realizing it.
I tried to ignore it and walked away, though those images always returned. Even so, I continued with my life, buried in monotony and boredom, while hearing that the frontier was collapsing more and more each year. They needed summoned ones capable of holding the line.
"With your power, you could contain the corrupted and become even stronger," Seraphine told me nearly a century ago. By then I was already a rank B summoned one, though even among them my power was excessive. "The pay will be good, and you could help save humanity."
"Please, I'm not interested in any of that," I replied, tilting my head in annoyance as I rolled a coin between my fingers. "I agreed to come to this world because it was fun, and the god who interviewed me had no other choice: only I could withstand the power of two suns. Terrifying, isn't it? The frontier is your problem. Unless there's something actually entertaining over there, I'm not moving. Although… you're pretty hot, leader. Maybe I'll think about it if you take care of my needs."
"Hmm… I'm sorry. My body is sacred to the order. To maintain my immortality, I must remain pure," Seraphine answered with a faint smile. "But I'm sure there will be plenty of demihumans and slaves for you to enjoy."
"I doubt it, and a slave has little value to me," I said, standing up. "See you, terrifying woman. Sorry to turn down your offer."
The truth is, I had nothing better to do besides sleep and fight. But I still rejected her proposal… and that's when I met her. One day, while walking by the river, a corrupted managed to injure me severely: I had a hole in my abdomen, and my whole body was burning. I fainted beside the stream, and I only remember the sensation of being dragged across the grass.
When I woke up, she was there, feeding me soup straight into my mouth. She was a slim young girl with a freckled face and a gentle smile. Not my type at all. She lived with her mother, and I remember clearly how that woman looked at me with suspicion every time we crossed paths. Even so, the girl kept tending to me every day.
When I finally regained my voice, I asked her name.
"Emile," she said softly, as if embarrassed to speak it aloud.
"It's a lovely name," I tried to cheer her up.
"And you?"
"Thaloren."
Her eyes widened the instant she heard it; by then, I was already fairly well known among the people.
"An egotistical summoned one," she muttered under her breath.
I stared at her, confused by what I had just heard.
"Why would you say that?"
"They say you only prioritize your training. If something feels boring, you abandon it." Her voice held a calm kind of disappointment, as if she had expected to find a different sort of person.
"Well… I live my own way. For myself. As long as I don't harm others…" The image of that charred town struck through my mind like lightning. "Does it really matter what I do? Even so, I've saved many."
"But living like that has no meaning, don't you think?"
"What do you mean?"
"I think that if you only live for yourself… then why be human? We're weak and vulnerable, but we can rely on others when we need to. Someone who fights only for himself isn't fully human," she said, looking at me with that strange mix of sincerity and tenderness. "Besides, isn't it satisfying to help others?"
"It's boring. I do it, but I don't feel anything."
"I don't think that's true."
She stepped closer and took my hand. She placed a small necklace between my fingers and closed my fist around it.
"If I hadn't thought of others, you would have died. And I would never have met someone like you. Don't you think that's… wonderful?"
I didn't know what to say. I knew people like her existed—bright, cheerful, inexplicably radiant. Unfortunately, people like that usually don't last long.
My greatest regret… was walking out the door the next morning.
Thaloren raised his fist, ready to bring the battle to an end. The Behemoth growled, and the ground shook so violently it threw his balance off. Then the demon began to shine with overwhelming intensity.
A shockwave struck him point-blank. Thaloren felt his bones crack; behind the noble, something rose. A colossal figure took shape: a beast resembling the demon itself, but walking on four legs, with a face like an elephant's and two enormous tusks jutting forward. It had to be over twenty meters tall.
Thaloren couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. He only knew his body had taken the full force of that wave. The Behemoth struggled to his feet.
"I can't believe a human actually forced me to use my trump card."
"What's that?"
A rare technique even among demons, the Behemoth said, approaching without the slightest difficulty. The spectral figure behind him mirrored every one of his movements. "This is the divine projection of demons—our final technique. We release all our power in a single burst, and our astral form emerges with a guaranteed strike that confuses the enemy and—"
The Behemoth stopped talking because Thaloren charged, clearly unwilling to listen. He threw a punch the demon dodged with ease. Tiberius countered with a hook, synchronizing his fist with that of the spectral figure; both blows landed cleanly. Thaloren was hurled away as the Behemoth wrapped himself in a crimson trail, pursuing him through the air.
One. Two. Three. Each strike hit with such force that Thaloren's body twisted unnaturally as blood sprayed through the air. The noble raised his hand and warped the terrain at will; a massive chunk of earth rose and slammed into Thaloren's spine, ripping a cry from him just before the corrupted demon crashed on top of him. A cloud of dust swallowed the battlefield.
The Behemoth scanned the area, searching for the invoker. Thaloren burst from the haze and managed to land a blow, but the demon spun and counterattacked, slamming him into the ground, bloodied and disoriented. The Behemoth approached, laughing as his astral form began to fade little by little.
"Oops. I shouldn't overuse this. My power is limited in this state," Tiberius said—until he noticed Thaloren rising again, staggering toward him. His eyes were dim and hollow, as if he were unconscious, yet his body continued advancing. "What a stubborn human…"
Then the demon's eyes widened in astonishment. Thaloren's clothes were shredded, but his skin bore no wounds at all. No cuts. No burns. Only a few bruises where the demon had struck with full strength.
"My injuries improved each day; I felt stronger and in better spirits. Talking with Emile and her mother had become part of my routine, and I enjoyed our time together more than I cared to admit.
'You're healing really fast.'
'It's one of the perks of being an Invoked. I rarely suffer permanent injuries,' I answered with a touch of arrogance.
'And when you're healed… will you leave?' Emile asked, fiddling with the hem of her blouse.
'I don't know. I still have my duties as an Invoked and all that,' I explained, glancing at her. 'But it doesn't mean I'll disappear. I'll visit.'
'Right, and you…' She stopped abruptly. She stood up, walked over to me, and looked straight into my eyes. Then, rising on her toes, she kissed me. It caught me completely off guard; we hadn't bonded that deeply, and our worldviews were far too different. 'Sorry… I had to check. I really wanted to know.'
Emile tapped my chest with her fingers, clearly flustered. She looked ready to bury herself in the ground.
'Would you… go back to who you were before?' she asked. I didn't know how to answer. Truthfully, I hadn't missed that lifestyle at all during my time there; the warmth of that home reminded me of my own in my past life. 'Would you live that way again?'
'As an Invoked, there aren't many ways to live…' I tried to explain, though it sounded more like an excuse. She stepped back and lowered her head.
'That's not true… or at least, not all the options are bad. You can always change that,' she said, turning away with tears in her eyes. 'Please… survive until the end. But… I don't think I could bear seeing you again if you stay that kind of person.'
'I… I'm sorry,' I finally said, and walked out the door. I looked at her one last time before closing it. Her back was slightly hunched, struggling not to cry… and I simply left, without asking her to let me see her eyes one more time."
The Behemoth threw a punch that hit Thaloren squarely in the chest. The ground erupted in shards, and a storm of corrupted energy hurled him upward. The astral specter unleashed another blow, and Thaloren plummeted, shattering the earth as he crashed.
"My life isn't worth anything," Thaloren thought.
The noble leapt, rising several meters into the air. The spectral form dissolved into a torrent of corrupted energy swirling around his fist, condensing like a living mass of power.
"I've only hurt the people around me… and lived solely for myself."
"This is my full power," the demon declared with a victorious grin. The energy spiraled rapidly, taking the shape of a drill. "The Unstoppable Lance."
The demon descended.
Thaloren closed his eyes, as if accepting his fate.
"That's what I used to think of myself… but in truth, I have no right to look down on who I am. I have talent, strength, and will. That's why I swore never to harm a human again, and…"
The impact struck. A blast shook the entire region; even Loryn and the villagers felt the ground tremble. Daion looked toward the horizon, fearing his suspicions were correct, as he collapsed to the ground.
Ken backed away immediately, fleeing from the immense torrent of corrupted energy pouring out of the crater.
The only sound was the Behemoth's shocked gasp.
Thaloren was standing, wrapped in a halo of plasma that shielded him from the corrupted current. He stared directly at the Behemoth, who was still trying to understand how his supposedly final strike had been avoided.
The only way to defeat him was to let him believe he could finish me in a single attack… and then—
Thaloren stomped the ground, and with an explosion of fury and energy, launched a direct punch at the Behemoth. The demon's body arched through the air as he tried to stifle the pain.
"I swore I would kill every corrupted, noble! And that I would bring hope to the people—for her! Because she gave it to me!"
The Invoked roared as his gauntlet opened. The oxygen around him vanished in an instant, and with a blinding flash, Ken lifted his head just in time to see a pillar of plasma erupt from the crater in a colossal explosion—a whirlwind of fire that lit the entire wasteland.
The bodies of the fallen allies twitched as if awakening for a brief moment, while the remaining corrupted died instantly, erased by the violence of the blast.
The wasteland's perpetual clouds split apart violently; the heat dispersed them so quickly that, in a single second, the cursed desert bathed in the light of the twin suns for the first time in fifty years.
Daion watched in astonishment, and a small smile tugged at his lips.
"Thero… are you seeing this?" he asked aloud. Aelith looked at him in surprise.
"Yes," the entity replied in his mind, her voice genuinely joyful.
"I told you it would happen, didn't I? For the first time… humans are starting to win this war."
Daion let out a restrained laugh, wondering what kind of monster Thaloren truly was.
The pillar finally dissipated. Ken pushed himself to his feet, disoriented by the sudden burst of light. He felt the suns burning against his skin as he slowly approached.
He reached the rim of the crater—now completely scorched—and peered down cautiously. All he saw was Thaloren, his clothes torn to rags by the heat and his gauntlets reduced to charcoal… yet he stood completely unharmed despite unleashing such power.
He stood tall, wearing a smile that held nothing of happiness, his fist raised in victory and the ground collapsing beneath his feet.
The Behemoth's corpse lay on the floor below, its ribcage torn open and charred, the body unrecognizable except for its silhouette and the corrupted energy fading into the air.
Thaloren remained there, looking up at the sky.
"I left that time because I needed to clear my head. I truly didn't want to go, not even after I'd fully recovered. I wanted to know them better. Emile… I wanted to understand the way she thought. But doing so would have betrayed the way I had chosen to live.
Then, suddenly, I ran into that woman again.
"The frontier is shrinking," she said, holding a steaming cup of coffee. "It's becoming more dangerous for everyone."
"Don't tell me. And what do you want me to do? I already told you I won't go near the frontier."
I gave her a sidelong glance as I tried to steady my thoughts. "Just leave."
"That house… it's far too close to the frontier. If the territory compresses again, what do you think will happen to those women?"
I spun around instantly. A wave of heat filled the room as I glared at Seraphine.
"Is that a threat, witch?"
"Of course not. I would never threaten someone with your level of power. It's a warning: you cannot control everything with brute strength alone."
I didn't understand what she meant… not until I heard an explosion in the distance. It came from the direction of Emile's home.
I ran—sprinting across the fields in desperation. When I finally saw the hut, it was already engulfed in flames. A group of corrupted emerged, dragging the mangled corpse of her mother… and Emile, barely conscious, her abdomen pierced clean through.
The largest corrupted scolded the others for injuring her: women had to be kept alive for breeding.
I screamed, and fire swallowed everything in an instant.
After that, my memories are nothing but shattered fragments drowned in shadow. I only remember—or think I remember, unsure if it was real or just guilt twisting itself into memory—the gentle touch of Emile's hand on my cheek, her voice whispering faint, fading words… moments before she died.
But what she told me then—I remember with absolute clarity:
"Live without regrets."
It was the only time I truly listened to her advice.
And the last time I ever saw her.
Chapter 46 — End.