Thaloren flew over the battlefield carrying the noble's corpse so every surviving demon could witness the fall of their master. Many tried to flee, but they were immediately struck down—either by Thaloren or by Ken, who guarded the escape routes without letting a single one slip through. The rest kept fighting the summons, determined to take as many enemies with them as possible before dying.
Finally, Thaloren descended and dropped the Behemoth's body in front of him. He let himself fall to the ground as well, exhausted, struggling to breathe while staring up at the clear sky. A strange, sorrowful smile tugged at his lips as he wondered what came after death… and whether Emile was watching him, disappointed or surprised by what he had become.
With an irritated grunt, he let himself fall onto his back on the barren earth. Ken staggered closer, still dazed from Thaloren's final attack.
"What was that?" Ken asked, dropping beside him with his legs crossed.
"Ah, that's my reward for reaching S-rank," Thaloren replied, shifting slightly and giving him a tired smile. "I developed that technique on the frontier. I can release an immeasurable amount of power—but only once. After that, my gauntlets are destroyed… and I'm drained."
"That's why you let yourself get hit. You needed to make sure that attack connected to end the fight."
"Exactly," Thaloren said, snapping his fingers in approval. Ken let out a long sigh.
"But… you weren't taking damage, right? At least you don't look that hurt," Ken muttered, examining him from head to toe.
"Oh, I was. In fact, I have several internal hemorrhages right now," Thaloren said, pressing on his torso and wincing at every point of pain. "I covered myself with plasma for the entire fight. If even one of his blows had hit me directly, no doubt about it—I'd be dead."
Ken nodded, still unable to process how absurd Thaloren's power was. He let himself fall backward with a resigned groan.
"How do you think those idiots did?" he asked with a grin. Thaloren rubbed his chin.
"Well, Daion said he'd win. And if the mid-rank corrupted gets close, I'll kill it quickly."
Ken jumped to his feet, enjoyed the sunlight on his face for a moment, and began walking toward the trenches.
"Well, we still have to take care of the remaining corrupted."
Thaloren nodded. He turned toward the Behemoth's body, placed his hand on it, and began absorbing it.
Daion was still in shock. He had literally witnessed an explosion comparable to a nuclear detonation right in front of him… and it came from a guy who, apparently, had walked away almost unharmed. He let out a nervous laugh as a support soldier tried to heal him.
"Healing magic is rare," Loryn said as he rummaged through the corrupted corpses, absorbing their energy. From what he collected, he transferred a third to Daion and reserved another third for himself. "So make use of it while you have it."
Daion nodded, though he thought it was annoyingly slow. And the fact that it only worked through direct contact made it practically useless in combat. Aelith held him tightly, refusing to step away. She felt his wounds were her fault for not being able to keep up with the corrupted long enough. But in truth, it was Daion who carried the guilt for her injuries.
He had taken a couple of spheres, and his wounds were starting to close, but he was still on the verge of collapse from internal bleeding.
He opened his status window:
[Summoned's Evaluation]
• Omega Energy Absorbed: 5200Ω
• Level: 24
• Rank: Adept
"What does the level mean?" Daion asked, surprised that the low-rank corrupted had given him so much energy.
"It's the state of your body," Loryn explained casually. "How much Omega energy you can handle circulating inside you."
Daion nodded and closed the window.
"Bring me Tinitos's body," he ordered.
Loryn glanced at him sideways, confused.
"I think I can withstand all of his power now," Daion added.
Loryn nodded, carried the demon's body and head, and placed them before him. Daion watched out of the corner of his eye while the soldier continued trying to mend his open wounds.
He sighed, pressed his gauntlet against the corpse, and felt his arm twist instantly. A reddish glow burst around him as the corrupted's energy was absorbed. Loryn frowned as the demon's body began to slowly disintegrate—while Daion struggled not to scream.
The light slowly faded.
Then Daion's eyes shone with such intensity they looked like two beacons cutting through the darkness. His body became wrapped in a bluish aura, and his hair lifted as if struck by an invisible gust from the front. A burning tingling rushed through every fiber of his being, and in the distance, his sword responded: it gleamed sharply, lengthening, refining its guard, revealing a small skull at its center.
Daion's body tightened. A wave of energy shook the entire field. From the dead soil, timid threads of grass sprouted… and then, just as suddenly, everything went dark again.
The body vanished completely, and Daion's hand trembled. His wounds hadn't healed, but even so, he felt as though he had stepped onto an entirely different plane. He opened his stats once more.
[Summoned's Stats]
• Strength: Level 45 (Titanic)
• Dexterity: Level 39 (Rogue)
• Endurance: Level 42 (Mountain)
• Agility: Level 40 (Pegasus)
• Intelligence: Level 20 (Shrewd)
[Divine Artifacts]
• Sword of Punishment (Rank C)
• Omega Gauntlet (Rank C)
[Summoned's Evaluation]
• Omega Energy Absorbed: 6200Ω
• Level: 26
• Rank: Veteran
[Abilities]
• Sword Manipulation – Level 6
His stats had updated, and now it was confirmed: he had reached Rank C. He didn't feel drastically different, except for the new current of energy running through him like an electric river. He placed his hand on the ground and clearly felt the blades of grass beneath his fingers. Then he remembered they still had one task left.
"Aelith," Daion called.
She lifted her head, confused.
"Go get what Thero gave us."
Aelith's eyes widened in excitement, and she nodded before sprinting off.
Daion looked around. Half of the soldiers had died because of him… but many had survived, and Loryn was still recovering from the exertion—despite the fact that he himself could've killed the demon on his own.
"Happy Rank C. You're officially the fastest son of a bitch to ever reach that rank in all of history," Loryn said, giving him a pat on the back and adjusting his hood to hide his face.
He acts like an idiot… but he was there the whole time, Daion thought, scowling before standing with Aelith's help. They began their march.
Clouds were starting to cover the sky again, though Daion hoped it wouldn't be permanent. After a few hours, using the newly dug tunnels, they returned to the trenches. Some corrupted were still alive and trying to flee, but Loryn killed them without even slowing down.
The trenches were empty. The battle was over, sealed by that final strike of Thaloren's—one everyone hoped had meant victory. They walked through the collapsed corridors and finally emerged on the other side of the battlefield.
When the soldiers saw them step out from the rubble, supporting Daion, cheers erupted. The soldiers raised their weapons, and the summoned grinned—frustrated, but impressed—at how quickly Daion had reached Rank C.
They made their way through the crowd, and Aelith vanished almost immediately, taking two other demihumans with her. Daion was welcomed with a warmth that unsettled him: they ruffled his hair, patted him on the back, crowded around him without hesitation. Yair watched from the side, surprised at how even the soldiers who had followed Daion's reckless idea now seemed completely at ease with him.
Daion entered the fortress, realizing Seraphine wasn't there. He looked at the demihumans, then thought of Thaloren. He would worry about the guild later.
For now, he simply waited amid the celebrations and shared in the victory. Dozens of soldiers and summoned had died—though fewer than everyone had feared. That was the only comfort. There can be no war without sacrifices, Daion repeated to himself, yet deep down he felt guilty for those who would never return home.
Finally, Aelith reappeared. Apparently, this time she had managed to avoid falling into one of Thero's temporal holes. She and the other demihumans carried the gift the lady had entrusted to them.
"According to her, we have to place it where the most concentrated Omega energy is. That way, it will ignite more easily," Aelith explained.
"And when exactly did she tell you that?" Daion asked.
"She just told me," Aelith replied.
Daion clicked his tongue.
"Right. Telepathy."
They stood up as the celebration began inside the fortress: someone uncorked the leftover alcohol, but the laughter died with the first sip, as if the memory of the fallen were drinking with them.
Daion and the others moved on. He could already walk without help, though every step still hurt worse than anything he'd felt before. They reached the place where the battle should've taken place—and froze. The terrain was still scarred by plasma lingering in the air, and everything around them had been almost completely carbonized.
Thaloren stood beside the crater, his hand trembling. He turned when he sensed them arrive and greeted them with a calm smile.
"Looks like you kept your promise," said the S-rank summoned.
Daion nodded.
"You're not much of a liar either, from what I can tell. I heard you took down a noble with one final attack—like some damn legend," Daion scoffed as they set the device on the ground.
Thaloren eyed him with curiosity, then looked toward the crater.
"I'm guessing you need it taken down to the bottom, right?"
"Are you a mind reader?" Daion asked, raising a brow.
"Why else would you bring it all the way here?"
"But I'm guessing it's full of radiation."
"Yeah. Anyone who goes in there would die—including a summoned," Thaloren said casually.
A thin bed of plasma formed beneath the device, and with a couple of gestures, Thaloren lowered it slowly into the crater until it hovered over a few rocks that didn't look very stable. Then he sighed and let it drop.
"All right… how do we activate it?"
"You need to press the top," Aelith said. Thaloren nodded.
When the plasma pressed the switch, a golden wave rippled through the air. Nothing happened at first. Then, suddenly, the plasma began swirling around the device like a tornado, lighting up the faces of everyone watching. After that—silence.
A few uncomfortable seconds passed as they looked at each other.
"Well… I guess we shouldn't expect it to be instant," Daion muttered.
At that moment, a beam burst out of the device. The air was sucked violently toward it, and Daion felt something very similar to what he had experienced in the dungeon. All the Omega energy in the vicinity was absorbed at once, feeding the artifact, and the beam shot upward, piercing the sky. The clouds opened again—this time without Thaloren's dramatic explosion.
Several impulses of energy pulsed from the device, and from the cracks in the ground, grass began to sprout. Right before their eyes, the hardened terrain softened.
They quickly realized the entire place was about to collapse, so Thaloren covered them with a layer of plasma and pulled them back just in time. The barren soil transformed into fertile earth in an instant, then caved in with a deep rumble. Dirt filled the crater, and by the time they reacted, the dungeon had been completely buried, leaving a downward slope leading to the device.
Daion felt a drop on the back of his neck. He looked up and saw rain beginning to fall from the clouds—pure water that drenched the field and touched the newborn grass. In minutes, the entire area turned green.
They stepped aside and watched the scene, amazed, as the cool rain washed over them.
Daion sensed Thero's presence appear beside him, smiling with satisfaction as the Omega energy returned to the world and revitalized her form. Though Daion knew this was only a temporary aid; they still needed to work hard if they wanted the nature entity to regain her former glory.
They landed on solid ground. Thaloren inspected the area from above, and the demihumans ran through the new grass, laughing and playing. Daion sat cross-legged while Loryn examined the device. Thero manifested beside him, just as she had during the fight with Tinitos. Only Daion could see her.
"Looks like you won, didn't you?" the entity said with a smile.
"Well, I did say I would," Daion replied, smiling up at the sky.
"So, you're leaving the frontier?" she asked.
"I don't know. I still have to collect from Seraphine. She'll leave SteelWall alone, and I'll finally be able to return as a proper fantasy hero," Daion said, thinking for a moment about the bartender.
"The black-haired woman…" Thero's expression darkened. "You know Thaloren's story, don't you?"
"Yeah. He told me before the battle."
"And what do you think?" the entity pressed.
"I have no doubts. The Divine Guild is the one that allowed the corrupt to advance so far and murder those women."
"Are you going to tell him?" Thero asked, staring at him with severity.
"No," he replied without hesitation. "If I tell him, he'll destroy everything and abandon the frontier. And we already know why we can't let that happen."
"So you're just going to let them do whatever they want?"
"Of course not," Daion said firmly. He stood and looked toward Aelith, who was laughing with the others, unaware of the tension hanging in the air. "These bastards have abused everyone here. They threatened to destroy a village over a debt, enslaved the demihumans and the summoned… and took every opportunity to get rid of anyone who wasn't useful to them. They don't care about anything, even when they dress it up as 'necessary to win.' They don't deserve another chance. Seraphine doesn't deserve to walk away untouched."
Daion stretched, as if trying to shake the anger out of his muscles. The entity watched him with a faint smile, like someone observing a stubborn—but admirable—child.
"And what do you plan to do about it?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "But they won't see it coming. It'll probably be something stupid."
"Very well," Thero said, an odd gleam lighting her eyes. "Then it's worth telling you this."
Daion frowned, intrigued.
"The Primordial Grimoire…"
The group returned to the fortress as night settled in. The lit torches cast long shadows, and between them people laughed, drank, or cried. The slaves gathered the bodies with care and laid them to rest, while friends and acquaintances broke down for a moment… only to seek comfort afterward in alcohol or in the closeness of other survivors.
Daion and Loryn blended into the crowd, letting the noise and warmth of the celebration wrap around them. Ken was talking with his group farther ahead; as despicable as they could be, those bastards knew how to survive. Daion didn't like them, but he didn't mind that they were alive either. Tonight, surviving was merit enough.
Then he noticed it.
The soldiers, the summoned, the demihumans… were looking at him. But not with contempt, suspicion, or fear. They looked at him with eyes shining, as if they were seeing something—someone—they had never considered possible.
The survivors had already told how he saved them when the plan collapsed. Aelith had spoken well of him too. And the silent influence of Thero wrapped around him like a mantle of authority he had never asked for.
For the first time since he arrived in that world…
they didn't look at him like trash.
They looked at him like a hero.
End of Chapter 47.