Chapter 308

Words : 2421 Updated : Oct 13th, 2025

Chapter 308 Boom! Unable to withstand the slash of the Great Holy Sword, the cathedral split in half, collapsing midair, and the black veil that had blanketed the entire sky shattered like glass. A scar was left in the sky, revealing the clear blue sky visible beyond it. The sight gave Se-Hoon a surge of exhilaration... And then his heart exploded. Boom! “Ugh!” Before he could react, a hole the size of a fist punctured his chest. He had recklessly used the Demonic Blood Art, and when combined with the backlash from swinging the Great Holy Sword, his concentrated mana-filled heart could no longer endure, bursting completely. “Urgh...” His heart hadn’t just punctured—it had been utterly obliterated. Yet even as he coughed up a torrent of blood, Se-Hoon remained unfazed. Woong! The Great Holy Sword emitted a radiant light that surged into his chest. Then, as though time was reversing, his wounds vanished without a trace and his now regenerated heart resumed its fierce rhythm, pushing the stalled blood through his veins once again. “Whew...” Stabilizing his body with Soul Honing, he looked down at his chest, revealed by a new hole in his clothing. It’s been a while since my heart last burst... For others, such an event would happen only once in their lifetime—if at all. However, Se-Hoon had survived similar injuries countless times thanks to his vitality that had been augmented by Soul Honing. He had suffered such injuries so many times before the regression that rumors had spread during the war against the Demon Force that Se-Hoon often fought without a heart at all. And those unintended experiences now allowed him to assess his condition without panic. I figured something like this might happen, but... it seems my soul is more tainted than I thought. He still recalled how the Frost Dog had warned him in a dream about the dangers of using the Demonic Blood Art. However, he just hadn’t expected the consequences to show themselves that quickly. If it weren’t for the Great Holy Sword, he might not have survived. My body is undergoing quite a few problems, though. Outwardly, his body looked perfect, without a single scratch. But internally, horrors beyond imagination were unfolding. The different elemental mana types he had been controlling with Soul Honing were rampaging uncontrollably, tearing through his organs, blood vessels, and mana circuits in a ceaseless cycle of destruction and regeneration. It was the outcome of reaching his soul’s limit: the collapse of his synesthetic mindscape—something he had long foreseen. Even though I’ve been through this before, it still hurts pretty bad. Though his feet were planted firmly on the cathedral’s ceiling, he felt as if he were falling endlessly. An eerie hollowness gripped his entire body, feeling as though something within him was leaking away, bringing about overwhelming fatigue that went far beyond mere exhaustion. Yet he suppressed it, amplifying the regenerative power of the Great Holy Sword which strengthened Soul Honing to help steady his body. It’s not time yet. He had planned for the moment it would inevitably happen, but if he failed to end the battle he was currently in first, it would be tantamount to suicide. Catching his breath and stabilizing himself, Se-Hoon looked down at Apostate who had fallen below. Drip- Apostate leaned against the wall, barely able to stand. The wound that ran from his right shoulder to his left hip was so deep that if the slash had just a bit more force, it would have cleaved him in two. Yet even then, it was a wound Apostate should’ve been able to heal through Divine Magic or his body’s natural regeneration. Sizzle! However, the wound left by the Great Holy Sword didn’t allow it. “Grr...” The Holy Artifact, crafted with the sacrifice of the last remaining devout followers—including Archbishop Kamal—before the regression, was created solely to kill demons and fiends. The divine mana in the wound burrowed deeper inside, consuming Apostate from within. Golden cracks spread outward from the injury, and his body slowly crumbled, like it was disintegrating in a fire. “Cough!” Coughing out the blood that welled up in his throat, Apostate’s pure white veil was soaked with crimson, blurring his vision. Irritated by it, Apostate grit his teeth and tore off the bloodied veil, tossing it aside. “...!” Se-Hoon blankly stared at Apostate. It was the first time before and after the regression that he revealed his face. And when he recognized who Apostate resembled after a moment, Se-Hoon’s eyes widened in shock. “Your... face...” Black hair, deathly pale skin devoid of any blood, and a gaunt figure like a living corpse. While the thin, lifeless appearance slightly distorted the resemblance, that face was unmistakable—Karl’s. “Cough... what. Does my face amuse you?” “...” “Heh... Come to think of it, I guess it would. Who else would worship their enemy so much that they even mimic their face?” As Apostate chuckled bitterly, Se-Hoon observed him with a conflicted expression. A demon’s appearance varied depending on their skills or synesthetic mindscape, but it was always shaped by their deepest desires. Demonic aura would amplify their innermost aspirations, transforming their bodies accordingly. Karl must mean a lot to him. It was the secret that Apostate, who betrayed his savior and mentor all to escape the Pilgrimage Church’s god, the Golden Ring, bore. And now it was finally uncovered. Yet, questions continued to swirl in Se-Hoon’s mind. What exactly is that ring? Could it harbor some unknown purpose he had yet to grasp? Or was it truly just a natural phenomenon, existing without meaning? Trying to piece together the truth, Se-Hoon became more and more suspicious as he thought about the Golden Ring. He had finally gotten a glimpse of the fragments of its power, having awakened his own divine mana, yet his doubts only deepened. The sight of him, deep in thought, made Apostate smirk. “...This isn’t bad.... I thought bringing you to my side would be ideal, but such an outcome really isn’t bad either.” “What are you talking about?” “You too... cough!” Blood erupted from the Apostate’s lips again. Though he was still clinging to life, the unhealed wound left him essentially a dead man. It was only a matter of time now before the battle concluded, with the barrier that once isolated them from the outside world also having been destroyed. Both men knew, yet they maintained their tense standoff. “Phew... You should be aware by now, given that you've been in their presence for some time, that Perfect Ones aren’t normal beings.” “...” “You’re probably trying to keep all possibilities open in your mind, but I’ll just set it straight for you.” Apostate’s eyes glinted. “They’re not human anymore.” “What nonsense—” “If you’re thinking about physical differences, you need to change your perspective. You know where the Towers of Heroes and Abyss of Demons come from, right?” Se-Hoon’s eyes narrowed. Both the Towers of Heroes and Abyss of Demons originated from the Golden Ring, meaning Apostate was implying there was no fundamental difference between heroes and demons. “That’s an unproven theory. Even if it’s true, it doesn’t make heroes and demons the same.” “Heroes and demons, sure. But I’m talking about the monsters who’ve conquered a Tower of Heroes.” Apostate grinned, smiling despite coughing up blood and bits of his organs. “Those things aren’t human anymore.” “The Abyss of Demons is a place where one falls endlessly. That is why anyone who steps into it can inevitably see their end.” “...” “But the Towers of Heroes are different. Not just anyone can reach the summit. It’s a mechanism that selects those who must ascend. That’s what the Towers of Heroes truly are—gates of selection.” Se-Hoon’s eyes grew cold. One didn’t become a Perfect One by climbing to the top of a Tower—they climbed to the top of the tower because they were already destined to be Perfect Ones. The order was reversed, but the distinction was anything but minor. “What kind of standard did that apocalypse, which knows no distinction between good and evil, use to choose its Perfect Ones? I can’t say for sure... but whatever it is, it certainly isn’t normal.” Thud. Apostate slowly sank to the ground; standing had become too much. Death was creeping ever so closer, yet he had chosen to talk about the secrets of the Towers of Heroes and the Perfect Ones. Apostate was so calm in his last moments that Se-Hoon couldn’t help but regard him with an odd expression. “Why are you telling me this?” While Se-Hoon stood to gain from the knowledge Apostate was revealing, what could the dying demon possibly gain from sharing? A brief silence fell before Apostate, his breath faint, answered. “Because you’re somewhere in-between...” “What?” “Too unstable to ascend, yet too solid to fall. Neither black nor white... a gray existence. That’s what you are.” Apostate raised his gaze to meet Se-Hoon’s and smirked. “Do you think someone like you could just leave those at either end—black and white—alone? Of course not. This is only a matter of sequence.” “...” “Lee Se-Hoon... you will complete my concept of god. That way, my death today will not have been in vain, remembered as the passing of a martyr.” With an unsettlingly serene smile, Apostate fixed his gaze on Se-Hoon. “If this is that kind of conclusion, I’ll gladly accept it.” Satisfied even in the face of death, Apostate continued to smile. And upon seeing him like that, Se-Hoon opened his mouth to say something but quickly decided against it, thinking about how pointless it was to argue with a lunatic who was trying to spin getting killed by a first-year student into some glorious martyrdom. This is exactly why people shouldn’t mess with cults. Se-Hoon’s stomach churned unpleasantly. Whether it was because of the conversation or the breakdown of his synesthetic mindscape was unknown. Feeling the discomfort, Se-Hoon let out a sigh. Just then, Apostate suddenly looked up. “That’s...” Making a peculiar expression, Apostate stared at the sky before lowering his gaze back to Se-Hoon, who stood stoically. “...Do you believe you can manage?” Apostate’s tone hinted that he had been expecting something, though it seemed he hadn’t thought it would actually happen. “I’ll see it through as far as I can,” Se-Hoon replied, unfazed. Crack! The clear blue sky beyond the veil began fracturing. And a moment later, dozens of black pillars moved laterally, tearing through space. BOOM! Then, with a deafening shatter, the blue sky was obliterated, revealing a dark void from which a colossal monster emerged. It was the owner of the black pillars—the owner of the fingers that had torn apart the fabric of reality. Crash! The massive creature planted its four unnaturally long arms on the ground, using them like legs to support its enormous body. Its shadow loomed ominously, darkening everything beneath it. Recognizing the creature’s unmistakable stitched-shut eyes, nose, mouth, and patchwork black flesh, Se-Hoon narrowed his eyes. Ymir. One of the Planet Devourers said to consume stars with its mere existence, Ymir was a living weapon altered tens of thousands of times by Tuner, the one behind the destruction of countless cities before the regression. And now, it appeared once again to capture Se-Hoon. “Alright, move it along! We don’t have all day!” A Harmonizer perched atop Ymir’s shoulder slapped the monster’s neck, urging it to move forward. At the same time, threads connecting Ymir’s body wiggling. Crash! Two of Ymir’s enormous hands crushed the cathedral in a single motion, reducing it to rubble. It was so powerful that it even startled Tuner, who shouted, “Hey, that’s way too much strength!” “Shut up. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to move this hunk of meat?” snapped Puppeteer irritably. Even though Tuner was giving orders, Ymir was still incomplete and thus failed to respond properly, leaving it up to Puppeteer to handle the controls remotely from a lab. “Did you catch them? He looked like he was about to teleport away.” “I caught them. Just get ready to extract—wait, what?” Seeing the threads controlling Ymir beginning to tremble, Puppeteer’s eyes widened, realizing something was wrong. They’re... pushing it back? Little by little, Ymir’s massive hands were being forced apart. But how could someone who just fought Apostate muster that kind of strength? At that moment, Puppeteer’s gaze drifted toward the rainforest hidden by Apostate’s sanctuary. The ground, scarred and twisted by the sanctuary’s laws, looked eerily untouched for a battlefield where two S-rank heroes had supposedly fought. Don’t tell me... A horrifying possibility struck Puppeteer, and she hastily tried to make Ymir move away. Crunch! But she was too late. The sound of metal being crushed rang out and Ymir’s hands shattered violently after, flinging debris everywhere. Then, from within the crumbled remains of Ymir’s grip, two figures emerged: Eun-Ha, her entire body radiating with flames, and Se-Hoon, clutching a massive sword that looked as if it had been bitten into by some monstrous creature. Whoosh! Without hesitation, Puppeteer swung Ymir’s remaining arms wildly at the pair, sending them skyscrapers collapsing in their direction. However, instead of retreating, Eun-Ha clenched her fist tightly and planted herself firmly in place. “Hmph!” She met Ymir’s fists head-on. BOOM! Screeeech! Ymir let out an agonized wail as its patched-up body ripped apart from Eun-Ha’s sheer force. Black blood gushed from its wounds, and the threads controlling it snapped one by one. “What the—?!” Puppeteer was completely stunned. Eun-Ha’s strength was so overwhelming that it ignored the vast size difference? It was as if she had been saving all of her power for that single moment. Wait... did that bastard really beat Apostate all by himself? Unlike the other Watchers, Tuner had a clear grasp of Se-Hoon’s abilities and had expected the Apostate’s defeat—but only with the help of allies. Winning alone... defied all expectations. What kind of monster is he... Flabbergasted, Tuner gaped at the unexpected turn of events. Whoosh! A golden light suddenly illuminated the battlefield, and a blonde woman appeared beside Se-Hoon, wielding a dazzling sword. “Oh, hell—” Unable to finish his speech, Tuner, along with Ymir’s neck, was cleaved through by Aria’s blade in a single stroke.

Chapter 308

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