Valruel, First Seat of the Guardian Knights.

He wasn’t at the top of the order without reason.

“Demon King, I’ll put an end to your foolish delusion—right here and now.”

His voice seethed with rage as he lunged at Clay.

CLANG!

Valruel’s sword clashed with Clay’s. From that single impact, Clay was pushed back a step.

Whoosh!

Valruel swung again. The blow was heavy but not slow. Clay chose to block rather than evade.

The force of the impact sent him sliding again. While he staggered, Valruel raised his sword a third time.

But this time, Clay didn’t wait for the attack. He struck first—thrusting toward Valruel’s abdomen.

“!”

Valruel twisted his body, dodging the blow, but it threw off his balance. Clay immediately drove his elbow into Valruel’s side.

Crack—!

The strike hit his ribs. Valruel grunted and stumbled back.

“Your sword and body feel heavy.”

Clay scoffed as he looked down at him.

“Letting emotion get the better of you?”

“Silence.”

Valruel raised his sword once more.

“Even if it’s slow—I’ll erase you completely.”

Light began gathering into his blade. Divine power. He was condensing the power he’d stored within his body, preparing to release it all at once. Clay clicked his tongue at the sight.

‘Is he trying to blow himself up?’

Any power had limits to how much could be released at once. Exceed that threshold, and the user would suffer backlash—if they were lucky. Death was also possible.

And yet, Valruel was releasing so much energy that his sword glowed white.

‘He really doesn’t care if he dies.’

It was the mindset of someone who didn’t care what happened to themselves, as long as their target was eliminated. Clay scowled in disgust.

Screeeeeech—!

Finally, the sword let out a shrill, unnatural cry, and Valruel brought it down.

KWA-A-AANG!

The distance was too far for the blade to reach Clay directly, but the massive white slash it unleashed ripped through the ground, rushing toward him.

Clay drew his own sword upward in a diagonal sweep—from low to high. A deflection.

Instead of matching divine power with equal magia, he aimed to redirect the attack.

It worked.

The divine slash veered away in the direction Clay had twisted it.

“Hrgh—!”

But Valruel didn’t falter. He stepped forward and swung again—this time a horizontal slash.

The new wave of divine energy came screaming toward Clay. Bracing both feet firmly into the earth, Clay brought his sword down from overhead to meet it directly.

KRAAAANG!

Or at least—he tried.

The force of the slash didn’t yield. Clay’s sword was being pushed back by the wave. He kept his grip, holding the edge of the blade firm.

A contest of strength between his weapon and the divine slash.

During this stalemate, Valruel advanced until he stood right in front of Clay.

“Having trouble deflecting it?”

He sneered at Clay, who was locked in place, unable to move.

“I poured half my divine power into that strike.”

A surprise attack delivered after only a few exchanges.

“No matter how strong you are, you couldn’t have batted it away unscathed. You’ll have to match it with equal force.”

Drip.

Blood trickled from Valruel’s eyes, nose, and ears. It was the backlash from exceeding his limits.

“Which means… you’ll end up just like me.”

Hack!

He coughed—blood mixed with his breath. Still, Clay didn’t flinch.

“Say something.”

Valruel pressed him further.

“If you just stand there, you’ll get your head lopped off by my sword.”

He began to raise his blade—ready to end it.

Clay had a choice to make.

Match the force and risk injury… or die.

But it wasn’t really a choice. There was only one thing he could do.

Yet even so, he didn’t move.

Valruel hesitated.

Why wasn’t he reacting? Standing motionless on the brink of death—it felt wrong.

“Die, Demon King.”

Still, Valruel didn’t stop. This could be his only chance. If Clay had simply frozen without some hidden ploy, then hesitating would cost him everything. He swung at Clay’s neck.

But at that moment—Clay let go of his sword and leapt back.

The sword should’ve followed him—yet it didn’t.

It remained fixed in midair, as if suspended in space alongside the divine slash.

“!?”

Valruel blinked in disbelief. His sword cut through only the empty space where Clay had been.

KRAAAANG!

Then the moment Clay’s sword broke loose from the suspended force, it crashed to the ground with a thunderous roar. The divine slash tore through the soil ahead, spent.

“What… what was that?”

“He let go of the sword?”

“How is that even possible?”

The surrounding soldiers murmured in shock. No one had ever seen anything like it.

Valruel, too, clenched his teeth. His plan had backfired completely.

“Demon King…!”

He shouted,

“What trick did you just pull?!”

“What trick are you referring to?”

Clay strode forward and reclaimed the demon sword embedded in the ground.

“Did you really think that little of me?”

He let out a faint laugh.

“Your mistake was trying to take me down using divine power of all things.”

Divine power.

Having once been chosen by Elhaen to wield the greatest divine power, Clay’s understanding of divinity was naturally unmatched.

“When you release that much divine power all at once, the propulsion weakens. Even if I stepped back, my demon sword could hold the blow for a moment.”

And fixing the demon sword in place hadn’t been difficult.

“My sword, too, has a will of its own.”

Even without Clay actively channeling power, Syltanaro—the demon sword—could remain stationary by its own will.

Through resonance, even unspoken commands could be shared. Syltanaro had endured the divine power alone, exactly as Clay had wordlessly instructed.

“With weakened propulsion, it deflected more easily. Maybe you should’ve tried delivering that blow up close. You might’ve had a better result.”

“Don’t mock me…!”

Valruel’s face twisted in disbelief.

“You wouldn’t know what it’s like to wield that much divine power! And you’re saying you do?!”

“You’re a fool, Valruel.”

Clay had been pushed to his limits more than once in his battle against the former Demon King.

“I’m only standing here now because I’ve already done it—and survived.”

“Enough with the lies!”

Valruel shouted.

“No one could survive something like that! You’re lying right now!”

“So what, I’m a ghost now?”

Whether past or present, if Clay hadn’t endured it, he wouldn’t be alive now, speaking to him.

“It was only possible because I had comrades back then. People who could fight in my place when I faltered. Of course, once I was executed, all those bonds shattered.”

Valruel had no retort. Not because Clay’s words were mocking—but because they were true.

He had used up half his divine power.

Even if he still had a reserve and could replenish it later, divine power couldn’t be refilled in a single instant.

Meanwhile, Clay—the Demon King—had taken no damage.

Valruel remembered what had happened before he came here.

Lutan had suddenly appeared… and run  Cadis through with his sword. It had been a near-ambush.  Cadis collapsed without resistance.

Blood had splattered from Lutan’s sword onto Valruel, who stood frozen. They’d argued often, but  Cadis was still the closest thing he had to a comrade.

While Valruel stood in stunned silence, Lutan stepped over  Cadis’ body and told him: “If you want to save him, prove your loyalty.”

Just like  Cadis had said—it made no sense. The Guardian Knights weren’t meant to serve only Krata.

And yet, in practice, the Guardian Knights had always acted for Krata. So Lutan’s words weren’t just suggestions—they were orders.

Valruel had eventually begun walking.

Not to save  Cadis.

Even if they were close, they weren’t friends. He didn’t feel that kind of loyalty.

It was just—

“How ridiculous.”

He was angry. Angry that everything he’d built as a Guardian Knight—his fame, the structure, the legacy—

Had all crumbled with the rise of the Demon King.

“You were executed and became the Demon King—all because of your own choices.”

And for that, Valruel chose to hate Clay.

“Because of you, the Holy Alliance has lost its claim to peace.”

“Peace?” Clay tilted his head, “That’s rich—coming from the guy who just butchered a bunch of soldiers.”

“I won’t listen to any more of your mockery.” Valruel raised his sword again, “All must act for a greater cause. You should’ve died cleanly in the name of that cause.”

“If I die, everything ends.”

Clay hadn’t been able to forgive his former comrades for that very reason. Because they had let him die.

“I may be standing here again, but it doesn’t change the fact that I was buried. Do you know what it’s like inside that grave?”

“I don’t want to.”

“You think nothing.”

That’s what death was.

“You cease to exist. And if I can’t witness the world, then for me, that world no longer exists—it’s no different from its destruction.”

Righteous causes, justice—none of it mattered if you were dead. If you didn’t exist, nothing did.

“Since you clearly don’t understand, I’ll have to make you feel it.”

Clay gripped his demon sword once more. Valruel’s lips twisted upward.

“Unlike you, I’m not afraid of death.”

“Don’t misunderstand.” Clay raised Syltanaro into position, “I wasn’t afraid of it either.”

But the death Clay experienced had erased him. It didn’t just kill him—it nullified him.

It hadn’t been death. It had been obliteration.

“Valruel, you don’t know the first thing about dying as a scapegoat.”

“And I never intend to learn.”

“In that case…”

Clay stepped forward.

“Be erased—right here, and for nothing.”

(End of Chapter)

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