The final flash of memory before death.

Valruel had never once thought about it. His life had been ruled solely by duty—nothing else.

“Kh…!”

Even in the moment Clay’s sword pierced through him, he saw nothing. Whether it was the pain or simply the inertia of a life lived only for obligation, he didn’t know.

“You…!”

Not that it mattered to Valruel. All he felt now was fury—toward Clay, who had caused all of this.

“I will stop you… even in my last breath!”

He gathered the last of his divine power. Rather than face a vision of his past, Valruel chose to burn his body to the very end.

“Prepare yourself, Demon King!”

His sacred gear roared to life, forcing Clay’s demon sword back out of his body.

“RRAAAAAAGH!”

The First Seat of the Guardian Knights.

Until now, he had never hesitated to serve Krata, even if it meant turning the order into its private army. Because he believed—no, knew—that was the only way to protect peace across the continent.

He never thought Lutan was righteous. The emperor wasn’t a saint. He acted in his own interests and used the name of justice to demand sacrifices from others.

But Lutan was Elhaen’s chosen.

The god who had brought peace to this world. Valruel pledged his undying loyalty to Elhaen, regardless of who ruled over humans.

That alone had mattered to him.

It didn’t matter if the ruler had ambition. As long as they served Elhaen faithfully, Valruel would follow.

Even if Elhaen was absent now, it would return one day to bring order back to chaos. For that day, Valruel had to protect Its will—by any means necessary, casting aside human desires and doubts.

“RAAAAAHHHHH!”

Demon King—Clay.

Valruel hadn’t felt nothing when Clay, the former Hero, was executed. He’d felt regret.

But Elhaen’s will had demanded it. If Clay didn’t die, conflict would erupt among humans. That chaos had to be stopped. As a Guardian Knight, Valruel’s duty had been to prevent what humanity couldn’t endure.

CRAAAAAASH!

Valruel’s blade slammed into Clay’s demon sword.

They locked in a clash of pure force. Valruel’s blade pushed against Clay’s, forcing him back. His boots scraped along the ground as he was driven backward.

Valruel, even as he vomited blood, stared into Clay’s eyes.

“Die, Demon King—for the sake of humanity!”

he bellowed.

“That is the only path left if you want even a shred of respect from them!”

His body was engulfed in light. The sacred gear was overloading.

“Be redeemed in death, Clay!”

The divine light surged like flame, latching onto Clay, burning white-hot.

“Redemption…”

But the light was devoured—by black flames of magia.

“You receive it.”

KRAAAAAAA!

Magia’s blaze swallowed the white flame whole, wrapping around Valruel’s body.

“GAHHHHHHHH!”

Valruel screamed.

He staggered, yet didn’t let go of his sword. And now—it was Clay who pressed forward.

“I no longer live for humanity.”

Clay declared.

“I’ve decided to live for myself.”

No more lies. No more masks.

“Even if regret comes with it, this time—I’ll live by my will.”

Even if that meant turning the glory and relationships of his past into targets of vengeance—if that was the price for his own freedom—

“So be it.”

The divine flames faded. The sacred gear that had protected Valruel no longer repaired itself.

It was finished.

“AAARRRGH!”

He burned.

His limbs, his chest, his head—all consumed by black flame. Even as his body became a silhouette of fire, Valruel held onto his sword. Clay could have cut through him right then, but he didn’t.

For that final clash—he gave him dignity.

“…C-Clay…”

Valruel’s voice trembled.

“So this is… the flash before death…”

He was seeing something. Clay replied quietly.

“I wouldn’t know.”

But it was clear—only now, with his body in flames, had something finally come to him.

“At least… I didn’t hate this fight.”

Valruel hadn’t lived for himself either. Perhaps, deep down, he wanted to know what choice someone like him would make if given a second chance.

That curiosity would remain forever unanswered.

The strength left his fingers.

His sword dropped to the ground.

Clay’s demon sword paused before delivering the final blow. Valruel’s knees buckled.

He remained upright, staring at the sky—then knelt slowly, silently.

He became a statue.

Until the black flames reduced him to ash.

When Clay lowered his sword, only the silhouette of his final form remained in the ashes.

“…”

Looking down at him, Clay murmured,

“What did you see… Valruel?”

He was furious.

His expression was twisted with disgust—disgust directed not at Clay, but at himself, for being powerless.

He had lived his whole life trapped in the so-called cause of the divine, never once as an individual.

And yet, at the very end, something deeply personal had stirred within him.

Clay could feel it.

Step.

Leaving behind the remnants of Valruel, now silent and still, Clay turned and began walking away.

“He won!”

“The Demon King won!”

Cheers rang out from above—from the soldiers watching him from the ridge.

♧

“Lord Clay!”

Neville.

He had arrived with a detachment of soldiers in tow.

“What happened? Are you all right?”

He ran up the slope to meet Clay, face creased with concern. Clay responded calmly.

“I’m fine.”

“They said a Guardian Knight attacked. Is that true?”

“It was Valruel.”

Neville’s eyes widened.

“Valruel…!”

“He’s down there now.”

Clay pointed to the place he’d just climbed from. Like the soldiers who’d seen it first, Neville’s eyes followed the gesture—toward the ash that had once been Valruel.

“That’s…”

His gaze hardened. Then he turned back to Clay.

“He was the one who attacked you?”

“He was.” Clay exhaled, quietly, “He wasn’t an easy opponent.”

“I’m just glad you’re safe.” Neville looked like he’d aged ten years in a minute, “We should’ve fortified the area more in advance. I didn’t expect the First Seat to show up like that…”

“No. You couldn’t have predicted this. And besides, this happened because I came here on my own without telling you. You’ve no reason to blame yourself.”

And Clay meant it.

He’d deliberately moved in secret so Neville wouldn’t notice. The battle had come to him because of that.

“Clay!”

Another voice called out, and Clay turned.

There stood Athanasia, cloaked in her robe.

“What the hell happened here?”

Neville explained in Clay’s place.

Athanasia exhaled a long sigh.

“The First Seat of the Guardian Knights? The one everyone said was a monster? …You really beat him?”

“He wasn’t in peak condition.” Clay didn’t belittle the man, “He was mentally unstable. His gear wasn’t complete. Something must’ve happened before he arrived.”

“Well, you still beat him.” Athanasia said, like that was all that mattered, “If something had happened to you out here, we’d all be screwed. Thank the stars you’re all right.”

“Thanks for the concern.” Clay replied.

Athanasia blinked, surprised, “…You’re actually saying thank you? You must really be out of it. You’re not injured, are you?”

“Thankfully, no.”

But that wasn’t because Valruel was weak.

A single misstep, and Clay could have died.

It had been a battle where one would live and the other would not.

There had been no middle ground.

Stagger.

Clay’s knees buckled slightly.

Syltanaro immediately returned to human form and caught him.

“Are you all right, my Lord?!”

“My strength just gave out for a moment.” He looked at Syltanaro. She, too, looked exhausted, “Let’s get some rest, Syltanaro. You’ve done well.”

“I’ll escort you right away, my Lord.” She moved to support him.

Neville turned to check on the other soldiers.

“The Demon King saved us.”

“The rumors were true… Even as the Demon King, he still cares about us.”

“I didn’t believe it until I saw it myself. I’m sorry.”

The border guards now believed that Clay had fought for their sake. Neville didn’t say a word to correct them.

Because whether or not it was true, it all worked in Clay’s favor.

And it’ll help humanity survive too.

Clay wouldn’t erase people like these from the world.

That much, Neville believed.

Who knows what happens from here…

Clay, once the Hero, had become the Demon King—twisting the world’s fate once already.

Now, as nations of the Holy Alliance lay in ruin, the continent had plunged into chaos.

Even if Clay disappeared now, the chaos wouldn’t fade.

In fact, it might only worsen.

And in that accelerating storm, Neville realized something—

That they needed Clay now more than ever.

Emperor Lutan… he’s not the one to restore balance.

Neville didn’t know why Valruel had acted, but he knew who had made him act.

Lutan.

There was no doubt that he had sent Valruel.

What does he want?

Lutan seemed obsessed with Clay, indifferent to the people. And Neville now questioned whether the emperor still truly acted under Elhaen’s will.

Is this really Elhaen’s will…?

There was no answer.

Neville pushed those thoughts aside and walked toward the soldiers.

Athanasia watched him go, then turned her gaze down into the crevice left by the battle.

“That’s him, huh. Valruel.”

He knelt, face turned to the sky—reduced to ash. It looked almost as if, in his final moment, he had sought Elhaen.

It gave Athanasia chills.

“Elhaen…”

The god of humanity.

“Why can’t I remember you clearly?”

She tried to recall their last meeting. But her memories were hazy, shrouded in mist.

“…Well, maybe that’s better.”

Because remembering might only bring pain.

She turned her eyes away from the ravine and followed in the direction Clay had gone.

And somehow… it felt like he had become her new purpose.

(End of Chapter)

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.