The ancient gods.

Once, they had ruled this world.

Yet they had never stood close to one another, nor did they truly unite even when Elhaen appeared.

‘This way?’

Athanasia had been no different. Unlike the others, however, she required faith. She had always been forced to wander among mortals to survive.

‘They’re stationed all over the place.’

Having slipped away alone from the Demon King’s camp, Athanasia traversed a mountain path. She swallowed dryly when she saw the Krata soldiers massed below.

Before Elhaen appeared, mortals had been her source of worship. But Elhaen had stolen everything—even the faith that should have been hers.

‘For now, all I have is Clay.’

If she wanted to overturn the world again and reclaim her place as a dominant power, she had to aid Clay.

‘Better still if I can win his favor.’

Recognition for her merits would strengthen her position beside him. At present, too many vied for his side. Competition was fierce.

She knew it might be premature, but waiting until later to earn credit would be too late. She needed an achievement Clay could not ignore.

‘Found it.’

She had yet to fight Elhaen directly, but she had no intention of submitting again. She would act for Clay without hesitation.

Slipping into a valley where no Krata soldiers were posted, she leapt repeatedly, bounding high with her waves of force until she reached deeper into their territory.

Then she shifted her form, disguising herself as a Krata citizen.

In wartime, young men were conscripted on sight, but as a woman she drew little notice. She moved unhindered.

‘At this rate, I might reach the imperial palace itself without issue.’

She had only intended to scout their movements, but entry was almost too easy. She had already mapped the placement of Krata’s defenses. Now, before she knew it, she was in the capital.

“The Demon King’s army is at our gates!”

“Stand strong! Gather!”

“Elhaen’s blessing will protect us!”

The city buzzed with disorder. Some urged the people to fight, others cried for prayers to Elhaen, still others preached that Emperor Lutan would resolve everything.

‘This is…’

Despite the noise, the people seemed strangely calm.

“Of course we’ll win.”

A laughing passerby said it casually. Athanasia’s expression froze.

‘They’re that confident?’

She had heard Lutan was formidable. He even knew how to weaponize ancient gods.

But he was not Elhaen. Without a direct descent, such optimism was bizarre.

‘No—perhaps it makes sense.’

To fight a war within one’s own lands meant the borders had already fallen. That usually signified defeat.

Yet Krata showed no fear.

‘They believe themselves chosen.’

The arrogance of those convinced they were the god’s elect. It had become fanaticism.

‘Even so…’

Fanaticism alone could not win a war. Athanasia pressed on. At the palace gates, soldiers stood in massed ranks.

From here, stealth was impossible. She would have to choose.

‘Do I strike or not?’

If she slew Lutan, the war would end. She had only intended to scout, yet everything was falling into place too neatly. The soldiers before the palace were no real obstacle; she could wipe them out alone.

And yet—

‘Is it really supposed to be this easy?’

Her worshippers had grown in number again, and her strength with them. It wasn’t lack of confidence. But fortune had been too kind. She had never been forced to unleash her true power, never faced a challenge along the way.

She stared at the palace. If only she could gauge Lutan’s true strength. But for now, she could not.

‘…’

After a moment’s hesitation, Athanasia advanced.

The guards at the gate leveled their spears.

“Stop!”

They barred her way.

“This is the Imperial Palace! Do not approach!”

“Even if I have an appointment?”

“Appointment?”

One soldier tilted his head, confused.

“What appointment could you possibly—”

Thud!

Mid-sentence, the man collapsed to the ground.

“Wh-what?!”

Blood pooled beneath him, as though he had been cut down by an unseen blade.

“He’s dead!”

“Damn it!”

“An intruder!”

Panic spread. Athanasia unleashed a wave of power. In an instant, bodies were severed and scattered across the stones.

“Quiet.”

Her expression was ice-cold.

“You’ll burst my eardrums.”

“Monster!”

Alarm bells rang. Soldiers swarmed from every side, weapons bristling.

BOOM!

Her pulse of power blasted them back as she strode forward. More poured in, but none could shatter her waves.

“Pathetic.”

So this was the enemy the Demon King’s army faced?

“What are you waiting for?! Hold the line!”

“We can’t even get close!”

Desperate cries filled the air as men stumbled before her. Yet not all were so helpless.

Shhhk!

A sword cleaved through her wave, slashing toward her neck.

“…?”

Athanasia twisted aside. More blades came at once.

“Of course. It would be odd if none could touch me.”

Several knights in full plate had surrounded her.

“Not that it makes much difference.”

Athanasia layered her body with wave after wave of force. The knights crashed against her barrier, unable to pierce it.

Flash!

Priests appeared, hurling beams of light at her.

“Sorry to disappoint—I’m no mere demon.”

BOOM!

Her power exploded outward. Pillars of the palace crumbled. Dozens of soldiers were buried in the wreckage.

“Looks like this will be fun.”

Athanasia grinned, her face alight with savage delight.

It seemed now that she had made a grave miscalculation. Krata was not strong in itself, but inflated by Elhaen’s name—and perhaps even Lutan was no different. Just as that thought crossed her mind—

Step.

A man clad in golden armor appeared.

“Lutan?”

Her face hardened as she confirmed his features.

“You…”

She had never met him in person, but Beatrice’s description and sketch were enough for her to recognize him.

“You’re the one who broke my seal, to use me.”

Her earlier excitement vanished, replaced with irritation.

“You must have strutted proudly under Elhaen’s name. But now? Your strength is laid bare for all to see.”

She began to walk slowly toward him.

“If I kill you, this war ends. I’ll erase Elhaen’s name and rebuild my own dominion.”“…”“What, nothing to say?”

“Boring.” Lutan finally spoke, “Is this the dignity of an ancient god?”

“…What did you say?” Athanasia’s brow furrowed, “You dare boast, a mere human who freed me from my seal? I don’t feel even a hint of threat from you.”

“And?”

“What?”

“Is presence really so important?”

With a languid expression, Lutan stroked his white beard.

“You storm into my palace, wreak havoc, and call this ‘presence’? Do you even know what the word means?”

As if mocking her understanding of power itself.

“Tch. Enough talk. Arrogance has its limits. If I kill you, it all ends. I’ll return with your head to Clay.”

“Back… to that feeble man’s side?” Lutan chuckled. “It makes me doubt you were ever a god at all.”

“Shut it.”

Crack!

Waves of force enveloped Athanasia’s body as she lunged.

“You’ll never speak again.”

BOOM!

Her fist slammed into Lutan’s chest. His armor crumpled, and he flew down the palace corridor.

Crash!

She surged forward on her own waves, driving a brutal kick into his gut.

Bang! Crunch! BOOM!

She gave him no chance to recover, striking relentlessly until his body flailed like paper in a storm.

“Worthless lackey!”

Her fury burst out.

“Without Elhaen, you’re nothing!”

BOOOOM!

Her final blow smashed him into the floor.

“Hah… hah…”

Her breath came ragged. She had condensed her strength into a single torrent, leaving her stamina drained.

But that was how one finished an enemy—by overwhelming them. Seeing no movement, she allowed herself a faint smile.

“It’s… done—”

Her eyes flickered.

“What?”

As the dust cleared, what lay before her was not Lutan’s corpse—but a broken sword.

“…What in the—ghhk?!”

A chill sliced past her side. She leapt back instinctively, but blood was already spilling out.

“Khugh!”

Pain seared like fire. She hastily gathered power, staunching the bleeding, but the shock lingered.

“So, you truly are still an ancient god—even if rotten.”

A voice. She turned.

“You…!”

Lutan stood there.

“I destroyed you.”

“Oh, you destroyed something, yes.” He shrugged, “But that wasn’t His Majesty.”

Athanasia’s expression twisted.

“What are you?”

Her eyes narrowed sharply.

“You’re not Lutan. You’re… imitating him?”

“‘Imitating’ is the wrong word. We are merely borrowing his form.”

We.

Her gaze darted around.

Before she realized it, more figures identical to him had surrounded her.

“We are His Majesty’s swords.”

Lutanox.

One name, yet not one being. Blades given form.

“Ancient god, Athanasia.”

The figure stepped toward her, blade gleaming.

“Now… feel what true divine punishment is.”

(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.