Chapter 666: Dawn (9)
The scriptures spoke.
They said that humans were created in the image of the Father in Heaven.
The scriptures spoke.
They said that humans were the Father’s most beloved creation.
The scriptures spoke.
And because of that, they declared that humans were the greatest beings among all the creatures and forces of nature...
...But is that truly the case?
When confronted with the sheer vastness and grandeur of nature, the so-called greatest beings would only clasp their hands in prayer, overwhelmed.
Looking up at the night sky adorned with countless starlights, humans would feel the weight of their own insignificance, as insignificant as dust.
And when the fierce waves of the Atlantic Ocean rose up to challenge the very deck beneath their feet, they would grasp how fragile and powerless they truly were.
In such moments, the only thing humans could do was fold their hands together and pray.
That was the reality, plain and simple.
And should the earth sink or the sky collapse, it would be the same.
All they could do in the face of such utter despair would be to helplessly clasp their hands and seek out the divine…
…Just as they were doing now.
“Oh, God…”
One Holy Knight murmured, gazing at the surging masses of black and deep purple energy rising beyond the horizon.
The two auras seemed to coil around each other, clawing upward as if they intended to consume one another, piercing through the sky and tearing open a massive hole in the heavens.
It was an unreal sight, as though the sky itself were shattering, and the ground were collapsing beneath it.
The Holy Knights who had come to oversee and protect the Black Magicians stared half-dazed, forgetting even the command of Archpriest Roderick.
Proof of their stupor lay in the fact that they only noticed the black-robed nun standing right in front of them when she was practically at arm’s length.
“S-Sister Della?”
“Good day, Lord Majofsche.”
The nun, known as Della, called the Holy Knight by name with ease.
Having served as an attendant to Archpriest Roderick, she had memorized the names of every Holy Knight in the faction’s radical wing.
The Holy Knight, whose face had turned pale from the strange phenomenon beyond the horizon, sensed a slight but unmistakable sense of discomfort despite his disoriented state.
“What brings you here? Shouldn’t you be in the city, Sister?”
“I am here on orders from His Grace, Archpriest Roderick, to take charge of the Black Magicians.”
“Take… charge?”
“Yes. Here is the official order.”
The nun extended a piece of paper to the Holy Knight. Bearing the Archpriest’s handwriting and seal, it was unmistakably a legitimate command. The Holy Knight stared at the document in silence.
Della moved past him, aiming to head toward the Black Magicians, but the Holy Knight raised his arm to block her path.
“…What is the meaning of this?”
“Forgive me, Sister, but I cannot trust this order.”
“And why not? I am His Grace’s attendant.”
“That’s exactly why I cannot trust it. His Grace, Archpriest Roderick, would never entrust such orders to someone so close to him. He’s cautious of forgery…”
His voice conveyed a hesitant suspicion as he questioned her.
The fact that he had not drawn his sword yet was a mark of his respect for the nun’s lifelong devotion to the Sisterhood, despite the harsh conditions at the continent’s center.
Yet, duty was duty.
The Holy Knight had already surrounded Della, not letting his focus waver from his mission, despite the awe-inspiring sight beyond the horizon. His mental fortitude was truly remarkable… perhaps even strengthened by the sight, knowing instinctively that this might be a turning point for humanity.
Once again, the Holy Knight pressed the nun for answers.
“Sister… answer me. Forging an order from the Archpriest is a grave sin.”
“Heh… That is merely human law, created by arrogant sinners who believe they speak for God.”
“Sister…?”
“The divine will that I follow knows no such laws.”
Swish!
A sharp, metallic sound sliced through the air as the Holy Knights drew their gleaming silver swords, pointing them at the nun.
“We cannot tolerate such words!”
“But it’s the truth. If it were not, how could divine wrath be descending upon you all?”
“What are you talk-”
Thud!
As the Holy Knight started to speak, a shadow, huge and beast-like, suddenly loomed over him, crushing him in an instant.
The enormous finger that flattened the knight did so with all the ease of squashing an ant.
The other Holy Knights, stunned by the sight, remained frozen for several seconds, unable to react. And in those few seconds, the shadow crushed the nun’s surrounding guards—dozens of Holy Knights and servants stationed by Roderick’s order to protect this place.
All but one Holy Knight were slain.
“Sister.”
A loyal follower of the Woodsman’s Faith, who had spread his faith among the Black Magicians at Della’s command, approached her and asked.
“What should we do now?”
“Take the Black Magicians over there. Watch closely. The prince will be born, as decreed by divine will.”
...
Hell Summon.
Two voices echoed in unison.
Filgaret manifested as the voices of both Moon Oliver and the Piper. Dark, unknown forces of black and purple spilled forth from them, consuming the surrounding area.
It was as if God had spilled an inkwell upon the earth.
And yet, this impossible sight was real, and the allied forces—an alliance of many nations and the Pater Church—were about to be swept away like ants in the face of this brutal reality.
Imprison.
Just as the purple substance was about to engulf the allied forces, Oliver’s voice rang out, and the black substance encircled the purple force in a vortex, halting its advance.
The two substances, black and purple, entwined in a standoff.
They twisted together, rising high into the sky like serpents trying to devour each other, until they tore open a massive hole in the heavens with a sound indescribable in words, culminating in an explosion at the top.
The blinding blast washed the colors from everything around them, and the black and purple substances tumbled down in chunks from the sky.
Where the fallen masses touched down, they claimed the ground as their territory.
Landing upon that darkened earth were two figures.
One was Oliver, his face showing emotion. The other, the Piper, was now a figure of striking beauty.
The two had fallen from the sky but landed lightly, then charged and clashed.
━━━━━━━━━━━━!!!
When Oliver’s Longinus and the Piper’s fist met, a thunderous noise burst forth, as if the world itself were shattering, scattering the air and the landscape.
The repeated shock waves made it hard to even keep one’s eyes open as Oliver and the Piper’s forms flickered in and out of sight, each collision erasing trees, splitting the sky, and causing the ground to rise and crumble.
By now, it was no longer a battle. It was closer to hell, an apocalypse.
“Remarkable,” the Piper said, speaking as he used the purple substance under his control to try to consume the humans around him, only to be blocked by Oliver.
His voice held genuine admiration.
“…”
Oliver remained silent, leaping through the black substance he’d summoned to appear suddenly behind the Piper and swing Longinus at him.
Longinus, slicing through the heavens and piercing the earth, tore through the Piper’s body, yet the Piper showed no signs of injury, as if he had never been wounded.
The grip that clutched Longinus was iron-strong.
“Impressive, that you managed to channel hell into your mortal body without even breaking the shell. And that you can still maintain your mind is even more surprising.”
The Piper met Oliver’s gaze across the weapon between them.
He was sincere in his words.
Blood-stained Longinus.
Oliver spoke, drawing blood from his palm to the tip of Longinus.
The blood pooled at the tip, then shot out, piercing the Piper’s body from within and sprouting into dozens of spear tips inside him.
It was a wound no human could survive, yet the Piper merely pulled his fist back.
“It hurts.”
At the same moment, his fist flew forward.
Oliver pulled Longinus out and constructed a wall of black substance to shield himself, but the Piper’s fist shattered it easily, striking Oliver directly.
As he was hurled far away by the impact, Oliver recalled the words of the Burnt One.
["Did you truly wish for me, who rules one of the 72 realms of hell, to fall to an assault of hell’s own power and sinners?"]
Fighting fire with fire, striking air with air, and trying to wet water with water—such acts were ultimately meaningless.
In that instant, Oliver realized he was hardly different from before.
‘It doesn’t matter…’
In the midst of this dismal situation, Oliver repeated his plan internally.
Victory would be ideal, but even in defeat, it would not be a complete failure.
‘I just need… more time. Just as planned…’
“What are you stalling for?” the Piper asked, seemingly reading his thoughts.
Oliver raised his head, meeting the Piper’s gaze.
As their eyes met, Oliver instinctively understood—they could sense each other’s emotions, and perhaps even read each other’s thoughts, as though they were somehow connected.
At the brink of delving even deeper, Oliver forced himself to focus, strengthening the black substance with his own blood.
The earth quaked as the black substance rose and expanded, spreading endlessly to broaden Oliver’s domain.
In response, the Piper also fed his blood to the purple substance, fortifying it to resist the encroaching blackness, though Oliver managed to gain a slight advantage this time.
The black substance gradually overtook the purple, isolating the Piper. Oliver prepared to devour and seal him, as he knew victory was beyond his reach.
Surrounded by the black substance with no escape, the Piper, as his final moments approached, summoned something.
“Arise, musicians.”
At his command, musicians wielding every kind of instrument rose from beneath the purple substance, and they began to play a grand symphony that seemed not of this world.
The melody was indescribable in human words.
As the soldiers nearby stared blankly at the spectacle, they began bleeding from all seven orifices, collapsing to their knees one after another.
Even magicians and Holy Knights succumbed, though the Archpriest alone managed to hold out, standing firm.
However, this was only an incidental effect, like smoke trailing a gunshot.
The true effect lay in the melody, which summoned countless sinners from hell, transforming them into a flood of rats that gnawed away at Oliver’s black substance.
The black substance under Oliver’s control—no, hell itself—was devoured by the swarm of rats, and they turned their ravenous attention toward Oliver.
It was a calamity from which escape seemed impossible.
Facing this onslaught, Oliver raised his scorched right hand and snapped his fingers.
Snap.
The crisp sound echoed, and the world turned stark white, even the sound fading.
For a moment, a faint melody drifted through the silence, followed by a powerful sonic wave that blew away Oliver’s White Flame.
The sonic wave, having dispersed his White Flame, struck Oliver directly, sending him flying as blood poured from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.
And it didn’t end there.
The Piper followed up, unleashing a relentless barrage against Oliver, whose sight, hearing, and smell were all impaired.
He pummeled Oliver, striking his face, his chest, and his abdomen, flinging him in every direction.
Despite his vision, hearing, and sense of smell all but gone, Oliver endured a brutal assault as he was flung helplessly through the air.
Even as his entire body threatened to shatter, Oliver rolled across the ground, opening his eyes once again.
He landed near the very place where the Piper had once lost his son, where children were currently held captive, and where Kevin, Yareli, Rosburn, and Joanna were evacuating them through a portal.
Thud!!!
A sharp, resounding impact landed right next to Oliver.
“…!”
The Piper had jumped and stomped down between Oliver’s left arm and shoulder, pinning the arm that held Longinus to the ground.
The force crushed his left arm, severing it from his body.
“Does it hurt?”
“…No.”
Oliver denied it, grabbing the Piper by the ankle with his burned right hand and hurling him aside.
The Piper crashed to the ground, scattering dirt and debris, as Oliver, left arm missing, stood up and yelled.
“Hurry, escape—”
No, he tried to shout, but as he turned, he met the terrified eyes of countless children.
“…”
“…”
Among them were children from Arkh Orphanage who were familiar with Oliver.
These were the same children who had chattered excitedly, boasting about Joanna when they had first met Oliver.
Now, however, they stood frozen in fear, as if they were staring at a monster.
Among them was Rosburn.
“…How disappointing, to receive that look from the very children you sought to save, even as you drew closer to the truth you had long ignored.”
The Piper approached Oliver as he stood silent, gazing at the children’s expressions.
Despite being struck dozens of times by Longinus and covered in dust, he appeared exactly as he had from the beginning.
Oliver, breathing heavily, turned to face the Piper.
“O-Oliver…”
Joanna called out, looking at Oliver, her voice trembling.
Everyone’s faces radiated fear, tension, and horror.
Though some of these feelings were directed toward the Piper, they were also aimed at Oliver.
“What are you doing, Knight… follow the plan.”
Oliver had said to follow the plan.
They had all agreed on this: if he could not defeat the Piper, they were to use the portal imbued with spatial magic to evacuate the children.
Upon hearing this, Kevin shouted, urging the children to move through the open portal. Joanna and Yareli snapped back to their senses and began to act.
Only Rosburn remained frozen, staring at Oliver.
“That won’t do.”
The Piper extended a hand toward the portal Oliver had opened.
Oliver, not missing the opportunity, jumped through space to reach the Piper, slashing at his extended arm. However, the Piper evaded effortlessly, countering with a kick to Oliver’s abdomen.
An excruciating pain gripped Oliver, as if his stomach had been ripped out, yet he pushed through, grabbing the Piper with his burned right hand and hurling him away.
Without pause, he charged, thrusting Longinus, then slashing with a blade of blood, grappling in a desperate struggle.
“Pathetic.”
The Piper observed Oliver’s attack with disdain.
“Do you think this will change their opinion of you? That they’ll feel gratitude?”
“I’m not doing this for thanks,” Oliver replied, dodging the Piper’s punch and swinging Longinus again.
“I’m doing this to hold myself accountable, to be even a little more honorable, and… to restore the Gardener’s faith in me.”
Longinus no longer tore into the Piper; instead, it was deflected each time.
“If that’s your goal, you won’t even achieve that. You’re growing weaker, aren’t you? You can feel it.”
Oliver said nothing, silently acknowledging the truth. The effects of Filgaret were waning.
As a result, none of Oliver’s attacks could harm the Piper any longer, and he found himself increasingly cornered.
By contrast, the Piper’s fury was boundless, leaving him in an unrelenting state.
Despite staggering, Oliver continued to swing Longinus, but the Piper batted it aside, delivering a crushing blow to Oliver’s head.
Oliver’s vision went dark, his sense of direction vanishing as his consciousness faded.
Luck was on his side; his head should have shattered, yet the Piper had held back.
But even though Oliver hadn’t perished, he’d sustained severe injuries and could no longer rise.
While he was incapacitated, the Piper reached out and closed the portal Oliver had opened.
Many children, along with Kevin, Yareli, Joanna, and Rosburn, were still left behind.
With escape now impossible, the children and those protecting them fell silent as the world plunged into an eerie stillness.
The only sound was Oliver’s ragged breathing, frail and on the verge of breaking.
“Ha… ha… ha…”
The Piper looked down at Oliver and spoke.
“In the end, you’ve hit the limit without breaking your shell. Still, you surprised me…”
He gazed down at Oliver, who seemed on the verge of death, refraining from delivering a final blow.
Then, turning his gaze toward the children, he advanced.
Seeing Kevin gathering his power and Joanna and Yareli regaining their composure, Oliver called out to the Piper, halting him.
The Piper stopped and asked,
“Is there anything left for you to do?”
The question was genuine, and Oliver answered.
“Eat… my shadow… and my arm…”
At that moment, the Piper’s gaze shifted.
And so, he noticed Oliver’s shadow creeping forward under the cover of the chaotic landscape, consuming the severed left arm.
A contradiction: a shadow, a mere product of light, was devouring its own essence.
The shadow, having absorbed Oliver’s left arm, not only healed his injuries but also locked down the Piper’s left arm.
“Such futile stalling—”
But before he could finish, the Piper paused.
Both his feet were also restrained by Oliver’s shadow.
Oliver had fed the shadow his own legs.
The display of madness left everyone speechless, but the Piper, closer than anyone, looked on in astonishment.
“It will only last for a moment.”
“That’s all I need,” Oliver replied, lifting his only remaining right hand and uttering the incantation.
“Extraction.”