The very air in the council chamber trembled, and a rift in space slowly opened. From it, a figure erged.
It was a woman of an otherworldly beauty, with faint golden lines under her divinely-crafted skin. Her features... there was a hint of the Goddess of Procreation in them, in the cool, detached gaze, in the refined elegance of her face. But there was also sothing... different. A new aura, a twisted and chaotic energy, that was neither holy nor dark. She was not a puppet.
And at her appearance, all the lingering traces of Serie's own magic vanished. The three Sages, who had been pinned down by her, were now free.
"Your Majesty," Riwal was the first to speak, a note of a deep and abiding reverence in his voice. To have earned the loyalty of the strongest warrior of the demons, a being who worshipped strength above all else... her power was unimaginable. Beze, Macht, and Fin also bowed, a silent offering of their respect.
But the new Demon King did not spare them a glance. Her gaze fell on him, on the man who had brought an end to her predecessor's reign.
"A thousand years," she said, and a small, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips, "it has left few marks on you, Rhodes, the God-slayer."
She had called him by his na, had revealed his identity, a secret that would have once shaken the very foundations of the continent.
Serie's own eyes widened. She looked from him to the Demon King, a look of a profound shock on her face. She... knows him?
And he, in turn, at the sound of his na, a new and grim realization ca to him. He tightened his grip on Org, its own power now stirring. That familiar aura, those purple eyes that seed to see into the future... in that instant of eye contact, he knew.
"I see," he said, his voice a low and quiet sound. "Not a succession, but... a fusion."
"You have not only taken her power," he said, a new and terrible understanding dawning on him, "but you have also assimilated it, have resisted her corruption, and have even seen her past. Impressive."
She was not just a new Demon King, not just a being who had been empowered by the fragnts of a god. She had, in so deep and profound way, rged with those fragnts, with the very essence of the Goddess of Procreation's authority over life. She was both a Demon King and a successor to a god, a being of an unprecedented and terrifying power.
"Impressive, indeed," she said with a light, almost musical, laugh, and a mock applause. "But you are mistaken on one point. The goddess's fragnts were not just a lucky find, but a gift of destiny, a new ho for her lingering power. And I... was just a convenient vessel."
She raised a hand and, with a gentle touch, she stroked the blade of the corrupted holy sword. And the sword, which had once been a roiling mass of a pure and holy rejection, now... stilled.
"A remarkable seal," she said. She could feel it, the powerful seal within the sword, and the faint and subtle connection between it and him. "Shurahat... he was a little careless. If he had just looked a little closer, he might have found it."
And just as she had finished speaking, Serie, who had been a silent and seething spectator until now, finally erupted. To be ignored, to be a re backdrop... and to have her own authority, her own power, so casually dismissed... it was an insult she would not bear.
"You arrogant creature," she spat, and her anger was now a tangible thing, a wave of a pure and unadulterated magical power. The very air in the chamber grew cold, and a thousand spears of a blue-white ice appeared and shot towards the Demon King. It was a test, a probe, but also... a full and unrestrained attack.
But the Demon King just smiled and, with a flick of her finger, all the spears, a re few feet from her, just... stopped. And then, with a sound of a thousand shattering panes of glass, they dissolved into a fine and glittering dust.
"Tsk," Serie hissed. Her attack... it had just been... unmade.
"You are strong, Serie," the Demon King said, her voice a calm and level sound, "but not strong enough." She then turned her gaze to him. "Do not interrupt my conversation with the god-slayer."
And then, he struck.
In that single, fleeting mont of distraction, he had already acted. Org was in his hand, and its own, latent power, was now unleashed. The blade shone with a dazzling, unimaginable light. He poured all of his own mana into it, and a blade of a pure and holy energy shot towards her, a blade so powerful it made the very space around it scream in protest, a blade aid at her head.
For the first ti, a flicker of a genuine and sincere respect appeared in her eyes. She was no longer a toying with him. She raised her hands, and a massive golden barrier, a barrier that was far more than a simple defensive spell, appeared before her.
CLANG!!!
A sound, a sound so loud, so piercing, that it was beyond all description.
The blade of light had struck the golden barrier, and the point of impact was now a roiling maelstrom of a raw and untad power. A series of shockwaves, like a storm on a turbulent sea, now ripped through the chamber, and the obsidian walls, the very pillars that held up the roof, they all began to crack and crumble. The very roof itself was torn away, and the pale, dim sunlight now shone down on the scene, on their faces, on their own expressions of a pure and utter shock.
The Sages and the General were all thrown back by the force of the blast. Even she had had to throw up her own shield, and her golden hair was now a wild and untad ss around her face. And she, too, was stunned. How much power did he pour into that single attack? And she... how did she block it?
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