Chapter 232

Chapter 232

“Don’t stop me!!”

“Then I’ll die.”

Ivan brushed aside Isabelle’s blade and looked around. The troops surrounding them were collapsing like a puppet with its strings cut.

The mana webs were slowly being pulled back.

In such cases, there are two possibilities: either they are gathering strength or preparing to escape. As is typical for spiders, they often retract their webs to conserve their energy.

It was still a point where the nest was not yet complete. It meant they were caught off guard as well.

So, this was the most critical moment. A point to exploit their weakness.

“Isabelle. Stop.”

Clang—!!

Ivan wedged the blade between the axe handle and broke it off, stepping back. He could see Isabel calming down quickly from her excitement.

Her gaze was fixed on one spot. Ivan’s shoulder and left abdomen. Blood was gushing out.

“Ugh— I’m sorry, sir. I momentarily lost focus... Well, honestly, that was also your fault. But... um... is it okay...?”

“Hmm.”

Due to the elevated blood pressure during the body enhancement, he was losing too much blood. His head felt slightly dizzy. He hadn’t paused for blood clotting until now.

Ivan took a deep breath, carefully opened a healing potion, and applied it to the wound with care, as if handling an explosive just before detonation. Sss—. The potion made a peculiar sound as it sealed the wound in an instant.

“It feels like I’m applying hydrochloric acid...”

“This is a healing potion.”

Ivan brushed aside Isabelle’s remark and rummaged through the saddle. Clink, he pulled out two black vials containing transparent liquid.

When he opened the lid, a terrible stench wafted out.

“That doesn’t seem like a healing potion...”

“It’s a deadly poison.”

Ivan replied briefly and immediately drank the poison. Isabelle, shocked, rushed forward.

“You’re insane! Why would you drink something like that!? You’re not a dog, so don’t just gulp down everything!”

“Wait.”

Ivan pushed her away and drank the other potion immediately.

“This is an antagonist.”

“Are you really mixing poison with an antidote? Why...?”

“It’s not an antidote; it’s an antagonist.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“They’re two types of deadly poison that have opposite effects.”

“Why would you...?”

“Because it’s necessary.”

“What about me?”

“It’s not needed for a maiden.”

Naturally, she wouldn’t fall for the charm. Knowing that, there was no need to administer any drugs to Isabelle.

The charm of that entity is mana poison. It’s not something that can be solved with a chemical antidote. It was a toxin that devours mana and dismantles a human’s will.

Then, it could be resolved by the most dramatic drug to awaken the will. Naturally, that means deadly poison. There is nothing that can stimulate will more intensely than survival instinct.

Therefore, he swallowed two types of the potions. Each one was already lethal on its own. The moment the balance of this mix deviates even slightly, it would lead to total body destruction.

This means that he would enter a critical state the moment he loses control of mana or loses his sanity. If he loses his sanity even for an instant due to that entity, he must be able to awaken immediately.

“The preparation is complete. Let’s go.”

“If something feels weird, you must puke it out. I’ll pat your back!”

“Worry about yourself. Did you come for a picnic?”

Isabelle grumbled as she moved her feet. Ahead, towards the huge barracks flying the emblem of the Papal Enclave.

Where the Pope would be. Where the Seven Dragon Lords would likely be.

As they walked, it felt like they were on a path to the king’s throne, guided by the guards without any resistance or noise, quietly reaching the barracks.

Before them, the barrack doors opened gently. A dazed bishop stepped out, and bending deeply, greeted them.

Come in.

A soft voice emanated from within the barracks. A voice that felt both feminine and masculine echoed directly in his mind.

Just hearing that voice clouded his sanity for a moment. Ivan felt the deadly poison writhing within him as he continued to walk.

He saw the small back of the Pope. An old man with white hair knelt in prayer.

Before him was a purple curtain. Beyond it, the silhouette of a slender woman was visible.

“Sir, you’re still conscious, right?”

“Fortunately.”

Isabelle let out a breathless sound. The heavy scent of musk, the aura of the demon realm suffocated the barracks.

From beyond the kneeling Pope, a low voice continued.

Godslayer. The downfall of Abiditas. I do not wish to fight you.

“I find that hard to agree with.”

“Your pretense was pathetic.”

Ivan raised his hand. Though he felt nothing grasped in it, it was still straight—firmly as if he were about to swing an axe.

The entity was feigning pity. Just as its kind usually do, it swayed with emotions as bait. Below that, within the black shell, an emotion entirely contradicting that was lurking.

Fear.

The greatest fear held by an immortal. The fear of the unknown, of oblivion and death, something it had never experienced throughout its lifetime.

A looming despair of death.

Toward that.

Step forward.

The right foot moved forward, bearing the weight.

The left foot stepped back lightly.

The weapon held in the outstretched hand aimed directly toward the sky, yearning for the distant heavens.

Senses were sequentially severed. With Clink, clink, the nerves connecting his sensory network were blocked.

He inhaled deeply, breathing halfway out while bracing himself tightly.

Crack—!!

His abdomen twisted. His shoulders screamed as he forcibly pulled beyond the strength granted to him.

In this slow world where even time seemed to be dissipating, countless scents, colors, darkness, fear, chaos and pleasure, dizzying helplessness and overwhelming omnipotence pierced through the blocked senses.

In this elation, as if under the influence of drugs.

He recalled a single thought.

The most powerful strike he had envisioned, the one he had seen, the one he had wished for, the one he had envied.

“The— strike of Maximilian.”

The thought turned into vocalization. Whether intended or not. In a battle happening in the realm of ideas, he quietly remembered a man’s back.

And he lifted his gaze to the sky covered in dark clouds that day.

The man holding the sword while looking to that sky.

“Tear the sky apart.”

The stained glass shattered vertically.

From beneath the split barracks, sunlight poured in.

Among the scattered webs, a white body was splitting and crumbling.

Underneath the sun, the immense monstrosity cloaked in a shell slowly revealed itself.

Now, you have no more chances left.

The monstrosity trembled its jaw as it concluded.

Now, you will have to face the gods.

It clattered and retreated into the darkness. As if hating the sun. Soon, its traces scattered. The musk faded away like a residue.

And Ivan, thrusting his axe into the ground, knelt on one knee.

“Sir!!!”

Isabelle, who had been staring blankly at him, rushed in. Still, Ivan’s gaze remained dazed, staring toward the direction where the entity had vanished.

In the meantime, a low voice resounded.

“Hasn’t it always been so?”

“Pardon?”

“Humans have always lived opposing the gods, haven’t they? Natural disasters, powerful monsters, painful diseases, famine and hunger, wars and death. The names of the gods approaching us have changed each time, but there has not been a single moment where they were welcomed.”

Ivan closed his eyes and spoke. Blood dripped, pattering down his chin.

“But will you surrender? Will you succumb to the inability to resist? No. We overcame diseases to create medicine, built armies to fight monsters, raised embankments to prevent disasters, and advanced agriculture to overcome hunger. We have always reached this point by opposing those gods that covet us.”

Ivan let go of the axe handle.

“So be afraid. Our history has been the process of conquering the gods, and any names of gods yet to be conquered will merely be names to challenge.”

Whether it was a mere thought or a direct utterance, Ivan softly murmured before collapsing.

“Sir!! Sir!!!”

“Isabelle.”

“Yes! Yes!!”

“When the legion regains consciousness, head toward the Papal Enclave.”

To where the fallen spirit of the fleeing god resides.

Towards the throne built by the Seven Dragon Lords.

To eradicate the last remains of corruption left in this southern land.

“What about you! Stay conscious!! The poison! What about the poison!!”

“If I don’t die, I’ll be alive.”

It was a joke.

Ivan chuckled softly as he ruffled Isabelle’s bangs and then fainted.

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