Clean up.
Heat flooded through the silence that could not be heard or seen. The heat that rushes in at once does not take on the shape of fire. If I had to describe it, it would be closer to waves of light.
The waves are coming. Light floods.
Anything touched by the flooding light evaporates, crumbles, gets blackened, and eventually becomes a heap of ashes. No, you would be lucky if you left even ashes. It is full of things that have been completely erased from existence, leaving nothing behind.
A wave of heat rushes in. Like a disaster.
Even the heat of the cursed sun that rose high in the sky cannot compare to this torrent of light.
Cheeeeeeeeeee!
The cursed lake evaporated.
The cursed lake turned into steam and rose into the sky, and was about to fall again as rain, but it no longer did so. Even the moisture contained in the dark clouds has evaporated. Where the waves of light swept past, all that was left was a dry land.
An ancient disaster was wiped out in a split second.
As the revived disaster evaporates and disappears, the waves of light continue to spread without stopping. In a time that could be called a split second, the torrent of light stretched all the way to the center of the temple where the apostate was standing.
—————!
Some of the forgotten gods surrounding the apostate screamed. Even though the heat was not fully transmitted due to the distance, soot spread across the gods’ skin.
and.
“···iced coffee.”
Even to the apostate, Gleria Bel Armias.
“······.”
She looked at one arm in silence. Her skin was burning. The fire was extinguished quickly and the wound healed quickly, but traces of soot remained for a long time. The apostate laughed as he looked at the traces.
···Kelhalm’s life finally reached disaster.
The life of a superman who has endured for over a hundred years has left a scar on him from disaster. It was proved by engraving. He knows that he is standing here. Your prophecy was wrong. That his own life was not worthless.
However, some may say.
This blow may be insignificant.
The wound will recover quickly. Even the scars show signs of healing. Indeed, it is as it is said. If the purpose of the final blow that Kelhalm sacrificed his magic power to kill the apostate… the value of this blow may be low.
but.
“The road has been opened.”
The purpose of this blow is not to kill the apostate. From the beginning, Kelhalm’s purpose lay elsewhere. Although he has long since stepped down from his position as Dean of Artia, Kelhalm is still an educator and a senior walking ahead of him.
The role of an educator and senior.
“Go see.”
It tells you which way to go.
Clearing away obstacles in front of children and guiding them to move forward.
“Where you should be is not here.”
Kelhalm raised his arms.
Standing with his feet on the dry ground, Kelhalm pointed to the center of the temple. Pointing to the center, Kelhalm spoke in a lighter voice than ever.
“Your stage is over there.”
Kelhalm did not look back.
Because I didn’t have enough strength left to look back, there was no need to look back. Someone passed by Kelhalm, who was pointing ahead.
With a thud, he kicked the ground.
Resty passed by Kelhalm and headed forward.
She advanced next to where Kelhalm had stopped. I ran along the path that Kelhalm had opened. The value of Kelhalm’s strike will be determined by none other than her. Kelhalm smiled as he looked at her back.
···A child who resembles my best student.
Thinking of Celestia behind her, Kelhalm slowly lowered his hand. There is no mana left in her body. As the source of power that had always been with me for so many years disappeared, something else left me.
Eternity given to me.
The life of eternal life was leaving Kelhalm’s side. Now that the magic path, mana, everything about being a wizard, and even eternity have been taken away… the only thing left here is neither a wizard nor a madman, but a mere human.
Kelhalm, a mere human, monologued.
‘iced coffee.’
He laughed lightly.
“I guess this is it, Celestia.”
2.
Draka, the sword demon.
The human obsession that had longed for revenge all his life finally broke free from the shackles of the stars. Freed from his shackles, Draka saw the stage unfolding before him with his own eyes and with his own will.
Alkeia, the end of the abyss, a land for non-believers.
What is in front of you is a masterpiece conjured by an apostate, and a group of familiars attack you with waves of old water. Looking at the soggy waste, Draka remembered the past. Memories of the day when all my territory melted away.
···Ah, Armel.
The image of my daughter flashed before my eyes.
Draka will never forget the day when everything was taken away. Thinking over that memory, Draka grabs his sword. He holds a sword and walks in front of him.
“you···.”
There is a boy there looking at him. No, now I should call him a young man. The young man’s face looked familiar to Draka. Perhaps, it was the boy I encountered that day in the snowy mountains of the north.
Time passed and the boy became a young man.
What the young man feels is the power of a superman.
Draka let out a hollow laugh as he looked at the young man who had risen to the status of a superman in just a few years and had achieved such a level of accomplishment. As he looked at that scene, he felt that he had wasted time.
···Several years of time.
The time Draka lived as a doll.
···Several decades of time.
A time when Draka was crazy about revenge.
···A lifetime.
It’s time for someone to achieve something, be convinced, or give up and be satisfied with their life or die with regret. But Draka wasted all that time. It has been consumed for only one purpose. I’ve been wasting it.
A burning flame. Draka spent all his time throwing himself into the fire as firewood. The fire was still not extinguished, and it was still burning Draka’s life.
A flame named revenge.
——————
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——————
Until I was engulfed in that flame, my own life sparkled like the young man in front of me. There was a time when it shined brightly. However, now are the days when I can no longer dream. As the years fade, Draka is no longer obsessed.
“iced coffee···.”
Draka groaned.
“Really, this is the best stage.”
Obsession is revenge. The purpose of my life.
Without hesitation, Draka threw the remaining time towards the flames. “Wow!” the fire burned fiercely.
Draka raised his sword.
He was still a prosecutor.
Because the prosecutor was someone who spoke with the sword.
3.
A wave of demonic beasts rushed in.
Draka started walking while looking at the rolling waves. As he walked, Draka saw the King of Demon Beasts standing at the edge of the waves. Draka walked towards him.
Draka’s blade rang out for a long time.
···Draka van Harrokht.
Sword Demon, Draka.
After losing everything and having only the name Draka, at some point he began to be called by the nickname Sword Demon. People called him a ghost because he was reluctant to have the means to achieve his goals.
They condemned, criticized, and pointed fingers at him.
Draka’s life is wrong and can never be said to be right. It is a life that cannot be packaged with anything. Draka himself knew this. Because Draka did not know, he did not commit evil deeds.
Even though he knew this was unforgivable, he did evil.
I lived like trash. For that purpose, he killed countless people. He drove his colleagues who believed in him and followed him to their deaths with a single finger. In pursuit of only efficiency, Draka trampled on the lives of others.
That’s how I lived.
So I walked on, hoping only for revenge.
Draka did not feel the need to glorify his life through the pain, trials, and adversity he felt in such a life. I didn’t even feel the need to deny my life. Why should we do that?
Kiiiiiiiing!
Draka’s sword trembled for a long time.
With the surging sword energy, a sword path appeared before Draka’s eyes. The road is crude. crudity. Far from being smooth and clean, the road is extremely messy.
That is the life of Draka.
Draka faced his life on the sword road that unfolded before his eyes. It is a terrible and bloody path, but it is a path drawn by Draka himself. It is unacceptable for prosecutors to not trust their own path.
Draka does not deny his life.
Swing the sword along the path you drew.
Wow.
Draka stepped forward, swinging his sword. The sword energy spread out like a net from the end of the sword he swung. The spread net trapped the incoming demonic beasts. It was slaughtered. Draka swung his sword as blood sprayed out in all directions.
Sssssssssssssssshhhh!
Blood fog rose.
Draka advances through the waves of demonic beasts. Every time the demonic beasts shed blood, a smile spread across Draka’s lips. The corner of Draka’s mouth split open and he went berserk.
“come.”
he laughed.
“Please come as much as you like. “Bite as much as you want.”
The demonic beast bit Draka. Draka grabbed the beast that wanted his flesh with his hands and burst it to pieces. He swung his sword and cut it to pieces. Drinking the pouring blood, Draka swung his sword.
It looks more beast-like than an animal.
Draka’s appearance, turning into a beast and fighting among the demonic beasts, is literally like a ghost holding a sword. A ghost was wandering among the demonic beasts.
“—————!”
Draka let out a roar. It sounds like laughter or a scream. Draka’s dazzling eyes are looking at the path of the sword spread out before her eyes.
···Draka knows.
That there is not much life left for you.
That you are walking towards the end. Knowing that, Draka was willing to choose. I want to burn the rest of my life right here.
It’s something I’ve always done.
Draka craves revenge by any means possible. Even if it is your own life, it is the same. Draka no longer calculated efficiency. He burned the rest of his life without hesitation.
Hwareuk.
The firewood burned with life as firewood.
The Geomro that unfolds before your eyes begins to slowly change. The sword begins to shake and burn. The sword path is like asking Draka a question.
Is this the right path?
Is this twisted, twisted path right?
To that question, Draka just gives the same answer as before. Why should we deny it? This is the path I have walked. Even though it may be wrong, this is my way.
Ka-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga!
Draka’s sword flew like crazy.
The sword energy spread out in all directions, as if it were being scraped by a saw blade rather than a sword. Demonic beasts that touch the sword feel terrible pain and die. Screaming and struggling.
Cooung.
Swear at me. However much.
Laugh at me. However much.
Point your fingers, condemn, criticize, and curse me as much as you want. My life is the way it should be. Know. More than anyone else.
‘But it doesn’t matter.’
Draka swung his sword.
‘I walk my way.’
Faster and more chaotic than before. Every time Draka swung his sword, dust swept away. Draka walks forward, covered in his blood.
The burning sword road suddenly became clearer.
Because I gave up my life. Because I walked with only one goal in mind. Because he did not deny himself until the very end. Because I didn’t hesitate even after seeing the finale. Therefore, the sword of Draka is completed.
It is a sword perfected through stubbornness.
The finished sword is not perfect.
It’s crude. It is not soft but rough. It is not straight and sometimes curves and bends, making it extremely messy. When someone sees the trajectory of his sword, they will not say it is beautiful.
That is the sword of Draka.
That is the life of Draka.
Even if it was twisted, broken, or wrong, Draka lived according to his beliefs. He didn’t try to wrap himself up, and he didn’t expect anyone to understand.
The Sword Demon, Draka, is that kind of person.
If there are people like Galahal who walk a brilliant and noble path, there are also people in some corner of the world who walk a twisted, distorted path that vibrates with odor. Thus, humans who have insisted on one path reach the end.
Dracaga.
Sword Demon (劍鬼).
The ghost swung his sword.
The eyes of the sword-wielding ghost are not human. Spreading dark red eye light, the ghost moves forward, slaughtering everything in sight. The ghost laughed along with the blood spilling out.
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Look, apostate!
Am I still a shabby human being?
fantasy,
