A dying man, playing the clown here?

Within the metal cage, Blood Prince Flandre watched Shiayar outside, a hint of killing intent in his eyes. The unexpected failure of his previously surefire Heart Control had surprised him. But I quickly figured out Cain's tricks in the ensuing battle, Flandre mused. Without the protection of that pitch-black mecha, he's as good as caught. Once I break free from this cage, I'll capture him and study him thoroughly. A mere human, yet he can endure a critically damaged heart and act as if nothing happened… This anomaly led the Blood Prince to make certain connections—connections concerning the Black Princess and the Millennium Castle.

...

On the desolate land outside the metal cage, Shiayar stood calmly, letting the storm tearing through the Valley of the End whip his Robe of Daybreak about him.

Humans excel in wisdom, while demons excel in strength.

When it comes to the accumulation of Magic Power or sheer physical might, humans, as members of the Bronze Tribe, in both longevity and strength, fall far short of the Silver and Golden Tribes. These races—pureblood giant dragons, demons, and Holy Spirits—are naturally favored by the laws of the world.

To compensate for this deficiency, one must elevate their life form, beginning the transformation toward becoming a Fabled Creature. This involves relinquishing one's identity as "human," abandoning humanity itself, and instead embracing Divinity and Authority to tread the path of becoming a "god"—the so-called road to godhood.

This has always been the choice made by the vast majority of human powerhouses who have reached Legendary Rank.

Yet, throughout the history of the Western Continent, there have always been those who clung to a different kind of perseverance. Unwilling to become "It," they only wished to remain "he" and "she."

This path is undoubtedly more difficult, forsaking well-trodden avenues with countless precedents for a narrow, winding trail where the future is obscure—truly a fool's endeavor.

However, Shiayar had never lacked such fools by his side, fools who refused to abide even by life's most basic instinct to seek benefit and avoid harm.

Like Ennie, who abandoned her status as the sole daughter of the Winter Flower family, renouncing a bright future and lavish treatment, just to follow him.

Like Silvia, who entombed herself in that pure white tower, unwilling to embark on the road to godhood, waiting five hundred years for Shiayar.

And then, his Golden Elf Instructor in the Black Tower...

Everyone... they're all such fools, Shiayar thought, a silent smile playing on his lips. Well then, let me see... Just how far can the wisdom of this fool truly go?

As he uttered these words internally, the light in Shiayar's pitch-black eyes vanished.

Moon Reading activated.

All personal emotions in his mind were momentarily suppressed, leaving only cold, utterly pure rationality.

Then, in the next instant, the information lock was released.

Myriad complex streams of information, flowing through his Soul Pact with Jayee, surged into his mental sea.

The orbital satellite cannon.

Or rather, the kinetic orbital weapon: "Heaven Sentinel, Sword of Damocles."

From the firmament above, with gravity as its bowstring, the scepter of judgment would descend.

This was one of the trump cards Shiayar had prepared.

However, if the kinetic orbital weapon were loaded merely with tungsten rods, its destructive power would be limited. Even with the enhancement of numerous magictech arrays, it would at most create a large crater, hardly enough to kill a Legendary.

So, for what was to be Black Knight Cain's swan song in the Valley of the End, Shiayar had originally planned to use another external construct he had prepared: "Fantasy Collapse: Spirit Particle Fission."

But Ennie had given him a surprise.

The projectile was not an ordinary tungsten rod or alloy material, but a stars-forged weapon—a Sacred Spear, nurtured by the very laws of the world.

Moreover, this was not the Sacred Relic from the current timeline, which, due to the passage of eons, had fallen into a state of seal and constraint, its power diminished to a mere fraction of its original might.

In the chaotic turmoil at the end of this ancient era, the constraints on the Sacred Spear were far fewer than they would be in the stable, ordered world of the future.

...

In Shiayar's eyes, tiny positioning and remote control Runes slowly rotated, resonating with the magictech equipment orbiting in the oppressive darkness of low Earth orbit.

"Sub-space cruise control magictech equipment—Identification Code 'Scabbard.' Trajectory change successful."

"Launch posture adjustment complete."

"Sword of Heaven's Wrath, ammunition loading confirmed. Self-check completed—"

"Spatial auxiliary positioning Array—'Hathaway: Dimensional Coordinates.' Activation complete."

"Beginning fall trajectory calculation..."

In an instant, a colossal flow of information flooded Shiayar's brain. In science fiction films, trajectory calculations and corrections for kinetic orbital weapons often required supercomputers. After all, even the slightest error in such orbital calculations, when magnified to a planetary scale, could result in an enormous deviation.

However, at this very moment—after Shiayar had unreservedly elevated Jayee's Fire Spark Source to the level of "Extraordinary Sainthood"—those complex, intricate numbers were being processed entirely within Shiayar's mental sea, with Jayee's assistance.

Lines of complex equations formed and vanished within his mental sea, again and again, in a continuous cycle. And so, every potential error, every possibility of deviation, was gradually eliminated through this iterative computation, step by step, guiding the final result towards the one true answer.

...

BOOM—

Vortigern, in the midst of assaulting the metal cage, suddenly froze. As a Legendary, his Spirituality screamed a warning—an omen of crisis.

But who on this land could trigger such a premonition? How is that possible?

He scanned his surroundings but couldn't pinpoint the source of the spiritual warning.

I've already confirmed Cain's combat strength. His performance against a Legendary in that pitch-black mecha was his limit. Besides, his mecha is shattered now; he's no threat. I did sense a Legendary aura approaching from hundreds of miles away—likely the Knight King. But even at his speed, it would take him at least ten minutes to get here. And even if the Knight King has had some breakthrough, I'm not afraid. I am the king of this land; he's just a rebel. My other half is here precisely to eliminate all rebel forces. Could it be... Flandre?

Vortigern narrowed his eyes at the Blood Prince beside him. If there's any potential crisis, it has to be him. If he suddenly betrays me and backstabs me during a critical moment in my fight with the Knight King... then, being severely wounded by a sneak attack, relying on only half my power against two opponents... that would indeed be quite dangerous.

With this in mind, Vortigern discreetly raised his guard against Flandre.

Speaking of which, the Blood Tribe's interference this time has been full of oddities. Especially this 'Black Princess' they mentioned—even the Crimson Red Moon was alarmed by her. Yet I, the king of this land, have never heard of her.

However, the next moment, Vortigern saw Cain, before him, slowly lift his head. Beneath the mask, the spinning Runes in his black eyes suddenly blazed with light.

Within Shiayar's mental sea, the torrent of calculations, roaring like a furious tempest, abruptly ceased. Then, all the numbers, all the characters, the countless computational models—all vanished in an instant, leaving only the single, correct trajectory.

"Orbital calculation complete."

"Error verification complete. Trajectory adjustment finished."

"Sword of Damocles self-check complete."

"Entering launch confirmation procedure."

As Jayee, in his mind, finally completed the trajectory verification, a stream of information flowed to him. Shiayar, guided by the faint inspiration Enola had shared, slowly sensed the dim Sacred Spear mounted within the 'Scabbard' magictech equipment, high above in the starry vault.

Then, following the resonance that transcended both the Astral Realm and the Main Material Plane, he chanted the words to release the Sacred Spear from its constraints:

"Peel back the surface of the world, revealing the truth hidden beneath."

"It is the Storm Anchor that tears the sky and connects the land."

"To shine at the edge of the end."

In that mere instant, high above in the distant starry sky, the once-dim lance now pulsed with gathering beams of light. Like the branches and veins of a colossal tree, it illuminated the profound, serene Sea of Stars.

Both the Sacred Spear and the Sacred Sword were weapons forged by the world itself, armaments that only a world-saving hero could wield. And this was the end of an era, the darkest, most oppressive age of chaos. For this very reason, what now shone was the supreme radiance of the Tower at the End of the World, unleashed from all restraints and limitations.

Instantaneously, several exalted gazes descended from the heights of the Astral Realm, astonished by the Sacred Spear's inexplicable awakening. Yet, no matter who they were—Angel, Demigod, or even True God—none could prevent what was about to unfold.

A thousandth of a breath later.

"Sacred Spear, weigh anchor."

The Tower of Light pierced the firmament, crossing the boundary of the Sea of Stars.

Released from the Scabbard, it shot forth.

...

Vortigern snapped his head up. He sensed something immense descending. There was no sound, yet he could feel a searing brightness.

The next instant, at the edge of the starry sky, he saw it—a beam of starlight, tearing through the night, plummeting towards him.