CHAPTER 488: POWER IS EVERYTHING

"Welcome back, my great and noble Master!" Elynn appeared before Ethan, her voice soft but full of reverence.

"Elynn, how are things looking? Any major developments?" Ethan asked, his tone casual but alert.

"Nothing too drastic for now, but..." Elynn hesitated, shaking her head slightly—then suddenly nodded, her gaze locking with Ethan’s. "But it seems the Light Alliance is preparing to make a move."

"Not long ago, a messenger from Wisdom Angel Cain came to us. He brought a message directly from Cain himself. He told us... to remember our agreement," she said slowly.

"’Remember the agreement,’ huh?" Ethan chuckled, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. "Looks like they’re getting impatient."

"A war between factions is inevitable," Elynn said with a quiet sigh, nodding in agreement. "But judging by how things are going, the longer this drags on, the worse it is for them. The Sacred Continent is already in ruins—scars left behind by the Inferno and Dungeon factions are everywhere."

"Sylvanwood’s still holding up, thankfully. Unless someone at the King-tier level shows up in person, they won’t be able to break through our defenses. But the rest of the world? It’s practically a wasteland now—burned to ash by Inferno."

"Entire worlds, lands, cities, towns... all gone. The flames of this faction war have devoured the continent. Inferno and Dungeon... they’re the real winners here."

As she spoke, Elynn’s face twisted into a bitter smile.

Sylvanwood might still be safe.

Emerald Castle might still be standing.

But the devastation of war—it hurt her deeply.

Elves have always cherished peace. Elynn, even more so, held a deep faith in light and harmony.

And now, seeing all this destruction... it hit her hard.

She was hurting.

Hearing all this, Ethan—who had been in a good mood just moments ago—felt his heart sink.

A game?

He’d stopped thinking of this place as just a game a long time ago. This world... it was his now. His reality.

So yeah, he could feel joy here. He could laugh. He could hurt. He could bleed.

Choosing the path of light meant that, deep down, he still believed in peace. Still loved the light.

And the brutality of war? It was hard to stomach.

Thinking about it, Ethan shook his head, his eyes narrowing with a flicker of resolve. "It’s almost over. This whole mess... it’s gonna end soon."

"Really?" Elynn’s eyes lit up, hope flickering in her voice. "Master, are we making our move?"

"Not yet," Ethan said, shaking his head. "First, I need to check in on Cicero. Then... I’ll have a little chat with Cain."

As soon as he said that, Seraphina perked up, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Master, I want to go! I’m coming too!"

"You want to go? To see Cicero?"

"Mhm!" Seraphina nodded eagerly.

She knew exactly what Cicero was doing—pushing himself toward racial evolution.

Racial evolution...

It wouldn’t be long before that became her goal too.

After all, who wouldn’t want to become a Tier 14 Mythic Unit-level Hero? That kind of power... it was the dream.

Everyone wanted it.

So of course she wanted to see it for herself. To watch Cicero’s process, to find inspiration, to set her own path.

"Alright then, let’s go," Ethan said with a grin, nodding.

Then he turned to Elynn. "Elynn, start reinforcing Sylvanwood’s defenses. I’ve got a feeling... these peaceful days won’t last much longer. Better to be ready than caught off guard."

"Yes, my Lord!" Elynn replied firmly.

...

High in a vast, towering mountain range—

A place once wrapped in the embrace of a lush, ancient forest. Under normal circumstances, this would’ve been a paradise of towering trees, thick canopies, and vibrant green life.

But now?

Now it was hell on earth.

The land had been torn apart—scorched by rivers of molten lava, choked by thick black smoke billowing into the sky, and poisoned by the stinging stench of sulfur that clung to the air like rot.

CLANG!

A massive scythe slammed down onto a jagged black rock, the impact echoing through the sulfur-choked air.

And then, from a violently twisting rift in the void, a towering figure stepped out—armor-clad, skin glowing a deep crimson, curved demonic horns curling from his head, and eyes burning with a blood-red glow that could pierce through souls.

No doubt about it.

This was a Devil.

And not just any Devil—this was a 13-Tier Crimson Ultimate Hero from the Inferno faction.

The Inferno Demon King himself: Baelthar.

"Ahhh... now that’s

a scent that lifts the spirits," Baelthar said with a low, guttural chuckle, inhaling deeply. "Sulfur... so much better than any wine I’ve ever tasted. Shame it’s always the same flavor. If there were more varieties, I’d gladly savor it forever."

He stretched lazily, his massive frame cracking with the motion, then slowly scanned the area.

His gaze finally landed on a dark, unassuming boulder nearby—where two other crimson-skinned Devils stood silently, watching him with cold, unreadable eyes.

"Lord Malgrath..." Baelthar muttered, narrowing his glowing eyes. "And... you’re Ignarok, aren’t you?"

His demonic pupils locked onto the second figure for a long moment before he finally spoke again.

"It’s me," Ignarok replied with a slight nod. He gave Baelthar a once-over, then smirked—an arrogant, icy grin spreading across his face.

"I’ve heard of you, Baelthar. Supposedly you’ve got some talent. Now that I see you in person... yeah, not bad."

Baelthar’s expression darkened, a sneer curling his lips.

"Hmph. If you’re so curious about my strength, why don’t you come find out for yourself?"

"Oh? Is that an invitation?" Ignarok’s smirk widened. He took a step forward, his tone mocking. "Might be worth testing you after all."

"Hmph!" Baelthar growled, stepping forward as well, his grip tightening on his scythe.

But before the clash could ignite, the third Devil—Malgrath—finally spoke, his voice cold and commanding.

"Ignarok. That’s enough."

The words hit like a hammer.

Ignarok froze mid-step, then let out a low, exaggerated sigh. He spread his arms and shrugged, flashing a crooked grin.

"Alright, alright. Forget I said anything."

"Hmph." Baelthar snorted again, clearly still bristling, but he didn’t press the issue.

He might’ve been ready to throw down with Ignarok, but Malgrath? That was a whole different story.

The gap between them was just too wide.

In this world—no matter the race, no matter the faction—

Power is everything.

Only the strong get to speak. Only the strong make the rules.

...