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Chapter 292: Primordial Evil (7)

Deeper—deeper still.

The subspace containing Itaca was overlaid by a new subspace, and that one was overlaid again by yet another.

In an instant, Oscar broke through six layers.

The time dilation inside reached 1,000,000×.

One minute in reality was nearly two years inside, the axis of time violently twisted.

‘But it’s not enough.’

The time he needed was five minutes.

Realistically, that was the absolute maximum his allies could endure against Belpher.

So Oscar was forced to pull on the threads of space once more.

“Kgh…!”

As he yanked the strands, a wave of dizziness struck.

The six lines of his mana circuits swelled as if they would rupture, and blood spilled from all seven orifices.

His vision blurred, the world fading into pitch-black.

“Sp— Oscar!”

Lloyd’s voice rang out, but he had no space—no consciousness to spare for a reply.

Every nerve he possessed was focused solely on maintaining Itaca inside the seven-fold subspace.

“Over here! Treat him!”

At Lloyd’s shout, two priests rushed to Oscar’s side.

Warm holy power sank into him, soothing his body that was about to burst.

Haa… haa…

One more layer.

Only by adding one more layer could he reach the time he aimed for.

Though unseen to others, Oscar was gripping over a hundred spatial threads.

‘Can I really wrap one more layer…?’

Dozens of painfully realistic reasons not to flashed through his mind.

His mana circuits were already at their limit.

Failure could cause mana runaway.

He could die.

Even with seven layers, Itaca might start recovering its holy power…

But the reason to do it was only one.

‘Simply because… I must.’

There was no noble justification.

Even if he failed to encase Itaca in an eight-layered subspace, no one would blame him.

This entire situation wasn’t even his fault.

‘But still…’

Oscar tightened his grip on the spatial threads.

Unaware, a faint smile appeared on his lips.

‘It’s been a while since I felt this. This level of pressure… it’s fun.’

He wasn’t someone who ran from crisis or fell silent under weight.

No matter how hard or impossible the task, he completed what was required of him.

‘Please… just five more minutes.’

His mana circuits burned hotter than ever.

The blazing mana that surged through them now felt more like molten lava.

Every time it rushed by, it scraped the circuits, sending waves of agony through him.

“……!”

The pain was too overwhelming for him to even scream.

He knew that if he let out even a sound, he would faint immediately.

Tears brought on by the agony mixed with the blood on his face.

Oscar barely held onto consciousness and pulled one final thread.

The eighth subspace wrapped around Itaca.

‘From now—five minutes.’

Just as he closed his eyes to focus on maintaining it—

Belpher’s gaze shifted toward Oscar, reacting to a very unfamiliar emotion.

‘What… is this?’

He had been impaled by the holy sword for over 800 years.

At first, he thought his senses had been ruined because of that.

But no.

Thump. Thump.

His pounding heartbeat told him he was alive.

And that heartbeat screamed at him.

Don’t ignore this ‘unease.’

Hadn’t he ignored it before, and ended up sealed in disgrace for centuries?

‘I may not have regained all my power yet—but that human can make me feel this level of danger?’

It had begun the moment Itaca disappeared from that human’s hands.

Belpher calmed the rising turmoil and made his decision.

‘Kill that human first.’

Black, sticky energy burst from his palm and shot toward the man.

But—

Swish!

A sword dancing through the air sliced it neatly apart.

“Hmph. Taking your eyes off me with this old man right in front of you? How insolent.”

The Heavenly Sword muttered in annoyance, hands clasped behind his back.

Belpher’s gaze turned toward him.

“...I see. Everything must be done in order.”

“One of the basic laws of the world. Etch it into your head.”

“As you wish.”

Not that it mattered.

Because Belpher had already summoned ‘that’.

‘My power.’

The holy sword embedded in his heart had repeatedly restored divine power…

Only to use that divine power to kill him—over and over again.

So he gathered power externally, hidden from Itaca’s gaze.

‘Once that power arrives…’

Every drop of malice blackening the Western Sea was converging toward him.

When he absorbed it all, not only would he return to the strength he had 842 years ago—

he would surpass it.

He would wield power fit to rival a god.

‘Four minutes. That’s all it needs to gather.’

After that, he wouldn’t even need to fight.

Simply breathing would steal the life from everyone around him.

“Let’s spend that time figuring out—how exactly you die.”

“I do not—”

Before he finished speaking—

His body was diced into dozens of pieces and fell to the ground.

A sword soaring freely in the air had done it.

“Hm.”

But the Heavenly Sword frowned, unsatisfied, as he watched the scattered flesh.

“Indeed… killing you like this won’t work.”

Crack, crunch—

The severed pieces wriggled together and rapidly reformed Belpher’s body.

He asked without expression.

“Are your questions answered?”

“Not yet.”

Stab!

This time the sword pierced his heart.

But it didn’t stop there—

The blade began to shine.

BOOM!

It exploded inside his chest.

Hundreds of fragments shredded his insides.

“……”

Belpher reformed once more.

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Even the heart, obliterated into nothing, was restored, beating strongly again.

“What a nuisance.”

The Heavenly Sword clicked his tongue.

Normally, anyone would die from this.

But of course a historic Demon King wouldn’t die so easily.

‘So only the holy sword can deal fatal damage, after all.’

He inevitably thought of that brat from the White Tower.

It all came down to whether that kid could fully restore Itaca.

“No choice then.”

He stretched out his right hand like a blade—

And sliced off his own left arm.

“…?”

The Heavenly Sword frowned.

“Have you lost your mind from fear?”

“Hardly.”

The two severed chunks of flesh trembled, melted into black slime—

And shaped themselves into copies of Belpher, colorless and pitch-black.

“…Clones?”

The moment the Heavenly Sword furrowed his brows—

Two black Belphers sprinted toward Oscar.

“You were too hasty. You’re unarmed now, aren’t you?”

As they passed the Heavenly Sword—

Slash!

One clone was sliced clean in half.

A new sword danced through the air.

The Heavenly Sword snorted.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“…A spatial artifact?”

“I paid a fortune for it. Wealth is power—another law of the world. Remember it well.”

He tapped a tiny pouch at his waist—

Inside it were the countless blades he’d collected over his lifetime.

Masterworks known across the continent, all the way to cheap iron swords.

“I guarantee, you’ll die of old age before I run out of swords.”

“…Understood.”

Belpher’s head tilted.

“But you let one slip through.”

“I let it through on purpose.”

The Heavenly Sword sneered.

“If an old man over a hundred is fighting, a brat who still smells of milk can’t sit idle.”

At that moment, the remaining black Belpher lunged at Oscar.

“World Liberation—Eternal Bloom.”

Lloyd raised a single flower—Sydney—like a staff toward Oscar.

“Blossom—Cradle of All Things.”

A gigantic petal draped over Oscar like a blanket.

It was the strongest shield an 8th-circle mage could currently use.

Crunch!

The black Belpher rammed into it and disintegrated instantly.

“Hmph.”

The Heavenly Sword didn’t even look at it.

That brat was annoying, yes—

but he did not underestimate an 8th-circle mage.

He entrusted Oscar to him because he fully trusted his strength.

“He’s your family. Protect him yourself.”

“I would have done so even without you saying it.”

“Tsk, tsk. Can’t agree gracefully, can you…?”

BOOOOOM!

A blade soared down just in time to block Belpher’s fist.

He had closed the distance in an instant.

“So be it. I’ll kill you all first.”

“…Try. If you can.”

As they clashed—

Belpher’s summoned malice finally reached the island.

* * *

A massive cube-shaped labyrinth.

On its rooftop, a group stood.

“Has word reached the airship?”

“Yes, Archbishop. Ah! Please look!”

Northpella, the great airship, soared into the sky.

Their allies aboard were safe.

‘Thank the gods.’

Even if everyone here died—

At least someone would carry word of what happened back to the continent.

Archbishop Baldwin looked around.

Priests, paladins, and members of the Heavenly Sword clan stood ready.

“From here on, our task is simple.”

He turned toward the black tidal wave of malice crashing toward the island from all directions.

“We must prevent Belpher from absorbing that power.”

Shing—

Swords were drawn.

Priests made the sign of the cross and gripped their holy symbols tightly.

‘Lord…’

Baldwin prayed earnestly,

‘Grant strength to this humble lamb…’

The moment he prayed—

KWWWAAAAAAH!!

The tide of malice surged atop the island.

A column of holy light struck down from the heavens, shielding the labyrinth in full.

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