The air around Lilya felt like molten lead being forced into her lungs. Each breath was heavy, each exhale carried a burning pain that spread from her chest to her fingertips. Her eyes were still fixed ahead—blurry, trembling, yet still refusing to close.
Before her, the Hell Kong still stood.
The giant primate monster showed no signs of fatigue. Its black body pulsed with a dark aura that flowed from within, as if its power would never run out—unlike hers.
And on her left and right—
two Goblin Riders moved slowly, encircling her.
They did not attack together.
They did not rush.
They were waiting.
Waiting for an opening.
Waiting for weakness.
Lilya knew.
If she let her guard down for even a moment—they would pounce.
WHOOSH—!!
The Hell Kong moved first.
Its massive body shot forward at a speed that defied its size. The ground beneath its feet cracked, fissures spreading like a giant spiderweb. Its roar shook the air, shattering the night's silence with a sound that felt like an earthquake.
"GROOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAARRRRR—!!!"
Its right arm rose high.
Dark aura gathered around its fist, forming a swirling vortex that pulsed wildly.
[Brute Hammer]
"GRRRRAAAAHHHH—!!!"
The fist came down.
Not just a punch.
But like a giant hammer falling from the sky.
[Parry Counter]
CLAAANG—!!
Lilya's blue-gold light sword moved at the perfect angle. Its blade flashed, catching the momentum of the attack and deflecting it sideways. That immense force was redirected—missing her body, striking the ground to her right with a thunderous explosion.
BOOOOOMMMM—!!
The earth caved in.
Rocks the size of human heads flew through the air.
Dust billowed high.
But—
before Lilya could even draw a breath—
WHOOSH—!!
WHOOSH—!!
Two Goblin Riders shot in from opposite directions.
One from the left.
One from the right.
Their poisoned spears aimed straight at her body—one at her neck, one at her stomach. A coordinated attack, with no pause, no room to evade normally.
[Mirror Step]
An illusion.
Lilya's body split into two where she stood.
One figure remained in its original position—pierced by the spear that shot straight through its chest.
The Goblin Rider on the left almost smiled.
But its smile faded.
Because that figure—
vanished.
Ash.
Light.
Gone.
An illusion.
While the real Lilya—
was already beside the right Goblin Rider.
Her blade swept low.
SHHK—!!
The front leg of the Rider's wolf mount was severed cleanly.
"GI—?!"
The wolf lost its balance.
The Goblin Rider's body was thrown forward.
But even before the monster could turn around—
Lilya was already right in front of it.
[Sword Slash]
SHHHHK—!!
The Goblin Rider's head flew high into the air.
The headless body hadn't even fallen yet.
[Chain Strike]
SHHK—SHHK—SHHK—!!
Three rapid slashes.
The wolf mount's body was cut into three pieces.
Black blood sprayed in all directions.
The second Goblin Rider—the one who had stabbed the illusion—only now realized its prey had moved. Its yellow eyes widened.
Too late.
Lilya was already moving again.
[Quick Step]
WHOOSH—!!
Her body shot low, her blue-gold sword flashing under the moonlight.
The Goblin Rider tried to raise its spear to block—
[Precision Cut]
SHHK—!!
Its wrist was severed.
The spear fell to the ground.
"GI—!"
Before it could even scream—
[Sword Slash]
SHHHHK—!!
Its body was split from shoulder to waist.
THUD.
THUD.
Two Goblin Riders dead.
The forest fell silent again.
Only the night wind stirred the leaves, carrying the scent of damp earth mixed with the metallic smell of a battle not yet truly over.
Lilya did not move.
The blue-gold light sword was still gripped in her right hand.
But its blade trembled.
Because the hand holding it could no longer remain completely still.
"...hhh..."
Her breathing was short.
Faltering.
Each breath felt heavy, as if the air entering her lungs had turned to stone, pressing from within.
Her chest rose and fell unevenly.
Her body swayed gently.
Her knees nearly gave out several times under the weight of her own body.
"...hhh..."
Her fingers trembled more violently.
Her grip on the sword's hilt weakened, then tightened again as she forced what little strength remained.
She couldn't let go.
Not yet.
Not now.
Her vision grew hazier.
The figure of the Hell Kong in the distance was no longer clearly visible. Only a massive black shadow that occasionally doubled whenever her focus slipped.
The trees behind the monster seemed to spin slowly.
Even the night sky appeared to sway.
"...hhh..."
The poison flowing through her body was numbing her fingertips. The wounds on her shoulder, arm, and waist were still bleeding.
The golden aura enveloping her body flickered faintly.
Fading.
Thinning.
But not yet extinguished.
Lilya raised her sword slightly.
That simple motion felt like lifting a giant boulder.
Every muscle in her arm tensed.
Her shoulder joint trembled.
She nearly lost her balance.
But she still stood.
With great difficulty.
With every last ounce of will she had left.
Her pale lips moved slowly.
Her voice was barely louder than a whisper.
"...hhh..."
She took a short breath.
"...I..."
Her breath caught again.
"...still..."
Her chest felt tight.
"...not..."
Her eyes were almost closing.
But she forced them to stay open.
"...done..."
Her trembling hand gripped the sword tighter.
"...hhh...."
Suddenly—
[Attention]
[Foreign magic element detected]
The World's voice appeared again in her mind.
Cold.
Mechanical.
Devoid of emotion.
The Hell Kong, which had been still until now, suddenly tensed.
Its massive body shook violently.
Then—
"GRROOOOOOOOOAAAAAAARRRRR—!!!"
A scream that shattered the silence.
Not a normal roar.
Not an attack.
But a scream of agony.
A scream of a creature being forced to change.
The dark aura around its body churned wildly.
Growing.
Raging.
As if something inside it was being forcibly pulled out.
That foreign magic element made the monster suddenly change.
More savage.
More brutal.
Exactly the same as what had happened at the start of her battle with the hobgoblins before.
The air around her began to heat up.
Not slowly.
But drastically.
As if the entire area was being heated from within.
The Hell Kong threw its head back.
Its mouth gaped wide.
Above that mouth—a small black dot appeared.
Small.
But dense.
Like a tiny hole in the middle of darkness.
Slowly.
Growing larger.
Larger.
Until it was the size of a cannonball.
A magic cannonball.
[Burst Cannon]
Lilya wanted to move.
She tried.
She really tried.
Her body trembled violently.
Her legs—heavy.
Too heavy.
As if embedded in hardening mud.
"..."
She didn't move.
Didn't respond.
"...no..."
Her body swayed.
Her knees gave way.
THUD—!!
She collapsed to her knees.
The damp ground beneath her felt cold.
The poison flowing through her body was numbing her fingertips, and the wounds on her shoulder, arm, and waist—still leaking fresh blood.
Wounds that would not close.
The golden aura enveloping her body flickered faintly.
Fading.
Thinning.
[Veil Resonance]
Gone.
"...this..."
Her eyes looked up.
Toward the black sphere still growing above the Hell Kong's head.
"...is this... the end...?"
She didn't know if it was a question or a statement.
She didn't know if she could still believe in hope.
But one thing she did know—
Cecilia.
That name.
Always that name.
"...Cecilia..."
Her lips moved slowly.
Her voice was barely audible.
"...forgive—"
BOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMM—!!!
The attack shot forward.
Fast.
Much faster than the naked eye could follow.
That massive black sphere swept through the air like inverted lightning.
There was no time to dodge.
No time to think.
No time to scream.
Only an explosion.
An explosion that blinded.
An explosion that deafened.
An explosion that—destroyed everything in its path.
BOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMM—!!!
The shockwave swept across the area.
The ground beneath Lilya shattered.
Trees around her were uprooted.
Rocks flew like pebbles thrown by a hurricane.
Dust and smoke billowed high into the night sky, blotting out the moon and stars above.
Total destruction.
Inside the sanctuary, silence—cold and heavy—blanketed every corner of the chamber. The air there felt thick, as if something invisible was pressing from all directions. The massive crystal before the Goblin Shaman pulsed pitch black—almost its entire surface now covered by dark stains that moved like living creatures.
On the cold white altar, Cecilia lay.
Her body was weak, barely moving. Her brown hair was tangled and stuck to her temples, damp with cold sweat. Her chest rose and fell slowly—too slowly—as if each breath was a struggle that consumed what little strength she had left.
Then—
her eyes opened.
Slowly.
Heavily.
As if her eyelids were made of rusted iron.
Tears welled at the corners of her eyes.
Not from pain.
Not from fear.
But from something else.
Something she felt deep in her chest.
As if a part of her had just vanished.
As if something had been severed.
"...Lilya..."
Meanwhile, elsewhere—far from that sanctuary,
far from the altar and the pulsing black crystal—Harlan bit his lip.
The air around him felt tense.
Before them, the undead samurai did not move.
Did not attack.
Did not retreat.
It just stood.
Staring at them all.
Rhett, standing at the front with his sword still drawn, did not turn. But his voice was low, cautious, almost a whisper.
"Harlan..."
Rhett's eyes remained fixed on the Shura.
"Do you know something about this monster?"
Harlan sighed.
His hand gripped his empty waist pouch—no potions left. Only cloth and the remnants of exhaustion.
His voice was soft.
Clear.
Like someone who had just realized something they wished they hadn't.
"...I heard that voice in my head again."
Rhett was silent.
"...what did it say?" he asked.
Harlan stared at the undead monster—clearly extremely dangerous if they attacked it, especially after Kael's failed strike and Rhett barely managing to block its sudden attack.
"...it said... be careful... not an ordinary human..."
Harlan's body trembled as he spoke.
"...it said... this... is a Shura..." he added.
"Shura?" Bram repeated, his voice rough but curious. "What is that?"
Silence fell for a moment.
The night wind blew gently between them, carrying the scent of damp earth and wood dust from the distance—remnants of battles still hanging in the air.
Bram frowned. His eyes narrowed, staring at the undead samurai still standing motionless before them. That old iron mask did not move. Did not blink. It just stood—like a waiting statue.
"I think I've heard that name before..." Bram said slowly. His voice sounded uncertain, like someone trying to dig up old memories buried for years.
All eyes turned to him.
Darian, who had been silent, suddenly spoke. His voice was low, flat—but there was something beneath that tone. Something that rarely surfaced from the quiet man.
"Shura..." Darian repeated softly. "...is the highest title."
He paused for a moment. His eyes remained fixed on the figure before them.
"...a title given to samurai who had surpassed human limits in that era."
Bram turned to Darian. His eyes widened slightly—not from surprise, but because he rarely heard Darian speak this much.
Darian continued.
"From long ago... I admired the abilities of samurai who had reached Shura..."
His voice softened at the end. As if something was troubling his thoughts.
"...they were legends. Stories passed from mouth to mouth. About samurai who could cut through wind, who could split boulders with a single swing, who could fight dozens of enemies alone and still stand."
He stared at the Shura.
His usually flat eyes—now seemed different.
"But..."
He paused for a breath.
"...seeing it in person..."
He swallowed hard.
"...in this state, as an undead..."
His voice was almost inaudible.
"...it's a nightmare."
Silence.
No one answered.
Because they all felt it.
The aura emanating from the Shura's body—not just pressure. But something older. Heavier. As if death itself was standing before them, waiting for the right moment to move.
Rhett gripped his sword tighter.
"So..." his voice was soft, but firm. "...we can't treat it like an ordinary monster."
Darian shook his head slowly.
"No."
He took a breath.
"A Shura is not an ordinary monster. He is... the peak of what a human could achieve on the battlefield."
His eyes did not leave that figure.
"And now—he is dead. No pain. No fear. No hesitation."
He paused.
"What remains is only... his combat ability."
"Everyone! The monster is doing something again!!"
Kael's shout shattered the silence.
All eyes immediately turned toward the Shura.
Before them, the undead samurai still stood motionless. The old iron mask with a crack on its right cheek still covered its face. Empty eyes behind the mask's eyeholes still glowed red.
But something had changed.
The three swords still in their sheaths at its waist—suddenly moved.
CREAK...
Without being touched.
Without being drawn.
Just like when they first met—when the Shura still had its back to them, when its hand only moved behind it, and the swords came free on their own.
But this time—
different.
Not just drawn.
Not just floating behind it.
The three blades came free from their sheaths one by one, floating slowly into the air like leaves lifted by the wind—then stopped.
Not behind the Shura.
But around it.
One above its head.
One on the right side.
One on the left side.
Floating.
Still.
Like three serpents ready to strike.