The underground prayer hall shook beneath the pressure of battle.
Black-red fire spread across the cracked stone floor in uneven waves while torn ritual banners burned slowly against the walls. The smell of corrupted energy mixed with smoke and scorched blood until the entire chamber felt poisoned from within. Fragments of broken pillars lay scattered throughout the hall, and the once-orderly prayer formation of the cult had collapsed into panic.
The corrupted priests no longer looked like devoted worshippers.
They looked terrified.
One priest stumbled backward while trying to complete a chant with trembling hands.
Another tried to raise a barrier formation near the altar.
A third had already turned toward one of the side exits, abandoning any thought of fighting altogether.
None of it mattered.
Zynar walked through the ruined hall without haste.
His sword remained lowered loosely at his side, dark demonic energy moving around the blade like smoke drifting through still air. His expression carried no excitement. No anger. No satisfaction.
Only indifference.
That indifference frightened the surviving priests more than the deaths already surrounding them.
Because people understood rage.
They understood hatred.
But the boy walking calmly through their sanctuary looked as though this entire massacre meant nothing to him.
One of the priests finally shouted in desperation.
"Stop him!"
Three corrupted priests charged together from the right side of the hall.
Their movements were fast, strengthened by corrupted power flowing through their bodies. Crimson symbols formed around their hands as they attempted to trap Zynar between layered attacks.
The first priest lunged directly forward.
The second moved left.
The third stayed behind to cast.
A proper formation.
Efficient.
Disciplined.
Against most opponents, it would have worked.
Zynar barely looked at them.
Wind exploded outward.
The invisible pressure struck the first priest instantly, crushing his balance before he could even reach sword range. The man crashed violently sideways into a broken pillar.
At the same moment, Zynar moved.
Only one step.
His sword flashed once.
The second priest froze.
Then collapsed.
The casting priest behind them widened his eyes in horror.
Too fast.
He raised both hands immediately.
"Blood of the Outer—"
Black-red fire consumed the chant before it finished.
The flames struck like a living thing, swallowing the corrupted magic circle forming in front of the priest and spreading upward across his robes. His scream echoed throughout the chamber as he fell backward desperately trying to extinguish the demonic flames.
The other surviving priests retreated another step.
Fear spread visibly now.
Not the fear of losing.
The fear of realizing they had invited something far worse into their sanctuary.
Near the altar, the high priest watched everything silently.
His hood had fallen earlier during the battle, revealing an older face marked by deep corruption veins beneath the skin. Crimson energy pulsed faintly through those marks with every breath he took.
Yet unlike the others, he had not panicked.
He simply observed Zynar carefully.
Studying him.
Trying to understand him.
Another priest rushed forward recklessly from the left side of the hall.
Zynar did not even turn fully.
A binding current of wind wrapped around the priest's limbs instantly.
The man froze in mid-motion before being slammed violently against the floor hard enough to crack the stone beneath him.
Silence followed.
Only six priests remained standing now.
The prayer hall had become a graveyard.
The surviving cultists breathed heavily while staring at Zynar with pale faces. Several no longer held their ritual staves properly. One was shaking so badly he nearly dropped his weapon entirely.
The high priest finally spoke.
"You are not human."
His voice echoed through the burning hall.
Zynar looked toward him calmly.
"No."
The answer came without hesitation.
Without denial.
That unsettled the remaining priests even more.
The high priest narrowed his eyes slightly.
"You carry demonic energy... yet your mind remains stable."
Zynar did not answer.
The old priest stepped forward slowly from the altar platform.
Corrupted energy moved around his robes like drifting mist.
"You came here alone."
"Yes."
"You destroyed an entire prayer hall alone."
"Yes."
"And you still show no fear."
Zynar's eyes remained emotionless.
"Should I?"
The air tightened.
Several priests instinctively stepped backward again.
The high priest studied him for another moment before speaking once more.
"...Interesting."
Then one of the surviving priests suddenly shouted,
"High Priest! We should call upon Lord Vaelthor immediately!"
Another priest nodded desperately.
"Yes! Before it's too late—"
The high priest raised one hand.
Silence returned instantly.
His gaze never left Zynar.
"No."
The answer shocked the others.
The old priest's voice became quieter.
"I want to see what he truly is first."
The surviving priests looked disturbed by that response.
But before anyone could speak again—
Zynar stopped walking.
The movement itself was small.
Yet the entire hall seemed to tense.
His gaze shifted slowly toward the bodies scattered across the chamber floor.
The dead priests.
The lingering corrupted energy still drifting from them.
Then Zynar spoke calmly.
"Hey."
The high priest frowned slightly.
"...What?"
Zynar looked toward him.
"Wait a minute."
The old priest's brows tightened.
Zynar glanced once more at the corpses spread throughout the ruined sanctuary.
Then he said,
"Let me absorb those first."
Silence.
Several surviving priests stared blankly.
The high priest himself looked confused for the first time since the battle began.
"...Absorb?"
Zynar raised one hand slowly.
Demonic energy gathered around him immediately.
The atmosphere changed.
Not violently.
Not explosively.
But heavily.
As though something ancient had just opened its eyes beneath the surface of reality itself.
The remaining priests felt it instantly.
Pressure.
Wrongness.
The flames burning throughout the chamber began bending unnaturally toward Zynar.
The shadows along the walls distorted.
The air itself became colder.
The high priest's expression hardened.
"What are you doing?"
Zynar answered quietly.
"Authority."
The demonic energy around him thickened further.
Then—
"Original Sin."
The prayer hall shook violently.
Every surviving priest froze.
Something appeared behind Zynar.
Not fully.
Not clearly.
A massive shape made entirely of demonic energy emerged slowly from the darkness behind his back like a nightmare forcing itself into existence.
It had no stable form.
Its body shifted constantly between shadow and flesh-like distortion.
Countless hollow mouths opened and closed across its shape without sound. Black tendrils moved beneath its surface like living veins.
The surviving priests went pale instantly.
One dropped his weapon entirely.
Another stumbled backward in horror.
"W-what... is that...?"
The high priest's eyes widened slightly.
For the first time since Zynar entered the hall—
he looked uneasy.
The monstrous entity behind Zynar slowly raised its head.
Then all the mouths opened together.
A soundless scream filled the room.
The corrupted energy lingering around the corpses throughout the prayer hall suddenly reacted violently.
Dark crimson streams burst upward from every dead priest at once.
The surviving cultists gasped in horror.
Their fallen brothers' corrupted power was being dragged out forcibly.
Pulled toward the monstrous entity.
Consumed.
The creature devoured the corrupted energy hungrily.
The mouths across its body twisted wider as the energy disappeared into endless darkness within it.
The hall itself seemed to grow dimmer.
Lighter.
As though the corruption filling the sanctuary was being erased piece by piece.
One surviving priest fell to his knees.
"No... no... that's impossible..."
Another whispered shakily,
"It... it's eating the corruption..."
The high priest stared at the scene silently.
Then realization slowly entered his expression.
"You..." he muttered.
Zynar remained calm.
The monstrous entity continued feeding behind him.
More corrupted energy flowed from the corpses scattered across the chamber floor until eventually the dark streams began fading.
The remaining priests felt genuine fear now.
Because corruption was sacred to them.
A divine blessing.
Something untouchable.
Yet the being standing before them was consuming it like nourishment.
That was not something humans were supposed to do.
The high priest finally spoke again.
"...What are you?"
Zynar glanced toward him.
"A demon."
The answer carried no pride.
No drama.
Just fact.
The last traces of corrupted energy vanished into the monstrous entity.
Then the creature slowly dissolved back into darkness behind Zynar.
Gone.
But the pressure remained.
The surviving priests looked sick.
The atmosphere around Zynar had changed.
Before, he had felt dangerous.
Now he felt unnatural.
The demonic energy surrounding him became denser after the absorption. Thin black-red currents moved around his sword and arms like flowing smoke. Even the fire burning nearby seemed drawn toward him unnaturally.
The high priest understood immediately.
The corrupted energy had strengthened him.
And somehow—
that terrified him more than death.
Zynar rolled his shoulder slightly.
Then looked toward the old priest.
"Alright."
His voice stayed calm.
"We can continue now."
The next moment—
he disappeared.
The high priest barely reacted in time.
Their collision exploded across the prayer hall.
Corrupted blood magic slammed against demonic sword aura with enough force to crack the floor beneath them. Wind pressure erupted outward, tearing apart nearby ritual structures and throwing surviving priests off their feet.
The high priest staggered backward.
Too strong.
The pressure behind Zynar's attacks had increased drastically after the absorption.
Zynar attacked again immediately.
No hesitation.
No wasted movement.
His sword cut downward with brutal precision.
The high priest blocked using a crimson barrier formation—
and the barrier shattered instantly.
The impact forced the old priest backward across the floor.
Zynar followed relentlessly.
Wind magic exploded around the chamber.
Invisible blades tore through the air, shredding banners and cutting apart defensive formations before they fully formed. The surviving priests tried to support their leader with long-range spells, but binding currents wrapped around them one after another.
One priest found his arms pinned violently behind him by compressed wind pressure.
Another was slammed against the wall before finishing a chant.
A third attempted to escape toward the rear corridors—
and black-red flames consumed the path in front of him instantly.
The hall became chaos again.
But now the chaos felt different.
Before, Zynar had been eliminating obstacles.
Now he hunted.
The high priest noticed it immediately.
The boy's fighting style had changed after using that authority.
He had become harsher.
More direct.
His attacks no longer felt merely efficient.
They felt predatory.
The high priest roared while unleashing corrupted energy outward in a massive wave.
Blood-colored symbols spread across the chamber walls.
The floor cracked as crimson spikes erupted upward violently.
Zynar moved through them without slowing.
Wind curved around his body naturally, altering his movement with terrifying precision. Every spike missed him by impossibly small distances while his sword continued moving toward the high priest uninterrupted.
The old priest widened his eyes.
How—
The answer came immediately.
Eyes.
Zynar's demonic eyes watched every movement inside the hall with unnatural calm.
Not panic.
Not focus.
Certainty.
They did not look human.
They looked like something already standing ahead of the present moment.
Their swords collided again.
This time the impact shattered an entire nearby pillar.
The high priest coughed blood.
Zynar's expression never changed.
Black-red fire ignited across his blade suddenly.
The flames spread onto the high priest's corrupted barrier.
Then began burning through it.
The old priest's face twisted.
"What kind of fire is this?!"
"Demonic fire."
Zynar pushed forward harder.
"It burns corruption better than mana."
The barrier shattered completely.
The high priest barely avoided losing his arm as Zynar's blade cut past him, slicing through his shoulder instead. Blood sprayed across the cracked floor while demonic flames immediately spread through the wound.
The old priest screamed.
Not from pain alone.
The flames were consuming the corrupted energy sustaining his body.
He tried suppressing them desperately with more corruption.
That only made the fire spread faster.
Zynar watched him coldly.
The surviving priests stared in horror.
Their leader—
the chosen high priest of Vaelthor—
was losing.
Badly.
One priest suddenly shouted desperately,
"Lord Vaelthor! Hear our prayer!"
The others immediately joined.
The remaining cultists fell to their knees around the altar, chanting frantically while pouring corrupted energy into the sacrificial circle.
The symbols beneath the altar began glowing again.
The pressure inside the hall changed immediately.
Heavy.
Ancient.
Hungry.
The high priest smiled weakly despite the flames consuming him.
"Too late..."
The ritual circle brightened further.
A distorted shape began forming above the altar.
Not fully manifested.
Only partial.
But enough to make the surviving priests tremble with fanatic devotion.
The presence filling the room felt ancient beyond understanding.
A fragment of Vaelthor.
The Blood God.
The surviving priests looked ecstatic.
"Our god..."
"Lord Vaelthor..."
"Save us..."
The high priest laughed weakly.
"You cannot oppose divinity, child."
Zynar looked toward the forming projection silently.
The distorted shape above the altar pulsed with corrupted pressure. Countless whispers echoed faintly through the chamber walls.
Then Zynar sighed once.
The sound confused everyone.
His eyes looked almost disappointed.
"...That's it?"
Silence.
The projection trembled.
The high priest frowned.
"What?"
Zynar stared at the unstable divine fragment above the altar.
"I expected more from Vaelthor."
The entire hall reacted violently.
The corrupted energy surrounding the projection surged wildly.
The surviving priests looked horrified.
The high priest shouted angrily,
"You dare insult a god—"
"That idiot isn't worth respecting."
The pressure exploded.
The projection above the altar distorted furiously as though reacting directly to Zynar's words.
A horrible whisper echoed through the hall.
Pure hatred.
The surviving priests collapsed trembling.
But Zynar remained still.
Unaffected.
His gaze stayed cold.
"I've seen louder gods."
The high priest's face twisted with rage.
He unleashed every remaining ounce of corrupted power at once.
Crimson energy flooded the chamber violently.
Blood magic formations spread across the floor, walls, and ceiling simultaneously.
The entire hall began collapsing under the pressure.
Zynar stepped forward calmly.
Then vanished.
The next seconds became impossible for the surviving priests to fully follow.
Wind screamed through the chamber.
Black-red flames exploded repeatedly across the darkness.
The sound of steel cutting through corrupted magic echoed again and again.
Every collision shattered more of the prayer hall.
The high priest fought desperately now.
But Zynar overwhelmed him completely.
Not through flashy techniques.
Not through dramatic attacks.
Through absolute control.
Minimal movement.
Perfect efficiency.
Every sword strike existed only to kill.
Every burst of wind altered positioning.
Every flame targeted corruption directly.
The high priest finally realized something horrifying.
Zynar was not fighting emotionally.
He was fighting casually.
Like someone who had done this countless times before.
The realization broke his composure completely.
"W-what are you?!"
Zynar's blade pierced through another barrier formation.
The old priest staggered backward.
Demonic fire spread further across his body.
Then Zynar answered quietly.
"Something your god should fear."
The final strike came moments later.
Wind pressure crushed the remaining ritual formations.
The projection of Vaelthor destabilized completely.
And Zynar's sword cut through the center of the altar.
The sacrificial circle shattered.
The divine fragment screamed.
Then vanished.
The pressure disappeared instantly.
The surviving priests stared blankly.
Their god's presence was gone.
The high priest collapsed to his knees.
The black flames consumed the remaining corruption inside him slowly.
He looked upward with hollow eyes.
"No..."
Zynar stood over him silently.
The ruined prayer hall burned around them.
The surviving cultists no longer looked willing to fight.
Only broken.
The high priest coughed weakly.
"There are... more..."
Zynar remained expressionless.
"Other temples... other followers..."
Blood spread beneath the old priest.
"You cannot stop what is coming..."
Zynar looked at him quietly for a moment.
Then said,
"I wasn't planning to stop it."
The high priest froze.
Fear entered his face at last.
Because Zynar did not sound heroic.
He sounded certain.
The flames finally consumed the remaining corrupted energy within the old priest completely.
His body collapsed motionless onto the cracked stone floor.
Silence returned.
The underground prayer hall had fallen.
And standing among the burning ruins, surrounded by dead priests and fading corruption, Zynar looked exactly the same as when he first entered.
Cold.
Calm.
Unreadable.
Like the destruction around him had never been anything more than another task completed during an ordinary night in the capital.
[End of Chapter 39]