“What?”
Ludger’s tone was so flat it sounded no different from someone casually saying they would take out the trash.
How many people in this continent could speak like that to a Cardinal?
Aldre clenched her trembling fists.
No matter how powerful he was, even a Demon King speaking like that to a Cardinal was the height of humiliation.
“Let’s see how long that smug face lasts!”
Aldre invoked sacred arts.
Three high-level divine spells, the kind that required long prayer and focus from even skilled priests, flared to life at once.
Winged soldiers clad in white armor appeared and charged at Ludger with spears raised.
A massive column of light blasted forward from the center of a glowing magic circle, and behind Ludger, a white iron maiden emerged and lunged to engulf him.
All three attacks were designed for one thing — instant death.
Ludger merely watched them and lightly tapped his foot.
The moment his shoe touched the white marble floor, a black ripple spread outward in perfect concentric circles.
When the ripple reached the winged soldiers, black tendrils like shadowy tentacles erupted from the ground and coiled around them.
The grip was so overwhelming that the soldiers, created from divine power, couldn’t even resist. Their bodies were crushed and dissolved into scattered motes of light.
The same happened to the iron maiden approaching from behind.
Its doors gaped open, ready to close on him, but as soon as the ripple reached it, it convulsed violently and melted away without a trace.
The last column of light was bent off course by the wave, smashing harmlessly into the wall.
With a single step, Ludger had nullified three high-level sacred arts.
“So this is why they call you the Demon King, huh?”
“Considering what you know about me, don’t you think you’re being a little reckless?”
Ludger’s cold eyes fixed on Aldre.
“You must know your comrades died by my hand. Are you sure you should still act so brave? Or perhaps... you’re relying on something.”
“Silence!”
Aldre activated the artifact she carried.
A blinding flash burst forth, flooding Ludger’s vision with light.
From within that brilliance, countless swords of light materialized and shot toward his vital points.
Fool. Let your guard down before a Cardinal?
Aldre’s lips curved in a murderous smile—then her eyes widened.
Within the light, she could see it.
Ludger’s shadow, stretched long behind him by the brilliance, began to move on its own.
It swelled, expanded, and writhed, forming long, black tendrils that snatched the blades of light out of the air and consumed them.
The stronger the light, the darker and more powerful the shadow became.
Even when the radiance faded completely, the shadow remained—growing larger, spreading wider.
Behind Ludger, the shadow rose upright and took the form of a massive raven.
A magical beast!
Aldre instantly recognized it.
But this one was far stronger, far more menacing than any ordinary familiar.
The magical beasts of a Demon King were unlike those of any normal mage.
The shadow raven spread its wings wide.
So wide that the tips brushed both ends of the vast corridor, before it dove forward.
“How dare a mere creature defy me!”
Aldre cast another sacred art.
A dazzling white explosion tore through everything in its path.
At the same time, she grasped the small rosary hidden in her robes.
That was why she could stand so boldly against him.
The rosary—her relic.
The spells she cast were nothing more than distractions, meant to buy time to activate it.
If the Demon King realized what she was doing, he would have ended her before she could finish. But astonishingly, Ludger still stood motionless.
Your arrogance will be your death!
Finally, the relic was ready.
And since he just stood there, practically presenting himself as a target, her earlier tension now felt foolish.
Aldre raised the relic and pointed it straight at Ludger.
“Activate—Relic.”
The rosary in her hand began to vibrate, releasing massive waves of holy energy.
The surge forced Ater Nocturnus backward until it melted into Ludger’s shadow once more.
“So that’s what you were relying on—the relic.”
“You realize it now? Too late. The relic is already activated.”
Aldre smiled, triumphant.
Ludger’s gaze lingered on the small rosary, glowing with divine power as intricate sigils formed around it.
It was the same class of relic once used to seal the soul of Grandeur himself.
It targeted a single person, and its effect was brutally simple—
to crush the target under immense, conceptual pressure until they died.
Above Ludger’s head appeared a massive white gavel—the kind a judge uses to deliver a verdict.
Ater Nocturnus sensed the danger and swelled in size, its wings shifting into arms that rose to block the falling gavel.
But the instant those wings touched it, they crumpled like paper, driven into the ground.
“Fool. Did you think you could stop this relic so easily? Its power is conceptual.”
Aldre was certain.
Even the greatest swordmaster, Lutus; even the strongest mage, Clinton; even the Holy Pope Salecin himself—none could withstand this relic.
“The power of this relic is proportional to the weight of one’s deepest desire.”
Every human has desires.
And every human is endlessly greedy.
Even a small child carries desires that defy imagination—
to be famous, to amass riches, to be admired, to make the world kneel.
This relic senses those desires within the target’s heart and delivers judgment equal to that weight.
“It’s certainly... impressive,” Ludger murmured as he looked up at the descending gavel.
Then he vanished, slipping into his shadow and reappearing some distance away.
But it didn’t matter.
“Running won’t help.”
The gavel appeared above his head again, mirroring his movement.
“You can’t block it or evade it. Once a relic activates, it doesn’t stop until judgment is complete.”
Its activation took time, yes—but once unleashed, it was absolute.
The victim had to bear the crushing weight of their own desires until it ended—or they died.
“Demon King,” Aldre shouted, “you seek to destroy this world and create another, don’t you?”
A desire vast enough to engulf the entire continent—
meaning its weight was equal to that of the world itself.
“Be buried beneath the world you wish to shatter! Die crushed by your own greed and sin!”
Ater Nocturnus struggled desperately, but even it couldn’t withstand the relic’s power.
“Return.”
At Ludger’s calm command, the raven looked down at him, confused—but the unshaken serenity in Ludger’s eyes made it obediently melt back into his shadow.
“So you’ve given up resistance, then. At least you’ll die with some dignity.”
Aldre believed he had accepted his fate.
The white gavel descended.
Light scattered. Wind surged.
There was no sound.
The gavel was not a physical object—it was a conceptual embodiment of judgment.
Its weight fell only on the condemned; the world around remained untouched.
When the light faded and the wind calmed, Aldre was certain he was gone—
not even a trace of blood left behind.
Given the enormity of his sins and desires, his body must have been annihilated completely.
“Th-that’s...”
Yes—
That’s how it should have been.
“This... can’t be.”
Her trembling eyes saw him—
Ludger, still standing exactly where he had been.
“N-no. Impossible. The relic definitely activated!”
“It did,” he replied simply.
The one struck by the relic himself admitted it.
“I was impressed, actually. A relic that amplifies its power in proportion to the target’s desire... Anyone else would’ve been crushed to death.”
“Th-then why are you unharmed? What trick did you use?!”
“The relic worked perfectly. I felt its power.”
He had indeed been struck—and had felt it.
He had felt the weight of his own, true desire.
“It seems my desire isn’t strong enough to kill me.”
“Don’t be absurd! You can’t possibly be unaffected! If you have no desire, then why do all this?!”
What was his true desire, that it could cause wars and holy crusades?
Aldre’s mind reeled.
“I have no obligation to tell you that.”
“Y-you—”
“So. Was that your last card? If not, show me your next one. You’ll have to, you see...”
Raw magical power erupted around Ludger, vast enough to make the walls tremble.
“...Because if that was all, you’ll die here.”
“Ah—aaahhhh!”
Faced with an impossible reality, Aldre screamed and tried to cast another sacred art—
Thk!
“Ah.”
But she never finished.
A sharp pain pierced her back, and she saw a blade protruding from her chest.
“Wh-what...?”
Blood spilled from her lips as she slowly turned her head.
Her terrified eyes met Suruna’s face, twisted into a chilling grin.
“So this is where you ran off to.”
Suruna had arrived—quietly, unseen.
Then where were her companions? What had happened to the other two Cardinals?
Her question was answered a heartbeat later.
“Had to drag these idiots along. Took me a bit.”
Suruna dropped what he was holding onto the floor.
Two objects rolled across the marble—
the heads of Cardinal Joseph Powell and Cardinal Sehar Garnia.
“And now, you’re the last one.”
“You—!”
Before Aldre could even finish her curse, Suruna swung his sword.
Blood spattered across the pure white walls, painting them red.
It was a gruesome sight—but neither [N O V E L I G H T] Ludger nor Suruna even blinked.
“You all right? Looked like that relic hit you dead-on, but you seem fine.”
“As you can see.”
“A Cardinal bringing a relic and rushing in like that... Guess they figured out what we’re up to. Their nerves must be fraying—those who were supposed to hold back till the end are jumping the gun.”
“Seems we’re not the only ones feeling pressed for time.”
“Yeah.”
Then, the fortress rumbled violently. A massive pulse spread outward, reaching even the distant shores of Bretus.
The reason was simple.
“Stage Two begins.”
If the first stage had illuminated the fortress, the second began with transformation.
The castle groaned and shifted.
Corridors split apart; new paths opened, others sealed.
Doors and windows changed positions, the entire structure twisting into a labyrinth.
The deafening roar of colossal, intricate machinery filled the air.
It was grand, vast—ominous.
As if the entire world were being warned of what was about to come.
* * *
Shhhh—
On a stretch of coastline ravaged by the tide, where the sea had yet to fully recede, a woman walked ashore as if nothing were amiss.
“So this is the Holy War, huh? What a damn mess.”
Casey surveyed the chaotic landscape of Bretus with a complicated expression.
