Chapter 993
A space of absolute nothingness, where only he existed. Ian lifted his head slightly. Was there truly nothing here? Was he really alone in this vast emptiness?
As the question formed in his mind, an answer came rushing in. It was as light as the scent of flowers carried on the wind, as unstoppable as flowing waves.
“Ian.”
His mother’s voice called down to him, looking upon him. Her expression was cold, yet the warmth shining in her eyes was infinitely tender.
“Ian!”
Romandro and Barsabe called out, giggling. Along with their voices came the scent of damp earth from the Count Jacques’ estate. The moonlight they had faced after training was there too.
“Ian?”
Hans and Naum turned their heads in unison, and Ian smiled softly. It was uncanny how much the two brothers resembled each other in profile.
“Iaaan!”
Noisy Beric. Silly Beric. Always a troublemaker. Yet Ian welcomed the raucous sound of Beric rushing toward him.
“Ian—”
Voices of mages echoed from all around, filling Ian completely. Overwhelmed by the surge of emotion rising deep within, he rubbed his cheek. These were his beloved parts of himself.
But then, gradually, those voices began to fade, growing lighter. Puzzled, Ian opened his eyes—
Whoosh.
Darkness gathered just within reach.
What was that? Was it also a part of him? As Ian stepped closer, the darkness sent out a poisonous aura, as if forbidding him to come near. The undulating dark energy made Ian hesitate.
‘I’m afraid.’
He didn’t even know what he feared. Why did such darkness exist within him? Hesitating, Ian lowered his hand, and warmth surged forward, rushing into the darkness as if taking the lead.
“Wait.”
Don’t go. Don’t go. You’ll be swallowed by the darkness. Ian pleaded, but the warmth was fearless—like stars throwing themselves into the sea.
The warmth vanished into the darkness. Staring blankly at that, Ian’s tears began to fall. What should he do? What could he do?
Rustle.
Then, flickering lights shimmered within the darkness—dim, but unextinguished. Ian’s eyes widened, and without realizing it, he reached out.
Swish!
The darkness thrashed wildly, but Ian’s gaze remained fixed on the light. If he could break through, erase, and tear it apart, he felt he could rescue whatever was trapped inside.
“Ian!”
All their voices rang out together. It felt like fireworks exploding inside his head.
Ian clenched his teeth and grasped the darkness. Through the shadows crushed between his fingers, the light began to shine again. Familiar presences circled him, but there was something unfamiliar mixed in. It approached Ian and whispered.
“Sir Ian.”
Who? Something brushed past like a shard. The sharpness felt like it could cut his face, snapping him alert. When he met it, he saw eyes with the same pale blue as his own.
“…!”
No one could find words in the face of the colossal, majestic sight. Bariel and Astana both stood dumbfounded, gazing up at the sky.
Whoosh.
Behind the Underworld God, a sacred palm unfurled like a fan, moving gently. It felt like witnessing a transcendent being drifting alone in frozen time.
Before that magnificent presence, they were nothing but dust. Fear, humility, and awe surged like a tide, shaking their hearts.
Swish.
Eyes closed, Ian raised his hand. The divine palm tilted in response, mirroring his fingertips. Just as Ian had grasped the darkness in the void, the god’s palm held fast to the Underworld God.
Crack!
Gentle, yet an overwhelming force none could oppose. Darkness burst through the slender, delicate fingers. The scattered shadows dissipated and vanished.
“My goodness…”
Arena gasped, covering her mouth in awe. How was it possible to confront the Underworld God with just the Divine Palm magic? Records from a hundred years ago said it took multiple layered spells to barely seal it.
Arena glanced at Ian, still immersed in the void’s ritual. His head was tilted back, drenched in rain.
-Do you think I will back down?!
The Underworld God’s roar pierced their ears. It was agonizing, like needles stabbing their nerves. The beast bellowed with all its might, and the sorcerers and magic swordsmen facing the sound were pushed back, collapsing.
Boom! Bang!
A storm raged. Arena stepped forward first, shielding Ian with her body. Until the divine palm could fully suppress the darkness, preventing it from reaching him.
Whoosh!
As Arena charged, the mages shouted battle cries and followed.
“Annihilate the Underworld God!”
“Annihilate!”
“Stay away from Ian!”
“This is Bariel’s land!”
“Ughhh!”
Those who had transferred all their magic to Ian could do nothing else.
The Underworld God writhed, twisting its body to escape the divine palm’s grip. The more it struggled, the fiercer the storm grew, warping the world.
Shhhhhh!
Light and darkness clashed, turning day into night and night into day. The empire’s citizens sang the national anthem, embracing one another, while the mages stood guard before Ian until they lost consciousness.
Rumble! Crash!
The Underworld God’s power intensified. Buildings began to crumble with the tremors. Its determination not to be swallowed by the abyss again made it try to shake off the divine palm.
The beast lunged at Ian with its own hand.
Crackle! Boom!
Thunderous crashes!
-You will go with me. This time, I will show you true darkness. As the King of the Abyss, I will take everything from you!
“Ahhh!”
“Ugh!”
The mages held out against the storm, but before the Underworld God’s raw power, they collapsed helplessly.
Arena caught the falling mages and looked back at Ian. He remained in a trance, head still tilted back, while the Underworld God trembled, drawing closer.
Crack!
And the divine palm gripped the beast even tighter. The more violently it resisted, the stronger the god’s power became. Slowly, cracks began to form in the darkness.
Snap! Crack!
I will shatter you completely, crush you, and grind you to dust.
Within the divine palm, the darkness was nothing but a handful of dust. Even as the Underworld God’s body shattered, it opened its maw wide, trying to swallow Ian.
“Ian!”
Arena shouted, as if urging him to come to his senses.
The beast’s greedy gaze fixed on Ian. It was clear it would do anything to take him along. The divine palm’s grip tightened, nearly forming a fist.
-Ian!
The Underworld God called his name.
-Ian Verosion!
His true name, echoing through time.
At that, Ian’s eyes snapped open. Tears welled up and trickled down his cheeks, but no one noticed—not even Ian himself.
He was too absorbed in the overwhelming feeling swelling in his chest. But what did it matter? Tears washed away by rain meant nothing.
“…”
Ian quietly looked up at the rainy sky. The clouds were slowly clearing. Through the dark clouds, a clear blue sky appeared—pure and bright, like the pale blue of his own eyes. He slowly lowered his head and looked straight ahead.
Swish! Swish!
The Underworld God’s final desperate thrash was right before him—so close it could have cut his face. But Ian grasped the darkness without fear.
Clench.
-…!
In response, the divine palm’s sacred power surged to its peak. Crack! The cracks in the Underworld God’s body spread like shattered glass. Ian stared into the trembling beast’s eyes and whispered,
“Begone.”
Back to your world.
Whoooosh!
Crack!
The sky collapsed, the world twisted. The storm returned, and this time even the mages had to lower their stance.
Hummmm.
This was the world of nothingness Ian had seen. All around, silence reigned. The birds flying in the sky, the leaning buildings, the praying people, even Bariel’s fluttering flag—all frozen.
Flash!
-Kraaaah!
As the subterranean god’s agonized roar gradually faded and finally vanished, the world began to flow again. Flocks of birds took to the sky, buildings crumbled, and people rushed toward the imperial palace. And once more, Bariel’s banner fluttered proudly in the wind.
“Ah.”
With a short gasp, Ian fell downward. His hair rose like shimmering heat waves, his fingers stretched toward the sky—as if he were measuring the clear sky after the storm clouds had fully parted.
Whoooosh!
‘Falling.’
But he had no strength left. All he wanted was to drift off to sleep just like this. Just as Ian was about to close his eyes again—
“Iaaaan!”
…Of course, it was Berrick.
Ian couldn’t help but let out a faint smile. Everyone was rushing toward him, centering on Berrick.
“Catch him! Catch Ian!”
“Ian! Are you okay?”
The mages spread their arms wide, ready to catch him. It was like petals fluttering gently through the air. Tearfully, they caught Ian as he fell—
Swoosh!
Together, they collapsed backward, supporting Ian’s weight.
Ian felt the mages holding him begin to share their magic, pouring their power into his body.
Ziiing. Ziiing.
“Ugh, sniff…”
“Ian, are you okay? Hey?”
Though he had barely an ounce of strength left, they kept squeezing out every last bit of magic, afraid he might die if he exhausted himself completely.
With great effort, Ian lifted an arm and patted someone’s back.
“…We made it.”
“Don’t say that. It’s exhausting.”
“Ian, I really thought you—no, we were all going to die!”
“Me too! Damn it, if you all died, I’d just go too!”
“Waaah! Don’t say that, I’m really struggling here.”
“Ian, look. Can you stand up?”
Amid the mages clinging to him and sobbing, Ian answered with difficulty.
“If everyone’s like this… there’s no way I can get up.”
“Yeah, that’s true. Ian’s right.”
“We’re okay! Right?!”
The mages, faces streaked with tears and snot, gave a shaky laugh. Berrick, doing his best, helped the mages to their feet—or rather, cleared away the bodies that were in the way of helping Ian stand.
“Ian, are you hurt anywhere?”
Then he draped a cloth over Ian’s shoulders. It was a robe, though whose it was, no one knew. It was stained red with blood. Ian shook his head.
“No, not at all.”
“Really? How many wounds?”
“…Two.”
“Okay. That’s manageable.”
“Can you really tell by that?”
Smack!
It was Arena. She pushed Berrick aside and carefully looked over the mages. Then, suddenly, she pulled everyone into a tight embrace and let out a relieved breath.
“You all did well.”
“Minister.”
“Ah, really! Minister!”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
“Thank you for coming back.”
As the mages hugged and exchanged greetings, Berrick rubbed the back of his head where he’d been hit and pouted. Then, spotting people approaching in the distance, he grabbed Ian’s arm and pulled him along.
“Ian.”
Look over there. When Ian turned his head, the imperial citizens who had been rushing forward slowed and stopped at a respectful distance.
‘Ah.’
Right. It was time to bring order. Overnight, there had been curfews, subterranean gods, chaos everywhere. Everyone must have been scared and shocked. Ian slowly rose to his feet.
Swish.
The citizens bowed deeply to the ground in a gesture of respect—to the great mages of Bariel, to the warriors of Astana who had risked their lives alongside them, and to—
“……”
Ian Verosion, the new master of Bariel.
Ding—ding—
The distant tolling of bells echoed. Holding tightly to his billowing red robe, Ian looked out over the people. Bariel stood whole and unbroken before him.