Episode 1102
Chapter 257: The Demon Army’s Assault (6)

Everything was fading to white.

With every step Siron took, those watching him felt as if their vision was being swallowed by a blinding white haze.

‘Is this… Siron Runcandel’s secret technique?’

‘He’s not a magic swordsman. So how is he creating this kind of sensory distortion?’

The ten Changsung warriors sent by the Demon Army hadn’t felt their bodies betray their will like this in a long time.

This illusion surpassed even the insight of the Changsung. The greatest archmages from every dimension couldn’t comprehend what Siron was doing. There was no trace of magic or divine power causing this hallucination—it was utterly inexplicable.

As the battlefield grew increasingly blank and white, only Siron standing in the center remained fully visible in his true form.

Not just the Demon Army’s Changsung, but everyone—friend or foe—who looked at Siron was consumed by the same phenomenon.

A vast, empty expanse, like a blank white canvas stretching endlessly in every direction.

Within it, Siron appeared like a lone ascetic traversing a snowy wilderness.

‘Is this my father’s sword… life itself?’ Jin clenched his fist, reflecting. The battlefield’s sudden transformation after Siron’s secret technique mirrored his life: solitude, relentless training, and nothing but emptiness.

Thump, thump, thump, thump…

With each step Siron took, it felt as if drums were pounding inside his head and chest.

The Bamel Alliance, watching his back, felt their fighting spirit and pride surge like a rising tide. The enemies, locking eyes with him, remained skeptical.

Could this be nothing more than an unfathomable trick? What was Siron trying to achieve by shrouding the battlefield in white?

To the enemies, this secret technique felt uncharacteristically unlike Siron. For a knight who claimed to be the sky itself, it was far too still.

And how many openings there were.

His slow, weary steps; the heavy scrape of his sword against the ground; his ragged breathing… Though only about ten seconds had passed since the secret technique began, Siron had lost the overwhelming presence he’d shown moments before.

The Demon Army’s Changsung felt as if they could descend at any moment and cut Siron’s throat. They didn’t even need to get close—sniping him from above seemed just as easy.

One of the Changsung shouted out.

“There’s no more illusion here! We’ve been too afraid of Siron Runcandel…!”

Or rather, he tried to shout.

But his voice came out as a strangled, watery croak. Startled, he clutched his throat and tried to look around, but he couldn’t even do that.

“My body… won’t move…!”

The same paralysis gripped the other Changsung, every Demon Army soldier aboard the White Fleet, and even Rondo and the commanders watching from inside the dimensional gate.

It was as if their entire bodies were wrapped tightly in bindings—no matter how hard they struggled, they couldn’t budge. Everyone on the battlefield had frozen like statues.

Only then did the Demon Army realize:

“This isn’t a trick!”

Everything but Siron was erased in blinding white, and their bodies refused to obey.

No one had ever experienced anything like this. Some leaders from various dimensions had resisted Keliak of the 33rd dimension, and even those who’d been subdued by him had never felt this.

Ten Changsung on the battlefield, thousands of mages, dozens of Changsung waiting inside the dimensional gate, and countless Demon Army soldiers.

One man alone had frozen them all.

“How is this… possible?”

No magic, no aura, no special power. Siron hadn’t emitted any energy onto the battlefield.

It was incomprehensible.

But they had to find a reason to respond. Though Siron appeared exhausted, if left unchecked, he could slaughter the entire Demon Army by himself. No matter how tired, a single strike from his sword could easily destroy dozens of warships.

“Hmph. At least it’s not just us who are bound. It’s been quite some time, yet there’s no bombardment or follow-up attack from the enemy. Siron’s power must be restraining his own allies as well.”

Rondo thought. The fact that the Alliance was also immobilized like the Demon Army, and that Siron hadn’t swung his sword yet, was the only glimmer of hope.

“How is Siron binding everyone without aura, magic, or divine power? But why is it that our vision isn’t completely blocked—only Siron remains visible? Wait… could it be…?”

Everything on the battlefield was erased except Siron, who stood out clearly, as if right in front of them.

Suddenly, Rondo understood what this meant.

Presence.

The indescribably vast presence carried by Siron Runcandel, the knight.

It was overwhelming everyone on the battlefield.

Rondo was the first among the Demon Army to realize this, and a chill ran down his spine as he looked at Siron once more.

But he couldn’t look directly at him.

Even when he shifted his gaze back to where Siron stood, all he saw was a single, immense eye.

Siron’s eye.

Until now, Rondo hadn’t fully perceived Siron’s presence, so he’d only seen the knight as he remembered him.

Now, Siron’s form was finally coming into focus.

Just as an ant can’t fully grasp the true form of a human standing right before it, Rondo couldn’t take in Siron all at once. At best, he could only meet that one eye looking down on him.

That eye was smiling. As if pleased that the insignificant creature had finally realized the gap between them.

By then, the other Changsung of the Demon Army were coming to the same realization—what was crushing them, what was overwhelming them.

It was the sky itself.

“Ah, aah, aaaaah…!”

“No… you’re just a man who’s reached Changsung… Krrrgh!”

Rondo screamed in frustration.

Some Changsung coughed up blood trying desperately to move, others wept bitterly at the denial of their achievement, some barely managed to raise their staffs toward Siron’s eye, and a few even drooled involuntarily, trembling.

The Demon Army had hoped that once they understood the cause of Siron’s phenomenon, they could counter it.

But they couldn’t.

When the sky rains, you can open an umbrella. When it hails, you can hide in a cave. When thunder and lightning strike, you can close your eyes and cover your ears.

But you cannot erase the sky itself. No matter what you do on the ground, the sky exists absolutely and infinitely.

On this battlefield, Siron was exactly that.

Until now, Siron had smiled at Rondo and the Changsung who belatedly realized the gap—but he was no merciful being.

He was the embodiment of the sword’s path.

Barbarism and struggle that cut down anything blocking his way—the very essence of Siron Runcandel, the knight.

Now, he hefted Barisada, the sword he had been dragging heavily along the ground. Of course, the enemies couldn’t see this; they could only guess from the sudden gusts of wind. The sword was about to fall.

A storm of blades was about to pour down.

Sssshhh—! Swish, swish…!

Countless flashes lit up the battlefield.

Siron lowered his stance and swung his sword at the enemies. Each arc of his blade cut through the air like a beam of light that would stretch infinitely if the path opened.

With every slash that swept through the foes, particles glowing white rained down in the whitened vision. Those who couldn’t overcome his presence even for a moment met a futile death, reduced to dust.

Even the Changsung were cut down by the scattered shards of his blade.

The only ones physically safe were those who hadn’t yet stepped through the dimensional gate. But even they were gasping as they watched their fleets, mages, elite Demon Army soldiers, and their Changsung leaders vanish beneath Siron’s sword.

Those who had become particles from a single strike didn’t even feel the terror. In some ways, it was as if their bodies and souls, crushed beneath Siron’s overwhelming presence like insects, were finally freed by death.

As Siron began to wield his sword, the frozen Demon Army slowly started to move again.

Among them, the weakest chose to advance deliberately—seeking a swift death to forget it all.

Of course, some still burned with the will to fight on. But their fate was no different from those who had thrown themselves into rest earlier.

Only the Changsung, and a few superhumans close to that level, managed to launch attacks against Siron, albeit slowly.

But every ranged attack was swallowed by his blade, and any attempt to close the distance ended with their heads severed.

Just as they couldn’t take in Siron’s presence all at once, they couldn’t tell where or how his sword would strike.

This wasn’t a battle. Siron wasn’t fighting the Demon Army—he was cleansing them.

Like the Demon Army, the Bamel Alliance was now able to move again. Though their vision remained white, the Alliance’s Changsung felt Siron was gradually adjusting their sight.

“Youngest, it’s time to move. To the right—there’s one lucky guy who slipped through.”

At those words, Jin, Luna, and Murakan surged past Siron toward the direction he indicated.

Toshin Ban, who was with them, passed Siron a moment later and said:

“This is truly the form of the ultimate warrior, Siron Runcandel. You remind me of my younger self.”