Chapter 246
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 246
ROOOOAR!
A deafening cry erupted from hundreds of thousands of demons, their collective roar shaking the very foundations of the meteor crater.
I lowered my hand and stared down at Iscariot’s corpse with cold, detached eyes.
‘He was the final boss of the Myrillin Saga.’
I had finally succeeded in defeating Iscariot, yet I felt no great sense of accomplishment. He was neither my ultimate purpose nor my true enemy.
‘My goal is to steer this story toward a happy ending.’
I wanted a conclusion where everyone, including myself, could find happiness. To me, the true enemy was the fate ordained for Roen. Iscariot was merely one of the many obstacles I had to overcome in that process—nothing more, nothing less.
Shhhh—.
As I used Blood Magic to knit my wounds back together and catch my breath, Gilean approached to offer his congratulations.
“Well done, Successor. You have finally secured the final piece required for the Great Cause.”
Soon, Carmilla and Amur joined him.
“That was an incredible battle,” Carmilla said, a smirk playing on her lips as she glanced toward the spectator stands. “The other Venerables saw it with their own eyes. They won’t be able to voice a single complaint now.”
“Hmph. They have more to worry about than complaints,” Amur added. “They should be worrying about their own necks.”
The other Venerables were staring at Iscariot’s fallen body on the altar, their faces masks of blank despair. It was only natural for them to be in shock. Iscariot, the strongest Venerable representing the demon race and the successor they had all backed, had died so pointlessly. Their own positions would be precarious once the succession ritual was complete.
Of course, I had little interest in their political maneuvering. Letting their words wash over me, I turned to Gilean.
“What happens now?”
The past year had been a grueling period of training specifically to win this succession ritual. Now that I had finally defeated all the other candidates, I was curious about the next step.
Gilean bowed his head deeply. “All that remains is for you to claim the legacy of power left by the Demon God. The High Priest will guide you through the rest of the ritual.”
I looked where Gilean pointed. Dark priests were ascending the altar, preparing the site once more. They moved in perfect formation, forming a ritual circle around me. Through their ranks, a figure clad in black robes approached and bowed.
“I have been waiting, true Successor.”
I had expected the High Priest to be a wizened, venerable elder, but before me stood a young girl. Her face and voice, however, were utterly devoid of emotion. Her skin was pale and lifeless, giving her the appearance of a wooden doll.
After her greeting, she raised both hands toward the faint, shimmering outline of a key floating in the dark sky.
“The time has finally come. The one who will inherit the Great Cause He prepared has been decided. If you have any questions, please ask them now.”
At her invitation, I asked a question to confirm what I already suspected.
“Is the succession ritual… dangerous?”
I had gathered information about the ritual through various channels, but nothing was as certain as hearing it directly from the High Priest.
The girl replied, “Yes. If the Successor possesses the necessary evil karma and qualifications, you will accept the Demon God’s legacy and be reborn as a higher being. However, if you do not…”
She looked at me with hollow eyes and warned, “You will be unable to withstand the power, and your entire body will explode.”
“…I see.”
A Successor was one who inherited the will and power of the Demon God to achieve the Great Cause. To become that Successor, one needed strength acknowledged by the demons and abilities suited for the task. I had proven my strength before the masses, and with the Authority of Space Manipulation, I was a worthy candidate to see the mission through.
‘But that’s not all there is to it.’
To inherit the Demon God’s power, a specific threshold of evil karma and qualifications was essential. This was the real reason Roen had spent his entire life cultivating an infamous reputation. He was a villain so renowned that everyone on the continent reviled him. Roen had walked a path paved with scars just for this day.
However…
‘While Roen spread his infamy to the world, he never truly committed an evil act.’
Contrary to his reputation, if one looked closely, he had committed almost no atrocities. In fact, he had consistently accumulated good deeds. I didn't know how this would factor into the ritual.
I clenched my fist, recalling the final paragraph written in Roen’s diary.
[The system of the world is more flawed than you think. Having a good will doesn't make you a good person, and committing evil acts doesn't make you a villain. What's important is the observation of these acts. Deceive the world. That is the only way for you, and for me, to survive.]
I mulled over that last sentence and looked up at the dark sky.
‘According to Roen, an unobserved act is treated as if it never existed.’
In other words, regardless of the truth, if the world perceived Roen’s actions as evil, then they would be recognized as evil karma. Thousands, tens of thousands of people viewed Roen as the embodiment of malice. The only one who knew even a fraction of the truth was Ciel, and even her knowledge was fragmented.
If evil karma was recognized as Roen predicted, the ritual should proceed without issue. But there was one thing that bothered me.
‘Did Roen’s hidden good deeds truly mean nothing?’
If everything was decided solely by perception, regardless of the truth—if the world’s system really worked that way—wasn't that too bleak? Was poetic justice—the idea that true worth is eventually acknowledged—really just a fairy tale?
It was then, as I agonized over this grim reality, that a voice cut through the air.
“We do not accept this!”
Thoom—!
Along with a shout that echoed across the altar, five Venerables, led by the giant Yungraom, rose in rebellion. They blocked the path between the High Priest and me, clearly intending to disrupt the ritual. These were the Venerables who had supported Iscariot and King Kaim.
Carmilla shouted irritably, “What is this? Are you all insane? You really want to do this now?”
Yungraom sneered, looking down at us. “Why not? There are only three of you, and five of us.”
Just as he said, the numbers were against us. Even including me—exhausted as I was from the continuous fighting—we were at a clear disadvantage.
Amur bared his teeth and clenched his fists. “…So you claimed to act for the Great Cause, but in the end, you were just chasing your own glory. I’ll kill every last one of you right here.”
“Try it, if you have the ability.”
In an instant, the altar descended into chaos.
Whoooosh—!
It was a hair-trigger situation, both sides surging with mana, ready to clash. Just as Amur and Yungraom were about to collide—
[Silence.]
A voice like a thunderclap echoed directly in the minds of everyone present.
Kiiiiing—!
The soul-crushing power of the Dragon Language—Dragon Fear—was unleashed. Weaker monsters exploded on the spot, while most of the demons collapsed, clutching their heads in agony as they tried to resist the overwhelming pressure.
Having silenced the crowd in an instant, the Mad Dragon Calvador slowly raised its massive, mountain-like body.
[I will not forgive anyone who interferes with the succession ritual. I, the Mad Dragon Calvador, swear on my name to bring you ruin.]
“!”
The Mad Dragon Calvador, leader of all dragons in the demon world. The dragon who had always maintained a neutral, disinterested stance toward worldly affairs, had stepped in to mediate.
“…”
Neither Yungraom nor any of the other rebels dared to show a hint of defiance. The sixteen races that had fled to the demon world to escape the Covenant had been reduced to twelve precisely because of the wrath of Calvador and the dragonkin. No one was brave enough to risk the extinction of their race by provoking a sleeping dragon.
Having settled the matter, Calvador commanded:
[Proceed.]
The High Priest nodded and resumed the ritual. “Yes. Then, if you’ll excuse me for a moment.”
She drew a ritual sword from her robes and thrust it toward my heart. The blade slid into my chest, but there was no pain. As she pushed the sword deeper, she explained, “The Successor represents all the races of the demon world. You must accept the mana and blood of them all into your body. This ritual sword serves that purpose.”
Gurgle—.
Foreign streams of mana poured into my body through the blade. They were hot and cold, tingling and viscous. Mana of various conflicting properties spread haphazardly through my veins.
“Huu… huu…”
An ordinary mage would have died instantly from Mana Overload, but I endured it thanks to my unique constitution. After checking my condition, the High Priest pulled the sword from my chest.
“Very well.”
She placed the blood-stained sword into my hand. “Now, please pierce my heart. With that, all preparations will be complete.”
The girl lifted the black veil covering her body and pointed to her own chest. Holding the ritual sword, I asked in a trembling voice, “Is this also symbolic? Like what you just did?”
The girl calmly shook her head. “No. Unlike you, Successor, I do not require the process of mana blending. Instead, physically destroying my heart will release the seal on the key. The High Priest’s bloodline has served as the guardian of the seal for generations. My death will begin the succession ritual.”
“…”
I stared blankly at the ritual sword. I had killed before. But my opponents had always been those who showed clear hostility, or villains who had committed unforgivable atrocities. I had never killed a defenseless, innocent person.
As I hesitated, Yungraom seized the opportunity and bellowed, “Look! This coward who can’t even kill one girl is supposed to be the Successor? The one who will lead the war against the human realm? Does that make any sense?!”
At his shout, the other demons began to stir. Even the gaze of the Mad Dragon Calvador began to change subtly.
[…]
Gilean, waiting at my side, urged me forward. “What are you hesitating for? Kill her, quickly.”
“…”
While everyone pressured me to continue, I was lost in a different train of thought.
‘If I become the true Demon King by killing the High Priest, I can end the Human-Demon War early and save countless lives.’
On the other hand, if I refused the ritual and spared the girl, the opposite would happen. One cannot simply calculate the value of a life in numbers, but if one looked only at the sheer volume of lives that could be saved, there was no room for hesitation.
‘Sacrificing the few… for the sake of the many.’
It was a convenient self-justification, but I had no other choice. I could only hope this choice wouldn't come back to haunt me.
I let out a deep sigh, reached out, and took the High Priest’s hand.
Tzzzz—.
Her past memories flooded into me through Kabeltar’s authority. As a member of the High Priest’s bloodline, she was born in darkness and raised in darkness. She had never possessed a sense of self. Human emotions—the joys and sorrows of life—had been systematically stripped away. She was raised merely as a tool, a living seal for the successor who would one day appear.
Even if I didn't kill her, she would live a doll-like existence before passing that meaningless fate to the next generation. Perhaps death was the only way to free her from those ancient shackles.
After reading her memories, I closed my eyes.
‘Is this girl the first?’
The first innocent victim that I, Roen, must kill to live as the Demon King.
And…
‘The first being I will bring back to life.’
I met the girl’s eyes and spoke in a low, warm voice. “I will remember you. And I promise you a new life.”
I clenched my teeth and thrust the sword forward.
Shunk—.
With a horrific sensation, the flame of a life was extinguished. My hand was drenched in hot, red blood. I supported the girl as she collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, laid her down gently, and took a lock of her hair, tucking it inside my coat.
Wooooong—.
The Orb of Life and the Karma Orb resonated, capturing her soul and her karma. This, too, was part of what Roen had prepared—a task I had to inherit. My current power was insufficient, but once I completed the ritual and gained near-infinite power… even resurrecting the dead should be possible.
At the moment of the girl’s death, the faint shape of the key floating in the air became sharp and clear. Soon after, a pitch-black sphere like a void appeared in the sky, and a fog of black mana spread out from within it.
The fog solidified, forming a staircase leading to the key.
The Path of Succession—a staircase of shadows.
With the dark priests lined up on either side of the stairs, I began my slow, heavy ascent.