The Mad Grin of Vengeance
In his past life on the eve of reincarnation, Rian had eyes much like these. A deathly stillness hung in that gaze. But above all, the madness that blazed to life when he beheld his targets of revenge or demons—it revealed his heart. The force that drove him onward, the source of his power: rage. For a hero who followed the light to be propelled by fury—what a contradiction. And yet Rian never fell to corruption. He was convinced this path was the right one. Even if madness and hatred consumed him, this road was not wrong. It was all part of the gods' will. He didn't believe in gods, but if they lent him power, he'd use it ruthlessly. So he wasn't mistaken. Those convictions were etched into his mind, shielding him from the path of ruin.
That same man now wore a smile brimming with madness. No one could call it sane. The emotions and pleasure he'd bottled up until now collided, sparking a synergy. Rowen harbored an even deeper madness than in his past life.
"I said I'd make it so you don't suffer. But I never said I wouldn't kill you."
"...Why?"
Poison had already spread through his entire body. His limbs had necrotized, been severed, and frozen solid. Regeneration failed him. His demonic energy was depleted. The monster before him clutched his heart, slashing through his organs with blades of ice. It hurt. It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts...!
Muron couldn't voice this agony. If he'd screamed, Rowen might have been delighted. The pain that silenced even screams seared his awareness. From the start, Rowen had no intention of letting him go quietly. This bastard had unleashed magitech upon the world once more. With that power, he'd killed Rowen's father, ravaged Snowfall, the North—stolen his home.
Forgiveness was never an option. He'd lull him into security, extract every scrap of information, then deliver amplified suffering in death. Just like now.
"Guhk...!"
"Does it hurt?"
Rowen infused frost mana into the poison ravaging his body. It touched the remnants of depleted demonic energy. The opposing forces expanded on contact. And since it was frost-laced mana, it began freezing his insides in agony. A silent roar of pain echoed in his skull, too excruciating to escape his lips.
Muron couldn't comprehend why this was happening to him. A mere bastard child, just a kid! He, who had received power directly from Them, suffering like this. What the hell was this brat? Stronger than the eldest son he'd heard rumors about, Kael Valenos? No, otherwise he wouldn't lose. He, the Prophet, ending so pathetically—it was absurd!
He'd ignored the rumors of Valenos's bastard. An insignificant worm. But now he couldn't. This thing was a monster! ...If only he'd had the golem. He could have crushed him here, like Kadan Valenos. But no golems here. Just flying ships circling the Magic Tower—mere transports without combat prowess. Arkanthian soldiers were present, but they'd met grisly ends. All slaughtered...
"You think I'll let you die easy?"
"...Kuhk!"
"Feel it. You killed him. You should taste exactly what my father felt."
"...Demon."
"Who's calling who a demon?"
Rowen squeezed the heart lightly. No bursting yet—ending it now would be a waste. Slowly. Bit by bit, he shifted the frost. The demon-corrupted heart swelled against the mana, the chill preventing rupture. The pain maximized, unrelenting. He forcibly suppressed the throbbing organ. In the end, Muron's eyes rolled back, reduced to incoherent babble.
Rowen savored the foolish sight.
"This suits you best. Act like the demon cultist you are. Right?"
Rowen laughed at Muron's torment. The poison crept toward the heart. The red organ blackened. It seeped into the frozen heart, saturating the expanded energies. Black blood oozed from his mouth and eyes. He vomited it in a gush. No more babble—just convulsions on the brink of death.
Rowen released the heart. And then.
"Hellfire."
He ignited it. Cold flames that didn't melt the ice but froze the body deeper. A voiceless scream. Muron inwardly cried to Them for salvation. But nothing answered.
"Idiot. Demons don't save you."
Instead.
"They drag you down to the abyss with them."
And that thrilled Rowen all the more. The bastard would vanish into hell's pit. Demon cultists died like that—their souls reclaimed in their demons' homeland, condemned to eternal torment.
"...Ahh. Lucifer..."
Muron's final words. Ominous to the last.
Whoosh! Rowen burned him fully, intensifying the blue flames for endless agony. Soon, his body eroded into black corruption. Alien hands dragged him somewhere. A dirge of agonized obsession rang out. Watching, Rowen wore a faint smile. Satisfaction of revenge achieved. Exhaustion. The two mingled into joy. As emptiness faded, the fulfillment of avenging his father's killer lingered pure.
Rowen clenched his fist. Hard enough for fresh blood to trickle between his nails.
"...Father."
*
They pressed on up the Magic Tower. Arkanthian remnants lingered. Having reached the 60th floor, the three paused to rest.
"...Young master."
"Yeah."
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. Feels kinda refreshing, actually. Like I vented everything at once."
"Then I'm relieved."
Arahan rushed to Rowen, checking his condition. She'd been terribly worried. That wasn't the Rowen she knew; she'd reined in her shock. Deep down, a fierce longing burned. Blood-soaked, grief-stricken, triumphant in revenge—all of him was lovable beyond measure.
Rowen turned from her to Yuria. Arahan glared daggers at Yuria even now. Yuria giggled at the sight. Rowen asked,
"...Can't you just wipe them all out at once?"
"I could~"
"Then why not?"
"Obviously. I don't want to destroy the Magic Tower we built with my own hands."
"Ah."
"If it were just mine, maybe. But my juniors helped too. I don't do my master a disservice by wronging her disciples."
She could erase them all right here. That meant demolishing everything. Rowen swallowed hard at her radical edge. It was pure Mio.
"Time to tell me now, right?"
"Tell you what?"
"The holy sword's location. The tomb of the great, cool, handsome Rian."
Yuria gaped at Rowen's smug pride. Saying it himself? No shame?
"...You're something else."
"I know. It's badass. No one beat him with a sword."
"No, I mean you... Huh?"
Rowen and Rian were the same person. Yuria sorted her confused thoughts. She doubted if this guy was really her master's comrade. Handsome at times, sure, but foolish too. Reality? Arahan's glare carried more weight.
"...You're impossible."
"Whatever. Spill the holy sword's spot first."
"I don't tell rude kids~"
"...Tch. No time for games."
Especially since.
"Don't I not have to kill the rest? My personal revenge is done, and I know my power's source now. They're just intruders in your tower. You handle it. How long do Arahan and I have to bust our asses?"
"Aren't you bold? Don't forget you're intruders too."
"Ugh..."
"Don't look so down~ Makes me seem like the bad guy."
"...No time."
"To gain something, you must learn patience."
*
The Pentagon. Black miasma shrouded the ruins. The four demon cultists encircling the pentagonal dais sighed.
"The mage is dead."
"Said he'd claim the Magic Tower, but he bit it. The Masters must be disappointed."
"Heh heh. I think we're fine without that brother."
"Tesiah, that's why you haven't received Their blood."
"Pfft, Angelica sis underestimates me. Muron bro was the weakest anyway. His mistake was trying to hog Arkanthia alone."
The red outer walls blackened. In the shadows, the four sneered. They'd never banked on Muron. Deluded fool overlapping the loathsome gods with the Masters. One less prophet changed nothing.
"Tesiah, Angelica, Juda. Proceed to the next phase."
The black man at the pentagon's apex spoke. Nom of the magic sword. His near-white ash-gray hair and red-glowing blade plunged into the ground, he surveyed them all.
The Pentagon was no longer what it had been. Now thick with red-black demonic aura, akin to Pandemonium, the demons' home.
Tesiah of the magic spear waved. All eyes turned.
"Hee hee~ Me! I wanna do it!"
"...Tesiah."
"Don't worry. It's just unifying the demon cult."
Her blue bob fluttered in mana-laced wind. Girl-like, but her madness reeked of lust for slaughter. Highest demonic affinity among prophets—already more demon than cultist. Her stark white horns gleamed.
As they stared, she covered her cheeks.
"Heh heh... Staring like that embarrasses me..."
"Cut the crap and sit. What can a brat like you do?"
"Sis Angelica's too harsh. Wanna die? Say it. I'll hang your head from the castle spire."
"Hey."
Tesiah gripped her mana-charged spear. Red lightning crashed around them. The spear screamed as it rose; the magic bow wailed. Boom! Their energies clashed, shaking the Pentagon.
"Enough."
Nom drew his sword. One motion subdued them all. Angelica tsked, lowering her bow. Tesiah spun her spear, whistling.
Nom tossed a blue rectangular object.
"Take this."
"What's this?"
"From the Masters. Useful for finding Valenos's spawn."
"Hmm... No clue, but got it! Find and kill 'em?"
"Yes. They're a threat. At least, that's Their judgment."
"Roger!"
Tesiah grinned innocently and leaped into the vast sky.
"Then I'm off~"