The Most Feared Demon

Karas cast his mind back into the past.

Five years ago.

The Champion had appeared in the Tower with Sancha's consciousness hidden deep inside him.

At first, Karas had paid him little mind. The man climbed the Tower with impressive speed, yes—but strong challengers of that caliber were hardly unheard of. Even when the Champion finally reached the twentieth floor and threw down his gauntlet, Karas's attitude remained the same.

That was my mistake.

He should have killed him then and there.

But Karas was the master of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Tower, the one called the War God. He had won their first duel, and in a show of mercy, he had spared the man's life.

That was the mistake.

Afterward the Champion kept coming back. Karas had dismissed him as a stubborn pest and left him alone—and that leniency became the root of everything that followed.

Sancha observed everything ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠about me.

Everything about Karas. Everything about the Tower. The ancient demon had pierced through information that should have been impossible to obtain, driven by an obsession that defied imagination.

The Demon of Obsession.

The title fit him without a single shortcoming.

And through that fanatical fixation, Sancha had eventually devoured Karas's wings, forcibly seized the position of Tower Administrator, and claimed the title of Champion for himself.

For the four years that followed, Sancha never showed his face. Then, one year ago, upon encountering Wilhelm, the Demon of Obsession had changed his entire demeanor.

Sancha coveted Wilhelm's body in its entirety.

His obsession had grown even more intense than when he had taken Karas's wings. Without missing a single day, without missing a single moment, he had watched Wilhelm without pause—so thoroughly that it almost seemed he wished to become Wilhelm himself.

And so, one year ago, during their duel, Karas had offered a warning.

—Beware of Sancha.

…And yet, for reasons unknown, the match between Wilhelm and the Champion had never taken place.

Why? Why had Sancha, who had been so utterly consumed by his fixation, suddenly changed his mind? He had been waiting for that confrontation with Wilhelm as if it were the only thing that mattered—and still he had refused the challenge Wilhelm threw down.

At the time, his analysis simply wasn't finished.

Looking back, it must have been that he had failed to find a weakness in Wilhelm.

Karas, who had fought Wilhelm himself, understood the man's strength all too well. Wilhelm was a perfect, almost sacred crystallization of martial power. Every movement was refined to the point that not a single gap, not a single error, was permitted. His sword strikes had bent space and time themselves—something even Karas had never experienced before. Even at full strength, Karas was not certain he could have won.

Sancha assumed Wilhelm would challenge him again.

But Wilhelm never returned. The moment his challenge was rejected, he had descended from the Tower of the War God.

He left to prepare for the Great Expedition.

The subjugation of the Demon Realm. And in the end, Wilhelm had died. When he fell and his star scattered, Karas had felt the subtle wave of upheaval that rippled across the entire world—the first tremor of things long frozen beginning to move, of those who had been hiding starting to emerge into the light.

And in the midst of all that, Sancha had moved quietly.

…Until at last, his transcendent obsession with Wilhelm had led him to the scattered fragments of Wilhelm's star.

If this man—Emperor Penguin—truly is Wilhelm…

Then Sancha would already have mapped out everything about him. For the past year, the demon would have dissected Wilhelm without rest.

Which meant the two of them could not be allowed to fight. Even if it meant abandoning the Tower—even if it meant burying Sancha along with the Tower itself—this mad obsession had to end.

If Sancha claimed Wilhelm's body…

Sancha would be completed as a Great Demon.

He would become the one who led all demons—perhaps even become Another Ruin. The cataclysmic monster that had destroyed countless worlds, shattered Towers, and thrown every balance into chaos. Karas could not allow that thing to reappear.

"…That sword…"

CRAAAAACK!

In an instant, a vast darkness tore through space. From within that dark void, a single blade revealed itself.

But that sword did not belong to Wilhelm.

It was the weapon that only one who stood in absolute supremacy over every Sword Saint could possess—the blade called the Supreme Sword. In other words, one of the Primordial Swords.

How in the world…?

"The Supreme Sword Saint…!"

Ah.

So he had finally ascended. He had reached the most complete ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠form of the Sword Saint.

But wielding that blade was no simple matter. Even for a Supreme Sword Saint, that sword had once been swung by ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a true divine being. Whether even a complete Wilhelm could have wielded it was doubtful. The one who had originally brandished it no longer existed.

Wielding it is impossible.

Therefore, it was a sword that could not be swung.

And yet—

Wait. Did he just swing it?

A single gesture. In that fleeting instant, the Supreme Sword erupted across space.

BOOOOOOOOOOM—!!!

What… is that…?

The moment the Champion transformed, Auryll nearly lost her mind beneath the crushing weight of that vast desire and its cloying stench. That ancient demon was a being who seized everything. If she simply stood there, she too would have her entire existence stripped away.

But she could not run.

Lord Randolph.

Randolph was here. She could not abandon him and flee. Was it because of the contract that bound them?

No. That was not the only reason.

The Mother Tree…

High Elves—unlike ordinary elves—grew alongside a Mother Tree. Born from the roots of the World Tree, the Mother Tree was the very proof of a High Elf's nature. But Auryll was an ordinary elf. Naturally, she had no Mother Tree to call her own.

And yet… whenever she looked at Randolph, who had nurtured her laurel leaf into growth, she somehow found herself thinking of a Mother Tree. A Mother Tree was a tree that held nothing back, that poured every form of aid into helping a High Elf grow swiftly. And though she was bound to him by a contract, Auryll had been growing at breakneck speed simply by remaining at Randolph's side.

If that was not a Mother Tree, then what was it?

"Run!"

She could not stand by and let Randolph be devoured by that demon. Auryll knew it instinctively—right now, Randolph could not face that demon. He must not face it.

…The moment that thought took shape—

CRAAAAACK!

A colossal sword-blade tore through space and revealed itself. In the same instant, it felt as though the entire world had frozen. Even the demon could do nothing but stare blankly at the blade.

Then a vast hand burst across space and swung the Supreme Sword.

BOOOOOOOOOOM—!!!

The demon was cleaved apart along with the Tower. The centipede-shaped body split cleanly in two, and the demon screamed.

"Wh-what—how did you—the Hand of God—?!"

That which stood opposite every demon. The beings all demons feared were those called gods. But most of the gods had vanished along with Ruin, clinging to existence by the barest threads of presence. That was why demons had begun to run rampant across the world—because the things that terrified them no longer walked this earth.

And yet, beyond that space, a Hand of God had clearly swung a blade.

"No. You… you are no god!"

The Demon of Obsession saw through everything—even what lay beyond the space itself. That hand looked divine at a glance, but it was not a god. It was something wearing a god's skin. Something that had swung the sword in place of a god that no longer existed.

The demon trembled. Not from the fear of death—but because the existence of that something terrified him far more. It was of an entirely different order from any god.

And the something that had swung the sword, from a place beyond that only a demon could perceive—

"You… you are… Rui—"

Grinned.

The Tower was cut clean through along with the demon. Beyond the severed Tower, an even deeper Abyss yawned open.

"…Unbelievable."

At the center of it all, Karas spoke. He truly could not believe what he had just witnessed. The demon's true body had been annihilated in a single stroke. Karas had believed that burying the creature along with the Tower was the only answer—and yet this man had acted without granting even a moment's delay, as if mocking that very thought.

Even more unfathomable than Wilhelm from a year ago.

Karas had been measuring everything against the Wilhelm he had faced a year prior. But the man before him now was growing in a way that was similar to Wilhelm and yet entirely different. Judging by pure potential alone… the present version was far more terrifying. Even Karas's eyes could not take his measure.

…He summoned a divine being that no longer exists.

He could scarcely believe what he had seen. That sword could only be wielded by a true divine entity. Even Karas, a demigod, would never dare attempt it. And yet the man before him had called forth a divine presence that no longer existed.

The Ominous King of old did something similar.

The Ominous Clan had once administered countless Towers. Their king had been able to house twelve divine beings within his own body. Of course, in the end, the Ominous King had fallen alongside those divinities.

"My wings…"

Karas looked down at the black wings that had once again sprouted from his back, as if he still could not believe it. What Sancha had stolen had returned. His power was restored. He was once more the complete master of the Tower.

But that was not the end of it.

"That essence…!"

Karas's brow furrowed as he saw what flowed from the demon's shattered body.

The essence of an ancient demon.

Thump! Thump!

The instant he laid eyes on it, his heart began to pound madly.

He even salivated.

His mind filled with a single thought: he had to take it.

"Nngh…"

A desire that set even his fully restored self boiling. That thing was dangerous. Far too dangerous a power. The moment he claimed it, he would have his body stolen by the demon—just as the Champion had. Because the essence itself was the demon.

"…Ominous Clan."

But the man—Wilhelm—did not stop. He approached the essence with casual ease, took it in his hand without the slightest hesitation, and—

Gulp!

—swallowed it whole.

At once—

WHOOOOOOSH!

Black flames erupted from every inch of his body.

…The true fire of a demon.

Had Sancha seized control of him?

That fire… is not Sancha's.

Karas shook his head. No. Those demonic flames had not been born of Sancha. They belonged to another demon entirely—one that Sancha could not begin to compare with. A being darker still. One that devoured everything that existed in the world.

"Ah."

Recognizing the true nature of the flames, Karas trembled. But he could not understand it. How could a demon that had vanished in the distant past reappear in this world?

Among the Seven Demons of antiquity, the one judged the most terrifying of all. The one that even other demons had loathed and shunned, stepping back in revulsion. That was whose flame this was.

Why has that demon returned to this world…?!