Wilhelm VS Randolph
Eternal Randolph.
A Mystery of a kind that defied all measure forcibly seized the body of Ant King Fermon. The moment he molted free of that shell, he had become something else entirely.
"…This is nothing like the Black King's grace."
The figure that tore free of the Ant King's hide looked down at his own body and let out a short breath of admiration. It was finished work of a caliber beyond any comparison to what he had been before—a physique as beautiful as a sculpture wrought with exquisite care. Jet-black skin. A panorama of muscle packed to impossible density.
"Fermon…? Did you come back to life?"
Laktusha's eyes wavered as he stared. He had thought the creature had lost its intelligence and degenerated after being crushed by Eternal Randolph.
But Fermon shook his head.
"Laktusha. This is not resurrection. This is evolution."
Evolution that had shattered the limits of his species. Something truly beyond classification. This Mystery—Eternal Randolph—held a perfection that the Black King's Mystery could never hope to match.
Power overflowed through him. At this moment, he felt he could even defeat the Blade Dragon God.
And that was not all. The most terrifying aspect of the Mystery that had evolved him—
Fermon spoke with absolute confidence.
"The Black King is no longer a match for me."
"……Fermon. What nonsense are you spouting? Have you forgotten the grace His Majesty the Black King bestowed upon you?"
"Grace? You mean the grace of herding insects together and making them kill each other?"
Fermon tossed Laktusha's words back at him without effort. That had been closer to a blood debt than any gift. And the Black King's grace had always been a shackle as well. Just as Fermon had lost his intelligence and degenerated the instant his Mystery was stripped away—the Black King could reclaim his gifts whenever he pleased.
"Laktusha. I will free you from your yoke."
Fermon reached out his hand.
And then—
"Wha……?!"
Laktusha's pupils began to tremble wildly. The Black King's grace—the Mystery that held his Hidden Trait—had been destroyed in a single instant.
"N-No……!"
Laktusha screamed. The shattered Mystery had contained the Hidden Trait Dexterity—a trait that made anything he learned easy and swift to master, and raised every rank of attainment by a full tier. It had been the decisive Hidden Trait that allowed Laktusha to be called a Swordmaster.
And it had been destroyed with nothing more than a gesture.
"Shouldn't you be grateful? I've restored your true freedom."
But Fermon could not understand Laktusha's reaction. He had granted him perfect, absolute escape from the Black King's dominion. He had given him freedom at last—so why was the orc shuddering instead of rejoicing?
Then murderous intent flooded Laktusha's eyes.
"You dare……!"
Hwaaaaak!
Sword Gang erupted from Laktusha's Black Heaven Blade. He could no longer stand by and watch Fermon's outrage. One who had received the Black King's grace, yet turned against him—such a being had to be annihilated without question.
Kwachang!
Sword met bare hand. Laktusha had judged he would shear through with ease—but the blade did not cut.
His realm has risen…?
A single exchange was enough to know. Ant King Fermon. It was not merely that his body and mana had grown stronger. His very realm of attainment had climbed. He had not even manifested Sword Gang, yet he had struck Sword Gang aside. He knew how to coat his flesh itself in mana and wield it.
But to catch the Sword Gang layered upon the Black Heaven Blade with bare hands—and not merely catch it, but seize the blade itself!
"……!"
The sword would not move. The strength of Fermon's grip was simply too overwhelming.
"Foolish Laktusha. The power the Black King handed down is not a true Hidden Trait."
…Now he understood. The Hidden Trait Fermon himself had obtained was the true power of a king. This was a Mystery that stood at the absolute apex of all things—a Hidden Trait that was the proof of a being, its evolution, its transcendence.
What, after all, was a Hidden Trait?
"A Hidden Trait is the name of a realm achieved by those who have proven themselves."
Only those who stood at the pinnacle of their species—only completed beings—could earn a name befitting that height. Of course, to claim such a name required desperate effort, heaven-sent fortune, and talent. But the Hidden Traits most of them obtained were raw and unfinished. Only by stacking a higher grade of existence and completing it could one finally attain a proper Hidden Trait.
Like Eternal Randolph.
And of all such names, Fermon was certain that Eternal Randolph stood beyond classification itself.
"What the Black King granted you can never reach the Ultimate, Laktusha."
The Black King's grace. The Hidden Traits born from it remained raw to the end. They could not evolve further. Breaking past one's grade to shatter the limit was impossible. One could grow stronger—but one had to abandon any hope of glimpsing the Ultimate. Because the power granted already had its ceiling fixed.
Therefore—
"You should be thanking me. Now you have a chance to see the Ultimate. The Mystery is destroyed, but you have already tasted it once—so you will reach it all the faster."
"……!"
His Mystery was gone, and with it Dexterity. But he could simply obtain it again. If he could achieve it through his own effort, that would be the moment he could truly see the end. Having experienced it once, reclaiming it would only be easier.
"Assuming, of course, that there is a next time."
Kwajik!
The Black Heaven Blade snapped.
And then—
"Khuh……!!"
Fermon's hand punched straight through Laktusha's chest.
Thump! Thump!
A heart beating vigorously.
Crunch. Crunch.
Fermon chewed the stolen heart raw.
"Fer…mon……!"
"Orc hearts really do taste terrible."
Ptoo!
He spat the half-eaten heart onto the floor.
Thud!
At the same moment, Laktusha's body collapsed. Instant death. Without a heart, Laktusha moved no more.
Then Fermon turned his head and looked at him.
Laktusha's heart had been foul—but Wilhelm's heart looked exquisitely delicious.
My prey.
Everything here was his game. Fuel to replenish a body that had only just finished molting. Hundreds of thousands had gathered in this place—once he left here, nothing that could oppose him would remain!
And among them all, Wilhelm gave off by far the sweetest scent. That one was prey. Just like all the rest.
Sssk!
Fermon's form vanished. In a single step he closed to Wilhelm's side—and Wilhelm moved his sword.
I can see it.
He could see the path of that blade. And at the same time, he could feel it—what that sword was doing. A technique that reversed an opponent's power against them. The mana itself was slick as oil.
Then what if he reversed Wilhelm's power instead? The man knew how to turn another's strength against them—but he would rarely have faced a being that tried to turn his own strength against him.
Right now, Fermon felt certain he could do it.
He transformed the nature of his mana—made it impossibly slick and smooth. If they collided in this state, their forces would naturally glance off each other. A deflected attack would strike somewhere unexpected.
Pook!
Just as I thought!
Fermon's hand punched through Wilhelm's chest. Exactly as predicted. The weakness of this seemingly invincible man!
Random strikes premised on deflection. That's the weak point!
Softness itself. Attacks that assumed mutual deflection, grinding down stamina. If it became a war of random hits and regenerative power, Fermon had no fear of losing.
All that remained was where Wilhelm's attack would land. It would miss completely—or strike somewhere absurd.
……But.
Hm?
Fermon realized too late that his own head was floating free in the air.
What?
From the very beginning, Wilhelm had aimed for his neck. By all rights, it should have missed—just as aiming for the heart had punched through the chest instead. But it had not missed.
Tuk.
Thud.
Fermon's body became a corpse and tumbled across the floor.
"Next."
Wilhelm spoke.
And at the same moment—
Phase 3, Eternal Randolph, has been subjugated by Wilhelm.
The message of final subjugation. Phase 3, which had driven everyone into terror, had come to an end.
Then the people trembled and opened their mouths.
"I-Is it over?"
"There's no way there's another phase, right?"
"Uuuugh!"
Please let this be the end. Everyone prayed and prayed—but.
Champion, Eternal God Randolph, has appeared.
📍 Directive: Ascend the Tower.
⚔ Condition: Reach the 30th floor to challenge the Champion's throne.
The end of every process. The Champion who had conquered the Tower of the War God—the complete, genuine Randolph—still remained.
Wilhelm climbed the tower.
The 26th floor.
What appeared there was the Heavenly Demon. But the Heavenly Demon was not a being split off in connection with Randolph. He was a joint creation of the God of Omen and the God of Calamity—a monster forged to stop Wilhelm from climbing any farther, to keep him from ever reaching the 30th floor.
"Next."
But Wilhelm defeated even that. He took a grievous wound to his left shoulder and paid it no mind.
The 27th floor.
The knight order appeared. The Knights of the Round Table who had once followed Wilhelm.
"Why did you abandon us?"
"Commander……!"
They swung their swords at him in resentment. But they were phantoms—a cheap ploy meant to drag up Wilhelm's guilt. Wilhelm cut them down. Blood poured freely from his side, and he paid that no mind either.
The 28th floor.
A Demon King appeared. One he had killed—and one he had lost to.
"Now you will be forgotten. For all eternity. Embracing the history of your defeat."
Wilhelm did not care. What he sought had nothing to do with honor or a history of victory. Being forgotten was fine. Vanishing was acceptable. If only he could properly present himself to that one bastard of a god—if only he could win their wager and take his revenge—
His right ear was sheared away. His entire body was in tatters. But Wilhelm kept climbing the tower.
The 29th floor.
The God of Omen and the God of Calamity revealed themselves once more.
"Why won't you give up, caw?"
"Even if you climb the tower, nothing will change, caw."
Nothing would change. That was true. But Wilhelm raised his sword—against gods. If they barred his path, he would cut them down, even if they were divine.
"You cannot ascend, caw."
"This place is not permitted to you, caw."
Then shadows rose before them. Dreadful Omen, and Karas! The two gods began to directly control the shadows of those two beings.
It was a long, grinding clash. But in the end, the one who remained was Wilhelm. Though his entire body was in shreds—
"Even if you climb in that state, you will not win, caw."
"The moment you lose, you will be annihilated for all eternity, caw."
"Glorious child. Why burn your soul on another man's trial, caw?"
"This is not a cause worthy of offering up your soul, caw."
Even as they barred him from the 30th floor, they were worried for him. Wilhelm's act—his challenge—was the burning of a soul. If he lost, the spark of soul the Goddess had so carefully preserved would be extinguished. Even if he won, he would gain nothing at all. So they had tried to make him abandon the climb of his own will.
"…Next."
Wilhelm did not give up.
And then—
Wilhelm challenges Champion Eternal God Randolph.
……The 30th floor.
The moment he faced Randolph there—
Hnn.
Wilhelm's body swayed. An hour left at best. The trial was finally drawing to its end, and yet—
I've reached my limit.
His body would no longer move. That he had come this far in such a broken state was remarkable enough—but Wilhelm felt only regret. If this had been his own body, he would not have stopped here.
But it was still too early to give up. Until the very moment his breath stopped, he would never surrender.
That was when it came.
Park Hyunmyung is cheering for Wilhelm.
……That goddamn god had started cheering him on.