The wind cut across Rygar's face as he shot through the forest, moving like a blur between the trees.
The closer he got, the more the uncomfortable feeling in his chest grew—an ominous premonition that his body warned him about.
But he smiled.
To him, this only confird that the Northern King, Hasjulian, had followed the Pri Minister. That would justify the unsettling sensation in his chest.
Even so, he remained vigilant of his surroundings, alert to any sign of soone else nearby.
anwhile, he thought that after this, he would finally have ti to study new magic.
He could challenge Ornthorn and, perhaps, finally obtain the title of Sword King—and challenge Ghislaine.
His blood boiled at the thought, but he didn't allow himself to be distracted. There was still an enemy ahead, and he wouldn't make the mistake of relaxing before the final victory.
He truly believed that the sense of danger he had felt since arriving in the city was due to the Pri Minister's surveillance. He theorized in his mind that they had probably been contacted by Milis, and with enough benefits, anyone would accept.
He had been theorizing this ever since he saw the Minister and sensed his intentions.
The thought process made sense, and when things that are about to go wrong actually go exactly as a person predicted, they tend to unconsciously relax.
Things that would normally make him more cautious began to seem like logical explanations for the situations he had theorized.
His sense of danger attributed to the Minister and his knight.
His senses detecting no one for miles.
The real feeling of danger that he had just rationalized.
In fact, Hitogami's advice not to kill Minister Yaylol only reinforced his desire to do the opposite—to defy the Human-God directly. That would be satisfying.
He had been cautious of the Emperor who challenged Ornthorn a month ago, but in the end, the real dangers were the Minister and Livandrei, the king's brother.
And if he hadn't been careful, those sealing chains would have been a huge problem.
Now, only Hasjulian remained an uncertainty, but according to Livandrei's words, he was loyal to the Minister. If that was true, they would be together. And that was exactly what Rygar needed.
The forest began to change. The dense trees and vegetation gave way to dry, rocky terrain, surrounded by mountains. He didn't slow down, automatically adjusting his body to the new unstable ground. His sharp eyes detected movent in the distance.
There they were.
The Minister and Hasjulian ran side by side, their cloaks billowing in the wind. Rygar wasted no ti.
He increased his speed, each step leaving small cracks due to the sheer force, propelled by his magic. The ominous feeling of danger intensified, pressing against his mind like an insistent alarm.
His eyebrows furrowed for a brief mont as he felt his danger sense growing stronger.
Was it because of that lethal poison?
Whatever the case, he would be careful.
His feet struck the ground even harder, and in an instant, he was close enough to see the fugitives' tensed muscles, hear their heavy breathing.
The Minister turned back, his eyes widening as he realized Rygar had caught up to them. Hasjulian, on the other hand, showed no surprise. He simply maintained his pace, as if he had already expected this.
Rygar smiled, predatory.
As he ran, lightning began forming around him, using Tsukikage as his arcane focus, the electricity pulsing violently, growing in intensity.
The energy vibrated in the air, crackling as a storm of lightning gathered in his hand.
Hasjulian and the Minister realized the imminent threat and, in a synchronized movent, split in opposite directions.
Rygar hesitated for a fraction of a second. His primary target should be the Minister.
Hasjulian, even if he was a threat, was loyal to him. If the Minister fell, Hasjulian would have no more reason to keep running. With that decision made, Rygar unleashed the chain lightning.
The sa attack he had been developing since his fight against the Kraken—Chain Lightning.
The thunder roared like a monster unleashed from its cage. The lightning expanded into a brilliant web, dancing across the field, blasting the ground, pulverizing the surrounding rocks, and carving fissures into the earth.
The violent impact raised a curtain of dust and debris, turning the landscape into chaos illuminated by electricity.
Even as a North Saint, the Minister couldn't evade the assault forever. One of the bolts struck him, and he was hurled backward, his body dragged across the rough ground as he scread in pain.
Rygar closed in, his silhouette outlined by the lingering sparks in the air.
He didn't want to waste ti. In his hand, a blazing explosion was already forming, swirling with a fiery glow. The Minister lay on the ground, still convulsing from the electrical discharge.
As Rygar was about to deliver the final blow, the man, still trembling, reached into his pocket and pulled out a small glass bottle. His eyes widened in desperation and fury as he shouted:
"Die!"
He removed the cap in a single motion, and imdiately, a bolt of lightning burst from the bottle, shooting toward Rygar at an insane speed.
Rygar only had ti to think: Lightning?!
The impact was brutal. The electricity coursed through his body like invisible claws, burning his skin and launching him backward.
The pain was intense, but Rygar had no ti to hesitate.
Instinctively, he gathered mana and activated his healing magic, feeling his body partially regenerate as he fell. At the last mont, without thinking, he unleashed the fire magic he had gathered in his hand behind him—to kill the Minister.
The ground trembled and shattered as the flas expanded violently, consuming everything around them.
The fiery explosion missed by re inches the thin poisoned blade aid at his throat.
Hasjulian was caught directly—the shockwave and fire flung him away, burning almost his entire body as the explosion hurled him to one side and Rygar to the other.
For a mont, the battlefield fell silent again. Rygar healed his wounds and cautiously looked toward Hasjulian.
He was still standing. His rapier, still gleaming with the lethal poison, trembled in his hand.
He was limping, his once-impeccable posture now showing signs of exhaustion. He wasn't an exceptional close-quarters combatant—at best, he was on par with a North Saint. His confidence lay in his Formless Sword technique.
But Rygar countered it directly.
Even so, he did not try to run again. He rely sighed, his cold gaze eting Rygar's.
"This is the end..." murmured Hasjulian, resigned, as the crackling of flas and the snapping of lightning still echoed across the battlefield.
Rygar felt his skin tingle as a sensation of danger swelled in his chest.
His instincts scread, but he still didn't know where the threat was coming from.
He had fully healed from the lightning, his muscles relaxing for an instant, and then, without hesitation, he raised his hand and fired a high-speed stone bullet straight at the Minister's head.
The projectile shot forward like a bullet, but at the last mont, a magical barrier shimred around the Minister.
A sharp crack followed, then the sound of shattering glass. One of the rings the Minister wore crumbled, and to Rygar's surprise, the man began laughing. A loud, hysterical, almost maniacal laugh.
Hasjulian, kneeling and gasping beside him, had half his body burned, his skin blackened and twisted by the previous explosion.
Yet he showed no pain—only unwavering loyalty.
Still laughing, the Minister raised his eyes to Rygar and said:
"Do you have any last questions before death, oh great Red Wolf? Hahahaha!"
Rygar frowned. His discomfort grew. Sothing was wrong. He remained on guard and asked, firmly:
"Do you have another trick up your sleeve?"
The Minister smiled strangely. His voice turned almost lancholic as he replied:
"I don't. I had two plans. Ideally, you would have been trapped in the Chains and Seal of the Mad Dragon King. The second-best outco was you dying from Hasjulian's poison, which cos from a Basilisk extinct for 400 years. It's extrely lethal and petrifies the body upon entering the bloodstream..."
He sighed before continuing.
"I was certain the chain plan would work... But if it didn't, I at least believed they could hold you off long enough for to escape. Now, I can't even run anymore. We're in the middle of nowhere... A fitting grave for two Northern Kings and a Minister? I don't know... but it's what we have."
That sentence sent a chill down Rygar's spine.
He looked around. His trained eyes scanned for any detail in the environnt.
His ears opened up for any sound. But there was nothing. No strange movent. Only the wind blowing over the rocks and sand.
The feeling worsened when he asked, his voice heavy with suspicion:
"What do you an, a grave for the three of us? Only you two will die today."
He needed information.
The Minister knew sothing. He knew the source of this ominous feeling. Then, the man laughed again, loud and uncontrolled, his head tilting slightly back.
"That was the deal! You could have followed us here... or not followed us here! If you hadn't, the two of us would've continued our lives in another kingdom... Never mind that, I would've hunted you down, hahaha. But if you ca... none of us would survive this day! HAHAHAHA!"
Rygar felt a shiver crawl up his spine.
"Who made this deal with you?!"
The Minister stopped laughing, his eyes now eerily empty. His voice ca out in a disturbingly calm tone:
"Have you ever heard of the false positive strategy?! Well, I hadn't! My entire plan, all my dedication to killing you with 90% certainty... was nothing but soone else's clown show! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
A bitter taste filled Rygar's mouth. His instincts now scread.
The Minister looked at Hasjulian, his tone becoming gentle for the first ti:
"I'm sorry, Hasjulian. You weren't supposed to be here with ."
The Red Knight, his face partially lted, answered without hesitation:
"I am your sword, my lord. And I will die as one."
It was at that mont that Rygar felt the true threat. A shadow of pure terror fell upon him. His heart pounded. His breath quickened.
He didn't know where it was coming from... but he knew it was real. That it was here.
The Minister, seeing his expression, simply smirked.
"He's always been there, Flaming Beast. Always watching."
Then, slowly, he raised his arm and pointed toward a distant mountain.
Rygar followed his finger with his eyes. The distance was absurd. There was no way to see or hear anything from there.
But now, an enormous purple light had appeared.
He launched himself into the air and activated his magic vision.
And then he saw it.
What was revealed before his eyes made his spine tremble. Never in his entire life had he seen such an absurd concentration of mana in a single attack.
His eyes widened. His entire body tensed, his fur standing on end.
He shot forward at full speed, fleeing like never before.
His body burned mana, Burst Step exploding from his feet as he tore through the air. And then, he felt it.
He felt the attack being launched, like a small sun coming toward him.
An unbearable, overwhelming heat.
A simple 'fireball' had been cast.
But it was no ordinary fireball. This was no ordinary magic.
The fireball grew in his vision at an absurd speed, crossing kiloters in seconds, scorching the very air around it. A flaming spear sent by the gods.
Rygar clenched his teeth and began raising every barrier he knew against flas. Resistance spells, layer upon layer of protection. He summoned water around himself, cloaked himself in touki, forcing every fiber of his being to resist.
And then, it happened.
The world exploded.
The fireball detonated in the air, and the impact was indescribable.
The light blinded everything for an instant.
The sound ca afterward, a shockwave so strong it shattered rocks kiloters away.
The ground trembled. The surrounding mountains were swallowed by a sea of flas.
Hasjulian and the Minister were obliterated instantly. Their bodies didn't even have a chance to burn—they were vaporized.
The explosion consud Rygar. His world beca an absolute hell. The heat surpassed anything he had ever experienced. His body burned. His touki roared in defiance. The water around him evaporated in an instant.
And then, silence.
Nothing remained but embers and ashes.
-----
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