Editor : Amethyst00



The Underground Temple of Styx.

This place was an ancient temple, built long ago, before the Goddess of Frozen Death, Nyx, was swallowed by the Flame of Calamity, Erebos.

Later.

It became a sacred site, born of the belief that Nyx—the undying one sealed in eternally unmelting ice—would one day return.

In this sanctuary of Styx, one of the resting places of Nyx's faithful, the former worshipers of the goddess lay frozen in slumber.

And at the center of this frozen temple, the First Saint, Acheron of Sorrow, was offering a prayer.

"To those who came into this world without meaning, and will vanish without meaning, I offer mourning…"

Drip—drip—

"To those who disappeared without ever being held in the goddess's embrace… may Her mercy be with them…"

Blood-red tears streamed from Acheron's eyes.

"May this world one day receive the true blessing of death…"

He rose, filled with sincere grief for the world.

Erebos and Tartaros sought to burn the world, not to rule it, but to erase it—utterly and completely.

They had no interest in dominion.

Even themselves, they were willing to burn as fuel, to return all things to nothingness.

In contrast, Nyx and Styx wished to shape the world into a form of eternal, deathless stillness.

To encase it in timeless, unmelting ice—preserving all living things in their final form, frozen in eternal death.

In the end, both paths led to ruin.

One destroyed through fire, the other through ice—merely a difference in method.

That was why Styx and Tartaros could never understand each other.

Though they both longed for the end, the nature of that end was utterly opposite.

And yet, from the perspective of surface dwellers, Styx was the more moderate.

Because Styx wanted to preserve the world as it was—make it eternal and still.

To reach full victory, they believed they had to refine the world into the perfect image Nyx desired.

So, long ago.

They reigned as the greatest religion on the surface.

Humans worshiped Nyx. Other races, too, revered her as a goddess.

The demons of Styx were praised as her apostles, and Nyx was honored as the deity who promised eternity.

Their origin as 'evil' never changed—but at the time, no one on the surface cared.

They were content, drunk on the sweetness of the era they lived in.

'That's just how livestock should be,' thought Acheron of Sorrow.

Why Styx ruled over humans?

Because humans were a necessary part of the world's makeup.

Most were despicable in their eyes—but among them were a few with radiant souls.

And for the world to meet a more perfect death, harmony was needed.

So they ruled over humans.

Like livestock.

Not just humans.

Most surface-dwellers who served them were treated the same.

Acheron of Sorrow came to a halt.

Before him were countless people, frozen within the ice.

All of them had once pledged loyalty to Nyx.

Those who held great power, ready to devote themselves in the coming war that would end the world.

Great warriors of Styx—foundation stones for the glorious death of the world.

Passing them, Acheron reached the deepest part of the underground temple.

A massive door stood before him.

This was the dwelling place of none other than Nyx, the goddess of frozen death.

"O great goddess. Your creation humbly begs for your audience."

Acheron knelt and bowed low.

But unlike usual—there was no answer from the goddess.

Just as doubt flickered in Acheron's mind—

BOOM! FWOOOSH—!

"……!"

The great door was shattered, and black flame surged forth.

"The Flame of Calamity!"

Eyes wide, Acheron moved to raise dark magic—

GOOOOO—!

But a terrifying cold wind erupted, suppressing the black fire.

And from within, a woman emerged.

She was beautiful, with pale skin and white hair.

"Ooooh! O Goddess Nyx…!"

As Acheron knelt before her, the voice of Erebos rang out.

["Foolish, Nyx."]

"The foolish one is you, Erebos."

Nyx's voice was icy as she struck back.

"I read your memories from 5,000 years ago and understood why you failed. It was because of your vulgar madness to burn everything."

Hatred flickered in the eyes of the goddess of frozen death.

"To become the Primordial Evil by burning the other five evil gods, and this was all you amounted to. That such disappointment still remained in you is, frankly, astonishing."

["You speak well for someone who once was consumed by that vulgar madness."]

FWOOSH—!

Black flame blazed with fierce heat.

But it could not affect the surroundings—Nyx's cold easily suppressed it.

"It's no use. The initiative belongs to me now. You're nothing but a fragment of thought. This world will now face the true death it deserves."

["Is that so?"]

Erebos chuckled low.

["In the end, you'll be vanquished by The Surviving Hero."]

"I won't fight the Hero of the Beginning."

["Interesting. What, going to wag your tail at a mere mortal?"]

"That's the kind of thought I'd expect from you, vulgar as always."

Nyx smirked.

"From your memories, I learned that his nobility must be praised forever."

["So? How do you plan to win him over?"]

"I will offer him the entire world."

["Kh."]

Erebos burst into laughter.

["Heh… Hahaha! Even after watching me fight the Great Heroes, you still think that way?! And you call me vulgar!"]

"What do you mean by that?"

["Do you really not understand why the Great Heroes fought me?"]

"To protect the world from your hands."

["Heheheh. This is what happens when you see surface dwellers as livestock—you become completely blind to who they are."]

Erebos's thought laughed in Nyx's mind.

["Very well. Do as you please. I'll watch your end from this fragment of thought."]

Having realized he could no longer take control of the body, Erebos's thought faded.

"O goddess… What was that just now?"

"I read the Hero Record."

Nyx opened her hand.

In her palm was a scorched fragment of the Hero Record.

"Kyle, the Hero of the Beginning. I wanted to understand how he could defeat Erebos."

"And… did you find out?"

"Yes. He truly possessed a unique power. After reading his story, I grew curious—what was his battle with Erebos like? So I peered into the memories Erebos etched into my body."

Though it was Nyx's body, for a long time it had existed as part of Erebos.

That was why Erebos's thought still lingered within her flesh.

Had she made a mistake, he could have taken it back.

But Nyx had succeeded in suppressing his thought.

"O Saint of Sorrow."

"Yes, my goddess."

"Kyle, Hero of the Beginning, was more noble and greater than anyone else."

"If you say so, then he must be truly remarkable."

"Yes. He could have been the ruler of an eternal, undying world."

At Nyx's words, Acheron was shocked.

Even as the leader of Styx, even as Nyx's closest aide, he had never received such a title.

"That such a noble being has already died… how could there be anything more tragic?"

Acheron grieved.

The world truly had gone wrong.

To vanish without a trace after death—what a hollow ending.

Had he received Nyx's blessing, the outcome would have been different.

His death would have come only after the world had become perfect.

Nyx gently smiled at Acheron's sorrowful words.

"It's all right. Fate… has not abandoned the Hero of the Beginning."

"…Pardon? What do you mean?"

"Leo Plov."

Nyx's eyes gleamed.

"He is the reincarnation of Kyle, the Hero of the Beginning."

bl

'What is this power…?'

The Blood Saint, Phlegethon, stared at Lysinas—who now towered over him in raw power—with a look of utter disbelief.

'Can a surface-dweller truly possess such strength?'

"This pathetic lizard—!"

FWOOSH—!

At that moment, the Fire Priestess, Pyry, unleashed a blast of crimson flame.

"I'll burn you to ash!"

WHOOOSH—!

Her flames surged toward Lysinas.

Seeing that, Pyry grinned with malice.

But—

Fwoooosh…

The explosion of fire, rather than overwhelming her foe, gently gathered in Lysinas's hand—as if it had always belonged there.

Pyry's eyes widened in shock.

"W-what… How…?!"

"You really are dull."

Lysinas sighed quietly.

"My mana is still nowhere near what it was in my prime."

Watching this, Leo Plov clicked his tongue.

In skill and technique, he had long surpassed what he was in the past.

But in one thing—mana—he still hadn't reached that level.

'The vessel of the body isn't yet complete.'

Even Leo couldn't do anything about that. Only time would resolve it.

Still, it wasn't a fatal issue.

He had more than enough power to defeat a Legion Commander.

Lysinas, after all, was a spirit who had forged a pact with Leo.

Her maximum mana output couldn't exceed Leo's own strength.

'Well, to be fair, we were absurdly strong in our prime.'

No wonder Lysinas found the current state frustrating.

"How can a mere dragon possess such power?!"

Pyry screamed, her voice ragged with disbelief.

"Whoa. That's fresh. I've never heard even the demons of Tartaros say something that dumb."

"You think you're the only one surprised?" Leo responded dryly to Lysinas's sarcasm.

"The era we lived through was… different. Back then, being weak meant extinction."

Even the demons acknowledged the strength of surface-dwellers in that age.

That era gave rise to the Age of Heroes.

"How long ago you lived, I don't know."

Leo looked down at Phlegethon and Pyry with a mocking grin.

"But do you have any idea how much blood was spilled 5,000 years ago to create this era? Or how hard people have fought for 5,000 years to protect and preserve it? You wouldn't even be able to imagine."

Leo motioned with his chin toward the distant battlefield, where Lunia and the other hero cadets were still fighting.

"Seeing the level of those so-called 'heroes' you're so proud of? They're livestock."

Oversized cattle.

Pampered and protected—dressed up as proud warriors of demonkind.

"They're nothing compared to our kids."

Leo scoffed.

Those hero candidates had trained tirelessly to prepare for the great trial to come.

They hadn't fully awakened yet, but they were far from weak enough to lose to glorified livestock.

And most of all—

"You clearly didn't even bother to research this side."

They were nothing compared to Tartaros.

Phlegethon and Pyry might be legion-level monsters, sure.

But from Leo and Lysinas's point of view, they were just muscle-headed fools.

"There's nothing easier to deal with than morons still drunk on their long-lost glory."

Leo smiled coldly.

"You're the same losers who lost to Tartaros, aren't you?"

Phlegethon and Pyry's faces twisted with shame.

"We defeated Tartaros, by the way. You pathetic has-beens don't deserve to even face us."

"You mongrel slave! How dare you—!"

CRACK—!

Just then, Lysinas tore off Pyry's arm.

"GYAAAAAAAAH!?"

"And who are you calling a slave?"

With a voice like ice, Lysinas threw the severed limb into his shadow.

SNAP! CRUNCH! RRRRRIP—!

Within the depths of Lysinas's shadow, Pyry's arm was shredded into a mangled mess.

"You… I'll tear you apart."

Lysinas growled as she grabbed Pyry's hair and yanked her up.

The sheer pressure of her presence made Pyry tremble uncontrollably.

Watching it unfold, Leo muttered quietly to himself.

'It's over.'

Once Lysinas truly got angry, there was no coming back.

Leo looked away from her and turned his gaze to the young heroes still fighting.

Suddenly, his memories stirred.

Through Eiran and Chen Xia, he saw glimpses of Velkia and Bihar—visions of the past.

A faint smile tugged at his lips.

His memories wandered even farther back.

When was it?

Hadn't he once stood where they were?

He remembered his younger self and as that image floated to mind, Leo whispered to himself.

"…You've grown well, my little ones."