Fatigue usually comes after overexertion.
When Conrad unleashed the magic he had accumulated over decades in a single burst, he felt an exhaustion unlike anything he had ever experienced before. It was as if his entire body had been drained dry, his consciousness nearly fading into nothingness.
No wonder even mages who had stepped into the legendary realm rarely dared to use legendary-tier magic lightly. The price was simply too great.
But—
As he watched the nebula drift and the night rise and fall beneath his command, Conrad felt as though heaven and earth themselves rested in his grasp. With power like this, none of the other bloodlines could possibly stand against him.
"What a pity… Gapar's head will probably be reduced to nothing under this attack."
A smile curled across Conrad's lips. Fortunately, he had planted numerous recording stones throughout the rift beforehand. Some were bound to survive. Once the footage of him crushing the Sword Saint spread, it would undoubtedly cause a sensation across every faction.
He had endured in silence for years for the sake of this very moment.
The reason he had never made a high-profile appearance before was because he had been waiting for an opportunity like this. And the Sword Saint was undoubtedly the perfect stepping stone for his rise to fame. To ensure victory, he had prepared extensively, studying Gapar's every move in meticulous detail.
Even so, he had nearly lost control of the situation.
As the purple star descended, Conrad's black mist twisted into the shapes of question marks.
"How did he become so strong? There's no way someone could improve this much in just a month… unless he was hiding his strength all along. But that doesn't make sense either. I've never seen that red-skinned state before… what exactly is going on?"
He shook his head and muttered,
"Whatever. Victory is mine anyway—"
He proudly raised his head and looked toward the rift.
At the exact moment he believed victory was assured—
Daylight returned.
It was already noon, the brightest time of day. Warm sunlight bathed the land, bringing comfort to everything beneath it.
Conrad instinctively closed his eyes, savoring the warmth.
Then, two seconds later, he froze.
And looked up.
The sun hung high in the sky, shining over the world like a father watching over his children.
Wait… why is there a sun?
Where are my stars? My night?!
Panic surged through him. When he looked back toward the rift, he saw a scene he would never forget for the rest of his life.
The endless nebula vanished abruptly, as though an entire layer of reality had simply been erased—along with the night sky itself.
No warning.
No sign.
It simply disappeared.
The rift remained exactly as it had before, unchanged, as though nothing had ever happened at all.
Conrad froze.
Conrad tried to think.
Conrad gave up thinking.
Gapar's figure emerged from the dust. The silver shield in his hand had shattered into pieces, while his face carried a lingering look of satisfaction as he glanced toward Conrad.
Like how something exhilarating feels incomplete without a cigarette afterward—right now, in Gapar's eyes, Conrad was that cigarette.
In short—
He was begging to be beaten.
I'm finished—I have to run!
Only then did Conrad finally react, dragging his exhausted body as he fled. Unfortunately for him, the Sword Saint was even faster. The moment Gapar decided to beat Conrad to death, he had already moved.
"BOOM!"
The massive club smashed Conrad—now transformed into a mass of black mist—straight into the ground, forcing him back into his original form: a grotesque humanoid creature carrying the traits of various beasts.
But no matter what form he took—
Hit him. That was all that mattered.
"Wait—don't—!"
"BOOM!"
"Gapar, please—!"
"BOOM! BOOM!"
Desperate pleas mixed with the thunderous pounding of the club, echoing throughout the rift in an almost rhythmic pattern—like the comedic timing of a stage play.
This one is for Master. This one is for Serra. This one is for Marco. This one is for—
Familiar faces flashed through Gapar's mind one after another. The former disciple who had now become his enemy begged beneath his blows. Even the Sword Saint could feel violent emotions surging within him.
"Brother…"
On the verge of death, Conrad weakly stretched out a hand, as though reaching for salvation.
Gapar paused.
Memories surfaced in his mind—their first meeting, their training together, the days they laughed side by side…
Then his expression turned cold.
He raised the club once more, pouring 200% more force into the swing.
"The best redemption for a villain… is death!"
At that moment, a sharp pain pierced his heart. He staggered as blood seeped from the corner of his lips.
A curse.
"Heh… hehe… Gapar, you felt killing intent toward me, didn't you?" Conrad's voice regained a trace of vitality. "That's the ability of my Demon King bloodline. Anyone who harbors negative emotions toward me becomes cursed. The stronger the emotion, the deeper the curse. Once I detonate it, you'll suffer endlessly—never to be reborn! Hehe… even if I die, I'll drag you down with me!"
"Pop!"
The sound of a cork being pulled echoed out.
Gapar took out Divine's Blessing, uncorked it, and drank the entire bottle in one gulp.
The black mist of the curse instantly vanished without a trace. His complexion visibly recovered, and vitality surged back into his body—he looked even better than he had before the battle even began.
Divine's Blessing had completely nullified Conrad's curse.
Gapar glanced at the elegant bottle in his hand.
"Sein saved my life again."
Conrad's mind froze once more.
This time, Gapar gave him no chance to recover.
Within Conrad's widened eyes was reflected Gapar's savage grin.
"BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!"
The ambitious Conrad—a descendant of an unknown evil god and Demon King, a hybrid whose human blood far outweighed his monstrous lineage, a man who dreamed of unifying the demon race—
[Was utterly defeated!]
After an unknown amount of time had passed, the soldiers stationed at Titan Fortress finally gathered the courage to approach the terrifying rift.
General Gaby took a deep breath and respectfully called out:
"I am General Gaby of the Kingdom of Yanor. I have come to pay my respects to the powerful one. If there is anything you require of us, no matter how insignificant, please command us freely."
He hadn't wanted to come.
But after witnessing legendary magic appear—and then vanish out of thin air—he realized there was no way he could simply pretend nothing had happened.
Yet even after calling out several times, no response came.
"General… have those two already left?"
Gaby nodded. After a moment of thought, he gave an order.
"Bring some floating beasts. You—take a team down and investigate."
"Me?!" The soldier instantly regretted speaking up.
"Well… if we happen to find anything left behind by the strong, we'll… ahem… safeguard it for them."
When they finally reached the bottom, the rift had been flattened. Nothing remained except enormous craters and black bloodstains.
Strangely, despite legendary magic having been unleashed there, not a trace of magical residue remained.
Someone discovered fragments of silver and carefully collected them.
"Hey, what's this?"
They uncovered a hidden stone.
"A recording stone?"
"It's still active… should we watch it?"
"Better report it first."
After watching the recording, General Gaby remained silent for an entire hour.
Finally, trembling slightly, he spoke:
"Destroy it. Powerful people are petty… we absolutely cannot allow this to spread."
But as always—
The more people tried to suppress something, the faster it spread.
There were many more recording stones hidden throughout the rift.
Eventually, curious people would return.
That very night—before even a full day had passed—the recordings began circulating.
For the first three days, they spread quietly around Titan Fortress.
But once people realized one of the figures was the famous Sword Saint Gapar—
They relaxed.
Gapar was respected, approachable, and in his younger days, he had loved showing off.
Surely he wouldn't mind… right?
By the fourth day, the recordings exploded in popularity.
At the same time, Gapar was happily drinking in a tavern.
By the fifth day, flying mounts carried the footage everywhere.
People were left awestruck by the legendary magic and the mysterious silver shield.
Meanwhile, Gapar slept soundly in an inn, scratching his belly in satisfaction.
By the sixth day, the footage spread like a plague into the inner regions.
Gapar, slightly drunk, leisurely rode a small pegasus toward Bedford City.
And on the thirteenth day—
Completely drunk and slumped over his mount like a pile of mud—
He finally arrived.
Through his blurry vision, he noticed something strange.
Colorful banners…?
[Welcome Home, Lord Sword Saint!]
A massive banner hung above the city gates.
Gapar sobered up instantly.