Chapter 643: The Echoes of Victory in the Valley

Hundreds of kilometers from the Ten Thousand Swords Mountain, twilight city's outskirts were swept by autumn winds, rolling dry, yellow leaves into the dried-up moat.

On the city walls, robed judges and theologians had assembled, flanked by hundreds of majestic griffins, ready for departure.

Some scratched at the frozen ground with their talons, others preened their needle-like feathers with sharp beaks, indifferent to everything around them.

Standing before the assembled griffins, Chief Judge Jimenez slowly slipped on his leather gloves.

Those who knew him could tell: today, the Chief Judge was in excellent spirits.

The "cleaning operation" in Dusk Province was nearly complete, and the Grand Saint Clement Cathedral had acknowledged his achievements.

Under Chief Judge Jimenez's brilliant strategy, heretics clinging to this land had fallen like autumn leaves, not a single one left standing.

A flawless victory report now rested in his pocket, carried close to his body.

Once back in the Holy City, this report would become one of his most brilliant medals.

The only flaw was that this winter seemed to arrive earlier than usual—frost had already coated the earth by October.

But thanks to this early frost, the poor harvest could now be blamed on bad weather.

At twilight city's gate, crowds of citizens had gathered to see off the Inquisition.

The faces of the Lein commoners bore either relief or uncertainty about the future.

Still, overall, they must have felt gratitude—otherwise, they wouldn't have come to see them off.

As Jimenez pondered whom to visit first upon returning to the Holy City, a chilling dread suddenly struck from the southern horizon—without warning!

It was not the desolate autumn wind, nor the lingering ripple of magic—it was more like a tremor piercing the soul!

As if a colossal hand above the heavens had torn out the stone pillars holding up the sky.

"Yikes—!"

The griffins, moments ago listlessly shaking their heads, suddenly erupted in terrified screeches.

These sky-dominating beasts, second only to dragons, as if sensing the arrival of a natural predator, crouched low, some even burying their heads beneath their wings.

All judges turned pale; Jimenez's fingers froze mid-air as he snapped his gaze toward the Ten Thousand Swords Mountain.

Only the theologians, lacking any supernatural power, stared around in confusion, unaware of what had happened.

And the citizens of twilight city.

Their souls burned too faintly—like floating duckweed in an ocean—to sense the surging force, only wondering why a southern wind had blown in autumn.

Jimenez's face darkened, his vulture-like eyes locked on the south.

That presence…

What the hell was it?!

Before he could decide, a junior judge rushed over, pale-faced and breathless.

Clearly, the young man had been terrified by the sudden pressure.

Though he was a battle-hardened Inquisition knight, such levels of heresy were rarely their domain—they usually dealt with more ordinary foes.

"My lord, something's happening to the south."

Jimenez replied coldly.

"I know."

Watching the Chief Judge's shifting expression, the judge hesitated, then ventured:

"The presence that terrified the griffins… it can't be ordinary. Shouldn't we send someone to investigate?"

Jimenez did not answer immediately. He glanced at the man, then turned his gaze back to the distant horizon.

Investigate?

What nonsense.

His victory report was already written—did he now have to tear it up and rewrite it?

Besides, this wasn't just about his own future—it involved everyone standing behind him.

These men came here to gain glory, not to die.

And this was the empire's farthest frontier, Lein barbarian land—if something strange happened, let those blasphemers suffer for it.

Though the Inquisition had killed over a thousand, Jimenez knew: these were barely a fraction of the blasphemers.

Many still lurked in twilight city—not just the Savior Army's dogs, but the Green Forest Army's too… especially the latter, those creatures who tore out hearts and ate them.

Jimenez felt no sympathy for these savages.

When they slaughtered priests and defiled nuns, they should have expected this day.

Most who denied retribution eventually received it.

Except those who came with a mission.

In mere seconds, the shrewd Chief Judge weighed the pros and cons in his mind.

"No."

He turned, mounted his griffin, and looked down at the judge with cold detachment.

"The Ten Thousand Swords Mountain is dwarf territory—not under Holy Light's jurisdiction. If our dwarf friends need aid, they'll come to the Holy City themselves. We needn't stir up unnecessary trouble."

The judge bowed deeply, saying nothing more.

"Yes, my lord."

Though he felt a trace of regret and helplessness, he couldn't deny a flicker of relief.

Watching his men return to their mounts and climb aboard, Jimenez turned his gaze toward the setting sun.

"Depart!"

At his command, hundreds of griffins soared into the sky, kicking up vast clouds of dust.

Their massive wings beat the air, whipping up howling gales that toppled distant shacks.

Judges and theologians rode together on griffins; this thousand-strong force, under the gaze of twilight city's citizens, returned to the Holy City in triumph and glory.

Once they were gone, the Holy Light Council's militia emerged and called out to the citizens gathered for the send-off.

"Alright, that's it. Dismissed. Go home."

The crowd scattered instantly, not wanting to linger a second longer.

The air was cold, and twilight city lay in ruin—few still had old coats to wear.

The regional bishop of twilight city's cathedral sighed, silently making the sign of the cross.

"Saint Cis above…"

If this endless calamity is your divine punishment, may your people have atoned for all their sins.

Don't let it come again.

Meanwhile, at the front of the crowd, Elaric, Viceroy of twilight city and Chairman of the Holy Light Council, stared at the fading black dots in the sky.

Slowly, a suppressed smile spread across his face.

Finally, they're gone.

The shackles binding the hands and feet of Dusk's people.

He adjusted his viceroy's robe, embroidered with gold trim, and approached the Holy Light Council members with a smile.

"Gentlemen, our era has finally arrived… much work remains. First, we must feed the hungry—otherwise, in a few days, that Holy Maiden will lure them away."

He paused, then continued clearly:

"The harvest is ruined, but many merchant ships still sail the Rushing River—we can buy grain from our old friends. As for funding… I'm afraid we'll need each of you to contribute."

The Holy Light Council members exchanged glances; though reluctant, they largely agreed with the Chairman.

They understood: if the skin is gone, the hair cannot cling.

Besides, this money wouldn't go to the king—it would be spent on their own lands, making it easier to accept.

The exact amount could be discussed at the next meeting…

Unlike the optimistic Chairman Elaric, Seron stood at the crowd's edge, his face shadowed with quiet sorrow, staring at the direction the Chief Judge had ignored.

Though he couldn't sense the terrifying presence, his sharp observation read every expression on the judges' faces.

Something terrible had been born there…

"Relax, my friend."

A large hand landed on Seron's shoulder, interrupting his thoughts.

Elaric had somehow appeared beside him, winking.

"We've survived the hardest days—can tomorrow be worse than yesterday?"

"I hope so… I hope I'm overthinking," Seron sighed, looking at Chairman Elaric. "But, Mr. Chairman, we must consider more than just surviving this winter—we must plan for the future. About our path… have you decided?"

Though the Holy Light Council had over a hundred members, only the former Viceroy and three counts truly decided Dusk Province's fate.

Since the other two counts were useless, Seron—the only tall man among dwarfs—had no hope they'd offer constructive ideas.

Should they respond to Campbell Fortress's expectations and establish the Dusk Duchy—or answer Roland City's summons and return as Viceroy to report?

Elaric heard the weight in Seron's voice; his smile faded into tension.

Maintaining the status quo was best for the Holy Light Council—but he knew this state couldn't last.

"This decision must be made carefully… I want to observe first before taking the next step."

"Observe what?"

"Roland City—you know it's been unstable lately. Even if we must defy the king, now isn't the 'best' time."

Seron understood his implication and nodded knowingly.

"Then let's get through this first."

…

Regardless of what twilight city's citizens or the Inquisition thought, the corrupted Flesh Clan ratmen who survived Moke's maw scattered like birds and beasts.

Mo Ke is dead.

Along with him died the clan rats' fantasies of "Geloro, the Gluttonous Rat."

For at least several days, these little rats won't murmur His name again.

The Flesh Clan rats scurried like headless flies across the battlefield, burrowing into every crevice they could find.

As far as the eye could see, the entire slope was littered with discarded armor, as well as magical devices and spell scrolls left unused.

Since these items were all products of the Learning Alliance, many of them were of excellent quality.

This was a windfall for the players of the Great Cemetery.

Too bad this game had no auto-pickup feature—otherwise they could've reclaimed all the gear dropped by allies.

"Damn it, buddy, don't grab everything! Leave me some!"

Watching the mob of players pushing carts to collect gear, 【Go Get Some Seagulls at the Dock】, now reduced to just a head, grew so envious his soul-fire turned crimson.

Yet his wailing didn't make the players tone down—they only fueled their excitement.

The Child of the Gourd: "By the time you respawn, it'll be days later."

The Lighter: "Exactly!"

Ad Space for Rent: "Kick him far away. He's in the way."

Go Get Some Seagulls at the Dock: "@#&!"

On the other side, the dwarven and human warriors erupted in a tidal wave of cheers, though their jubilation had a completely different flavor compared to the "Dragonbloods" of the Gutauf Kingdom.

"Ooooh!"

"Victory!"

"Campbell forever!"

"Gaoshan Kingdom forever!"

Bathed in the crowd's cheers, Erin gazed at the flesh mountain slowly crumbling under the black flames, her "Songlight" slowly sheathed.

With the battle over, the life-force she had burned to unleash faded like a receding tide.

Though she had just broken through her own bottleneck and entered the Purple Crystal realm, the exhaustion that followed nearly drained her completely.

Her eyelids felt heavier than ever; her vision blurred, the world spinning and reversing.

Erin staggered, her body collapsing backward uncontrollably.

At that moment, a pair of strong hands caught her shoulders, pulling her trembling form into a warm embrace.

"... Colin?" A scent of books drifted into her nose; Erin forced her eyes open.

Seeing the face so close, her cheeks warmed slightly.

Luo Yan lowered his head and spoke with regret.

"I'm sorry I came late. Tending to the wounded of the Gutauf Kingdom took time... If only I'd arrived sooner—I shouldn't have let you face that monster alone."

He had now shed his black cloak and returned to his usual attire.

Though the elegant coat was dusted with grime, it did nothing to diminish Prince Colin's grace.

Seeing Colin lost in self-blame, Erin quickly comforted him.

"Please don't think that way. I'm fine—just a bit drained. I'd rather you protected those I couldn't reach than come to my aid. Thanks to you, I could swing my sword without hesitation..."

This was truly what she felt.

Yet even as she spoke, her thoughts drifted to the mysterious figure who had stood on the cliff's edge and rained black fire upon Geloro's Chosen.

It was only because of that man's support that she could swing her blade without restraint—and strike through Geloro's Chosen's exposed heart.

Perhaps it was a hallucination from exhaustion; two figures overlapped uncontrollably before her eyes.

Not just two shadows.

Behind those overlapping silhouettes, another man's shadow also surfaced.

"My name is Luo Yan... We'll meet again."

Her thoughts tangled like a knotted ball of yarn; her mind froze, her emerald eyes growing hazy.

Until a concerned voice reached her from before her.

"Erin?"

"... Ah, sorry. I—I must be tired."

Looking at Colin's worried face, Erin snapped back to reality—and immediately averted her gaze, burning with shame, wishing she could vanish into the ground.

She had just thought of another... no, two other men—in front of dear Prince Colin.

This was... too blasphemous!

"You... really are fine?" Luo Yan said, watching her evasive eyes, secretly relieved.

The "strike first" tactic had always worked wonders for the Demon King.

When faced with something unexplainable, the best move wasn't to dig deeper into the other's suspicion—it was to turn "I have a problem" into "You have a problem."

Though it was a bit unfair to Erin, Luo Yan had his reasons... He'd make it up to her later.

"I—I really am fine..."

Erin's eyes darted away; her inner panic reached unbearable levels. After much hesitation, she finally found a way to change the subject.

"Oh! Right! Just now—I think I broke through my bottleneck!"

"Really?!"

At this 180-degree shift, Luo Yan's face showed perfectly timed surprise, then melted into genuine joy.

"By Saint Xiang... Congratulations, Erin! Your valor has been recognized by the Holy Light—you've surpassed your father!"

Recognized by the Holy Light...

Erin scratched her cheek with her index finger, speaking with slight shame.

"No... I'm still far from my father. He became a Diamond-level Qiangzhe entirely through his own strength. I've always relied on others."

Not just relied on others.

She had become something inhuman... and that was her lifelong pain.

Luo Yan smiled gently.

"Relying on others isn't bad. No one exists alone in this world. I've had many benefactors too."

Resting against Colin's shoulder for a moment, Erin regained her strength and blushing, pulled away from his embrace.

This was still a battlefield—not a place for flirtation.

Especially as countless eyes now rested on them: dwarven soldiers, human soldiers, even the Gutauf Kingdom's "Dragonbloods"—all wore knowing, amused smiles; some even whistled.

The hero and the princess—eternal tales.

Miss Erin Campbell, raising "Songlight" high, securing victory and then winning the heart of her beloved—living happily ever after—such an epic was beloved not just by the Campbells and Leins, but by dwarves and Dragonbloods alike.

Yet—

Not everyone was delighted.

For instance, Miss Vivian from Hell could not sit idly by.

Just as Erin mustered courage to voice her confusion, a purple afterimage, accompanied by a saccharine scream that raised goosebumps, shot toward them like a cannonball.

"Pigeon~ Pigeon—!"

Before Luo Yan could react, Vivian clung to him like a koala, frantically rummaging over his body.

"Are you hurt? That aura was terrifying! Let Vivian the Great check you right away!"

"I'm fine—"

Luo Yan's words were cut off.

"Don't be reckless, Elder Brother! Only the doctor decides if you're hurt! Vivian is the head of the Hospital Knights—you can always trust Vivian!"

"...?"

Not just interrupted.

Her swift, restless hands roamed his chest, waist, even thighs—now nearly at the buttons of his collar.

Her crimson eyes gleamed with opportunistic cunning and intoxication.

Especially with Erin watching, Vivian felt even more delighted—her searching hands grew bolder.

"And—also! Check under the clothes! What if there's internal injury?!"

Luo Yan felt a headache coming.

He could guess Vivian sensed something through her bond with him and was playing along to interrupt Erin's impending question—but was this woman really that brazen?

"Enough, Vivian."

He grabbed her increasingly bold hand, sighing with weary sternness.

"I'm fine—not a scratch. Our doctor should worry less about someone who never fought, and more about Erin, who faced that monster head-on. She's today's true hero."

"Pfft... What hero is she..."

Vivian pouted, muttering under her breath—clearly resentful that her elder brother gave credit to another woman.

This might fool others, but not Vivian.

She was top-tier intelligent.

"It was clearly— Ji!"

Before she could finish, Vivian cried out in pain, clutching her smooth forehead, tears welling as she glared at her brother's withdrawn finger.

The look was pitiful.

But Luo Yan was a top-tier intelligent Demon King—he could guess she'd deliberately offered a "weakness," taken the hit, then feigned innocence to win sympathy, only to do it again next time...

Until one day she forced him to show real power.

Ignoring that pitiful, manic gaze, Luo Yan turned his head and looked at Erin, who had been unable to interject, with a hint of apology.

"Sorry, my sister has been spoiled too much—she always speaks without thinking… I believe she doesn't truly feel that way."

"It's fine, I understand… but come to think of it, you two really have a good relationship," Erin said with a shy smile, tracing the end of her hair that hung over her shoulder armor with her fingertip.

After Vivian's outburst, the intense déjà vu that had clung to her mind was significantly disrupted, even making her feel her suspicions were absurd.

That "Flame King" not only possessed power akin to a deity, but also radiated a pressure equal to that of a god. Such a being—completely stripped of humanity, reduced to pure divinity—could not possibly be Prince Colin.

And that "Luo Yan" as well.

The only similarity between them was the form of their power; their personalities, their aura… even the style of their perfume, were utterly different.

Perhaps… it was merely a coincidence.

After all, there are many adventurers on the Aust Continent who cultivate Dragon Mysticism, and the Black Sacred Fire of the Kingdom of Gutauf likely shares the same lineage as the Dragon God's secret arts.

Perhaps it was merely stolen by that demon named "Luo Yan."

Hearing Erin's reply, Luo Yan's smile grew subtly strange.

A good relationship…?

Perhaps.

For Hell, perhaps he is the most abnormal one of all.