Chapter 148
KWA-KWA-KWA!
Waves crashed.
Waves made of sand slammed violently against the violet portrait space.
It felt like this must be what a massive tsunami would look like.
The scene before the old man’s eyes was that unreal.
The surging sand wave itself was unbelievable—but even more so was the sight of Zeon standing upright atop it.
It looked as if he were controlling the sand.
Carried by the tide of sand, Zeon advanced straight toward the old man.
At that moment, their gazes met in midair.
“Is he… actually controlling sand?”
“We need to move!”
“Quick—!”
The Shadow Unit members grabbed the old man by both arms and leapt into the air.
Shwaaa!
The sand tsunami swept through the place where the old man had been.
The violet portrait space shook as if it might shatter at any moment.
This was a separate world, detached from reality.
Though it was another dimension, it was still a space with limits.
The mass of sand pouring into it was enormous.
That overwhelming mass exerted tremendous pressure from within.
Crack—!
Unable to withstand the internal pressure, the portrait space was torn apart.
“What on earth…?”
The old man stared at Zeon in disbelief.
What Zeon had just done was essentially smashing an entire dungeon apart through brute force.
Even if he used sand as a medium, it was still undeniably his power.
“How strong must his control be to command that much sand?”
It was beyond the old man’s understanding.
After the world had suffered near destruction over a century ago, countless Awakened had emerged.
They were broadly divided into categories—martial, magic, mechanized, curse-type—but there were also those with special abilities.
Special ability users were, quite literally, irregulars.
Awakened with unconventional powers.
A representative example was Levin, who possessed the ability of intangibility.
Though “special,” they were still human—and thus had limits.
The old man himself was an A-rank barrier master, yet even he had limits to the size of a barrier he could create.
At most, he could cover the fortress where the White Bear Caravan was, along with its surroundings.
Even that was an extraordinary feat.
That was precisely why Jin Geumho had dispatched him as a precaution.
To deploy a barrier over such an area required both mana and powerful control over it.
No matter how much mana one had, without sufficient control, a barrier couldn’t be maintained for long.
That was why the old man understood better than anyone the importance of control.
And to him—
Zeon was a monster.
“To exert influence over that much sand… just how overwhelming is his control?”
Of course, Zeon gave no answer.
Though their eyes had briefly met, the old man no longer held his attention.
All of Zeon’s focus was directed toward the fortress.
‘Damian!’
Something was happening to him.
Zeon didn’t know exactly what—but he knew it wasn’t good.
He had to reach Damian before it was too late.
As he increased his control further, more sand poured in from outside.
The combined mass grew—and with it, its destructive force.
That force shattered the portrait space like glass.
KRRRSH!
As the violet portrait space broke apart, the environment changed.
From an ominous purple world—
to a landscape filled with red sand.
From the unreal, back to reality.
Even then, Zeon did not stop.
KWA-KWA-KWA!
He surged forward with the sand, ascending to the top of the fortress.
Seeing this, the old man hurriedly gave chase.
“Huh?!”
“Sir!”
The Shadow Unit members tried to follow, but by then he had already cast a barrier and vanished.
“Damn it!”
“Move toward the fortress!”
Having lost the old man, the Shadow Unit also advanced toward the fortress.
***
Broy swayed unsteadily like a reed.
“Grrgh…!”
A groan filled with pain escaped his lips.
A black tentacle was wrapped tightly around his neck.
Because of it, his feet dangled helplessly in the air.
And it wasn’t just Broy.
Dozens of warriors—dwarves, elves, and other beastmen—were bound by tentacles, hanging and struggling.
“Ghk…!”
“S-save me…!”
At their cries, Serian bit her lip hard.
The Northern District’s elite—those she trusted most—had all been subdued by Damian.
‘I should have acted myself from the start…’
Regret came too late.
They had been overwhelmed in the blink of an eye.
Even Broy, whom she had trusted deeply, had failed to harm Damian and was instead captured.
As if displaying trophies, Damian shook the bound demi-humans.
They cried out in pain once more.
Some were already on the verge of death.
If delayed even a little longer, their lives would be lost.
Serian shouted urgently,
“Stop!”
“Who do you think—”
“If you kill them, you won’t escape unscathed either!”
“Don’t pretend to worry about me. It’s disgusting.”
“Calm down!”
“I think you’re the one who needs to calm down.”
Damian let out a low chuckle.
His once-polite tone was gone.
His voice was savage, rough—nothing like the Damian she knew.
It was the influence of the Prism Armor he wore.
More precisely, it was due to the Spirit King’s Crown supplying it with power.
Prism Armor was merely a medium.
The true core was the Spirit King’s Crown.
The power sent from the Crown was filtered and amplified through the armor—forming the Spectrum Prison.
The more of that power he used, the more the wearer became subjugated by it.
That was Damian’s current state.
He was already half-subjugated to the Prism of the Spirit King.
And yet, there was one reason he still clung desperately to his sanity.
“Now tell me where Elharun is.”
“I can’t—”
Crack!
Before Serian could even finish speaking, Damian snapped the neck of one of the beastmen hanging from the tentacles.
The beastman died without even letting out a scream.
Serian’s eyes trembled.
“For every moment you delay your answer, one dies.”
“Please, just—”
At that very moment, Damian crushed another throat.
This time, it was an elf.
At the elf’s death, Serian couldn’t continue speaking.
Damian sneered at her.
“Still won’t talk? Then I’ll kill this one next.”
He shook Broy, who was hanging from the tentacles.
“Ghk! I’m fine… so please, do not tell him!”
At that instant, a black tentacle tightened around Broy’s neck.
His face turned deathly pale.
Seeing that, Serian bit her lip until it bled.
Broy was important.
If they lost him here, the Northern District’s power would be severely weakened.
And that would tip the balance drastically in future conflicts with other districts.
Crack…!
A sound of bone nearing its breaking point came from Broy’s neck.
With just a bit more force, it would snap like a twig.
Serian closed her eyes and spoke.
“Magaban.”
“…What?”
“Elharun is located in what used to be the sea in front of one of the old Russian cities—Magadan.”
“Magadan, huh? And how do you get in?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been there.”
“Can you swear on the honor of the elves that you’re telling the truth?”
“I swear on my honor.”
Serian opened her eyes as she answered.
There was resignation in her gaze.
A smile spread across Damian’s lips.
An oath sworn on an elf’s honor could never be a lie.
Which meant her words were true.
“I finally found it… finally… heh…!”
Damian laughed.
He had lived the past eight years for this very moment.
Burning everything he had.
His gaze shifted to the empty space behind Serian.
“You heard that, right… brother?”
“I heard.”
Standing atop a massive pillar of sand—
was Zeon.
“I kept my promise. I found Elharun’s location.”
“You did… you really kept it.”
“I’m glad.”
Damian smiled brightly.
But his smile was hidden as the helmet creeping over his face swallowed it.
The Prism Armor was taking root in his body—seizing control.
Man and armor were becoming one.
Damian knew exactly what that meant.
His sense of self was already beginning to erode.
Something was overtaking his mind.
His gaze shifted to Alexandro.
Alexandro was already covered in blood.
Ilai, known as the Spider Queen, was strong—surviving against her this long was already a miracle.
Gathering the last of his strength, Damian spoke to him.
“Go.”
“Damian!”
“I’ve achieved my goal. So go. Don’t look back—run and regroup with the others.”
“….”
“You promised. So keep it.”
“…Understood.”
Alexandro answered with difficulty and threw a punch.
BOOM!
The powerful blow forced Eli backward.
Seizing the moment, Alexandro retreated.
“All survivors, fall back!”
At his command, the Awakened of the White Bear Caravan gathered.
His face was filled with complicated emotion as he looked at them.
Only a handful had survived.
They had come prepared to die—but seeing how few remained made his heart sink.
Suppressing his grief, he spoke,
“Let’s go.”
“Yes, sir!”
The survivors glanced at Damian.
Damian looked back at them.
No words were needed—they understood each other completely.
Alexandro and the survivors began their escape.
Serian watched it all unfold—but couldn’t stop them.
All her focus was on Damian—
more precisely, on Broy and the Northern District Awakened he had captured.
“You’ve achieved your goal. Now release them.”
“Heh…!”
“You’re not going to break your promise, are you?”
“I’ll keep it. They’re all going to die anyway.”
“What…?”
At that moment, Damian released everyone bound by the tentacles.
Broy and the others collapsed, gasping for breath.
Then—
KWA-BOOM!
The warehouse storing the Spirit King’s Crown exploded, releasing a sinister black light.
Serian and Eli instinctively shut their eyes at the blinding darkness—
but Zeon stared straight at it.
The source of the black light—
was the Spirit King’s Crown.
Something sealed within it was awakening.
The black light engulfing Damian grew even darker.
Through that light, something began entering his body.
Crack! Crack-crack!
Damian’s body twisted violently, his form warping.
His frame expanded to over five meters, the Prism Armor fusing over him like skin.
His eyes burned red with hostility.
His mouth jutted forward like a beast’s, filled with flames.
Two horns grew from his head—
a clear sign he was no longer human.
Through Damian’s body, the being sealed within the Spirit King’s Crown emerged into the world.
Seeing that, Serian muttered,
“Ba… Balrog…!”
ROOOAAAR!
As if in answer, the Balrog’s roar echoed across the desert.