198 - Ruins Under the Moon

The moon hung high in the sky, glowing with a pale radiance that drove back the dense darkness swallowing the horizon.

Where once stood a symbol of faith and power of the Sacred Nation of Milis, now only an incandescent graveyard of ruins remained.

The Marble Fortress, once majestic in its white, ornate architecture, was now reduced to charred debris.

The walls that once reflected sunlight as if forged from divine stone, studded with sacred runes and gold-and-blue banners, had been pulverized, leaving behind only twisted, smoking fragments.

The towers had collapsed, creating craters where the ground seemed to have been torn apart by titan claws. Deep gouges scarred the soil as if ancient monsters had danced war there—abrupt trenches, burning fissures, columns felled like trees before a hurricane.

Corpses of soldiers lay scattered like broken dolls. Some were charred beyond recognition; others torn apart, as though their limbs had been ripped from them.

Armor remnants fused to flesh, shattered helms, and ballistae reduced to ashes lay everywhere. The scent of blood, burnt flesh, and residual magic hung thick in the air, suffocating.

The only sounds filling that void were the crackling of burning wood and the intermittent sigh of the night wind.

In the midst of this hell, a figure crawled through the rubble. He was a young soldier—no more than fifteen years old. His eyes were half-closed in pain, and dried blood glued his face to the filthy ground.

His legs simply were gone—amputated, vanished, replaced by stumps wrapped in makeshift, burned bandages.

His breastplate was cracked and nearly non-existent, revealing skin marked by bruises and cuts. Even so, he moved, meter by meter, with silent determination and mute desperation.

Then he stopped. A shadow blocked the light of the flames before him.

The young soldier raised his gaze slowly, as if he expected nothing but death. His eyes, though cloudy, caught the image of the man standing before him.

It was Rygar.

The Beast God.

Silent, Rygar surveyed the ruin of the Fortress. His eyes swept over the wreckage with cold detachment, examining his own handiwork like a sculptor contemplating his latest creation.

He bore neither satisfaction nor regret. He simply... was there.

The young soldier leaned against a fallen stone, perhaps a fragment of the central altar, and stared at Rygar. Hatred flickered in his eyes, but also resignation.

His voice, when it came, was weak but clear:

"Don't you feel any guilt... for killing thousands so easily?"

Rygar raised an eyebrow slightly, as if genuinely intrigued.

"You speak as if the Legion started this war."

"But it was you!" the boy ground out. "Why didn't you stay quiet in your forest?! Why did you have to come out and provoke conflict with Milis?!"

He no longer seemed to care who Rygar was. Pain and grief had stripped him of fear.

Rygar crossed his arms and replied calmly:

"True. Probably, if we had stayed in the Great Forest, this war would not have happened." He paused thoughtfully and continued.

"Perhaps it was inevitable. Look... it was simply your misfortune that I was born into an era when my race is enslaved and hunted for being weak."

The young soldier's eyes widened. He hadn't expected Rygar to actually agree with him.

Rygar took a few steps forward, glancing around.

"Don't think too much about it. Milis is a religion that was destined to disappear from the moment I was born. Or rather, maybe not disappear... but change. The faction that accepted demonic races would be the only one to survive—and that only through a massacre."

He knelt before the boy and grabbed him by the collar. The boy offered no resistance. He merely panted.

"See... in the end, this world is simple. It's about who's strongest. If you were stronger than me, the Beast God would be dead now. You would be heroes for killing me. And Pope Lucios would march his armies to the Great Forest, slaughtering every member of the Iron Legion."

Rygar smiled, then began dragging the boy through the rubble, walking across the ruins.

"But that didn't happen. I became much stronger precisely to prevent that. And who would have thought, Milis declared me its mortal enemy before I did."

They arrived at a ruined chamber.

The ceiling had partially collapsed, but a solitary magic circle still glowed on the floor—unstable, yet active.

This chamber had been very important in the Marble Fortress; this was a King-level magic circle capable of healing even limbs, provided it was fueled with mana.

It was fully charged by magical crystals, but had not yet been used.

Rygar hurled the boy onto it, and the circle activated. Magic enveloped the wounded body, healing his injuries, regenerating his legs with a soft light.

The boy gasped in astonishment, touching his own limbs as if he could not believe it.

"In the end... everything comes down to what you want to do."

Rygar said, stepping back.

"What's your name, boy?"

The soldier replied, still half in disbelief.

"It's Palat..."

"We're almost the same age, Palat. I want to destroy Milis now. And you? What do you want? To stop me? To keep fighting me? To keep opposing the Iron Legion?"

The boy took a long moment to answer. He thought... a lot. He looked at his hands, at the field of ruins around him. And then he said:

"I... I just want to see my mother again... she never wanted me to come fight this war."

Rygar paused, glancing over his shoulder.

"And what are you willing to do to get that?"

The boy clamped his fists, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Anything..."

A smile crept onto Rygar's lips.

"Then you've understood something."

"What...? What have I understood?!" the boy asked.

Rygar turned away and began to walk, serene.

"You've understood what it is to be a bit selfish."

The boy remained there, watching the figure vanish among the flames. Then he ran, hobbling, out of the chamber.

"You're going to let me go?! Why don't you kill me?!"

Rygar did not look back. He merely answered:

"It's just a whim."

And continued on his path through the destroyed Fortress, unhurried.

In truth, he had seen something quite interesting in that boy. He possessed a bright mana, like his own and that of many others Rygar had encountered.

This could indicate great magical talent; it was a pity he was already a bit older and had become a soldier, however.

Even so, Rygar decided to let him go depending on the boy's answers to his questions.

And so it was done.

---

Rygar walked through the ruins, thoughtful. 'At least the soldiers stationed at the Marble Fortress had the decency to evacuate the civilians.'

Even though he was at war with Milis, Rygar preferred not to kill civilians, and would do so only if he had no better choice.

In any case, this assault had gone more or less as he expected. It was time to settle the final matter.

He approached the main courtyard again, leaping nimbly over the mounds of rubble, until he reached his destination.

There, a bald man, with two scars crossing his face and a torn golden armor, lay inert, his limbs turning to stone and sand due to the insidious poison of Nighthunter.

It was Saint McEarntown.

Unfortunately for him, he had to watch his men slaughtered, unable to move. Rygar arrived, traced a magic circle in the air, and summoned a powerful confinement barrier around the man, activating it.

After that, he began to heal him. Color returned to the General's skin as Rygar used the Detoxification spell to purge Nighthunter's poison and mend his wounds.

The man looked around, then at Rygar, and with his age and experience, he soon realized something. Actually, perhaps he had realized it amid the battle.

"Why do you want me alive?"

Rygar smiled.

"It's good to talk with intelligent men. Well, I'll get straight to the point... you have been chosen to lead the last dissident forces of Milis!"

The man was stunned.

Saint McEarntown was a very important figure in Milis: Commander of the King of Milis' Royal Guard. But what caught the Legion's attention was something else: he, like the former Pope of Milis, belonged to the Demon Races Acceptance Faction.

In fact, he had changed many opinions at court and in noble circles during his years of service to the crown.

He was a man of friendly disposition, despite being a feared general on the battlefield.

Once, he had tried to contact the Legion to discuss a possible surrender or escape for the beast race. Essentially, he was one of the few in power who did not want to massacre the Great Forest.

He was forced by circumstances—he might not have wanted this war, but since it was already underway, he sought to end it as quickly as possible.

Because he was a famed hero, the Legion chose to use him as commander of Milis' dissident forces after his fall. He was highly respected at court, in the noble circles, and in the Orders of the Church of Milis.

Basically, he was the perfect candidate. Moreover, with his help, the common people of Milis would be largely pacified. After all, they were taking over the country with military force—they would certainly be frightened, even if the Legion did nothing to justify it.

Rygar discussed the proposal with the General. Fortunately, he was a man who understood timing and place. Even though Rygar had just massacred his soldiers by the thousands, he still knew how to restrain himself perfectly and analyzed his options calmly.

Then he said:

"Honestly, before today, I believed you could never fully take Milis. Never."

He paused, then continued:

"Even if you took the entire country of Milis, Milishion would never fall. That is also why we wanted to kill you here. All of Milis would be devastated before you reached the Holy Capital. That was what we wanted to avoid..."

He sighed.

"But you, in fact, are a God-level mage... That exceeded my expectations. You will probably be able to take Milishion, though it won't be simple."

Rygar simply smiled, without responding.

The knight looked around and said:

"Since you won't kill civilians, I can agree to that. But I have another condition."

Rygar arched an eyebrow.

"What is it?"

"I want you to spare Eleonor Hangel as well, the Flash Sword General."

Rygar looked toward where the general had been hurled.

"So she really survived..."

"Yes. There was a King-level healing circle in her armor."

Rygar narrowed his eyes.

"And why would I do that?"

The man kept a serious expression.

"She may seem a great warrior, but she's only twenty-four. She grew up protected until this war came, and was forced to mature amid brutal fighting. Before this battle, I promised her I would protect her at all costs. She was very afraid of you..."

He paused, his gaze lost in the rubble.

"It would be dishonorable for me to let her die and remain alive after that promise. Don't worry, she's not irrational. I can convince her not to act against the Legion."

Rygar pondered for a moment.

He reflected on everything he knew about the Flash Sword General: a noblewoman, an exceptional swordswoman, but in truth, she was like Jino and Nina would have been had he not arrived in time to change them.

A great duelist, but not a warrior. She had never been in a life-or-death fight until the war began, and was nearly killed by Verdia with a King-level spell once.

She learned the hard way how to be a warrior, but as far as he knew, she bore no specific hatred toward demonic or beast races.

Rather, she joined the war out of a sense of duty—she wanted to protect her people. Young and inexperienced, she was easily influenced by the old foxes of the Church of Milis.

After weighing everything, Rygar decided there would be no major issues.

"All right. She may live."

---

After finding the Flash Sword General's body, Rygar confirmed she was alive but unconscious.

He treated her most severe wounds and brought her to where McEarntown lay. He left them both confined, of course, within the same Confinement Barrier.

The General seemed sincere in cooperating with the Iron Legion after the war, but Rygar would not be foolish enough to release two generals—who's to say they wouldn't change their minds once free?

He then reinforced the barrier, raising it to God-level.

He established a magical code, a mechanism similar to a key that only he could use.

Since McEarntown could wield elemental water magic, they would fare well for a few weeks, as the barrier contained enough military provisions to keep them alive.

In any case, the assault on the Marble Fortress had finally concluded. Rygar climbed to the highest point of the structure and surveyed the field. It was still early morning.

For a moment, he wondered if he should sleep a bit... but he soon abandoned the thought.

It was time to check on the Second Vanguard Division, led by Ghislaine and Verdia.

In the distance, he spotted Palat—the soldier he had spared. The man walked alone down the road, carrying an improvised backpack.

He no longer wore armor, only common clothes.

Rygar ignored him completely. And with a leap, he broke the sound barrier, heading toward another corner of the battlefield.

-----

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