Chapter 202: Passage to Hell (3)

Just a few minutes before Ketal appeared, holding the demon’s head and seeking out Karin, a very different scene was unfolding—one that would have changed the fate of the elven sacred ground forever if not for a single, unexpected interruption.

While Karin was locked in a desperate battle against the named demons outside, the winds and darkness tearing at the boundaries of the sacred ground, there was a man standing in the shadow of the storm.

At first glance, there was nothing remarkable about him. He was so nondescript that, had one passed him on the road, one might forget his face before one would even walk a dozen paces. Not a hint of demonic horns adorned his brow, not even the faintest trace of demonic energy showed in his eyes.

𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

He didn’t even give off the usual aura of magic or corruption. Yet this man was none other than Bruno, the Demon of Shadows—one of the most insidious beings Hell had ever produced. He had infiltrated the chaos, slipping through the hellish gateway by blending in with the monstrous hordes.

Bruno watched as Karin’s storm raged, her power carving a cyclone through the battlefield. The other three named demons—Abaddon, Stheno, and Bael—were locked in combat with her, their every ounce of strength and cunning bent on holding her at bay. Bruno smiled, almost with pity as he gazed at his struggling kin.

“They’re having a hard time,” he mused, his expression that of someone watching old friends play their roles a bit too enthusiastically. “But that’s the way it has to be—for my own performance to shine.”

He stepped into the very heart of the tempest. The truth was, every great force arrayed on the field today—every monster, the demons themselves, the blazing avatar of hellfire, even the floating Quiklon fortresses—had all been bait. They were there to keep Karin busy, to draw her attention outward, away from the sacred ground’s most vulnerable core.

In any other circumstance, Karin would have sensed Bruno’s presence in an instant. However, now, every fiber of her being was committed to keeping the invaders at bay. Bruno’s existence, so subtle as to be invisible, slipped past the edge of her perception and through the tempest as if he were nothing more than a shadow flitting through the wind.

So, with almost laughable ease, the sanctity of Elfo Sagrado was breached by a demon. He set foot upon the sacred grounds, feeling the slight tingle of the spiritual barrier—no longer as strong as it once was.

“As I expected,” Bruno whispered to himself, “the spirits’ barrier is weakening.”

He advanced at a leisurely pace, unhurried and unchallenged, approaching the mighty World Tree at the sacred ground’s center. Even from a distance, he could sense the elves gathered in hiding nearby, their prayers directed to the Spirit God and their High Elf Queen.

For a moment, a cruel glint flashed across Bruno’s face. The urge to seek out those helpless elves and tear them apart welled up inside him, hot and violent.

How easy it would be, how satisfying, to see the sanctuary awash with blood,

Bruno thought. However, he forced the desire down, taking a steadying breath. “No. Not now.”

He reminded himself of his purpose. He was not here to slaughter indiscriminately. He was here on a mission of utmost importance—a mission that would open the way for his master’s descent.

He leapt upward, his movements barely stirring the air, and ascended the great trunk of the World Tree. With the sacred ground’s defenders focused on the battle at the outer borders, there was not a soul left to hinder him.

In no time at all, Bruno reached the very top—the high, leafy branches where even Karin, the High Elf Queen herself, had often taken refuge.

He paused, breath caught by the overwhelming purity of the air. The World Tree, in all its primordial majesty, stood alone in the world as the very axis of life. Its leaves produced enough oxygen to rival the Schwarzwald itself. Its existence kept the entire continent clean and vibrant.

However, its most crucial function was something only a handful truly understood: It was the bridge between the Spirit Realm and the Mortal Realm. If the World Tree were ever to be destroyed, or tainted, the link between the Spirit Realm and the earth would shatter, and the very balance of existence would be lost.

A thrill of anticipation ran through Bruno. He reached out, shadow magic swirling in his hand, and sliced clean through one of the branches. Leaves fluttered and fell like dying birds, scattering into the wind.

He caught a handful in his palm, and with a flick of his wrist, opened a small gate—a summoning circle connecting directly to hell.

“Take this, then,” he said softly.

With a single, deft movement, he tossed the severed branch and its leaves through the portal, sending part of the World Tree directly to the abyss. This was his first mission: steal a piece of the World Tree and deliver it to Hell.

However, he wasn’t finished. His smile curled at the corners, twisted by wicked delight. There was one more step left—to defile the World Tree itself. He summoned a dense, roiling cloud of shadow magic in his palm, feeling its malevolence surge and coalesce.

“This feels good,” he murmured.

He was about to do something that had never been done—not during the Divine-Demonic War, not in any of the long centuries since. He would defile the World Tree, setting the stage for the descent of the Demon King. His hands trembled with excitement as he pressed his magic-laden arm deep into the tree’s bark.

He couldn’t help but mock the powers that had once ruled this world. As the demonic magic crawled along the tree’s veins, Bruno sneered, his words dripping with scorn for the heavens and spirits alike.

“Damn the gods. Damn the spirits,” he spat, voice low and triumphant. “Frustrating, isn’t it? Not being able to use your all-seeing eye for once? This world is no longer yours. Soon, it’ll belong to us.”

He pressed his palm harder against the bark, reveling in the act, savoring the sensation of something so sacred being violated under his hand. The magic seeped in, slowly, inexorably, invading the tree’s pure heart. A shudder of pleasure ran through him. For the first time in history, the World Tree—once the purest thing in all existence—was being tainted.

In that moment, every nerve, every thought, every scrap of attention was devoted to his work. He never noticed the presence behind him—never heard the footsteps, never sensed the danger—until a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

“Hm?” Bruno turned around, startled, and found himself staring up into the steady gaze of a barbarian—massive and broad-shouldered. Ketal stood there, watching him in silence.

“I return from the Spirit Realm and find all this chaos,” Ketal said. “You must be a demon, yes? Do you happen to know where Karin or Archemis have gone?”

“Uh... what?” Bruno’s mind blanked. None of this made sense.

A barbarian? Here? At the World Tree?

Ketal’s gaze drifted to Bruno’s hand, still buried in the bark, stained black with corruption. “You don’t look like you’re in the mood to talk. And from the looks of it, you’re up to no good.”

Bruno jerked his hand free, shadow magic swirling around his fist. He lashed out, pouring all the energy he’d gathered into a single, desperate attack.

Ketal simply reached out, caught Bruno’s wrist, and twisted. The surge of magic whistled harmlessly past Ketal’s ear, exploding into the distant storm and vanishing in Karin’s whirlwind.

Bruno’s eyes went wide with panic. He tried to wrench his arm free, but Ketal’s grip was iron. It was as if his hand had been jammed into solid rock—no amount of strength or magic could break it.

“Sorry,” Ketal said, almost regretfully. “I made a deal, so I can’t just let you go.”

He drew his axe, and sacred light shimmered along the blade. Bruno’s face twisted in fear, shielding himself with his free arm. In a single stroke, the axe separated Bruno’s head from his shoulders.

***

Now, back at the battlefield’s edge, Ketal arrived at Karin’s side, Bruno’s head still clutched in his hand. Karin could barely find her voice.

“Y-you seem... pleased,” she stammered.

“How could I not be?” Ketal replied, grinning broadly.

He’d always been able to overpower demons—knock them aside, break their attacks, outlast them—but never truly subdue or banish them. Not until now. With the holy power granted by Kalosia’s relic, he’d finally been able to bind a demon completely, preventing him from escaping. It was a satisfying breakthrough.

“At first, I tried to banish him outright, but I guess the relic’s power isn’t quite enough for that. So I brought him here instead. Would you mind finishing the job?”

“Ah, yes... of course.” Karin summoned a lance of wind, which pierced the demon’s head, sending the Shadow Demon, Bruno, howling back to hell.

A peculiar silence descended across the battlefield. Even amid chaos and blood, the moment felt strange, surreal. Karin was stunned, but the other named demons were far more shaken.

“Wait a minute...”

“What? Why is Bruno in that barbarian’s hands?”

“The World Tree isn’t fully tainted? Did he fail?”

Ketal, meanwhile, looked up at the sky, at the three floating Quiklon fortresses.

“Impressive. A real fantasy scene, up there,” he mused, almost to himself. He watched the fortresses drift, mighty and menacing. “Looks like the demons are invading, am I right?”

“Ah, yes, that’s right,” Karin answered, breathless.

“Then I suppose I should smash those, shouldn’t I?”

“Eh?”

“But, is it really okay to just stand here? I think the World Tree’s been tampered with.”

“Ah!” Karin snapped to attention, turning toward the great tree. She could sense it now—a thin but unmistakable taint of magic corrupting its heart. It wasn’t much, not compared to the tree’s vastness, but even the smallest stain was a grave threat to something so pure.

The taint, if left unchecked, would grow—spreading until it devoured the World Tree entirely. Only Karin, as the High Elf Queen and Spirit King’s contractor, could purify it.

“Ketal, can I leave the demons to you?” Karin asked him.

“I made a deal with the Spirit God. Don’t worry.”

“Thank you. Truly—I’m sorry to ask this of you.”

Karin dashed away toward the World Tree.

“What... what is going on?” Stheno muttered.

The demons quickly reorganized their ranks. With the High Elf Queen having left to purify the World Tree, this was their chance to cause as much destruction as possible. As they reached that decision, Ketal hefted his axe.

“It’s a bit of a shame to destroy such a fantastical sight with my own hands, but... a deal is a deal,” Ketal said. He crouched, channeling power into his legs. The ground caved in, as if struck by a meteor. Ketal’s body shot into the air, flying straight at the enemy.

The demons wasted no time in responding. “Kill the barbarian!”

A massive arc of darkness shot from one of the Quiklons straight at Ketal, swallowing his figure whole.

“Die, you idiot!” Stheno shouted.

Even though their attacks were being blocked by a Hero before, the force of each arc was enough to reduce city walls protected by magic to dust. To take such a strike without any defense—there was no way that barbarian could have survived. The demons were certain he’d been vaporized, not even ashes left behind.

However, as the dust cleared, Ketal emerged unharmed, still flying straight for Stheno’s fortress. His axe flashed, and the moment he reached the fortress, he swung.

A deafening boom resounded across the sky. The flying fortress Quiklon exploded in midair, its hellstone structure crumbling away, plummeting in pieces toward the earth below.

In a single blow, Ketal had destroyed one of Hell’s flying citadels. Amid the falling wreckage, a figure tumbled out—Stheno, caught in Ketal’s grip. Ketal slammed the demon to the ground and brought his axe down on Stheno’s chest.

“Blutka,” Ketal murmured.

A golden glow erupted from the axe, scorching Stheno’s flesh. The demon howled, writhing in pain, spinning miasma into a defensive vortex that forced Ketal back. Stheno staggered to his feet, gasping for breath.

“I guess my holy power is not powerful enough.” Ketal clicked his tongue. “Looks like Kalosia’s relic can only suppress demons, not banish them completely.”

Even so, Stheno stared at Ketal in disbelief.

Bruno had been taken down by this barbarian—and Stheno’s own fortress had been destroyed in a single blow.

Isn’t the amount of Myst he’s wielding Intermediate at best?

Stheno wondered, watching Ketal carefully. Finally, recognition dawned. “You... You’re Ketal, the barbarian, aren’t you?”

Ketal grinned. “You know me?”

“How could I not?” Stheno spat.

Ashetiaar, the Demon of Oppression, had shouted Ketal’s name all the way to Hell. Though the Branding hadn’t taken due to Ketal’s unusual nature, his name had nonetheless spread throughout Hell. He’d thwarted the demons at the Denian Kingdom, at Kalosia’s holy land, and countless times in between. Nearly half the demons’ plans in the Mortal Realm had been ruined by this barbarian.

Most demons now knew his name—and Ketal was delighted by the recognition.

“So my reputation has spread that far? Not bad,” Ketal mused.

“Barbarian! How dare you interfere with us!”

“It was just a coincidence,” Ketal replied, almost apologetically. “If I got in your way, that’s unfortunate. My apologies.”

“Apologies?” Stheno was thrown off by the barbarians’ friendly tone.

They were demons—absolute enemies of the world—yet Ketal spoke with no hatred or animosity in his eyes, as if they were just acquaintances.

Stheno recovered quickly, face twisting with rage. “Enough talk. You’re here now, and there’s only one thing left to do.”

Stheno drew a deep breath and roared, his voice echoing across the battlefield. “Creatures of Hell! Our plan may have failed, but before us stands a marked enemy of Hell—one who must die!”

At his command, every monster on the field turned away from the elves and charged toward Ketal. Even the incarnate demon forms hurled themselves into the fray, detonating hellfire like living bombs.

“What a petty move!” the Spirit King of Wind cried, conjuring a barrier that captured and contained the exploding hellfire.

Seizing the opportunity, the hellfire vessel rushed Ketal, and the flying fortresses—what was left of them—detonated in a final, desperate act of self-destruction.

“Damn it!” Arkemis cried, her face pale as she watched the fortresses explode, flinging debris and miasma in all directions. If left unchecked, the darkness would engulf the entire region. The elves couldn’t stop it—not without Karin, and she was occupied purifying the World Tree.

Arkemis steeled herself. She flung open her robe, revealing a trove of rare catalysts she had pilfered over time—items so valuable that a single one could buy a castle, all forbidden outside the sacred ground.

When she’d first started learning alchemy, she hadn’t realized their worth, but now she did—and she’d carefully stashed away a collection, a secret that would have gotten her imprisoned if discovered. Karin knew, of course, but had always turned a blind eye, considering it a harmless prank.

Now, Arkemis called on those stolen catalysts, unleashing their power in one massive act of alchemy.

“Dew formed at the tips of the World Tree’s leaves! Rotting roots from the ancient stumps born with the World Tree! The cocoons of caterpillars that fed on the tree’s leaves! Powder from the roots where High Elves are born!”

Any one of those would have made a master alchemist’s fortune. Now, Arkemis wielded them all at once. As the catalysts resonated with her Myst, a translucent barrier unfolded, intercepting the falling fortress debris. Arkemis cried out, biting her lip until blood ran down her chin. The strain was immense, but she refused to yield.

The elves stared in awe at her defiance. Meanwhile, every demon and monster charged Ketal. Ketal welcomed them with his axe.

One after another, monsters were crushed to pulp. The authorities of the named demons—authority of destruction, whirl, and ruin—assailed Ketal from all sides, but his body barely moved. Even when the hellfire’s vessel lunged, engulfing him in hellfire, the flames could only scorch his clothes, not his flesh.

Ketal laughed. “That’s hot!”

With a single swing, he split the vessel in two, extinguishing its hellfire with brute force. He batted aside the other demons’ authorities, each blow shaking the earth.

Stheno could only stare in disbelief. The full might of Hell, brought to bear, seemed like nothing to this barbarian—and he was even enjoying it.

“A humanoid vessel burning black in the flames! This is Incredible! The Outside is so much fun!”

“Outside?” Stheno repeated. The word stopped him cold.

Hellfire burned away the remains of Ketal’s clothing, revealing a grotesque scar across his chest.

Stheno’s eyes widened in shock. “That scar... You’re from the White Snowfield, aren’t you?”

Ketal shrugged. “Took you long enough to figure it out.”

“That’s impossible!” Stheno shouted, voice cracking with panic. “You... you people are enemies of the world! To take one side and oppose the other—it’s unthinkable!”

Ketal’s tone turned cool. “You don’t have the right to judge me.”

With that, he leapt, knocking aside the last of the demon’s attacks, seizing Stheno by the head, and crushing it with raw strength.