Chapter 223: The Long Night Ends

As Edward swung the radiant sword of pure light, the blade extended of its own accord. A brilliant arc of divine luminance rose and swept outward, cleaving into the cocoon of light that bound the body of the God of Terror.

Miracle of the God of Light: Dawnbringer's Sword.

The strike came not with thunderous fanfare, but with serene inevitability. The blade of light cut through the cocoon as easily as it did water. The divine power of light sundered into the God of Terror's form.

The God of Terror's power began to melt away, consumed by ever-blazing light. Shadows billowed and writhed, trying desperately to escape the divine incandescence. But it was useless. The bindings held firm.

Edward's eyes gleamed with holy radiance. With a cry and a final push, he brought the sword down in a vertical arc, cleaving the God of Terror's body cleanly in two.

The shining blade dissipated into motes of scattered light that rose into the sky, golden and soft. Where once the heavens were cloaked in the god's oppressive shadow, the light now shimmered, growing brighter in the encroaching darkness.

The God of Terror loosed a dying, spectral wail. It sought to draw upon the terror it had sown across the capital, hoping to repair its severed, dissolving body via mortal fear.

But it found only one soul—brilliant, resplendent, and guarded by divine power. Marked by the god of light, it shone like the sun.

This single soul bore the burden for all the others enshrouded in the god's domain. The God of Terror could draw no strength from the world any longer.

"The light... it's shining. The black fog is gone. So beautiful... is it over?"

"The domain of the God of Terror has faded. That's the power of the God of Light. Stay alert. Have the city guard and royal guards begin a sweep, from outward in. Eliminate any remaining threats and locate survivors."

"Understood! All squads, move out! Prioritize the areas that were the first to fall under the god's influence. Minimize the kingdom's casualties!"

As the divine domain of the God of Terror began to flicker and collapse, golden light bloomed in its place. The people looked on, overwhelmed by the buoyant joy that came from surviving a close shave with death. Reverence for the God of Light blossomed unbidden in every heart.

But it was not only the god who won their awe. They remembered the voice that rang out within their souls when they stood paralyzed in terror, staring into the abyss. Edward Wolyn, the name of the man who would one day become Grand Duke of the North, was now etched into the hearts of every survivor.

The Nightblades didn't slacken even as dust settled and sighs of relief rippled through the city. They moved swiftly, executing the post-battle cleanup with precision. They and the city guard had suffered heavy losses. Even the royal guards hadn't emerged unscathed.

The heart of the capital, its central plaza,lay in ruins. The economic toll was incalculable. Most striking of all was the gaping chasm that now revealed the capital's shadow, laid bare to the common citizen's eye, for the first time.

"Whoa... that was Edward, right? Damn. The gods' vessel... even the title sounds impressive. I'm kinda jealous, honestly. But hey, as his friend, I get to bask in the afterglow a little, right?"

Charles emerged from Marquis Engel's ruined estate. He gazed toward the headquarters of the Nightblades, which was bathed in golden light.

He wore his usual smirk, full of irreverence—but beneath it was a thread of weariness that lent his demeanor a newfound gravity.

In his hand, he held a parchment contract—his pact with the smoke demon. The demon had signed it willingly. If the need arose, Charles could summon it back from Hell, and it would not hesitate to aid its late companion Hugin's friend.

"The smoke demon... now that's a curious creature. Smart and oddly human in temperament—nothing like the savage beasts most demons are. I wonder how it ever ended up working with the captain," Charles muttered to himself, clenching his fist and tapping it once against his shoulder.

"How the hell am I supposed to tell the others about the captain? I'm still too weak. My strength isn't enough. One, the road ahead of us is still way too long. I've gotta push harder. The dream of seizing our own fates... it's still far off."

One manipulated Charles' arm and gave him a light, comforting tap on the shoulder.

"Yeah."

Without further hesitation, Charles broke into a run toward the Nightblades' headquarters. It wasn't over yet. The exchange between the captain and Engel had revealed many secrets—secrets they could not afford to overlook.

Above his head, suspended in the void, floated the Chronostasis Hourglass. Its upper chamber had not yet emptied.

This was the sole legacy that Marquis Engel had left behind—everything else had been obliterated in the rift created by the clash between the infernal and mortal planes.

Charles had no intention of handing it over. After all, curios only revealed themselves when wielded. So long as he lived, no one would even know he possessed it.

Elsewhere, Sieg frowned. "Did no one come for you?"

Sieg knelt before his sister, brows furrowed, his voice grave as he asked Noelle about her experience during the god's descent.

"No. I stayed right here the whole time—with the innkeeper. No one came looking for me," she replied, bewildered. His serious face frightened her just a little.

"Mr. Sieg," said the innkeeper, standing by the bar, "I can confirm it. No one sought her out. Of course, the god's power did reach us—we too were dragged into that damned sea of fear. We don't know what really happened during that time. But unless someone came during the descent itself, no one approached your sister."

Sieg had entrusted Noelle to the owner of the Echoing Hearth, a retired Nightblade veteran, after her return from the Church of Nightfall.

Hearing the innkeeper's confirmation eased the knot in his heart. It seemed Rudolf's threats had remained merely threats.

But even so, Sieg had made up his mind. He would no longer remain in Aleisterre. He was fond of this human kingdom where he had spent so many years, but there could be no forgiveness for what Rudolf had done. Aleisterre had sought to threaten and curtail him via his sister's life.

That he left without razing half the city was, perhaps, the final courtesy he would afford humanity—and a testament to the restraint he had learned from them.

"Noelle," he said gently, ruffling her vibrant red hair, "after I bid farewell to a few friends in the Nightblades, we're leaving Aleisterre. You're still in touch with those friends from the Church of Nightfall, right? Traveling with them might not be such a bad idea. And with the Lady of the Night watching over us, we needn't worry about being hunted."

"Alright!"

Noelle beamed with joy. She was delighted to see her friends from the Church of Nightfall once again.

"What's this? You're leaving already?" the owner of the Echoing Hearth called out, revealing a mouthful of yellowed teeth with several conspicuous gaps. His tone was teasing as he pointed to a patch of thinning, graying hair. "If you get the chance, come visit us old-timers. After all, you looked just like this when we first met you—and your sister hasn't changed much either. But look at us now... eh."

He sighed with a grin, half in jest, half in rue.

"I will." Sieg nodded solemnly. "My time with the Nightblades has truly been one of the most unforgettable chapters of my life."

His disdain for Aleisterre stemmed from the malice it had directed at him and those he cared for—but that had nothing to do with the friends standing here now. He and the Nightblades would remain comrades for life.

The owner of the tavern seemed satisfied with Sieg's words. He knew well enough that for someone like Sieg, a mortal's lifespan was little more than a blink. By the time they met again, he might be in a graveyard. Still, all he wanted was a promise.

"Well then," he said. "By the way—this Edward, he's our Edward from the Nightblades, isn't he? Unbelievable, that lad. Turns out he's the Grand Duke of Lionheart's son, and he saved the capital as the vessel of the God of Light! Sky's the limit for him now."

The owner suddenly beamed with pride. He raised a glass and waved it in Sieg's direction.

Sieg chuckled. "Yes, that's him."

He, too, was thrilled. What Edward had accomplished this time was nothing short of unprecedented. It was hard to imagine how far this young knight would go in the future.

Meanwhile, before Edward's eyes, the God of Terror's colossal form gradually dissipated. It dissolved completely. Every ounce of resistance it had mustered crumbled the moment divine radiance poured into him.

Without fertile soil in which terror could take root, this god wouldn't be returning to Aleisterre, at least not for the foreseeable future.

Edward planted his sword into the ground and sank to a crouch, tilting his head back to gaze at the dark skies slowly filling light. A peculiar sense of peace washed over him. He had done it. The vow he once made, the duty that came with his noble birth—he had carried it to the end.

But exhaustion gripped his soul. The oppressive weight of the God of Terror's power had torn his spirit nearly asunder. Though the divine light had begun to mend those wounds, the weariness remained, an ache steeped in every moment he had endured.

His body wavered. His eyes closed. He began to fall.

But soft, pale arms caught him before he hit the earth. Sue had rushed over just in time to keep him from collapsing. From afar, other Nightblades were racing toward him from their headquarters.

Wang Yu blinked. "Is it over?"

He stood amidst the ruins of the central plaza, glancing around at the capital slowly brightening with the light of dawn. He spoke to no one in particular.

His surroundings were a desolate graveyard. There were heaps of rubble left by the clash between the God of Terror and the Perfected One. Corpses lay everywhere. This had been the first place the god descended, and the souls of the dead here had long since been eroded to oblivion.

Not a single noble who had attended the grand ceremony for the Elder Council had survived. And now, with victory over Selwyn secured and the kingdom's territory further expanded, the question of how to divide the spoils would only become messier.

"The more I think about it, the more suspicious this seems," he muttered, shaking his head. "It's trouble. I'd best get out of here. Time to find Avia."

Wang Yu had no interest in the political maneuvering to come. With the matter resolved, he saw no reason to stick around and risk getting dragged into the aftermath.

He dashed away from the plaza. Now that the God of Terror had been vanquished, there was no need to climb down into the capital's shadow through that gaping pit. From that height, a misstep could be fatal.

Passing through the wreckage, he entered a part of the city that still remained relatively intact. Even there, however, death hung heavy in the air. Distant though they might have been, no one in the capital's shadow had been able to resist that divine presence.

His footfalls stopped abruptly. His eyes sharpened, his lips tightening.

His ripples were telling him that something was wrong. The concentration of ambient magic and of void energy was slowly, almost imperceptibly, rising. It was too subtle for most to notice, but nothing could hide from Wang Yu's senses.

"...Damn it. What now?"