Will raged violently. It must have been because there were few things more thrilling than this.

Enkrid sometimes felt that Will moved on its own, departing from his intent. This was one of those times.

But if asked whether that was a bad thing, he would answer, not at all.

‘What the unconscious desires.’

Such things are reflected in Will. In terms of structure or principle, it wouldn’t stray far from that.

His loosened thoughts gave rise to a dozen impressions, but they soon gathered into one.

‘Strike.’

Even the shaking Will was gathered into one. Will, responding to intention, flowed along his whole body, passed through his arms and fingers, rode along the grip of the sword, and moved toward the blade.

‘An engraved weapon is a part of my hand.’

That’s what it felt like.

It felt natural for Will to head toward and dwell within Duskforge.

His steady breathing stopped, and he half-closed his eyes while looking at the wall.

From far away, Ragna, holding Sunrise, stared at his commander like that.

In his eyes, the Will contained in Enkrid’s Duskforge was endlessly folding and thickening.

“Something interesting.”

“Something interesting.”

Ragna muttered.

Shinar, watching Enkrid leap forward, stopped her limbs, which she had been swinging roughly.

Shinar was much the same as Ragna. She had already been conscious of him, so it wouldn’t be wrong to say she had looked at Enkrid even faster.

The air of the Demon Realm was, in itself, poison to fairies. She was only able to endure it because she held spiritual energy at the level of a knight—otherwise, a fairy wouldn’t even be able to set foot in the Demon Realm.

This place was truly filled with unpleasant air, a place that made one’s chest tighten on its own.

And yet, watching Enkrid holding his sword now, it felt as if the aura of a forest was emanating from somewhere.

That might have been a trace of the power she herself had infused when creating that sword. Or, if not that, it could be that the fairy’s sensitive senses were predicting what was to come.

Whatever it was, the reason didn’t matter to Shinar.

An ordinary person might be horrified at seeing what Enkrid was doing right now, wondering what madness this was—but for Shinar, her heart was only filled with the desire to cheer on the madman at the front.

Wasn’t that the proper attitude toward the one you love?

More than anything, Shinar believed in that man.

Wherever he went, a path would open, and wherever he headed, there would be light. The sword that would protect the child of forest and flower must surely be holding black energy within.

It made her want to hum a fairy’s song.

Instead of singing, she whispered in a voice that resembled her heart.

“Vera, my fiancé.”

No one heard her whisper. Pell, who was blocking arrows, and Rophod, who was fighting monsters, couldn’t help but have their gazes drawn toward Enkrid.

Is what that guy’s about to do really what I think it is?

That thought quietly surfaced in both Pell and Rophod’s minds.

Even with monsters charging, part of everyone’s awareness turned toward him.

Enkrid, knowing that his sword wouldn’t break, poured the endless Will into the blade with all his strength.

The formless power born from will seemed to flow through all the blood vessels in his body.

All of it was entering the sword. Duskforge accepted it effortlessly.

For an instant, it felt as if he might collapse from the loss of strength.

He adjusted to avoid that. And then, Enkrid pressed his engraved weapon against the fortress wall.

Click.

The blade, aligned horizontally with the ground, sank a finger-joint deep into the thorny wall.

With both hands on the grip, he steadied his breath.

There were no stray thoughts.

His focus was so sharp it seemed a blue circle had formed within his pupils.

Uoooaaargh, uaargh, aaaagh.

The wall screamed grotesquely and tried to stab with spike-like thorns, and the vines that stretched out like whips sought to ensnare the madman standing before them.

As if dodging that, Enkrid lifted his foot.

He ran forward.

Leaving the sword stuck in the wall as it was. In other words, the blade cut into the wall. It couldn’t simply be called a scratch—because Will had been infused into the sword.

As Enkrid ran, the wall burst apart with loud crashes.

Kyaaaaaagh, the howling souls shrieked.

KRRRAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKANG!

The sound continued in sync with his strides. Enkrid dragged Duskforge along the lower part of the wall in the direction he was running.

Black blood splattered as the bottom of the thorn wall was cut, exploded, broken, shattered, and crushed. A whitish smoke-like mist rose.

And whatever that was, anything with a beginning has an end.

Enkrid stopped running. Steam rose from his shoulders.

Flap-flap-flap—

His dark green cloak, fluttering wildly in the wind, settled to wrap around his shoulders and back.

As far as he had run, a long gash was left in the thorn wall. Shortly after, the ground trembled faintly, and the wall began to shake and tilt backward.

KUGUGUGUGUNG.

The earth rumbled, and a section of the wall fell backward.

It was a spectacle. A sight that made one wonder if such a thing could be done by human hands.

Though the collapsing wall looked unreal, the tremors and impact proved it was not a dream.

As the fallen wall hit the ground, it shouted that the weight it bore was no joke.

KWAAAAAANG!

A sound and shockwave ripped through the surroundings—loud enough to burst the eardrums of an ordinary person.

The vibrations made everything shake.

It felt like an earthquake.

The ground trembled.

Naturally so—Enkrid had caused a portion of the wall to collapse in the direction he had slashed.

The stones embedded to hold the thorn wall together broke and shattered, creating clouds of gray dust.

Just because it was the Demon Realm didn’t mean the dust was black or purple. A rock is still just a rock.

Over the violet land of the Demon Realm, night had fallen, and in the pitch-black ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ darkness where colors could no longer be discerned, the dust still soared.

As if smearing over the night’s darkness, something whitish covered everything.

Amid the booming and the dust, a brief silence spun through.

Even the monsters that had been charging looked like they might retreat in response to the sound and tremors.

Everyone stopped in surprise, stunned into silence.

Could the one who builds iron walls also cut down fortress walls?

Astonished gazes gathered on Enkrid.

Still, they were the Mad Order of Knights.

They were shocked—but not so much that they lost their minds.

“Not piercing through... but cutting it down and toppling it?”

That was Pell’s muttering.

Even with dust flying around, Pell had seen it, and his pupils were trembling nonstop.

How could something like that be possible?

That was the meaning behind the words—not simply surprise. More precisely, if you asked how it felt to see that—

“Did you ask what we can dooooo—!”

Lua Gharne’s scream could be said to capture that feeling instead.

Thump—

His heart beat, and he was exhilarated for no reason. Damn it, he could do that? That kind of thing was possible?

As such thoughts continued, he simply got excited.

From Frokk’s mouth burst a frog cry that echoed across the battlefield in place of a battle cry. Frokk’s vocal cords echoed his question to the enemy loudly in all directions.

Audin briefly stopped punching.

‘Brother.’

It was an act that naturally drew admiration and awe. He had cut a fortress wall with a sword. Rather than feeling rivalry, Audin wanted to show something too, offering praise for the feat Enkrid had just demonstrated. In front of him lay a part of the wall he had just pierced with his fist.

“Lord.”

He threw himself into the inner part of the wall he had split and shattered. It was a place one could call a jungle of thorns—squirming, moving, entangled, twisted.

“Crazy.”

Rophod muttered in shock as he saw it.

He saw Audin hurl himself into the wall of thorny vines that squirmed and repaired themselves. And the moment Audin entered, the wall too seemed to exert itself—its regenerative ability multiplied several times over.

On top of that, the vines tangled and twisted, sealing the entrance through which Audin had entered.

Two breaths later, the hole Audin had entered through was closed with thorn vines, and from the gaps between the twisted wall—formed of distorted ghostly faces, thorny vines, and shattered stones—shafts of light began to leak out.

The beams of light flowing from the crudely blocked hole grew thicker, and soon their numbers increased. Then the scattered lights gathered and exploded.

The white light—the holy radiance itself—was silent.

Only the booming that followed came from what was seared by that light as it collapsed.

Kudududu.

The ground rumbled as part of the pierced fortress wall collapsed, dropping thorn vines and chunks of stone onto the earth.

A ballista monster that Jaxon hadn’t had time to deal with was swept away and fell with a thud, spraying black blood everywhere.

As people dodged the collapsing wreckage, their eyes turned this time to Audin.

If Enkrid had cut the fortress wall, then Audin had punched a massive hole through it.

“Ha, ha, ha! I’m enjoying this, brother!”

The shining armor over his naturally gifted body was his symbol.

The thick thorn vines above him and the stones engraved with spirits froze with their mouths wide open, as if screaming.

It was grotesque—but seeing it, Audin beamed with a radiant smile. It was a smile full of happiness and satisfaction.

“The Lord awaits you in heaven.”

The curses and screams that had been spewing from the fortress wall came to a perfect halt.

The thorn vines that had resisted to the end drooped as well.

“These crazy bastards, what the hell are they...”

Only then did the one who had been provoking them emerge.

A magic spirit followed him, and Enkrid realized for the first time that a fairy’s eyes could open that wide.

‘Ah, no—by now, it’s a different species than a fairy.’

Because it fed on spiritual energy, it was a fairy. Because it lived in the Demon Realm, it was a magic spirit.

A longbow in its left hand, a sword resembling a needle on its left hip—the magic spirit’s two eyes fixed on Enkrid.

But during that time, Shinar was glaring at the magic spirit.

To someone unaware, it might have seemed like a gentle gaze. But Enkrid, now somewhat familiar with fairy expressions, knew it was a glare.

“You, whose form has rotted and decayed into that abomination.”

The magic spirit glanced at Shinar when she called out to it, but what had just happened in front of it was far more absurd.

What kind of insane humans cut down walls with swords and punch through them with their fists?

These kinds of lunatics were right here.

“You lot, really...”

Whether he was the castellan or a sorcerer or one of Red Foot’s apostles, the man couldn’t even finish speaking.

What kind of bastards even are you?

Lua Gharne puffed out her cheeks as she watched. She was pleased.

Frokk, his cheeks puffed out as well, opened his mouth.

“What do you think? That’s the answer to your question of what we can do.”

The castellan looked around. Judging by the fallen monsters and the lack of summons or signals, even the three magic spirits stationed atop the wall must be dead.

It was absurd, but that didn’t mean he had forgotten what he was supposed to do. Especially since this wasn’t even his first time seeing a wall collapse.

“Kill them.”

He spoke, and the moment his words ended, a black figure sprang up behind the shadows of Enkrid and Audin.

It was a magic spirit specialized in assassination. Purple skin, a twisted dagger in hand, and an incredible technique that concealed sound, scent, and presence.

Jaxon, watching those two, believed they could each hold a place within Geor Dagger.

Two enemy shadows rose.

And then, a friendly shadow also rose behind the assassin targeting Audin.

Jaxon slashed the neck of the one reaching toward Audin from behind with a stiletto.

A slicing sound rang out as the neck was severed, and at the same time, a thunk echoed from the skull of the one targeting Enkrid.

It was the sound of the Silence Dagger thrown by Enkrid embedding itself.

The one with the dagger stuck in his head made a motion like stabbing the air with his twisted dagger and then collapsed.

“Was that necessary?”

Enkrid asked as he looked back.

He had left Duskforge where it was and placed his left hand on Penna.

He probably could have stopped it even if left alone.

He had been focused, and although he had poured Will into the sword to slash the wall, it wasn’t a complete expenditure. He hadn’t felt any drain.

“No need for thanks, right?”

Audin was the same. He could have taken a hit, but he was still enveloped in holy light.

What he wore wasn’t just some blade formed from Will like Ragna’s—it was armor forged from holy light strong enough that ordinary metal wouldn’t pierce it.

“It felt like it was my fight.”

Jaxon replied casually.

And now, the true resident of the Demon Realm—the castellan, the sorcerer, the servant of the Red Foot—was no longer even surprised.

Yeah, so none of you are pushovers. Is that it?