I Became a Raid Boss-Chapter 134: Final Farewell (1)

"You look like a mess," I said.

It had been a while since I’d last seen Edel, and she looked vastly different from how I remembered her.

For a moment, I almost mistook her for someone—or something—else.

The once radiant hair that gleamed with divine light was now dull and lifeless. The eyes that sparkled with brilliance were now shadowed by darkness.

"Ahaha. Aren't you the pot calling the kettle black? We’re in the same boat, aren’t we?" Edel retorted with a smirk.

"Mm..."

She wasn’t wrong.

As much as I wanted to point out her condition, mine wasn’t exactly stellar either.

A battered soul criticizing another—it was almost laughable.

So, I shifted the topic.

"Where are we?"

The last thing I remembered was performing the Ascension Rite. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself in this strange place.

Above, a sky of deep blue shimmered with countless star-like lights. Below, a river flowed like a mirrored fragment of the heavens, glimmering with stars.

Edel gave me an incredulous look.

"You’re only asking that now? Not the moment you woke up?"

"They say the best time to ask is when you realize you’re late," I replied.

"That’s just a roundabout way of saying you’re late."

"Well, you were the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes."

If she didn’t like it, she shouldn’t have been standing there in the first place.

Anyone else in my position would’ve reacted the same way.

"A normal person wouldn’t wake up and start picking fights with others," Edel sighed, turning away from me.

A streak of light fell across the sky, its tail trailing like a comet.

"You weren’t expecting me to say this is your mental world, were you?"

"Not at all."

My mental world couldn’t possibly be this serene, or this beautiful.

If such a thing even existed, that is.

"Well, what should I call it? The place where souls circulate? The origin of the world? My home? Whatever it is, it’s not a physical space," Edel explained, her tone nonchalant.

"Not a physical space?"

"Exactly. Normally, you and I wouldn’t even be able to have this conversation here."

"I don’t get it. If this place isn’t physical, how am I here? I am here, aren’t I?"

"Which is why I said this isn’t something that’s supposed to happen."

Edel pointed at me with a slender finger.

"If you still had a physical body, you wouldn’t be here."

"What?"

"You don’t actually think that’s your real body, do you?"

"If it’s not my body, then what is it?"

I pinched the flesh of my arm—a soft, tangible sensation confirming its existence.

Reluctantly, I took stock of my form: short stature, small limbs, and pink hair that swayed gently at my waist.

It was exactly as I remembered.

When I looked back at Edel, she was trembling, clearly holding back laughter.

Finally, she burst into giggles.

"Pfft! That’s your criteria?"

"Don’t laugh."

"Sorry, sorry. It’s just... you’re so cute I couldn’t help it," Edel said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

"Let me explain, since you seem confused. Only your soul is here. Your physical body is still down there, having all the fun. That was the plan from the start, wasn’t it?"

"...Oh."

Right, that was it.

As Edel spoke, my hazy memories began to clear.

"The Ascension Rite transfers the burden entirely to the soul..."

"Your body isn’t strong enough to withstand all the miasma in Laxia," Edel continued.

My body might have been tough—refined to the Master realm—but it wasn’t resilient enough to handle the overwhelming torrent of miasma.

My soul, however, had been tempered from crossing dimensions, its durability absurdly high.

The plan had been to shift the burden to my soul, endure the process, and let Edel handle any overflow of miasma.

It was within expectations for my soul to be ejected from my body during the process.

Now, I understood why Edel looked so worn out.

"Honestly, I was a little worried, but you handled it better than I thought," Edel admitted.

"...So it worked?"

If everything had gone according to plan, my realm should have risen.

Yet I didn’t feel any different—no grand sense of power or enlightenment like when I had reached the Master level.

As I clenched and unclenched my fist, Edel nodded.

"Yes, it worked. Not perfectly, but well enough. I twisted the flow of mana in Laxia to channel it toward myself, and I improved the constitution of the demonic races. They won’t be persecuted for their miasma anymore."

"Why didn’t you do that earlier?"

"If the dimensional beasts hadn’t invaded, we wouldn’t have had to. This was the riskier method, after all. One wrong step and I could’ve lost my divinity and fallen."

"And isn’t that still a risk now?"

"It’s different. Even if I fall, there’s a higher being to manage things in my place. But enough of that—come here."

Edel beckoned me closer and drew a glowing circle with her divine power.

The radiant light faded, leaving a round mirror in its place.

In the reflection, I saw myself—or rather, my body—locked in combat against dozens, perhaps hundreds, of soldiers.

I immediately understood what Edel wanted me to see and spoke bluntly.

"Was this performance really necessary?"

"Performance? I’m doing my best to ensure your body doesn’t harm anyone. Wouldn’t you be upset if it hurt someone you cared about?"

"..."

"The ideal outcome was for you to endure the entire burden of the Ascension Rite. Since that didn’t happen, this is the next best thing."

"Tch."

I understood her reasoning, but I still couldn’t stand the sight of my body moving clumsily, inefficiently attacking its opponents.

The absurd swordsmanship, the awkward movements—it was all unbearable.

I jabbed Edel in the side.

"If you’re going to control my body, at least do it properly."

"I’m not controlling it," Edel replied, exasperated. "Even if I could, I wouldn’t. A god can’t indulge in slaughter like that."

"You can make an exception for the Empire."

"No exceptions. If you want it done, you’ll have to do it yourself."

"...Hmph."

If I could, I already would have.

She knew that, and that’s why she said it.

Boring.

"Your entertainment isn’t my concern."

Edel stood up, her expression now devoid of the playful glint from before.

Her gaze bore into me, serious and unyielding.

"It’s time for you to make a decision."

"..."

"I haven’t given you much time, I know. But now, you must choose. There are pros and cons to both options, and regrets are inevitable."

This wasn’t sudden—Edel had already warned me that the Ascension Rite would lead to this moment.

"So, what will it be?"

Would I remain in this world and wield limitless power?

Or would I cross over to the other world?

"Make your choice."

I stared into the mirror.

The version of me reflected there continued to clash swords with the Imperial soldiers.

Familiar faces occasionally flashed by, and the wounds scattered across their bodies showed how prepared they had been for this battle.

Looking back...

From the moment I first gained consciousness to now, my life had been anything but smooth.

The girl in the mirror danced, her black blade slicing through the shoulder of a knight charging at her.

I couldn’t hear the sound, but it wasn’t hard to imagine the scream escaping his wide-open mouth.

I’d seen this scene countless times before.

The smell of death, a mix of fear and blood, the expressions twisted with hatred—it was all too familiar.

Even in the fleeting moments of happiness, a sword had always been in my hand.

But—

Even in such a life, there were memories worth keeping.

They were what had sustained me until now.

But the strongest pillar that supported me had long since left my side.

I thought I had nothing left.

So why was I still hesitating?

"..."

As I hesitated, the girl in the mirror took a few more hits.

Flames rained from above, colliding with the miasma and scattering embers in all directions.

For a moment, it felt as though the girl’s eyes met mine.

In that brief instant, I read the emotions in her distorted gaze and, as if possessed, opened my mouth.

"I..."

"Ridiculously strong," muttered Robert, the Fourth Sword of the Empire.

Spit.

A chunk of clotted black blood hit the ground with a wet squelch as Robert spat, not even pausing to grimace. Without missing a beat, he launched himself forward.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The pink-haired girl was already upon him, her pitch-black sword aimed for his throat.

Out of nowhere, a massive fireball streaked toward the girl. Her pink eyes darted toward it briefly, and in that moment, the oppressive weight bearing down on Robert vanished.

Boom!

The explosion sent dust flying. When the haze cleared, the girl had already retreated far back.

Robert took a deep breath, bowing his head toward the one who had intervened.

"You saved my life."

"It’s only natural. We’re allies, after all. Stay alert—she could strike again at any moment."

"Understood."

Strength returned to Robert’s grip on his sword as he focused on the girl.

The pink-haired figure was someone he knew well—a symbol of destruction bearing countless titles: the Empire’s Nemesis, the Crimson Reaper, the Death Bird, the Calamity.

Her innocent appearance was a stark contrast to the monstrous reputation she had earned.

She was the reason the small nation of Gracid hadn’t fallen to the Empire’s overwhelming might.

Devoting full forces to defeating her would have cost more than Gracid was worth, yet leaving her unchecked meant their troops were mercilessly crushed whenever she appeared on the battlefield.

A thorn in their side—this was how Robert viewed her.

"Good thing she’s lost her mind. The thought of that power wielded with clarity is horrifying."

Even without refined techniques, her brute strength was overwhelming.

"If she had her sanity, we wouldn’t be standing here," replied the sage, his tone resigned.

"Fair point," Robert conceded.

Using the brief lull, Robert quickly assessed the battlefield.

The girl threatening the continent of Ardina had already wiped out over half the knights brought to subdue her.

The survivors were injured, far from their peak condition.

"Goddammit... is this even possible?"

"Less whining, more fighting!"

While Robert assessed the situation, Apostles hurled themselves at the girl.

Their efforts were valiant, but their attacks barely made a dent in the battle.

"AAARGH!"

Most didn’t even get close before dying.

"Useless," Robert muttered coldly, watching another Apostle fall.

"Sir Ledin," he called out softly.

"Why do you summon me?"

A cocky voice responded.

"How many arrows do you have left?"

"Enough to last a lifetime. Not that it matters when the damned miasma makes them miss every time," grumbled Ledin, the Fifth Bow of the Empire, as he approached with an arrow crackling with mana nocked to his bowstring.

"If I create an opening, can you deliver your strongest shot?"

Ledin scoffed.

"Well, well. This coming from the guy who usually dismisses archers as glorified hunters. Changed your mind, have you?"

"Can you, or can’t you?"

"There’s the Robert I know," Ledin muttered, his bow creaking as he drew the string taut.

The frame bent, groaning as though it might snap under the strain.

"Do you even need to ask? Of course I can. Hell, I was about to beg you to give me a damn opening."

Robert allowed himself a faint smile.

Though Ledin’s demeanor was casual, his pride in his abilities was evident.

None of the wounds on the girl had been inflicted by Ledin’s arrows—a fact that clearly stung his pride.

"And the Seventh Sword?"

"That guy? He got smacked down trying to act tough. Didn’t you see it?"

"Tsk."

Though the Seventh Sword’s skill wasn’t on par with his, he wasn’t someone to be taken lightly.

Even with three Imperial Swords and the sage present, they were still being pushed back, gradually losing ground.

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The girl’s overwhelming power sent a shiver down Robert’s spine.

"This may well be where I fall."

"Does that mean I get to be the Fourth Sword now?" Ledin quipped.

"..."

Robert didn’t respond, deeming it unworthy of an answer.

More importantly, the girl, having dispatched the Apostles swarming her, was now looking directly at him.

Her eyes burned with hatred, so intense it felt as though it might consume him.

Summoning his mana, Robert felt his gray aura surge.

Shing!

His figure blurred as he dashed toward her, his blade cutting a low arc.

If his opponent were a grown man, the slash would have targeted their abdomen. For her, it aimed directly for her head.

Yet, as if expecting the strike, the girl intercepted it with her black sword.

Clang!

Rather than a sharp ring, the sound was a grating scrape, as though something were being torn apart.

Robert, unfazed by the block, immediately transitioned to his next move.

Ssssshhht!

His blade slid along the dark sword, the tip aligning with the girl’s pale neck.

One more motion, and her blood would spray as she fell lifeless to the ground.

"Tch."

But Robert withdrew his sword.

The miasma creeping up from the point of contact forced him to retreat.

While sacrificing himself to bring peace to the Empire was a noble thought, the miasma clinging to his blade wouldn’t allow it.

Whoosh!

As he pulled back, the miasma solidified into a sharp spike and shot toward him, aimed at his throat.

"Whether intentional or not, that’s dangerous," Robert muttered, swatting the spike away with his mana-clad left hand.

"...That stings."

It felt like striking solid steel.

Despite his bold claim about creating an opening, he still couldn’t see one.

Letting out a frustrated sigh wasn’t an option; any lapse in focus would result in certain death.

Instead, Robert stomped hard on the ground.

Boom!

A shockwave, laden with mana, rippled outward, temporarily suppressing the miasma around him.

The girl, however, didn’t falter.

Dodging another slash of her black sword, Robert’s mind drifted back to a lesson from his past.

"If you wish to take someone’s life, you must stake your own," his mentor had once told him.

It was a truth he had forgotten as his skill grew, and fewer could challenge him.

Why had the memory returned now?

"Are you telling me to wager my life?"

Though no one had said it, Robert felt as if the words were directed at him.

He laughed bitterly.

"Fine. My life it is."

As the saying goes, the soft may overcome the hard—but against overwhelming power, finesse alone is meaningless.

"Time to match strength with strength."

Robert began drawing in mana.

His instincts screamed at him to stop, warning that this would kill him.

But he ignored them.

Every ounce of mana he possessed, even that which sustained his life, poured into his blade.

At last, with a faint grin, he felt his senses sharpen to their peak.

For a moment, he saw the girl tense, her expression betraying a hint of apprehension.

"This is the final strike of the Fourth Sword. Take it," he declared, swinging his blade.

─────!

The sky turned gray.

And in the faded world, a single beam of light descended.