Episode 439 Dreaming the Impossible Dream (3)

Marquis de Sade and Major General Orca.

Two figures who were said to have the combat power of a single fortress joined hands.

“Pushishishi- The Ushers who chased me in the past were a little spicier, but this one is bland, so I like it.”

“Cut the chit-chat, prison escapee. There’s still plenty left.”

Marquis de Sade and Major General Orca were strolling through the Ushers’ God Killer Sniper Squad like it was a walk in the park.

But the changes that were taking place around them were staggering.


Sade’s whip moves like a giant snake, slicing through the assassins on the ramparts.

The bizarrely twisting and contorting whip slashes and slashes at everything it touches, sending a gale of blood around it.

kwang! kwa-ang! kung-

Orca’s club brushed aside the flying arrows with such ease that when they weren’t flying, it swung like a drumstick toward the ground.

Each time it struck the ramparts, it sent out a tremendous seismic wave, sending enemies tumbling down the walls.

Sade on offense and Orca on defense.

Their combination was a strange supercomposition of D’Ordume and Souare’s back in Nouvelle Vague.

Moreover, Sade is not only good at attacking, and Orca is not only good at defense.

Sade’s whip moved like a monster’s tongue, twisting and clamping down on flying arrows, while Orca’s clubs turned any assassin who got too close into a bloody mess with a single blow.

It was a perfect display, a circle of dozens of meters in radius centered on the two old men, and no one was allowed to enter it.

Bianca’s jaw dropped at the sight of it all.

“Who are those people, my family’s God Killer Sniper Squad…….”

No wonder she was surprised.

The God Killer Snipers, belonging to one of the Seven Great Families, are the core power of Usher.

But when Cimeries recognized the faces of Marquis de Sade and Major General Orca, his expression crumpled into a grimace.

[Aren’t they the remnants of the 47-man riots? Why are they gathered here?]

Sade and Orca’s gazes turned in unison, as if in agreement.

“Remnants’? Is that what you just said to me?”

“Maybe it’s because you’re a demon, but you don’t understand the world. Come here.”

At the same time, Sade’s whip and Orca’s club flew into the air.


A serpentine aura and a tidal wave of auras swept over Cimeries at once.

It was a shockwave powerful enough to bring down an entire spire.


Cimeries leapt into the air to escape the storm of auras that crumbled beneath his feet.

“Who says remnant?”

He gasped at the eerie voice from above.

Sade was hovering over Cimeries’s head, laughing a menacing laugh.


A bundle of whips, rolled short in several layers, crashed down like a thunderbolt over Cimeries’s head.

Unable to scream, Cimeries tumbled toward the ground.

And below, an Orca holding a club was waiting.


The club hits Cimeries, sending him flying through the city walls.


Sade’s whip struck again as Cimeries flew.

This time, the long lash tightens around Cimeries’s waist, and Sade spins it around like a clockwork.


Cimeries spun in a circle, still bound to the whip, and began to smash every bump in the ramparts, tearing up the ground around him.


When Cimeries, who had barely escaped the whip, staggered out of the collapse.


Eight teeth sank into the nape of Cimeries’ neck again.

It was Vikir, casting a shadow like that of the Grim Reaper upon Cimeries’s back.

“Demons kill.”

[How dare you, human……!]

Cimeries had just opened his mouth.


Countless iron skewers protruded from the ground and pierced Cimeries’s body.

Behind Vikir, Camus was smirking.

“A perfect reunion gift for my boyfriend.”

Over the shoulder of the cheerful Camus, Seere looked very small and sulky.

[Se, Seere…… you dare betray us?]

[Huh-huh- I’m not doing this because I like it either.]

[Shut up! If he finds out about this, you bitch……!]

But Cimeries didn’t get to finish his sentence.


Sancho’s axe, Piggy’s sword, and Bianca’s arrows came crashing down on him.


A golden grip emerged from the ground, pinning Cimeries to the ground, unable to budge.

Sinclair’s magic followed.


Cimeries turned to black smoke and tried to escape, but it was impossible.


Dolores’ white shroud had imprisoned Cimeries.

“Lengthen your neck.”

Vikir’s 8 teeth sliced ferociously across Cimeries’ body.

Cimeries stretched out his spear to strike back, but it was blocked by Decarabia.


“This side is clear.”

Where Vikir looked up, he saw Sade and Orca standing.

In the center of a pile of broken spears and arrows, the two old men stared down at Don Quixote and Usher as they held their attackers by the throat and head.

Vikir knew it was time to end it all.

[Kuhughhh- Kuhugghhh- Blood, if it weren’t for that ‘blood’, damn it! I was wondering why Amdusias got killed!]

Cimeries cried out in frustration.

But Vikir left him no chance.

Having cut off Cimeries’ ankles and wrists, Vikir prepared for the final blow.

He was going to destroy his heart cleanly.


“Vikir. Wait.”

A voice interrupted Vikir.

Tudor. Don Quixote La Mancha Tudor.

He approached, his eyes fixed on Vikir.

His one arm gripped Gungnir, the spear of the Spear King, firmly.

“Let me do this.”

Tudor’s gaze was hard and determined.

But Vikir refused.



Tudor’s voice was filled with frustration.

But Vikir was adamant.

“If you bathe in the demon’s last drops of blood, fate will change. Causality will be twisted.”

No matter how lucky you are, it can’t end well as long as you’re with the demon’s end.

A twisted and warped causality leads the Demon Hunter’s path to a bad place.

So the end of a Demon Hunter’s fate is usually dark and lonely.


“It’s okay, this is what I choose to do.”

Tudor chose to become a Demon Hunter himself.

It’s no wonder he’s so adamant about it.

Also, Tudor’s past destinies have left him covered in demon blood, so perhaps this is what he was meant to do.


After a short silence, Vikir quietly took a step back.

It was a gesture of trust.

“Thank you.”

Tudor bowed his head toward Vikir.

Then he turned to Piggy next to him and asked.

“Piggy, do you think I could get some of your blood? For some reason, your blood seems to be poisonous to demons.”


Piggy nodded at Tudor’s request and slashed his arm with the sword.

The dark red blood that flowed from his body stained the blade of Tudor’s spear, Gungnir.


Tudor lowered his gaze to look at Cimeres crawling on the floor.

Beneath Cimeries’s gaping mouth, at the base of his face, across his chest, was still the face of Pasamonte.

A heart peeked out from beneath the flesh around the gaping wound, The heart is visible through the surrounding wounds and black flesh that were split and torn by Vikir.

Passamonte’s face was distorted, wrapped around the heart of Cimeries.

Then, from between Tudor lips, a dry voice spoke.

“To dream the impossible dream (Soñar lo imposible soñar).”

Gungnir, the double-bladed spear, raised its head.

“To overcome the unbeatable rival (Vencer al invicto rival).”

Tears of blood trickle from his blood-red eyes.

“To endure the unbearable pain (Sufrir el dolor insufrible).”

His heart, pounding as if it were about to burst, squeezed out the strength that had been his at the beginning of his life.

“To die for a noble ideal (Morir por un noble ideal).”

All this to fulfill a true knight’s duty and obligation.


“It is not a duty, but a privilege (Su deber no Su privilegio).”

With Tudor’s last words, the King’s Spear Gungnir pierced the air.


The sound of torn leather and the destruction of the vile mass of flesh that lurked within.

The veins of malice coursing through the creature’s veins were severed, spewing out all the foul things it contained.

Cimeries struggled hard, scratching at the ground, but Tudor’s spear, pierced through his heart and embedded in the ground, did not budge.

[The Great…… Gate went…… The Era of the Demons……]

Cimeries muttered something in a fading voice, and then fell back in a heap.

He never moved again.

The fourth protagonist, who was leading the world to destruction, left the stage.

And the focus shifts to the newcomer to the stage.

Black blood. Demonic blood.

Covered in it, Tudor boldly embraces it, never taking a step back.

Tudor’s eyes shine through the demon’s black blood, clear and pure and righteous.

Vikir had seen it before.

In the world before the Regression, in the Age of Destruction, when mortal fate, when all things burned and died.

The eyes of a hero who lived and died at the forefront of his time, fiercest and hottest.

Don Quixote La Mancha Tudor, King of the Spears.

The will of a great hero who would lead the coming era.