Episode 486 The Marquis of Discord (4)

[The realm of the 9th Form lies beyond the threshold of death……]

A voice crackled into the distance.

The realm of the Supreme glimpsed in the briefest of moments, left a mark on his retina.

As a result of drawing the scenery there in the air like a hand-drawn ink painting, nine teeth were created, which was said to be absolutely impossible in life.

The trajectory of a cluster of living stars.


The Baskerville 9th Form was revealed.


Blood spurts from Andras’s mouth.

The nine teeth that tore through the boundary between life and death instantly tore Andras’ body into tatters.

Vikir stood still, a dazed expression on his face.

At first glance, it seemed like he was just standing there, mesmerized.

But Andras’s eyes showed something else entirely.


A crimson aura rises with terrifying momentum.

A dog of death with a black body, bright red eyes, and an open mouth.

[……Yes, I’ve seen death a few times, so maybe it’s possible to cross the line between life and death alive, but I never thought I’d get there].

Andras muttered in surprise.

But there was still an odd ease in his hand as he drew the sword at his waist.


Flames roared up the hilt of the sword, which looked like it had been molded from volcanic ash mixed with water.

Kazanbai, one of the Seven Demon Swords, crashed down on Vikir’s head.

Beelzebub parries the vertical fire strike, deflects it, and immediately strikes back.

…kkaang! ttang! kkang! kwagigigigigig-

Countless sparks of fire and shards of aura scatter in all directions.

‘Good thing there’s only one sword.’

Vikir thought as he parried Andras’s sword.

Andras, who had originally carried two swords, Kazanbai and Asmodeus, before his regression, now wielded a single sword.

It was much easier to deal with a master of dual-wielding when he only wielded one sword.

[Tch. Is it still difficult with a divided body? We have to become one properly……]

Andras rolled his eyes and adjusted his stance.

Vikir exuded a crimson aura and gathered all nine teeth into one place.


Black Sun. The star grew even heavier and more massive.

A black, enormous sphere of destruction that sucked everything in its path into its center and crushed it from within.

Andras chuckled in disbelief.

[Awakening at the last moment in the final battle and fighting the final boss one-on-one, isn’t that a cliché?]

“Stories sell for a reason.”

[……That’s true.]

At the same time, a dull noise erupted.

Andras’s face was sliced horizontally, leaving only his mouth.


Vikir’s sword bent at an odd angle in midair and returned.

Andras regenerated his face in an instant, then spread his wings and fell backward.


In the blink of an eye, dozens of blows were exchanged.


Andras unleashed a thousand flames, melting the surrounding golden pillars.

Vikir swung his strike through the dripping ceiling and pillars.

Andras also struck down his flaming sword and confronted Vikir.

In what seemed to be the final battle, Vikir suddenly felt someone standing behind him.

The same warmth he’d felt on the battlefields of Tochka.

A comfort he didn’t want to admit.

Then, a small voice echoed in Vikir’s ear.

‘You’ve grown up.’

The voice sounded so clear like it was right next to him.

At the memory, Vikir felt an unexplained emotion welling up in his chest.

This intense, vomit-like emotion was directed at his father, Hugo.

It was something he’d spent his entire life, through two lifetimes, denying, suppressing, and eradicating.

And it burst out like an explosion, carrying the aura of the tip of the sword.


A straight line is formed by the movement of a huge, swirling black sun.

Black Lightning.

It soon splits into nine trajectories, each stretching forward.

Nine teeth, each piercing, grasping, tearing, cutting, slicing, dismembering, crushing, mincing, and mashing.

The perfection of Baskerville’s swordsmanship tore the world apart.

In the Grave of Swords, CaneCorso’s demonstration of ‘The Ultimate Level of Killing Intent’ unfolds.

It is a level of swordsmanship unheard of even in the Age of Destruction.

Even for Andras, the pinnacle of predators, this was his first time experiencing it.

[What kind of nonsense……!?]

A slash that goes beyond eight directions and tears through all nine directions.

Andras struggled in the midst of the torrent that crushed his entire body.

But the outcome had already been decided.

The winds whipped around and the fragments of his aura were oxidized with intense flames.


The sword broke.

Kazanbai, one of the Seven Demon Swords, was burning bright red and crumbling to pieces.

Andras’s body was the same way.

Lava boiled from cracks all over his body.

His wings were tattered, and his two eye sockets were blackened and withered.

Vikir realized it was all over.

Though it had taken all of his strength, he had gotten what he wanted.

Once and for all, the life of Andras, the Marquis of Discord.


At last, the last enemy, Andras, fell to his knees.

Vikir held out his magic sword, Beelzebub, for the final word.

“Demon kill.”

The immutable logic of death and rebirth.

The ideology of demon hunters can be said to be dogma itself.

……However, there was one more absolute thing that did not change.

[I can’t help it].

That is the malice of demons toward humans.

It’s like that smile on Andras’s face at the end, even though he’s exhausted all his power.

[What did they say about stories that sell for a reason?]

Andras’s blackened, dying eyes once again emanated a darkness that was almost unbearable.

[……I couldn’t agree more].

Even Vikir could not help but pause at the strange composure of Andras, who was showing signs of extinction.

[The protagonist awakens at the last moment and faces the final boss in a one-on-one fight. In the end, the protagonist overcomes through the power of love and friendship. The villain’s final struggle must also be present, right? True despair].

“The concept of emptiness does not work.”

[Huhuhu- I don’t play such shallow tricks].

The ominous darkness emanating from Andras’s eyes grew darker and darker.

Suddenly, Vikir saw Andras’ current form overlaid with a memory from the past.

It was the last of Andrealphus the 3rd Corpse, and Flauros the 2nd Corpse.

Both of the demons he had slain before had been willing to pay with their lives to open the Gate of Destruction.

At a heavy price, of course.

Not so, Andras said.

[I, too, have no choice but to open the Gate of Destruction with my own magic and life.]

“Enough of this nonsense. I know that the Gate of Destruction can only be opened once.”

There is already information obtained from Seere and Decarabia.

The Gate of Destruction can only be opened once in this life, even by the most powerful demons.

Since Flauros has already failed to open and maintain the Gate of Destruction this time, there is no way the Gate of Destruction can be opened in this world anymore.

“I’m sorry, but the Gate of Destruction has already been opened by Flauros, and he has failed to keep it open, because of this torrential rain and the great flood that is now falling.”

[Oh, so that was you? I thought it was just bad luck that the great “last remaining dragon” was awakening at that time……]

“Once the gate is closed, it’s closed, and now it can never be opened again. No matter what sacrifices you make.”

Andras smirked at Vikir’s declaration.

[……Well, is that true?]

Andras laughed bitterly. And he continued speaking in a relaxed tone.

[I’m afraid I’m the one who’s sorry. There’s one more Gate of Destruction, and it’s already wide open.]


Vikir’s eyes widened.

Then Decarabia, who was hanging on Vikir’s chest, shouted.

[It’s ugly, Andras. To prolong your life with such lies. There is only one Gate of Destruction. How can you say that you can create two when it takes the combined mana of ten demon-king demons to create one in the first place!]

[Hahahaha- What is it, Decarabia? You’re acting funny, but I’m not lying, another Gate of Destruction is already open.]

Andras burst out laughing.

[No, not just one! I can open more than a hundred!]

At the same time.

Andras gathered his last remaining mana and summoned black magic circles around him one after another.


Dozens of dark portals drew in the air.

All of them were magic circles that didn’t require much mana.



In an instant, Vikir’s expression stiffened.

[You. I called you].

Vikir’s mind flashed back to the conversation he’d had with Andras when they’d first met.

[It was I who brought you back.]

What Andras summoned was not a portal to polar hell.

‘Oh no!’

A world line where the door to Polar Hell is already open.

It was a portal to the world where Vikir originally lived before regressing.