KAANG!

The battle axe in Utor’s hand struck the boulder, altering its course.

“Gahhh!”

The massive stone slammed into the soldiers nearby. Losing his balance, Utor tumbled from his horse.

CRACK!

And as he rose and swung his axe again, it clashed with Geshkafor’s thick forearms.

“You're impressive… for a human!”

More precisely, it was his gauntlets.

Geshkafor drove his fists—encased in brutal gauntlets—into Utor with feral force.

CLANG! CRACK! KANG!

He turned his body into a weapon, unleashing a barrage that was savage and relentless.

“Kh…!”

Even the King of Barbarians, Utor, was momentarily overwhelmed.

“What are you doing?! Protect His Majesty!”

With that cry from his lieutenant, Yaphenon’s soldiers snapped back to attention. Though shaken by the revelation that the former Hero had returned as the Demon King, they were trained to adapt to chaos at any time.

Casting aside hesitation, they charged toward Geshkafor.

“Go.”

Clay gave his command.

“Support Geshkafor.”

The cries of Yaphenon soldiers and the howls of demons clashed in a thunderous cacophony. Axes and swords carved through air, and blood painted the dirt like shadows.

“Gaaaah!”

“Ugh!”

“Guaaaah!”

Agonized screams filled the battlefield.

Utor, swinging his battle axe wildly, paused to look around as a chill crept down his spine.

We’re being pushed back…!

Though his men were elites, they had already exhausted themselves retreating from Ezer. They didn’t have the strength left to face the newly emerged Demon King’s army.

And—

Are these really demons?!

Hadn’t they been scattered rats, crushed by the Hero and the Holy Alliance? Always on the run, barely surviving the clean-up efforts.

They’ve changed…!

Something—or someone—had transformed them. Whatever it was, the shift had clearly begun with the appearance of the Demon King.

BOOM!

“What are you staring at?”

Geshkafor slammed his fists into Utor’s axe.

“Is this really all a so-called king can do?”

“Shut your mouth!” Utor roared. “You filthy demon scum! You’ll die alongside that traitorous Hero, torn apart by this axe!”

WHOOOOM!

The power sealed in the battle axe surged forth. At the same time, the weapons held by Yaphenon’s soldiers began to radiate with a similar energy.

“Fools like you won’t bring us down so easily!”

KRAAAAAANG!

With a furious swing, Utor forced Geshkafor back.

“!”

Geshkafor dodged the flurry of axe strikes, his massive frame moving faster than one would expect.

Something changed…

As he watched the Yaphenon soldiers charge in with crazed abandon, Geshkafor quickly grasped the situation.

It’s that axe.

Before the battle, Clay had explained that Utor’s axe served as the core conduit for all of Yaphenon’s ritual magic.

It was the centerpiece through which he channeled all surrounding enchantments into himself.

Impressive.

That berserk magic—the one that dulled reason and sharpened blades—was now fueling Yaphenon’s soldiers into lethal frenzy.

Like beasts, they swarmed, and demon soldiers began to fall one by one.

Geshkafor caught the battle axe with both hands just as it came toward his face.

“Let go!”

Utor shouted like a beast.

“You’ll never stop us now!”

“You should’ve fought like this against Ezer.” Geshkafor sneered, “I suppose you didn’t, because once it backfired, you wouldn’t even have the chance to run.”

“What?!”

“GRUUAAAAAAAH!”

With a roar, Geshkafor spun, gripping the axe tightly. Utor instinctively tightened his grip, unwilling to let it go.

“Y-You bastard, what are you—?!”

Geshkafor hurled Utor—still clinging to the axe—into the air.

“Kh!”

Utor could’ve let go and dropped midair, but he didn’t. And so—

THWUCK!

He flew along a predetermined arc and was impaled through the shoulder—by a demon sword.

“GAAAAAHHH!”

With a shriek, Utor dropped the axe.

“…Utterly foolish.”

The one who had run him through was none other than Clay.

“Do you even understand how to wield the Prayer of Origin properly?”

“Y-You… damn you…!”

“Now you’ll see what comes of your own idiocy.”

Clay picked up the axe.

In that instant, madness vanished from the eyes of Yaphenon’s soldiers. The light drained from their weapons.

“W-What the…?”

Like men stripped bare, the soldiers froze mid-fight, their expressions stunned and confused.

And in that heartbeat of hesitation—the demons struck.

SHLICK!

“G-Gah!”

“S-Shit!”

“Run for it!”

Panicked soldiers broke ranks and fled. Clay watched the chaos unfold and said to Utor:

“I’ve taken from you the very savagery you relied on.”

“Wh-What…?”

“Your courage, your madness, your resolve—it was all fabricated. You weren’t true beasts. You only fought savagely because of ritual.”

A monarchy built on enchanted power. All it ever was—a pack of false predators.

“That’s why you clung so desperately to that axe.”

“Shut your mouth!” Utor howled, face twisted in rage, “The axe merely serves to support me, the king! You filthy traitor—who are you to lecture—?!”

“I’m not here to lecture you.” Clay’s voice was expressionless, “You lost. That’s all.”

Defeat.

Its meaning was terribly simple.

“D-Don’t be absurd…!”

To fall like this… in a ridiculous ambush…

Utor couldn’t accept it.

“What’s your goal, Hero? Why did you come back?”

Goal.

Clay let out a breath of laughter.

“If you’re really asking that… I see no reason to answer.”

“What did you say?!”

“Blame your own ignorance.”

With a powerful motion, Clay tore the sword free.

Utor’s body flew and tumbled across the ground.

“Syltanaro.”

Clay called.

『Yes, Demon King.』

“I’m going to engrave a ritual onto you now.”

He held the battle axe—the Prayer of Origin. It meant that Clay could now use ritual magic.

『Ritual magic is different from regular magic. Are you certain?』

Ritual magic bordered on curses—warped and alien. Even magia was a corruption born within the bounds of this world.

Rituals, however, were rooted in something beyond this world. The unknown.

No one knew what would happen if the Demon King tried to wield it. Everyone had reason to fear.

“I’m sure.”

But Clay already knew well what ritual magic was.

He had visited Yaphenon’s ritual archive many times—a place few citizens dared approach.

He had gone there in search of power to defeat the previous Demon King… though at the time, it had yielded him nothing.

Because it clashed with holy power.

Divine energy was based on purity. Mixed with other forces, it could destroy the user’s body. But magia was astoundingly tolerant.

Like a resource focused solely on becoming stronger.

The demons don’t reject your power. If anything, they accept it more easily than humans.

The former Demon King had once said that. In this regard, demons were more open than people.

Though—when every color mixed, only black remained.

The hunger for power ultimately summoned darkness.

Not that it matters to me.

Clay already walked in that darkness.

Ziiing.

The runes of the Prayer of Origin began to glow.

“Th-This bastard… How…?”

Utor staggered to his feet, muttering in disbelief.

“How the hell are you wielding the Prayer of Origin…?”

Even if magia could absorb other powers, the Prayer of Origin wasn’t meant for just anyone.

It required qualification. Specifically—the user had to be descended from the ancient Yaphenon bloodline.

“It’s probably widely believed only your people can use this power.”

But Clay had discovered the truth long ago—in the historical archives.

“To be precise, your blood is simply the key.”

So one could either possess the blood—or…

“Use it as a stain on the blade.”

The battle axe now bore Utor’s blood—splattered from his wound.

“From this moment, I claim my place in the Prayer of Origin.”

Once qualified, a new owner could inscribe their name and gain permanent authority.

“I, Demon King Clay, request to be recorded in the Prayer of Origin.”

A radiant light from the axe wrapped around Clay.

“N-No! This is impossible!”

Utor had never known. He had never bothered to research it.

He had no idea Clay had learned this secret as a Hero—because Clay had never told anyone.

“You… You traitor! That’s why you stayed quiet—so you could steal it later!”

But Clay only smiled faintly at the accusation.

“I don’t even feel guilty anymore. I did keep it secret, after all.”

Back then, he had thought that nothing good would come of spreading that knowledge. It would only cause chaos.

“Prayer of Origin… I will find you a new home.”

The light around Clay slowly flowed into the demon sword—Syltanaro.

『Hrk?!』

Startled, Syltanaro shuddered.

“What—what are you doing?!”

Utor shouted in a panic.

“You can’t do that! The Prayer of Origin can’t belong to the likes of you!”

“Oh, but it can.”

The axe was just a vessel. With proper inheritance, the vessel could change.

“It can—and what will you do about it, Utor?”

Clay stared him down, a grin dancing at the edge of his lips.

“You didn’t think this would be the end, did you?”

“Wh-What…?”

“I have no interest in your life.”

What Clay truly sought in this moment—

was—

“One of the Holy Alliance’s arms.”

Yaphenon would now be erased from the continent.

“Don’t worry.”

Clay stepped forward, his red eyes glowing.

“I’ll make sure every barbarian I don’t need dies fighting to their heart’s content.”

And only then did Utor finally understand—

What have we done…?

That the 'salvation' humanity had strangled to death…

Had returned as their ruin.

(End of Chapter)

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