CHAPTER 571: CHAPTER 573: WINGS OF DESTRUCTION

"For all the people who have died following me... I am... forgive me for my incompetence, for my weakness, but most of all for being Abellona of Destruction..."

This was what had lain in her heart for many years. She was in her late twenties now, a prodigy about to reach the fourth class.

Years of court politics and battles had raised her from an ordinary princess to an extraordinary warrior princess.

A princess of war. Abellona of Destruction.

Yet for every one of her followers who had died, they had died carrying faith, hope, love, and dreams. They had left something behind.

Some had left their families. Others their wishes.

’Why can’t I be Abellona of Love... why can’t I be Abellona of Kindness... of Hope... of Peace....’

She could not. She had to be Abellona of Destruction. Wherever she walked, grass would never grow. She was born with the singular, most destructive attribute.

Abellona did not wield wind, or fire, or any element. She was born with the very concept of destruction as her attribute.

All she touched would eventually be destroyed.

She was doomed to solitude. No one by her side could stay for long. Those who tried would face death and ruin, again and again.

And with every fallen follower, a new face would rise to take their place, eager to serve her legend, eager to give her their faith.

She carried it all, never forgetting those who had fallen.

All things could be destroyed. Was there anything greater than destruction? Hardly.

Even death was only a form of destruction. Perhaps only nothingness was greater, for even destruction would return to nothingness.

Yet despite all of this, despite all the tragedy she had caused, Abellona still held her pride.

Because all those amazing people had believed in her. They had died believing in her. There had to be something they saw in her that she could not see herself.

She would not let anyone desecrate them—not even the legendary Ashcroft.

Her spear gleamed in her hand.

Her cold eyes strained painfully at Gaston, her lips pressed between her teeth.

Gaston smiled calmly.

"I have never seen such an expression on your face, Princess. Do not be sad. Many still believe in you."

She said nothing as Gaston pulled his sword from its sheath.

"You are strong. Do not show weakness before an enemy."

He took a battle stance.

"I am the knight of the Demon Lord of Domination. Gaston of the Nero Lands."

Abellona’s red eyes grew cold. They glowed like a river of blood had been formed.

"...Gaston of the Nero Lands, you have served me well. I am honored to have had your loyalty all these years. I will kill you in three minutes."

Gaston smiled, pain evident in his eyes.

"Hail Lord Ashcroft."

In that moment it was as if the world had changed shades. The air trembled before it collapsed into a cacophony of violence that echoed across the forest.

Even at this distance, it was clear Ashcroft would hear. He would soon arrive.

Still, that did not matter to Abellona.

The earth around her shattered and began to disappear. Everything was raised into the sky.

The trees had been sliced apart by Gaston’s single sword sweep, yet that all-consuming attack, which had cut through the forest like a single strand of weak hair, had been stopped.

Stopped by Abellona, glowing red, her golden spear turning crimson where her hands gripped its long metallic shaft.

Her wings spread wide. The golden hue of her feathers faded little by little, turning deep red. Her hair whipped wildly in the winds as the astral force from Gaston’s blade pressed against her.

He pulled his sword back and swung it in a circle, building momentum in a flashing instant.

Abellona’s wings, tipped in red, met his blade head-on with a deafening clang. Sparks burst outward as if two hard metals had struck.

Her wings were unharmed. His sword chipped, a piece breaking away.

Gaston smiled, then laughed. He struck again. She swung her spear, and the battlefield shook with thunderous flashes. Sparks sprayed with each clash, until dust clouds rolled as they moved across the ground.

The dust and sparks collided beneath their heavy exchanges, steel against steel, flesh against flesh.

Lightning flashed in the dust, making it seem as though a volcano had erupted. The forest trembled. The earth broke, forming deep craters.

Critters scattered in terror.

Blood streaked down Gaston’s lips and cheeks. He could not push past her wings with technique alone.

Her skill, [Wings of Destruction], gave her wings the embodiment of destruction itself. Anything they touched ceased to exist.

But he knew the truth. The red spreading across her wings was not magic—it was destruction incarnate. If it spread too far, it would reach her body.

And if destruction touched mortal flesh, the result was clear. Abellona herself would be destroyed.

Her strongest skill was also her undoing.

The more she used it, the faster she hastened toward her demise.

Gaston bit his lip, watching her wings redden by the minute. This was only the beginning.

"Princess..." he muttered.

Her eyes glowed red. He could feel her anguish in every strike, every blow. This was all the pain she hid behind her aloof mask.

She cared more than she admitted. What kind of ruler could endure watching their followers die?

He could feel her guilt. Why was she always the one who lived?

His arms screamed under her power, pulverized by her strikes. His sword cracked apart. A swordsman without a sword was already a dead man.

He smiled as her wings crushed his form. At last, his mind was freed from Ashcroft’s domination. His body faded, only his head remained for a moment longer.

His mouth opened slowly.

"It was an honor, Princess... thank you for everything."

Abellona finished him without hesitation. Her hand clenched around her bleeding fist, her spear steady in her grip, her hair drifting in the storm.

She paused for a moment; the world grew silent, so did her heart.

"I was honored."

Her eyes turned to Damon, who was locked in battle with the Balrog.