“Array of Thunder”

Lightning began to crackle across Alon’s body as he took a step forward.

“Disassemble.”

The crackling lightning transformed into countless blue particles.

At the same time, Alon picked up a fallen Paladin’s sword that had been knocked aside during the battle.

“Dissolve.”

The blue particles were absorbed into Alon’s body.

“All Things Circulate.”

His body flickered, shifting like a faint afterimage.

“Form of the Thunder God.”

With the completion of a seal, he became lightning itself.

“Branches incoming!”

As soon as the barrier’s ceiling was opened following Alon’s command, branches began to force their way inside.

Everyone’s eyes filled with despair at the sight.

But at that very moment, Alon tore through the invading branches and shot toward the sky.

Boom!

With a deafening roar, shards of torn branches scattered, revealing the silhouette of Marquis Palatio against the backdrop of a blue moon.

Hovering midair, Alon observed the branches now shooting toward him.

‘As I expected, slow.’

Although the branches were approaching, their sluggish speed reassured him.

Feeling the hilt of the sword in his left hand, he thought:

‘It’s close, but everything’s ready.’

There were two reasons why Alon had been unable to move swiftly until now.

The first was the time it had taken to identify Machina’s weakness.

Until this point, Alon had never tried to discern the vulnerabilities of Outer Gods.

Outer Gods who hadn’t yet ascended to godhood usually followed the structure of their pre-incarnate divine forms.

Moreover, most of the Outer Gods he had faced possessed bodies limited to the size of his magic’s effective range.

In other words, targeting their weaknesses had never been necessary.

This time, however, was different.

The Machina before him was so massive that it dwarfed the scope of Alon’s magic and possessed overwhelming regenerative abilities.

In short, indiscriminately using magic was not enough to eliminate this adversary.

But now, at this moment, Alon had a clear understanding of Machina’s weakness.

It was thanks to an artifact he had acquired in the Holy Kingdom—a game item called Eye Eater’s Pendent.

In the game, this necklace allowed the wearer to gradually identify an enemy’s weak points after more than ten turns of combat, increasing critical hit rates.

And now, the weakness was unmistakable: the solar plexus.

Within Machina’s red branches and statue-like body,

Alon spotted a glowing blue figure in the shape of a person, positioned at the solar plexus.

He let out a deep sigh.

‘Only one chance. My mana is almost depleted.’

Mana.

That was the second reason Alon had been unable to move quickly.

He hadn’t expected things to escalate to this point.

Most of his mana had already been used during the initial attack by Anderde, when he had spent it saving Yuman.

As a result, Alon needed time to replenish his mana.

Even now, the results were less than ideal.

His mana pool, unfortunately meager, had almost completely drained in the fraction of a second it took to manifest magic and launch himself skyward.

What remained was so negligible that it was only sufficient for a single spell.

Though he had guzzled two potions in succession, despite the risk of mana addiction, the recovery was painstakingly slow.

Even at best, Alon’s mana reserves were little more than scraps.

In short, as ridiculous as it sounded, at this moment, Alon could no longer cast any powerful magic.

Normally, that is.

“Phew—”

Exhaling deeply, Alon extended the sword in his left hand toward Machina.

“Formation of Thunder.”

He recited the incantation.

Crackle!

As soon as the words left his lips, the sound of crackling electricity echoed in his ears.

The remnants of his mana drained away entirely, leaving him completely depleted in an instant.

“Ugh—”

At the same time, an intense pain surged through him.

His body spasmed in protest, unable to extract any more mana.

Yet Alon did not stop chanting.

After all, the spell he intended to cast was not Form of the Thunder God.

“Disassemble.”

Ever since his return from Raksas, Alon had devoted himself to the study of magic—specifically, the efficiency of material manifestation.

For someone like him, whose meager mana reserves would run dry from a single materialized spell, this research was essential.

“Dissolve.”

However, after half a year of countless experiments, Alon had failed to improve the efficiency of material manifestation.

Even so, he had discovered something valuable.

And that was—

“All Things Circulate.”

Instead of manifesting Form of the Thunder God within his own body, he could manifest it within objects.

Crackle!

The sword in Alon’s left hand began to absorb the blue particles, its form shimmering and flickering like an afterimage.

This was a discovery born entirely by chance.

While desperately researching ways to reduce the mana consumption of material manifestation, Alon had stumbled upon this unintended breakthrough.

But now, in this moment—

“Form of the Thunder God (雷神形)”

This accidental discovery manifested itself as the strongest magic Alon could wield at present.

Crackle!

The wavering sword in Alon’s hand suddenly erupted with blue lightning, sending bright white currents surging outward.

Gripping the sword as though preparing to throw a spear, Alon pulled his arm back and elongated the weapon’s form with a deft arrangement of its energy.

What he created was thin, long, and—

Crackle-crackle-crackle!

—a lance imbued with the sharp, unmistakable power of lightning.

The moment everyone, including Yuman, caught sight of Alon holding the lance of lightning under the blue moon, the weapon left his hand with tremendous force.

And then—

BOOOOOOM!

With an earth-shattering roar, the lightning pierced through Machina’s solar plexus.

####

The moment the lance of lightning struck Machina’s chest, everything came to a halt.

The massive roots that had threatened to consume the entire Holy Kingdom disintegrated into ash, scattering into the wind.

The enormous hands that had been moments away from crushing Yuman and the priests dissolved into white powder, floating away like snowflakes.

Thud—

Rumble-rumble-rumble—CRAAACK!

Machina’s once-imposing form, composed of countless branches, began to collapse as its structure crumbled into ash.

And yet, instead of focusing on the destruction of Machina, everyone present, including Yuman, had their gazes fixed on a single figure.

Under the blue moon, amidst the swirling white ashes that fell like flower petals, stood a man.

Even though he had single-handedly defeated an Outer God, his expression remained blank, as though the victory was only natural.

That man—the Marquis Palatio.

Everyone could only stare at him in stunned silence, awe glimmering faintly in their eyes.

But at the same time—

“This is bad!”

Behind his expressionless face, the marquis was wearing a truly serious and troubled look.

Everything had gone according to plan.

Positioning himself in the air to prepare magic without interference from the vines—check.

Identifying Machina’s weak point with the Eye Eater’s Pendent—check.

Draining mana recklessly and downing two potions despite the risk of mana exhaustion—check.

Everything had unfolded as planned.

Except for one critical detail:

He had not considered what to do after defeating Machina.

To be precise, he had thought about it.

After finishing his attack, he planned to conjure an ice wall with magic, carve it into a curve, and descend as safely as possible from the air.

Of course, he was well aware that even with this method, the likelihood of getting hurt was higher than not.

However, since this was the Holy Kingdom, he was confident recovery would be relatively easy.

After all, the priests of the Holy Kingdom, especially those of bishop rank or higher, were capable of healing almost anything as long as the patient was still alive.

But that was the key—the patient had to be alive.

No matter how skilled the priests were, they couldn’t bring someone back from the dead.

‘I didn’t expect the mana consumption to be this high…!’

As Alon lamented the unexpected amount of mana required to adjust the arrangement for Form of the Thunder God, he momentarily pondered how to handle his current predicament.

Thunk.

He suddenly realized that his rapid fall had slowed.

And then, another realization dawned on him.

“…Yutia?”

A soft, white, cloud-like substance created by divine power had caught his descent.

“You did well, my Lord.”

Soon, the sight of Yutia’s radiant smile, framed against the blue moon, came into view.

Alon mustered his remaining strength to nod in acknowledgment.

####

In conclusion, the Holy Kingdom’s celebration of the goddess Sironia’s birth was completely halted due to Machina’s sudden appearance.

This was inevitable.

Although Machina was ultimately defeated, the damage to the Holy Kingdom was catastrophic.

Even a nation as resilient as the Holy Kingdom couldn’t hold a festival under such circumstances.

As for Alon, the one who dealt with Machina—

“Are you all right, Count? Or should I say, Marquis now?”

“I think I’ll be able to move again soon.”

He was being treated in a hospital annexed to the temple for about two days.

Outwardly, he didn’t seem to have sustained any major injuries.

The few wounds he bore were a result of his incomplete control over Form of the Thunder God, rather than anything inflicted by Machina.

However, the real issue was his mana core.

‘A week of recovery for mana depletion…’

Despite risking mana addiction by downing two potions in quick succession, Alon had still succumbed to severe mana exhaustion.

As a result, he was stuck in the hospital for at least a week.

But to be honest…

Alon was desperate to escape the hospital.

No, more than that, he wanted to leave the Holy Kingdom altogether.

After all, he had accomplished his task and had no reason to stay.

The reason for his urgency was simple.

“Marquis.”

“What is it?”

“You’re quite the popular man.”

“…”

Alon sighed. While staying in the hospital, he had been enduring the overwhelmingly burdensome gazes of the priests.

He glanced toward the door, where priests passed by, their eyes filled with reverence and admiration.

Speaking as though to himself, he said, “Honestly, I don’t like it much.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Alon understood that being respected by others wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. In fact, immediately after being injured, feeling the admiration of the priests had been somewhat gratifying.

After all, everyone has a basic need for recognition.

But still—

‘Isn’t this a bit too much?’

It was overwhelming for every single priest he encountered to stare at him with such wide-eyed admiration.

And, truthfully, there was another reason he wanted to leave the Holy Kingdom as soon as possible.

“Marquis, may I have a moment?”

“…Saint.”

“Yes, Marquis.”

The reason was none other than Yuman.

“Oh, Marquis, come to think of it, I just remembered some information I need to retrieve. I’ll step out for a bit,” said Evan, rising from his seat as soon as Yuman entered. He quickly exited the hospital room.

Left alone with Yuman, Alon scratched his head.

“Well, have a seat first.”

“Yes.”

Yuman sat down remarkably quickly and immediately began to speak.

“How is your condition, Marquis?”

“As I said yesterday, it’s not too bad.”

“That’s a relief.”

Yuman nodded, seemingly reassured, then looked up at Alon with a gaze filled with both respect and reverence.

And Alon found it unbearably awkward.

Maintaining a good relationship with Yuman wasn’t a bad thing.

After all, Yuman was destined to become Eliban’s right-hand man in the future.

But having him come by every day, gazing at him with such admiration and reverence, was honestly too much for Alon to handle.

Grateful for his concern but hoping to dissuade him gently, Alon said, “I appreciate your worry, but you don’t need to visit so often. Please, focus on your duties.”

However—

“That won’t do.”

“…Why not?”

“Because you and I share the same burden, Marquis. No, yours is even heavier than mine.”

“…?”

“Knowing this, how could I turn away from you?”

Yuman’s eyes shone with even more respect as he nodded resolutely, reaffirming his determination.

“…”

Alon could only look at him, utterly baffled, as Yuman continued,

“I will never abandon you.”

With no way to make sense of Yuman’s incomprehensible declarations, Alon was left staring at him, lost for words.