Chapter 444

“Wow!”

Zeon let out an exclamation.

The sight before him was astonishing enough to leave him breathless.

To make a serpent seventy meters long stagger with a single blow—

It was unbelievable power.

But looking at the man’s physique, it made sense.

No ordinary being could possess a body five meters tall.

Even among giants, four meters was usually the limit.

Yet this man stood a full meter taller than that.

An absurd body, with strength to match.

This was none other than Krudu, El Harun’s strongest warrior.

Sensing the danger to the World Tree, Krudu had arrived late—but just in time to halt Neria.

And yet, his expression was far from bright.

For though Neria had reeled heavily, she now raised her head once again, intact and unshaken.

From the jaws of the colossal serpent, a tongue flickered—mocking, provoking.

“…Still, I bought us some time. That will do.”

All around, more giants revealed themselves.

The warriors of the Giant Tribe, led by Krudu.

Every adult who could fight had come, children left behind.

Their mere arrival bolstered the morale of the awakeners.

The Giant Tribe possessed natural resistance to magic, their anti-mana force rivaling Neria’s.

Ordinary weapons could not pierce their rock-like bodies.

Their very forms were living weapons.

Not one giant faltered before the monstrous figure of Neria. They charged without hesitation.

“Waaaah!”

Their war cry thundered, and behind them followed the other races, and the human awakeners.

Thus began El Harun’s all-out assault.

Watching the sight unfold, Zeon murmured under his breath:

“A grand spectacle.”

“You have time to admire it? Must mean it’s none of your concern.”

A voice came from behind.

Zeon turned.

A beautiful woman in flowing black robes was descending from the sky, as light as a feather.

But from her radiated an air steeped in bleakness.

What struck him was her face—strangely blurred, as if covered in mist.

It wasn’t a skill. It wasn’t an item. And yet, her features refused to come into focus.

Zeon spoke:

“You’re a nonhuman, too.”

“That’s right. To you humans, I am one. But from my view—*you* are the other.”

“Well… everyone has their standpoint. But just now, did you call me an onlooker?”

“If not, why else would you stand here, idly watching?”

“There’s no reason for me to interfere.”

“And yet you entered El Harun alongside her, didn’t you?”

“Our paths overlapped for a time, that’s all.”

At his reply, her gaze grew sharper.

She walked toward Hera, who was writhing within the White Phosphorus Flame.

Hera’s barrier wavered at its limit, on the verge of collapse. Just moments more and the fire would consume her whole.

The woman stretched out her hand toward the flames, whispering:

“Hellfire.”

At once, searing fire bloomed from her palm.

Hotter, brighter than the White Phosphorus Flame.

She brought it to Hera—

and the White Phosphorus Flame was swallowed whole.

“Oh!”

Zeon gasped aloud, unable to help himself.

It was like the old firebreak method, when Earth’s forests burned—using greater fire to devour the lesser.

A method few awakeners would ever dare attempt.

“Khkk!”

Freed at last, Hera gasped out the breath she had held in agony.

Though her shield had spared her from direct burning, the pain had seared through nonetheless.

Only because she was powerful had she endured at all. Any ordinary elf would have been reduced to ash long ago.

“You bastard—!”

Hera, catching her breath, whirled toward Zeon, rage blazing.

But the woman who had saved her spoke first:

“Not him, Hera! The Black Queen must come first. His judgment can wait.”

“Deva! But—”

“Hera! Set aside your grudges.”

“…Fine!”

Hera yielded at last.

The woman—Deva—was a member of the Council, just as Hera was.

Deva belonged to the Abyssal Race, Kurayan’s most mysterious people.

Born from the Pool of the Abyss, they lived unending lives.

Some sneered, claiming their blood mingled with demons. But it was false.

Had it been true, no race in El Harun would have accepted them.

The truth was simpler: their numbers were few. Even fewer than the Highlanders, who numbered only in the dozens.

Because on Earth, unlike Kurayan, there was no Abyssal Pool.

And without it, no new children could be born.

Deva was one of the last, and their leader.

Her kind were born with strange gifts—Hellfire being one.

Not even Hera, wild as she was, dared treat Deva lightly.

Deva then moved to Liala, who still lay weakened from Zeon’s earlier blow. With a touch, she cast a healing spell.

In moments, Liala was whole again.

“Thank you, Deva.”

“Think nothing of it.”

Deva bowed lightly.

Liala glanced at Zeon, then sprinted toward the Black Queen. Hera followed.

Zeon turned back to Deva, puzzled.

“You won’t join them?”

“My role is rear support.”

“Seems a waste of your power.”

“And besides… someone has to keep an eye on you.”

“Fair enough.”

Zeon shrugged.

After all, he had entered El Harun alongside the Black Queen. Reasons to keep him in check were countless.

No one would dare leave him unattended.

Kwaang!

The battle only grew fiercer with Liala and Hera joining.

But Neria’s venom sprayed in all directions, the casualties mounting too quickly.

The Council leaders had no choice but to order their forces back, leaving only themselves to engage.

‘Neria…’

Zeon watched her in silence.

Neria was calamity.

The calamity El Harun had summoned.

Uron was dead, but the disaster he had called forth now unleashed hell.

Even under the combined might of the Council leaders, Neria’s frenzy only escalated.

It was madness incarnate.

Then—Deva spoke.

“Neria!”

“…You know her.”

At Zeon’s words, Deva flinched.

Everyone else in El Harun had called her only the Black Queen.

Deva was the first to speak her true name.

“So—you know she is Neria. Yet all others whisper only her title, trembling in fear. You know more than the rest, don’t you?”

Her face still blurred, yet Zeon could feel her brow tightening.

He pressed further.

“What happened? What drove a dark elf to fall, to become the Black Queen?”

“…”

“Was it your people who made her this way?”

“No! Nothing like that—”

“Then why? Why would a sound, whole dark elf become cursed by the gods? There must be a reason.”

“That… that is…”

Deva could not finish.

The haze that masked her face wavered, rippling like heat haze.

Zeon’s voice was calm, yet firm.

“Tell me. If I know the truth, maybe I can help. Speak.”

“You cannot help us. Withdraw, now.”

And then—

“Aaaghhh!”

A scream tore through the battlefield.

Deva turned—

Kelota. His lower half was stone.

The red ray from Neria’s eyes had struck him, turning his body to rock.

He crashed to the ground, struggling. His petrified half was numb, lifeless.

Summoning all his remaining strength, Kelota roared:

“Ghhkk! Beware—the Black Queen’s petrifying beam!”

Crkkk!

The warning ended as his face hardened to stone.

“No—!”

“Kelota!”

The Council leaders cried out in horror.

Petrification beams could not turn just anyone.

The power worked only on those weaker than the caster.

Kelota had been S-rank.

If he fell in an instant—Neria’s rank stood higher still.

“Damn it! Everyone, watch for her gaze!”

“If we kill her, Kelota will return!”

For petrification was a curse.

And curses could be broken—by destroying their caster.

So they believed.

But the problem was simple.

Killing the Black Queen was all but impossible.

Grrrrrrr!

Dragging deep furrows through the ground, Neria advanced.

The Council leaders unleashed their full power, but still she came.

“Ghaaahhh!”

Another scream—

Repo, locked in close combat.

The ray struck him, too. His body turned to stone.

Thud!

He crashed down, lifeless stone in moments.

“Repo!”

Krudu shouted, but there was no answer.

Liala whispered, despairing:

“At this rate, the World Tree is finished.”

“We can’t let that happen. No matter what.”

Hera’s reply burned with mana.

They were rivals, bitter as oil and water. But such petty strife vanished now.

Before the fate of El Harun, all were one.

The Black Queen—paradoxically—was the very force uniting them.

Kwaang! Kwoom!

Krudu and the Council rained their might upon her. Yet nothing stopped her advance.

“This… can’t be…”

Deva’s shoulders shook.

Zeon’s eyes fell on her.

“Why don’t you use the Hellfire you showed before? That could harm her.”

“That is…”

“Because of guilt, isn’t it?”

“…Yes.”

“Then speak. If you won’t stain your hands, someone else must.”

“You—are you saying you would fight her, if you knew?”

“I could.”

“…Is that true?”

“You of all people can tell, can’t you?”

“…True.”

The Abyssal race—eyes that could pierce truth itself.

No lie could stand before them.

And Deva saw: Zeon was not lying.

He spoke truth, at least in this moment.

Still—her lips held back.

Until Zeon pressed the final nail:

“Wait longer—and the chance to help will be gone forever.”