What Clay saw—

There stood yet another Lutan.

“…Unbelievable.”

Clay’s body tensed for an instant, but he quickly forced calm back into himself.

“So there wasn’t only one.”

Lutan—or rather, another Lutanox—turned to face him.

“You saw through it far too quickly. How dull.”

The copy eyed him, and Clay scowled.

“How many of you blades are there?”

“How many? That hardly matters to you.”

He shrugged.

“In truth, even I don’t know how many of ‘us’ exist.”

“What?”

“Our knowledge differs from one to the next. We are merely wretches born to mimic someone else’s image.”

His gaze settled firmly on Clay.

“Perhaps you aren’t so different from us.”

“Silence.”

Clay’s disgust showed plainly.

“You’re nothing more than a distraction left here to unsettle me.”

And with that, he charged.

“If you’ll wear Lutan’s face, then bear his sins and die with it!”

BOOOM!

The blow hurled Lutanox into the wall.

“Keuk… In the end, you and we are the same. Tools, nothing more…”

Without further resistance, the copy crumbled—shattering back into a sword before dissolving into dust.

『…Demon King?』

Siltnaro’s voice trembled as Clay stood rigid.

“I’m fine.”

Lutanox had known his weakness, clawing at his heart, touching the sorest wound.

But Clay wasn’t foolish enough to falter over mere words.

“We need to find the real Lutan.”

It didn’t matter how many Lutanox there were. What mattered was locating the true emperor—before whatever scheme he had planned reached completion.

“If he’s used the missing people for a ritual… if he’s spilled that much blood, anything could happen.”

If Lutan had broken taboos to reverse the situation, then something beyond their power to control might already be in motion.

CRASH!

Clay ignored the shouts of his army behind him and burst through the wall, forging his own path. This was no longer war. This was a pursuit he alone had to finish.

“Where are you running?”

“What you seek is here.”

“Stop where you stand.”

Suddenly, his path filled with countless Lutanox, all wearing Lutan’s face.

‘How many of these damn things did he make?’

Disgust churned in him as he cut them down, reducing each to ash. Yet more copies appeared, blocking his way.

‘Tch.’

It was like a nightmare. Each time Lutan’s form appeared, Clay was dragged back to memories of his time as Hero—

You must do it.

Lutan, as head of the Holy Alliance, had burdened him with duty.

Elhaen watches over you. Infinite glory will follow you like a shadow.

A shadow. Even then, he had found the phrase unsettling. Now it only repulsed him.

‘Get away from me.’

He wanted no part of such “glory” anymore.

“Out of my way!”

BOOM! BOOOM!

Dark mana exploded outward as Clay obliterated the copies. He pushed forward, faster and faster, until at last—

“!”

A pit.

Inside a chamber, impossibly, a massive pit gaped before him. Clay stepped closer to its edge.

‘No…’

A foul presence seeped out from its depths. His brow furrowed as he forced himself onward.

『Demon King, be careful. Something dreadful lies below.』

Siltnaro’s warning trembled.

“I’m going in.”

He would not stop.

Down he went, into the dark cavern. Mana-stone torches lined the walls, burning endlessly.

‘What is this?’

Even in his days as Hero, he had never known of such a place. A passage that should not exist.

Clay pressed on. And then he saw it—

‘This…!’

A vast hollow chamber.

Colossal prisons lined its interior, cages filled with demons by the thousands.

Clay strode closer. Yet strangely, the cells were silent.

『They’re all… dead.』

Siltnaro’s voice shook with shock.

The demons had been left to rot, their bodies shriveled with time.

Clay’s breath caught.

‘What is this?’

Even he, consumed with the thought of destroying Lutan, was stunned.

Frozen, he stared, then slowly turned away.

‘What have you done, Lutan?’

There was nothing more to learn here. He had to find Lutan and uncover the truth of what had been wrought.

But he didn’t know. Finding Lutan would not bring answers.

And then—

There he was.

“….”

Lutan.

Emperor of Krata. Head of the Holy Alliance. The one Clay believed had driven all of this.

“…Impossible.”

Dead. Long dead, by the look of him.

『Demon King—it might not be him.』

Siltnaro’s voice shook. But Clay knew. Every instinct screamed the truth.

This was indeed Lutan.

Clay sprinted forward, dropping to his knees before the body. He reached out, his hand hovering close.

Lutan.

Even on closer inspection, it was him.

A sudden dizziness struck Clay. Not from poison, nor from a status ailment—only because his mind could not catch up to the reality before him.

『Demon King, are you all right?』

He had run here consumed with thoughts of vengeance. To destroy the decrepit tyrant who had sought his death. He had driven himself onward, fueled only by hatred.

Yet before his eyes lay a truth he could not comprehend. His pain and fury, bereft of a target, turned inward.

“Kh…!”

Clay’s face twisted with rage.

“Lutan!”

He roared at the corpse.

“What have you done! What is this place?!”

The vast prison. The demons chained and abandoned. Even in shock, fragments of realization pierced through.

“You fabricated the magul?! Here?!”

Krata’s capital was said to sit upon a demon pit. Lutan had remained to guard it, protecting the world from what lay beneath.

It was a story every ruler of the continent knew. The reason Lutan was revered as holy.

A sacred guardian. If Heroes were born to serve their age, then Krata’s imperial line was the shield across history.

So the world believed.

“I thought you bore that duty!”

As a Hero, Clay had once been shown the demon pit by Lutan. But its entrance had not been this place. Another site, surely connected here.

“You liar! There was no truth in you at all!”

Clay spat the words at him. But the corpse made no reply. It was nothing but a body, long dead, slumped in silence.

At last, Clay’s shouts faltered. Only his ragged breath broke the stillness.

『Demon King.』

Siltnaro’s voice was calm, steady.

『You must leave.』

It was harsh but practical counsel.

『We do not know how or why Lutan died. Staying here could be far too dangerous.』

“…Siltnaro.”

『I speak only from concern. The fact that you reached this place may itself be someone’s design.』

Someone’s design.

That meant there was another—beyond Elhaen, beyond Lutan—someone else pulling the strings.

Clay’s fists clenched tight.

‘Who? Who is it?!’

A problem he thought simple had twisted into knots. Despair gnawed at him. He tore his gaze from the corpse, forcing himself to look around.

Krata still functioned despite Lutan’s death. Enough to muster armies, enough to wage war.

‘Then what were those things?’

The Lutanox. They had acted in his image. But if he was dead, they could not have moved by his will.

And yet they had spoken of being tools, of serving a master. That could only mean there was someone else above them.

『Demon King.』

Siltnaro’s voice pressed him.

『We must move quickly. Even if Lutan is gone, the disappearance of the citizens is strange. Whoever used him may have intended to draw you here. And if they’ve gone this far, escaping may be difficult.』

It was a cold, clear truth. Clay closed his eyes, then opened them again.

“…Understood.”

He couldn’t yet accept it, but he had to make a rational choice. Too many soldiers had followed him here. He had to endure—for their sake.

“Thank you. You’ve brought me back to my senses.”

Without her, he might have broken.

『Not at all, Demon King. I endure only because you endure.』

Her voice softened.

『But now, we must truly leave.』

“Right.”

Clay cast one last look at Lutan.

If not him, then who?

The question blazed inside him, but he turned away and pressed on. Past the prisons. Past the torches of mana-stone.

BOOOOM!

Suddenly, a crushing pressure slammed down on him. His knees buckled before he could resist.

“!”

『Demon King!』

His eyes fell to the floor—

‘This is…!’

A magic circle, nearly identical to what he had seen in Yaphenon.

A ritual seal—for breaking a substitute.

(End of Chapter)