Every technique in the Nine Gates of Hell involves using martial skills to strike the enemy, and the Ninth Gate was no exception.
From an outsider's perspective, Death Gate's Night's Armor looked like a simple flying kick.
However, the power it contained was beyond anyone's comprehension.
Even Claudia, who had compiled the ancient texts of the Nine Gates of Hell, had never witnessed anyone actually use Night's Armor in her life.
The dazzling red lion charged forward with unstoppable force toward the Primordial Nightmare.
Blood-red steam spread along its path, resembling a direct route to hell.
Everyone watched this final strike intently through the recording stones.
At this moment, Leon carried not just the hopes of the Lionheart Society, but the collective expectations of every citizen of the Empire.
He had to win. He must win!
Intense energy coursed through Leon's body, searing every vein and bone with crushing pain.
Especially his heart.
Without Rossweise's protective dragon scale over it, Leon might have already collapsed along the way.
Just as he was about to unleash Night's Armor, the silver dragon scale on his chest shone brightly.
The gentle light reflected on Leon's determined face, as if its original owner were right there with him.
Energy radiated outward, creating a powerful shockwave that lifted the hair off Leon's forehead. For a fleeting moment, a touch of gratitude and tenderness crossed his fierce gaze.
"Thank you, Rossweise."
The crimson lion pierced through the Nightmare, and in an instant, the anguished wails of countless lost souls echoed throughout the Empire.
Centered in the Upper District, the shockwaves of the explosion rippled outward.
The blaze lit up the night, as if the sun had risen ahead of schedule.
In the distance, Constantine narrowed his eyes, staring at the devastated battlefield.
"So, this is the power of the Ninth Gate..."
Hearing this, Claudia seemed to recall something, turning to Constantine with a serious look.
"Didn't he say that this move was originally meant for you?"
Constantine: ?
"Then I suggest you reconsider your relationship with him," the cunning woman said, her eyes glinting with mischief.
Constantine snorted, flicking his sleeves. "A self-destructive martial art is nothing to fear."
The dragon kings were always known for their stubborn pride.
Claudia remained silent, a small smile on her lips.
"Leon!"
When Night's Armor concluded, Rossweise spread her dragon wings and flew directly toward the battlefield.
Claudia shifted into her dragon form, carrying Rebecca, Martin, and Nacho as she soared.
Once again, Constantine was left bewildered, watching them disappear.
"...I hate the Empire," he muttered as he started running toward the scene.
...
The group rushed into the battlefield in the Upper District. Rossweise and Claudia flapped their wings, clearing the dust.
"There!" Rebecca shouted, pointing to a figure ahead.
They ran over without delay.
Leon stood there, tall and unwavering. The red steam gradually dissipated from his body, and the blood vessels on his face returned to normal.
Before him were the Blade Trio, separated from the Primordial Nightmare's form.
The brothers were now so weakened that they had collapsed, unable to move.
Gimi slowly opened his eyes and recognized the figure in front of him.
"Leon... You really are... unbelievably strong."
Leon remained silent, waiting.
Clutching his chest, Gimi staggered to his feet.
"So now... the Empire is done for, right? We... don't have to be enemies anymore... Please, spare us, the three brothers. Can you...?"
Leon's expression was blank as he tilted his head slightly. "Spare... you?"
Gimi nodded desperately, his ashen face filled with sincerity.
"Yes, we were only pawns, controlled by the Empire. Now that the Empire is finished, we're free."
Beside him, the second brother, Gitae, shakily stood up to support Gimi's plea.
"Leon... we were indeed on opposing sides before, but now that Kanter has fallen, there's no need to kill us, right...?"
Leon's tone remained indifferent as he repeated their words slowly.
"No need to kill..."
"You... you're the hero everyone looks up to. Killing us now, when we can't even fight back, would damage your reputation, wouldn't it?"
"Yes, exactly! We're thinking of your image, Leon. If you spare us now, one day we three brothers will repay you!"
They continued their desperate pleas, hoping for mercy.
Meanwhile, the one-armed Gime, positioned to the side, quietly drew a Blade from behind his waist and edged closer to Leon.
Seeing this, Gimi and Gitae continued to distract Leon with their words.
When Gime was close enough, he lunged forward, aiming the Blade at Leon's neck.
But—
A swift figure darted in, tackling Gime to the ground and pinning his head down in an instant.
Nacho, holding Gime down, smirked. "You'll need more practice if you want to pull that off."
With their plan exposed, Gimi and Gitae dropped all pretense, pulling out hidden Blades and charging at Leon, ready for a final gamble.
But Gitae was quickly tackled by Martin, who wrested the Blade from his hand.
Gimi, on the other hand, kept shouting as he rushed Leon.
"Cosmodeous! I'll take your life and make you die with us—"
Bang!—
A crisp gunshot rang out, and the bullet struck Gimi's hand perfectly.
The Blade fell to the ground with a clatter.
"My... my hand!!!"
Gimi collapsed, clutching his bloody right hand and wailing.
Leon stepped toward him, looking down with a gaze filled with disdain for the defeated.
"You spoke of being forced, or of taking a stance that made you my enemy."
"And you thought that the fall of the Empire would convince me to spare you."
"That reasoning is completely flawed, Gimi."
"The reason I'm going to kill you has nothing to do with the Empire or stances."
"I'm killing you because you hurt my mentor."
"In other words..."
There was no warmth in his eyes, only the purest intent to kill.
"This is personal."
With that, Leon raised his right hand, and three streaks of lightning attached themselves to the hearts of the Blade Trio.
"Leon! Leon, please, spare us—Leon! Even as a ghost, I won't forgive you! I'll—"
Snap—
A single snap of his fingers, and the three lightning streaks erupted, shattering their hearts simultaneously.
"Say what you will in the next life."
"Captain!"
Rebecca ran over, holding her sniper rifle. "There, over there!"
Leon followed her gaze to see a bloated, overweight figure crawling out of the rubble, trying to flee.
"It's your turn," Leon said.
Rebecca smirked. "Got it!"
She raised her sniper rifle, aimed, and pulled the trigger.
The bullet fired straight, flying in a perfect line before piercing Kanter's knee.
The Emperor stumbled and fell with a thud.
"Why didn't you just kill that pig of an Emperor with one shot?" Nacho asked, approaching.
Rebecca put her rifle away, smiling. "The Captain has his reasons."
Leon walked toward the disheveled, fallen king.
Kanter lacked the cunning of the Blade Trio, dropping to his knees immediately.
"Leon, I'm sorry! I shouldn't have done those things to you... You're not a traitor; you're the Empire's hero—"
"Save your breath, old man."
"Please... don't kill me, I beg you."
"I'm not going to kill you."
Kanter sighed in relief.
But moments later, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps and the voices of the crowd.
Kanter glanced over Leon's shoulder and saw the Empire's citizens closing in.
"Your crimes should be judged by the people."
With that, Leon turned and walked away.
Kanter reached out, trying to stop him, but was soon surrounded by a swarm of men, women, and children.
"Down with the tyrant! Down with the Emperor! Let's kick him to death!"
"Strip him and parade him through the streets!"
"Throw him to the sharks!"
...
The revolution was over.
Leon, exhausted, limped to the edge of the battlefield.
Many citizens and members of the Lionheart Society wanted to celebrate with him, but he politely declined.
He was tired, so tired he wanted to sleep on the spot.
But before he did, he needed to see someone.
After a moment, he spotted a silver silhouette.
Leon clenched his right leg, gritted his teeth, and looked up, showing a weary smile.
"I won, Rossweise."
The queen lifted her gown, pushed through the crowd and the debris, and ran to her beloved.
In front of thousands, they embraced and kissed amid waves of cheers.