The boy's ability as a wish-granting machine was undeniably powerful.
One after another, mighty phantasmal beasts appeared—creatures from humanity's oldest legends, summoned by the villagers' prayers.
At first, it was mere chimeras.
Then came dragons of myth.
"Weak. Far too weak. If that's all you can muster, you'll never last until dawn."
Crimson Moon raised her hands with grace.
As though she were the mistress of the world itself, countless silver chains burst forth from the ground—each thick enough to pulverize mountains.
Dragons tens of meters tall, chimeras with their infamous vitality—all of them were slain in a single gesture.
It was as effortless as exhaling.
She hadn't even needed to take a step.
"Damn it… damn it, you're joking! Impossible!
Those beasts were enough to topple nations! How could they lose? More! We need more! Summon something stronger!"
The villagers' frenzy only deepened.
They bled the boy dry, almost to the point of devouring him alive.
Roars that stirred the memory of ancient times shook the air.
Flames erupted.
From the underworld's myth, a beast stepped forth—the three-headed guardian hound, Cerberus.
With it came other divine beasts: the flame giant, the sphinx, and at last—one of Tiamat's most terrible children, the Lion of the Sun, Ugallu.
These were no longer phantasmal beasts.
They were divine beasts—creatures nearly extinct in the modern world.
A patchwork of mythologies stood before them: Greek, Mesopotamian, Norse…
"Heh. Now this is interesting."
Crimson Moon's lips curved upward.
The silver chains dissolved like melting snow.
Her crimson eyes blazed, shifting to radiant gold.
To look upon them was madness itself; even the divine beasts quailed before that majesty.
"This pressure… looks like it's over."
Ryouma felt the crushing weight of her unleashed power.
She would end this farce with one strike.
Victory was never in doubt.
A mere planetary terminal could never rival an Ultimate One.
"If he kept being worshipped, perhaps that so-called Child could've become a god in truth. But such a gift from the planet is nothing but a curse. A machine that can grant others' wishes, yet never his own… how pitiful."
Ryouma's gaze fell on the boy, drained nearly to death.
His fate could only be death—unless a miracle intervened.
The world itself shifted around Crimson Moon.
The planet's atmosphere spilled forth—the primal atomic structures recorded in the Earth's memory, the very foundation of all things.
They coalesced, taking shape.
And in her hands, they became a sword.
"The Demon Sword—True World…"
Ryouma was struck speechless.
He had only ever heard of it from her lips.
It was the blade of Gaia's authority.
Forged from the planet's nature and phenomena—the mightiest mystery, cornerstone of the Age of Gods.
To wield it was to wield the world itself.
And only an Ultimate One could summon it.
"Hmph."
She grasped the deep-blue hilt.
With solemn poise, she swung.
The world itself was torn apart.
No magecraft, no added concept—only the violence of pure nature.
The divine beasts were gone.
Not even blood remained.
No scars of battle, no proof they had ever stood there at all—as if they had never existed.
Another terrifying instant of annihilation.
Ryouma recalled her words: this Demon Sword was incomplete, at half its former strength.
Because the Age of Gods had waned.
Humanity had seized the planet's future.
The mysteries were fading.
Even if the Earth itself perished, mankind could endure.
That was what Gaia feared.
"Summon… summon more! Don't stop!"
The villagers' screams snapped him from thought.
But the boy had reached his end.
Forcing the appearance of divine beasts beyond reason, the wish-machine paid with his life.
His vitality dwindled to nothing.
The villagers, seeing it, were swallowed by despair.
Their fate was inevitable.
Mad from their own wishes, they paid the price in blood.
Their bodies were carved to pieces by unseen blades.
"Dawn has come. Your time is up."
Crimson Moon smiled in delight.
Her movements were graceful, terrifying—like a girl plucking petals from a flower,
yet as cruel as tearing a butterfly's wings to shreds.
She walked through the sea of blood, untouched by a single drop.
Only Ryouma, walking beside her, could witness it all.
Truthfully, these villagers deserved their end.
Yet as he watched her slaughter them so lightly, his thoughts turned to another side of her—the Crimson Moon who once showed gentleness to mankind.
In his memory, there were two versions of her:
The innocent, tender girl.
The merciless, cold queen.
It was hard to believe they were the same being.
"Haa…"
Ryouma gazed at her deeply.
This Crimson Moon was more radiant, more majestic—like a flower unbound, blooming in tragic moonlight.
And yet, his human reason trembled.
Warning him.
She was what mankind had feared since its dawn.
A monster.
An inescapable fate.
The collective human unconscious screamed.
This was Crimson Moon's nature.
In that instant, Ryouma understood.
The past twenty years of peaceful coexistence with humanity had not been false.
But neither was it the truth.
She had never once considered living in harmony with humans.
If she had shown them kindness, it was only because of him.
"…I don't want Ryouma to hate me. So, I'll act a little kinder toward humans."
That must've been her only thought.
To her, the lives of others meant nothing.
For Crimson Moon, only Ryouma mattered.
[End of Chapter]
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