At the sound of that roar—
The mountainside exploded.
A blood-soaked figure clawed his way out of the rubble.
Figarland Garling Saint.
There was no trace left of the supreme commander of the God's Knights.
His white formal attire had been reduced to rags, caked with dried blood.
Half his face was drenched crimson.
The other half was twisted by rage and humiliation, muscles spasming uncontrollably.
Most horrifying of all was the fist mark on his chest.
Sunken deep.
The surrounding bones were shattered, flesh mashed into a bloody pulp.
You could even see his organs churning inside.
An injury like that would have killed anyone else on the spot.
But Garling Saint was still standing.
Black miasma poured from his body, forcibly knitting his near-destroyed form back together.
Broken bones snapped into place with sickening cracks.
Ruptured organs were wrapped in that vile energy.
He was still alive.
But this kind of survival was more humiliating than death.
"Heh… hngh…"
Garling Saint gasped for air, every breath spraying blood.
His bloodshot eyes were nailed to the golden figure in the sky.
The hatred and madness in that gaze burned with the desire to tear him apart.
Sneak attack?
He dared call that a sneak attack?
He even said… he had only been playing with him?!
Those words crushed his dignity, his pride as a Celestial Dragon, into dust.
"AAAAAAAH—!!!"
Garling Saint completely lost his mind.
He raised the one arm that wasn't broken, pointing at Lucian, and roared his final command in a hoarse, shattered voice.
"All of you… attack!!!"
"Kill him!!! Kill him!!!"
"No matter the cost!!!"
"Break his limbs! I will personally—personally rip that mask off his face!!!"
The remaining dozen God's Knights and humanoid demons all shuddered when they heard the order.
They looked at Lucian again.
Fear.
Fear that seeped straight from the marrow of their bones.
One punch.
Just one punch—
And the god they worshipped, Lord Garling Saint, had been reduced to this state.
Now they were supposed to charge?
What difference was there between that and suicide?!
But the bloodline command of the Celestial Dragons—and the contracts bound into their bodies—left them no room to resist.
Fear spread.
Their bodies moved anyway.
"For Lord Garling Saint!"
One Knight shouted, more to steel himself than anything else, and was the first to charge.
Then a second.
A third.
The remaining Knights and the human demons were dragged forward by invisible strings, charging toward Lucian once again with despair in their eyes.
Lucian hovered in the air, watching these pitiful creatures driven to their deaths by fear and command.
His expression didn't change.
He was just about to raise his hand—
To swat these flies out of existence in one stroke—
When suddenly—
His body, wreathed in golden flame, stilled.
A gaze.
Extremely subtle.
Passing through time, space, and dimensions, lightly sweeping across the island.
Cold.
Ancient.
Emotionless.
Like a god casually glancing down from on high.
The gaze lingered over the battlefield for less than a thousandth of a second—then withdrew.
As though it had never been there.
Beneath the pure white mask, a trace of amusement appeared in Lucian's eyes.
"Oh? So even the old thing hiding in the greenhouse decided to poke its head out and sniff around?"
He let out a cold laugh inside.
"So you noticed me already? Looks like that punch earlier might've been a little too heavy-handed."
"Guess I should hold back a bit."
With that thought—
The world-scorching aura around Lucian vanished in an instant.
His presence became lazy, tinged with the playful cruelty of a cat toying with mice.
"Come on."
"I'll stretch my muscles a little more with you pieces of trash."
As the words fell—
His fighting style changed.
A Knight slashed at him head-on.
Lucian didn't even bother to block.
Only when the blade was about to touch his body did he casually shift to the side.
Whoosh!
The sword, filled with all the Knight's strength, skimmed past the golden flames around him.
Not even a spark.
The Knight's strike missed, momentum throwing him off balance, his entire body full of openings.
Lucian didn't even look at him.
He simply reached back with one finger—
Tap.
Right on the Knight's forehead.
Just that.
The next second, the towering Knight spun wildly in place.
"Ah—ah… s-stop… I can't stop…"
He screamed as he spun more than ten times, then rolled his eyes back, foamed at the mouth, and collapsed, unmoving.
At the same time, a massive humanoid demon lunged from the side, bringing a gust of foul wind with it.
Lucian didn't retreat—he stepped in.
With a blur, he slid past the demon's body.
He casually lifted a foot and lightly kicked the back of its knee.
Thud!
The demon's legs gave out and it dropped to its knees.
Right into the path of a companion behind it.
That one couldn't dodge in time and slammed headfirst into its back, the two tumbling together.
The entire battlefield changed in atmosphere.
The brutal slaughter turned into a farce.
Lucian was the director of this absurd performance.
Surrounded by dozens of powerful enemies, he moved with ease.
A Knight tried to stab him from behind, blade not even fully thrust—
Lucian didn't turn his head.
He flicked a pebble backward.
It struck the Knight's ankle perfectly, sending him sprawling face-first into the dirt.
Three humanoid demons closed in from different angles, claws weaving into a net.
Lucian snapped his fingers.
The ground beneath them suddenly became slick as ice.
All three demons slipped, legs splaying out in splits, unable to get back up for a long while.
Lucian even had time—
To dodge a blade and casually pat a Knight on the back.
"Kid, your stance is off. You're not putting your hips into it. No wonder your power's leaking everywhere."
The Knight staggered from the pat, nearly throwing out his back.
When he turned and saw the white mask, his soul nearly left his body—he scrambled away in terror.
This wasn't a fight.
This was mockery.
One-sided, merciless mockery.
From afar, Figarland Garling Saint watched it all.
His already pale, badly wounded face had turned the color of liver.
He could only watch as his elite subordinates made utter fools of themselves before the enemy.
Humiliated.
Ridiculous.
This kind of psychological torment was ten thousand times more painful than that punch earlier.
"Useless… a bunch of useless trash!"
Garling Saint trembled with rage. His chest wound tore open again, and he spat out another mouthful of blood.
While toying with them, Lucian's attention gradually shifted to the humanoid demons.
His gaze pierced through the black miasma around their bodies—
And saw the pain and struggle in their hollow eyes.
"These human demons… they all seem to be from Rocks' people…"
A thought surfaced.
"Twisted by that old ghost Im's dark sorcery… turned into undying monsters that only know slaughter…"
"This kind of power pollutes life itself."
"My Sun God power represents light."
"It just so happens to restrain all darkness and evil."
"Then…"
"Can my power… purify them?"
Once the idea appeared, it refused to fade.
Rather than killing these pitiful members of the Davie clan, why not use them for an experiment?
Another test of the Sun God's authority.
With that thought, Lucian's drifting form came to a halt.
He stood at the center of the battlefield.
Seeing him stop, the Knights and demons surrounding him thought their chance had come—and rushed him once more.
"It's over."
"This boring game."
Facing enemies pouring in from all directions, Lucian brought his hands together before his chest.
This time, no world-shattering power erupted from him.
Instead, a gentle, warm golden light bloomed from his palms.
A light capable of cleansing all filth from the world.
Then he spread his arms wide!
Hum—
Hundreds—no, thousands—of golden light threads burst from his body, spreading in all directions.
These threads were formed from the purest divine power of life.
They possessed will of their own.
Agile and precise, they deliberately avoided every member of the God's Knights.
Then, under the Knights' horrified gazes, every single golden thread wrapped itself around a humanoid demon.
Binding.
Restraining.
"ROAR—!!!"
All the humanoid demons let out agonized howls as the golden threads coiled around them.
Strangely, the light did not harm their physical bodies.
What truly caused their pain was the black miasma clinging to their forms.
Sizzle—sizzle—
Where the black aura touched the golden light, it evaporated with a piercing hiss, being purified bit by bit.
Wisps of black smoke rose from the demons' bodies, screaming silently as they vanished into the air.
Garling Saint and the remaining Knights stared blankly at the scene before them.
Sacred.
Yet unsettling.
Their minds could no longer process what they were witnessing.
What was this?
What was he trying to do?
Lucian watched the demons struggling within the golden light.
The black aura around them was visibly thinning, fading.
He could feel it.
As the corruption was stripped away, the suppressed life within these beings was beginning to awaken.
He murmured softly:
"As expected… the sun is the nemesis of all darkness."
"Then let me see…"
"Whether I can pull you… back from hell."