A/N: Asking about how the horn? Make reference to chapter 26.
The horn continued to grow, slowly but unmistakably, reaching a point where it was still small—but now visible enough that even Reinhard couldn't miss it.
A realization struck him, sharp as a dagger.
That's it...
The effect of the Dragon's Crystal he had given to Ethan earlier.
A grin spread across Reinhard's face as he pieced it all together.
He really...
The words finished in his mind.
He's a powerful hybrid-class user.
Only one percent of the world ever possessed a unique class—but even fewer had the potential to awaken a demon's power.
In that moment, Rivington stormed into the ruined palace, leading the few surviving soldiers to the king's side.
"My lord, are you alright?" Rivington asked, his voice tense with concern.
King Cazer remained silent. His gaze shifted first to his daughter, still clinging to the last threads of life, all because of Ethan's desperate promise. Then, his eyes moved to the hooded figure—a dark silhouette locked in battle with the Dragon Sage.
Finally, he turned to Rivington, his voice cold and flat.
"Do I look alright?"
Rivington's eyes darted to his daughter, where Reinhard was working to heal her. The sight sent a jolt of confusion through him, his mind racing back to Ethan—the boy he had left under Reinhard's care.
"Hey, doctor!" Rivington shouted, his voice sharp with urgency. "Where's the boy?"
Reinhard didn't respond immediately. He slowly turned his head, his eyes meeting Rivington's with a calm, almost distant gaze.
"He's doing well," Reinhard replied, his voice steady. "I've kept him safe."
Rivington let out a sigh of relief, but something gnawed at him, an unsettling feeling deep in his chest.
The boy in the black cloak—his aura was unlike anything Rivington had ever felt before. It was raw, dark, and unmistakably demonic.
This wasn't the presence of a human.
And standing before him, a demon far more powerful than anything Rivington had expected, sent a shiver down his spine, making his face tighten with unease.
What are those monsters? Rivington thought, his hands shaking as the weight of the situation hit him.
He tried to step forward, but before he could make a move, the king's voice rang out, sharp and commanding.
"STOP!" King Cazer shouted, halting Rivington in his tracks.
"That battle is beyond us," the king continued, his voice heavy with resignation. "Our only hope of survival is that kid. Whoever he is... he's our last resort."
Ethan, still locked in battle with the Dragon Sage, was losing control. The combined power of the Demon Crystal and the enhancement he was channeling overwhelmed him, pushing him to the brink.
His body trembled with the strain, but there was no stopping him now.
The Demon, however, saw the situation differently. To it, Ethan had become a rising threat—one that needed to be extinguished swiftly before he could do any more damage.
"Don't underestimate me!" the Dragon Sage roared, its voice seething with rage.
It stretched out its hand, summoning flames hotter than the heart of an inferno. The fire surged forward, melting the very ground beneath them as it hurtled straight toward Ethan with terrifying speed.
The real Ethan was gone.
In his place stood something else, something darker.
A ruthless killer. A demon incarnate.
A Demon Executioner, forged by rage and power, driven only by the need to destroy.
Time slowed to a crawl as the black blade swept toward the Demon Sage's face.Sweat beaded along his temple, sliding down his skin before a single second could pass. The air around the blade shimmered with heat, so intense it felt as though it scorched the very atmosphere itself.
The Dragon Sage barely reacted in time. He thrust his fist forward, hardening his arm with every ounce of demonic power he possessed, the air around it cracking under the pressure.
But it wasn't enough.
The black blade carved through his raised hand as if it were nothing more than soft bread—clean, effortless, merciless.
"He's… faster. And stronger than before…" the Demon Sage groaned, barely managing to pull himself back in a split second to evade the incoming strike. The blade sliced through the space where his neck had been, leaving the air trembling in its wake.
"Ah… ah… you missed," the Demon Dragon Sage taunted, an evil grin twisting across his face.
But the mockery faltered almost instantly.
He felt it.
Something was wrong.
Ethan didn't respond. No rage. No shout. No reckless follow-up attack. He simply stood there—calm. Quiet. Unnaturally still. His eyes were lowered, fixed on his blade as though studying it… as though something about that last strike hadn't satisfied him.
The Demon Sage's grin slowly faded.
This wasn't the boy he had been fighting moments ago.
"I wasn't precise enough…" Ethan murmured quietly, his voice calm despite the battlefield's chaos. "I'll need more training—more mastery… more control over my blade."
He slowly ran his fingers along the tip of the sword, studying its edge as though it were a teacher correcting him. His expression held no frustration—only cold focus, as if the clash from moments ago had been nothing more than practice.
The Dragon Sage's chest burst open without warning—an eruption of blood and shattered bone tearing through the air.
His eyes widened in disbelief.
"W-When…?" he choked, clutching at the ruin of his chest as agony screamed through his nerves. "When did this happen…?"
He hadn't even seen the strike.
The delayed cut—so precise, so subtle—had only now revealed itself.
His vision trembled as a horrifying realization crept into his fading thoughts.
Is this… what he meant by imperfection?
Across from him, Ethan stood motionless.
But something about him had changed.
The hesitation, the emotion, the humanity from moments ago—it was gone.
The system had consumed it.
It fed on his fear, his doubt, his rage… and in return, it granted him something colder.
Sharper.
Now, Ethan's eyes were empty—calculating, detached, inhumanly calm. His movements were no longer driven by instinct or emotion, but by flawless tactical precision.
He was no longer fighting with his body.
His body now belonged to the system.
And the system did not tolerate imperfection.
[Countdown: 8:00]
"That's enough," Ethan said quietly.
His crimson eye lifted toward the Dragon Sage, who still stood there—confused, unsettled, no longer as confident as before.
Ethan tilted his head slightly beneath the shadow of his hood.
"Hey… what's your name, Demon?" he asked softly, almost politely.
But there was no warmth in his voice. Only a chilling calm that made the air grow heavy.
The Demon Dragon Sage groaned, still reeling from the previous blow. Deep down, he understood it now—he could no longer hold a candle to the being standing before him.
Yet he smiled.
"Davis…" he muttered, voice rough and uneven. "My name is Davis."
The name hit Ethan harder than any punch. A human name.
For a split second, something twisted inside him. Why would a demon bear the name of a man? What did it mean? Was he once human…?
But the ticking countdown allowed no room for answers.
Ethan's gaze hardened.
"My name…" he said calmly, his voice carrying a quiet authority that pressed against the air itself, "is Black Blade."
His red eye glowed brighter beneath the hood.
"Make sure you remember it."
Ethan vanished.
One moment he was standing before the Demon Dragon Sage—
the next, he was a streak of black cutting through the air.
The Sage reacted on instinct, raising its flaming arm to block. But it was too late.
Slash. Ethan's blade tore clean through the demon's fist as if it were paper. Fire scattered into the night like dying embers. Without slowing, he pivoted mid-air—his cloak swirling like a living shadow—and drove his sword downward.
Another cut.
Then another.
Each strike was precise. Calculated. Merciless.
Steel-like scales that had once deflected berserkers shattered under his blade. Flesh split. Mana ruptured. The Demon Dragon Sage didn't even have the chance to scream before Ethan carved through its body in a storm of black arcs.
From fist…
to arm…
to torso…
to neck.
The battlefield fell silent except for the sound of something immense being reduced to fragments.
King Cazer stood frozen.
Rivington's sword slipped slightly in his trembling grip. Queen Kia forgot to breathe. Even Reinhard's sharp eyes widened faintly.
Before them, the boy in the black cloak did not fight like a human.
He executed.
And within moments, the mighty Demon Dragon Sage—who had brought Gondolin to its knees—was nothing more than fading ash scattered by the wind.
"I… I can't believe what I'm seeing…" Rivington whispered, his voice barely steady. His hands trembled uncontrollably around the hilt of his sword. "Where did he get that kind of power? He's just a child… isn't he?"
This was the fiercest battle Gondolin had witnessed since its founding—a clash that would be carved into its history with blood and fire.
Time itself seemed to distort.
Minutes blurred into fragments as Ethan and the Demon collided again and again. Steel met scale. Flame met shadow. Each strike rang like thunder rolling across a dying kingdom.
The earth beneath them could no longer endure it.
Cracks spiderwebbed across the courtyard. Stone shattered. The ground split under the sheer pressure of their blows. Every impact sent violent shockwaves ripping through the ruins, forcing even the bravest soldiers to retreat.
This was no longer a battle between a boy and a demon.
It was a war between monsters.
[Countdown: 0:39]
Time was nearly gone. And yet—Both fighters were smiling. Steel clashed against burning scale, shockwaves tearing through the shattered palace grounds, but on Ethan's face was a grin. On the Demon's scorched, bloodied lips—another.
King Cazer stared in disbelief. "Have they lost their minds?" he muttered, his voice trembling. "How can anyone smile in a battle like this? This is life and death!"
Reinhard slowly rose to his feet after stabilizing Mia's wounds, his gaze fixed on the two figures tearing the battlefield apart.
"That," he said calmly, "is the mark of true warriors." He folded his arms behind his back, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
"When one reaches a certain height… survival is no longer the only reason to fight. At that level, battle itself becomes a language. A test. A thrill."
His eyes flickered toward the Demon.
"And if that creature can smile like that… then somewhere inside it—there is still something human."
Another explosion cracked the earth.
Reinhard exhaled softly. "Not all battles are fought to live… some are fought because they feel alive."
Rivington lowered his head and let out a quiet chuckle, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly.
"I suppose… I understand what you mean," he said, a faint laugh escaping him despite the chaos around them.
But back in the ruined arena of stone and fire, the battle had reached its final breaths.
With a desperate roar, the Demon Dragon Sage lunged forward, stretching his blazing hand toward Ethan's face. His fist connected—hard.
The impact thundered across the courtyard.
Yet—
Ethan did not flinch.
He did not stagger.
He did not even blink.
It was as if the blow had struck something far more monstrous than the Demon had anticipated.
[Countdown: 0:05]
With five seconds left, Ethan moved.
His blade flashed once—clean, merciless.
It carved straight through the Demon's neck.
For a heartbeat, time stood still.
Then—
Blood erupted into the air in a crimson arc as the Dragon Sage's massive body froze, nerves failing, strength draining. The towering figure swayed before crashing heavily onto the shattered ground.
Yet in that final suspended moment, Ethan saw something that made his chest tighten.
The Demon… smiled.
Tears slipped from its eyes, trailing down its monstrous face as if some hidden burden had finally been lifted.
The severed head fell last.
It struck the stone with a hollow thud.
And just like that—
Silence.
The verdict had been delivered.