I reign supreme in the Western fantasy world for eternity.

At the summit of the sacred mountain, the three-phase statue that has stood for thousands of years remains silent under the moonlight.

The stone statue has three faces, each looking down on the human world, as if time is nothing more than a fleeting ripple on the surface of a river in their eyes.

Tonight, ripples rise again.

The stone eyelids of the compassionate figure on the far right trembled slightly, and tiny pebbles peeled off from the corners of the eyes and fell.

A thin crack appeared between the eyebrows of the majestic figure in the center, and golden light shone through the crack. The light seemed to have been suppressed for too long, and once it found an outlet, it could no longer be contained. It poured out from the crack and illuminated the entire summit of the sacred mountain.

The leftmost statue, bearing the image of mercy, simply raised its hand slowly, its stone fingers pointing towards the western border—the direction of Kolde City.

The moment the stone arm rose, the entire sacred mountain trembled. The snow on the summit collapsed, turning into a white torrent that poured down from the mountainside, its roar carrying for hundreds of miles.

The church bells in the holy city rang in unison, one after another, heavy and urgent, as if tolling a death knell for something about to happen.

The old priest awoke with a start, stumbled out of the room, looked up and saw the strange phenomenon on the holy mountain. The candlestick in his hand slipped to the ground, and the candle went out.

He knelt on the cold stone pavement, his hands clasped together, his lips trembling as he recited the prayer that hadn't been read in years:

"He opened his eyes, and he pointed westward. The holy sword—was released."

Meanwhile, in the Abyss Palace of the Demon King's Castle, Malbaz suddenly stood up from his throne.

He sensed it.

That sharp edge that traverses countless mountains and rivers and pierces the depths of the soul—that is the destiny between the hero and the demon king. After the holy sword is [released], they will know each other's location, even if they are thousands of miles apart.

Malbaz pressed his hand to his chest, his face flickering in the ghostly fire, and for the first time, a look of fear appeared in his crimson eyes.

Now he finally understands why those demon kings, who were so strong and blessed by the demon god, still feared the hero.

Fortunately, this time the hero perished in Kolde.

"He has unleashed the Holy Sword." The grey-robed priest's voice came from the shadows, trembling slightly. "Your Majesty, the vanguard—"

"Give it to him." Malbazz interrupted him, his voice regaining its usual composure. "A vanguard in exchange for a hero. Not a bad deal."

He sat down again, his fingers tapping on the armrest of the throne, once, once, and again.

The priest bowed his head: "Your Majesty is wise."

Marbaz leaned back on his throne, closed his eyes, and a slight smile played on his lips.

That sharp edge that spanned a thousand miles was still there, but it no longer trembled.

Because he knew the hero wouldn't come looking for him.

The hero will remain in Kolde City, protecting those ants, and will be held back by one "person he must protect" after another before he burns out.

This is the destiny of the brave.

Always passive, always restrained, always falling before the final step.

……

On the battlefield of the Western Wasteland, a miracle is unfolding.

The moment Alex drew his sword, a golden burst of light exploded in the sky above Kolde, like the first ray of light when the gods created the world.

Light spread outwards from the city center in all directions, like a star exploding on earth. Wherever it passed, dark clouds were torn apart, the night wind was ignited, and a scorching, chilling atmosphere filled the air.

At the same time, countless blessings flooded into his soul.

[Iron Will] [Fatal Strike] [Elemental Affinity] [Divine Blessing] [Language Proficiency] [Insight into Mind]...

The demon vanguard's charge came to an abrupt halt.

The front-line soldiers of the Orcish warband halted, fear welling up in their blood—the instinctive tremor of lower life forms facing their natural enemy.

The fire demons stopped advancing. Their flames dimmed and shrank in the face of the holy light, as if an invisible hand had choked them, making it difficult for them to even breathe.

The horses of the archers reared up, neighing sharply, and some even threw their riders off their backs and ran away.

The leader of the Shadow Guards sat on his horse, his face ashen.

His short sword trembled wildly in its scabbard, and the anti-magic runes on the blade seemed to be scorched by something, emitting a pungent burnt smell.

He looked up and saw a golden figure standing on the city wall—the man's golden hair burned in the holy light, his knight's armor seemed to have become a golden holy armor, and the light of the longsword in his hand was brighter than all the stars in the sky combined.

"The hero..." he forced out through clenched teeth, "He actually unleashed the Holy Sword!... The entire army retreats! He couldn't possibly have taken all tens of thousands of our demons..."

He was about to say something like "It's impossible for them to wipe us all out," when he suddenly realized that he had greatly underestimated the power of the Holy Sword.

Alex stood on the city wall, his hands gripping his sword, the tip pointing to the sky.

The light of the holy sword enveloped his entire being; his eyes, his hair, and his skin were all glowing.

He knew this came at a price; the holy sword was rapidly devouring his magic, then his memories, his life force... until his death.

The demon army below the city stretched out from the wasteland to the horizon, a dark mass.

Orcs, fire demons, archers, shadow guards—tens of thousands of them, each carrying a murderous intent.

He saw the hatred for humanity in their eyes, the burning city behind them, and the Third Legion soldiers who could no longer run.

enough.

No need for memories, no need for the past, and not even a need for the future.

He only needs this one sword strike.

Alex raised the holy sword above his head, the golden patterns on the blade pulsating like veins. With each pulsation, his face paled a little more, as the energy in his magical energy channels was being drained bit by bit.

"I apologize, but we are of different races and stand on different grounds. Your actions are not wrong in the eyes of the demons." His voice, amplified by holy light, resounded throughout the wasteland, reaching the ears of every demon soldier. "And I, too, must destroy you for everything I must protect!"

The holy sword fell, and holy light shot straight into the sky, transforming into a golden pillar of light in the night sky, and then—exploded.

Light poured down from above, like a giant sword forged from light, cleaving down from the clouds to the earth, cleaving down the black crowd.

No sound.

Light is faster than sound, faster than wind, and faster than fear.

It landed right in the center of the Orcish warband, then spread out in all directions, like ripples created by a pebble thrown into a lake.

Dazzling, scorching, and unstoppable.

Just as the prophecy of the Sage's Crown foretold, the demon soldiers scattered and fled, trying to get away from the light.

But it didn't work.

The iron shield melted, the battle axe evaporated, and the armor was torn to shreds like paper.

The orcs didn't even have time to scream before their bodies turned to ashes in the holy light, leaving not even a shadow.

The Balrog was the first to try to escape.

Their massive bodies were as clumsy as stranded whales before the holy light; their flames were suppressed, their skin cracked, and magma-like blood gushed from the fissures before evaporating in the holy light.

They ran less than ten steps before being overtaken by the light, falling one after another and turning into charred remains.

The archers scattered and fled, but light was faster than horses, faster than arrows, and faster than despair.

They were caught by the light, swallowed by the light, and turned into nothingness along with their horses.

The leader of the Shadow Guards rode on his horse, whipping it desperately, but the horse had already reached its limit, foaming at the mouth and its hooves going limp.

He glanced back—on the wasteland behind him, the light was spreading at an unstoppable speed, leaving nothing but barren land in its wake, even the soil was scorched into hard, blackened lumps.

"Impossible..." he murmured, his voice trembling, "How could a hero... how could he be alone—"

The light caught up with him.

He only had time to see his hand become transparent in the light, and then he knew nothing more.

The beam of light lasted for a full ten breaths.

Ten breaths later, the wasteland fell silent.

There were no sounds of fighting, no screams, no war drums, and even the wind had stopped.

Only a scorched, smoky wilderness stretched from the walls of Kold to the horizon.

Tens of thousands of demon vanguard troops.

One sword strike, and everything vanished into thin air!

Ashes drifted in the night wind, like black snow, covering the city walls, falling into the city, and landing on the faces of every Third Army soldier who looked up.

Only now did the hero Alex realize that Mason's prophecy was on the right timeline. The Holy Light could block prophecies and divination, so all she saw was the demons fleeing and falling.

Alex closed his eyes, feeling the emptiness draining from his body.

My magic circuits have dried up, and even my heartbeat is much slower than usual.

Fortunately, I can still live for a while.

Next, all he needs to do is try his best to hold out until reinforcements arrive.

He opened his eyes and scanned his surroundings.

Outside the city walls, soldiers knelt on the ground, some praying, some weeping, and some just staring blankly at the scorched wasteland, unable to believe they were still alive.

On the streets, citizens leaned out of their windows, watching the black ash falling from the sky; some cheered, while others trembled.

At the entrance of the Adventurers' Guild, a group of adventurers gathered, weapons in hand, ready to leave the city for a desperate fight, only to find that the enemy was no longer there.

Alex's gaze swept across the crowd and landed on two figures.