Chapter 714: The Death of Wilhelm
“Boom!”
Two colossal entities crashed from the sky, shaking the earth and splitting the ground with thunderous force. The deafening sound echoed across every corner of the battlefield. The impact was so powerful it seemed to churn the very earth, unleashing a furious sandstorm that swept across the land. A shockwave tore through everything within miles—debris, trees, soldiers—flinging them violently into the air.
One unlucky steam tank was flipped over by the blast, landing clumsily several meters away, its armored watch face riddled with holes and cracked beyond repair. A giant crater, hundreds of meters wide, opened up across the wasteland, centered on the Red Dragon and the Hellish Monster. Web-like fissures radiated outward at terrifying speed, spreading like lightning across the desolate terrain.
Within the swirling dust cloud, a massive shadow reared up and roared, its voice so loud it shattered the clouds and pierced through thick smoke. As the smoke cleared, the true form of the beast emerged—scales gleaming with metallic luster, four massive horns, and pale gold vertical pupils like molten lava orbs. It was the Red Dragon Emperor, Kai Xiusu.
And Wilhelm—no, the despised Hellish Monster—was pinned beneath the dragon’s massive claw. He was buried deep into the ground, tens of feet down, utterly immobilized. His lean frame rose and fell with shallow breaths, dark, viscous blood oozing from his wounds. The arrogance he once displayed was gone, extinguished.
Yet, with a trembling, claw-like finger, he twitched upward, and from the ruined body came a hoarse, rasping voice:
“Kai Xiusu… I’m not… finished. I… am the one…”
“Boom!”
Before he could finish, Kai Xiusu slammed his claw down onto Wilhelm’s chest. The sharp spines pierced through skin and muscle, tearing deep into the flesh. Wilhelm spat black blood, but still struggled with every ounce of strength, screaming wildly, flailing his broken bat wings in a desperate bid to break free from the dragon’s grip.
With a slow, deliberate motion, Kai Xiusu withdrew his claw. Black blood sprayed in all directions. The dragon watched coldly.
The Hellish Monster wobbled upward, its tattered wings flapping like wind through ragged cloth. With a final, frenzied effort, he raised the broken Spear of Final Judgment.
“No! No! I’m not done! I still have… I still have more! I’ll sacrifice them—those wretched commoners—to Hell! Hurry, Zaril! I need greater strength! I need power strong enough to kill this Red Dragon!”
“Madness! His Majesty Wilhelm has truly gone mad!”
“What is he doing?”
The Thracians erupted in shock. They could not believe it—their king, their sworn ruler, was offering their people as tribute to Hell.
“The glowing rune arrays…”
“Help! Someone help!”
“Mother… my head hurts…”
“Child! My child! Hold on! Amanata, please, save her!”
From within the City of August came a chorus of panicked screams and cries. Dozens of rune arrays—hidden within the churches of the kingdom—had been activated. They pulsed with a sinister, blood-red glow. And now, the refugees—thousands of homeless souls hiding in the churches—were trapped.
They crowded together, shoving and pushing, collapsing one by one. As each lost consciousness, their spiritual souls were devoured by the runes, consumed as nourishment for Hell, becoming part of Wilhelm’s monstrous form.
In an instant, countless souls erupted from the city, screaming as they soared into the sky, merging with Wilhelm’s vast, distorted body.
Wilhelm spread his arms wide, unfurling his six bat wings, savoring the flood of power. “So exquisite… My subjects. You were born to serve me. Give me your souls—repay Fadalan’s debt with your sacrifice!”
“Too late,” Deyef muttered, his brow furrowed as he stared at the distant Hellish Monster. The radiant king he once admired had become the very thing he despised most.
He turned to the Refugees Battalion. Mother clutched her child, now soulless, weeping bitterly. In the child’s small hand was half a loaf of bread—Deyef’s own gift.
The refugees pressed against one another, desperate to escape the demonic den. But the church doors were guarded by fire-wielding “Holy Guards.”
“No…” Deyef whispered, his eyes burning with rage.
That child should not have died like this! Not for a king’s selfish ambition!
Listening to the refugees’ cries, memories of that innocent face flashed before him. His gaze hardened. With a sudden, unwavering resolve, he drew his sword and leapt forward, charging the Holy Guard.
“Filthy monsters from Hell—die!”
A cascade of silver-white light rained down upon the earth. The evil Soul Transmutation Array halted. The souls spiraling toward Wilhelm were purified mid-air, and the Hellish Monster burst into flames.
Deyef wiped the black blood from his blade, then looked up—toward the source of the light. The rescued refugees followed suit, raising their eyes in awe, gazing at the sky like worshipers beholding their savior.
There, suspended in the heavens, hung the colossal Red Dragon—mouth agape, holding the sacred sun within. It was as if the Sun God himself had descended. Overwhelming in height, it looked down upon the countless souls below.
“Praise the Sun.”
“Hail the mighty Red Dragon! He is the Avatar of the Sun!”
The refugees screamed in frenzied ecstasy, their voices filled with piety and devotion, praising the being who had saved their very life force.
Even Deyef stood frozen, struck dumb, staring at the blazing orb in the sky, whispering, “Amanata above… could the Emperor truly be the Sun God’s Avatar?”
In the eyes of a million people, Kai Xiusu became the true savior—divine, radiant, godlike.
As the faithful energy of the “Sun God” surged upward, Kai Xiusu’s lips curled into a faint, satisfied smile. He would not waste such a perfect moment of public revelation.
“Why?! Why do you have this power?! I am the Sun God’s true offspring! I am the chosen one! The one meant to receive His blessing!”
Kai Xiusu stared down at Wilhelm, the Hellish Monster trembling beneath him. The dragon’s voice echoed with cold mockery, mimicking Wilhelm’s own past tone:
“By the light of the Sun… you have consorted with Hell, slaughtered mortals, and committed unspeakable crimes. Guilty beyond redemption. I grant you… death.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than Kai Xiusu spread his wings and unleashed a terrifying Solar Breath—a blazing meteor wrapped in raging fire, streaking across the sky toward the monster.
Wilhelm looked up, despair etched into every line of his face. He raised the broken spear, his body shaking uncontrollably from terror and rage. This was his power—his words—his destiny!
Flames exploded. Light shattered. The Hellish Monster was pierced through instantly. A massive, charred hole opened in his chest. Kai Xiusu seized him by the neck, plunged downward, and slammed him into the earth.
“Boom!”
Another earth-shattering roar. Debris flew in all directions. Dust and smoke roared into the sky.
“I… didn’t lose…”
“It was Zaril… who betrayed me. You never truly defeated me…”
Wilhelm lay broken in the deep pit, his voice weak, filled with venomous hatred.
Kai Xiusu spread his wings, then leaned down, his cold gaze fixed on the dying creature.
“Look at you now,” he said, dripping with sarcasm. “Once the King of Angels, now reduced to a writhing serpent in the mire, a mouse dragging itself through filth. Pathetic.”
With one massive claw, he gripped Wilhelm’s head and yanked it up. He stared at the broken face, then slammed it back into the ground.
“Still, you’re lucky, Wilhelm. You’ll have a grand finale. Though you lived like a fool, I’ll let you die like a true king.”
Without warning, Kai Xiusu flared his wings and soared into the air. He opened his maw, and deep within his throat, a searing fireball coalesced—the omen of the Solar Breath.
Feeling that familiar, overwhelming power, Wilhelm’s soul shattered. The very strength he once revered—the Sun God’s power—was now being forged into the weapon that would end him.
Had the Sun God truly abandoned him? Had He chosen this cursed Red Dragon instead?
For a century, he had prayed devoutly, led holy wars across Fedran, sowed faith like seeds across the land. And now, he would be killed by a dragon that stole the Sun God’s power?
It was unjust.
Zaril’s voice echoed in his mind:
“His Majesty Wilhelm… do you wish revenge? Do you want to kill this Red Dragon? Offer the City of August to Hell, and you shall have everything.”
A parchment, pulsing with flame-light, materialized before him. A single thought, a signature—August would be his.
Wilhelm screamed inwardly:
“You lied to me! The strength Hell gave me was never enough to defeat him!”
Zaril’s reply was cold, detached:
“The Pact of the Nine Hells is always fair. We follow the principle of equitable exchange. Forgive me, Your Majesty, but the five thousand souls you offered are but a trifle compared to the cost of slaying a semi-god Red Dragon.”
Wilhelm gritted his teeth. “I will not give August to Hell! That is my territory!”
“Consider this, Your Majesty,” Zaril said, stripping away all pretense. “If you die now, that Red Dragon will conquer your city. He will feast on your people’s adoration, claim every treasure you’ve built—everything you are.”
The image was unbearable. Wilhelm trembled, panic seizing him. “I… I can offer another price… but August is the heart of the Thrace Kingdom!”
Zaril’s tone turned cruel. “You still don’t see, do you? You’re cornered. No choice left. And since your sincerity is lacking, the previous terms are void. Now, to seek revenge… you must surrender the entire Thrace Kingdom.”
The words were like poisoned daggers, piercing Wilhelm’s final psychological defense.
With a trembling hand, he lifted his head, staring at the Red Dragon in the sky—radiant, divine, an avatar of the sun. Memories flooded him: his rise from the ashes of Fadalan, his dream of surpassing his father.
Once, Wilhelm had been a radiant king, a bringer of light. Now, he was a twisted abomination. The fall was too great. The despair too deep.
In the face of certain death, under unbearable pressure, Wilhelm snapped.
His body shook violently. He let out a broken, rasping whisper:
“Kai Xiusu… I did lose… but you are not the final victor…”
Then, with a sudden, furious surge, he raised his head toward the sky. His black eyes blazed with endless malice, hatred, and fury.
“Kai Xiusu! Come with me to Hell! I’ll sacrifice the entire Thrace Kingdom!”
In an instant, the heavens and earth trembled. Somewhere in the depths of fate, an ancient edict stirred. Beyond the material plane, a mad, echoing laughter resounded.
“Hahaha! Wonderful! The fool has agreed! I can smell the soul-scent—so sweet!”
The sky bled crimson. Jagged, deep wounds tore across the heavens. A black sun rose in the void.
The earth groaned. Mountains cracked. The ground split open, spewing thick, black blood. Beneath the City of August, the underground collapsed. The city itself began to fall—irrevocably—toward Hell.
Far beyond, in the vast expanse of the Thrace Kingdom, thousands of Hellish rune arrays awoke, forming a monstrous, encircling formation that swallowed the entire realm.
The blood-red clouds swelled, spreading rapidly, seeking to devour the entire kingdom.
Chaos reigned in the city. The grand cathedral collapsed instantly, its dome crashing down on the crowd. Demons poured from the cracks—laughing, mocking, feasting on mortal souls, reveling in their new, blood-soaked “soul pasture.”
“Amanata, save us!”
“God, help us!”
“Do you hear?! Wilhelm—the cruel tyrant—plans to give the entire Thrace Kingdom to Hell!”
“Madman! He’s lost his mind!”
The Thracians fled in terror, screaming, wailing, but their cries were useless. The city was falling. There was no escape.
Wilhelm, dazed and hollow, murmured as his city vanished into darkness.
“Kai Xiusu… hahaha… you’re finished too. The Duke of Hell is coming. He’ll kill you. You’ll suffer just like me…”
“Boom—”
A deafening crack split the air. The dragon’s fiery breath consumed the Hellish Monster completely. The sacred fire of the Sun God incinerated him utterly—no ash, no trace remained.
Since Zaril had been drawn out, the pawn was of no further use. Kai Xiusu crushed him as easily as one would crush a bug.
A notification floated in his character sheet: + Experience Points (XP).
Kai Xiusu exhaled softly.
“Tragic.”
He stared at the world-ending spectacle, unshaken. His gaze burned with fierce, unyielding battle intensity.
“Finally… Zaril.”
He had insulted Wilhelm again and again, driven him to despair, to madness—because he knew the puppeteer behind the curtain. The true enemy.
The Lord of Avernus. The Duke of Hell. Zaril.
(End of Chapter)
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