Chapter 120.2

“So this is the poison that killed our founder…”

Long ago, Rune Renslet, the progenitor of her house, had perished after destroying the serpent’s four hearts. The venom had claimed his life after two years of suffering.

Even after piercing just one heart, Arina felt dizzy, and her skin stung.

“If I wasn’t wearing this armor, my skin would’ve already been ruined.”

Thanks to the magical equipment Arad had outfitted her with, she was barely holding on.

He told me not to overdo it…

Arad’s warnings echoed in her mind, but the situation left her no choice.

Well… unlike our founder’s time, Arad’s here now. He’ll find a way to counteract the poison.

With that faint, baseless trust in him, she widened her sapphire eyes, determination shining within them.

“Three hearts left!”

She sprinted along Jormungandr’s back as it began to stir, its body writhing in pain.

Her gaze locked onto the farthest heart, where the aura of malice was strongest.

“That one looks the most suspicious!”

Arina prioritized the farthest heart, sensing it might hold the key to finishing the fight.

“Cr… curse… you…”

The dark mages clinging to Jormungandr’s scales attempted to cast spells at her, but—

Slash!

Before they could even complete their incantations, Arina’s blade cleaved through them.

“Ughhh!”

Jormungandr twisted its body, trying to dislodge her.

“Help her, now!”

“You won’t move another inch!”

“Hahaha!”

Isabelle, Balzac, and Sun intercepted its movements. Isabelle led the mages in binding the serpent with magic, while Balzac and Sun targeted its second and third hearts. 𝙧ÀNȪ𝐁ÊS̩

“Screeeeech!!”

Sensing its impending doom, Jormungandr let out a deafening roar.

“Protect Jormungandr, the proxy of nature!”

Orcs, barbarians, and monsters redirected their assault to defend the serpent.

Slash! Stab! Rip!

But they were too slow.

Before they could intervene, Arina, Sun, and Balzac dismantled the white serpent piece by piece.

The North watched in awe as the massive serpent was dismembered, its black blood spilling onto the snowy battlefield and poisoning the land.

“It’s too late…”

“Jormungandr has fallen… Run! Run for your lives!”

With its hearts destroyed and its body collapsing, Jormungandr’s army of savages fell into disarray and scattered.

“Don’t let them escape!”

“We can’t sit back now!”

“Knights, mount the swift steeds and give chase!”

“Reduce their numbers as much as possible!”

The Renslet soldiers and knights, spurred by their rekindled morale, surged out of the wall in pursuit of the fleeing horde.

From afar, Arad lowered his telescope and muttered.

“At least I won’t have to hear about any northern expeditions for a while.”

Though relieved by the outcome, he clicked his tongue.

“I told her not to overdo it… Now I need to make an antidote.”

Sighing, he got to work crafting a cure for the venom.

***

On the desolate snowy plain, Jormungandr’s colossal, 300-meter body lay motionless.

Its black blood pooled, forming a toxic lake filled with venom and an ominous dark energy.

This dark energy radiated most strongly from the area around its fourth heart.

“Hah…”

Standing before the cursed aura, Arina swiftly injected the syringe Arad had prepared directly into her heart.

Arina’s chest and mana core, which had felt on the verge of exploding, finally eased.

Her body, which had seemed like it might shatter into pieces, returned to a fragile stability.

“This power… it’s truly dangerous.”

Each time she tapped into the strength of a Grand Master and injected herself with the antidote, she could feel her body growing weaker.

But despite the risks, she felt no regret.

The chains that had bound the Renslet family for generations were gone.

Arina smiled faintly, content with the price she had paid. For her, the cost of her own body was a small one compared to what had been gained.

“At last, the cycle of suffering has been broken.”

She gazed at the white serpent’s colossal corpse and spoke in a quiet tone.

[So… this is how it ends.]

From within the shadows, a grotesque mass of living flesh spoke, its form having abandoned anything resembling humanity.

[Back then… When we were exiled, it was our fault. My fault.]

The mass was none other than Jormungandr’s fourth heart—Isaac’s life vessel.

[But what choice did I have? I had to create a target for my vengeance, even if it was forced. Without that, I… we… would have had no reason to keep going.]

“I remember the day you reappeared with the white serpent,” Isabelle said, her voice heavy as she looked down at Isaac.

“That forbidden ritual… becoming a half-lich. You found it in a Golden Age dungeon, didn’t you?”@@novelbin@@

[Heh. Yes. The very site where the Devil’s Den now stands.]

Isaac admitted it freely, his tone laced with a mixture of pride and mockery.

“And those dark mages stuck to Jormungandr’s scales… they’re your disciples?”

Isabelle gestured to the corpses of the dark mages scattered across the battlefield.

[A few low-ranking initiates are left in the Devil’s Den.]

“I should hunt them all down and finish this.”

[Do as you please. They mean nothing to me now.]

“What…?”

Although Isaac’s flesh had no face, the mocking tone in his voice was palpable.

[Hah… hahahaha.]

The laughter sent a chill through the four standing over him—Arina, Isabelle, Sun, and Balzac.

[How remarkable. I was certain you would either die or become a cripple.]

The life vessel turned its focus toward Arina. Despite lacking eyes, its telepathic presence made it clear where its attention lay.

“The necromancer in the factory… that was your avatar, wasn’t it?”

Arina’s sapphire eyes narrowed as she stared at Isaac.

[Indeed.]

“You failed, Isaac.”

[No. I succeeded.]

“What?!”

For a moment, Arina felt a sinister chill as if the grotesque mass was leering at her stomach.

Whoosh—slash!

Shivers running down her spine, Arina instinctively swung her sword, slicing Isaac’s life vessel apart.

Splaaat!

Black, venomous blood sprayed out, but Isabelle’s magic formed a protective barrier, shielding them like an umbrella.

The four stood in uneasy silence, the victory hollow and tainted.

“That wretched creature… even at the end!”

Isabelle’s voice trembled with both anger and sorrow as she muttered under her breath.

“My lady…”

Isabelle’s gaze softened as it landed on Arina.

On the surface, Arina appeared unharmed, but Isabelle knew better.

She could sense the chaos within Arina’s body—the damage to her mana core, and especially the state of her womb where her lower mana center had once been.

“Is this truly how it ends? My journey with Rune Renslet?”

A flood of memories swept through Isabelle’s mind: the day she first set foot in this land, the faces of her husband, son, and grandson.

“Rune Renslet, Pilgrim, Thesis…”

She had seduced the first Grand Duke with a purpose, but the happiness that followed was genuine.

Although her husband, son, and grandson were long gone, she had poured every ounce of herself into preserving their legacy.

“Yet all the sacrifices made along the way… they’ve accumulated into a burden that has now fallen on her shoulders.”

Isabelle let out a quiet sigh, her heart heavy with guilt.

“My lady… let’s get you the antidote.”

Isabelle spoke with a composed voice, hiding her concern.

“The spell I cast on you is only a temporary fix.”

“Yes, let’s do that.”

Arina nodded. Isabelle had been thinking of the antidotes prepared by the Renslet and Church, but Arina thought only of Arad.

She was eager to see him again.

Together, they began walking toward the High Tower.

Cheers of Victory

“Wooooaaaahhhh!”

The citizens of the wall and High Tower rushed out to greet their returning heroes, cheering with boundless fervor.

Knights, soldiers, and commoners alike celebrated the fall of Jormungandr, their spirits soaring as they welcomed their saviors.