Chapter 1252
"Negative."
Syria Sullion positioned himself behind Runaan, wearing a cruel smirk.
"I ought to say, my dearest."
He placed his hands lightly on the shoulders of Runaan, whose frame was racked with tremors.
"N-no. This is all wrong..."
Runaan appeared paralyzed by the fact that she had struck down the youth. Unaware that Syria Sullion had even manifested at her back, she bit her lip until it bled.
"Syria Sullion..."
Burren articulated the name with a low, grinding tone, as if he were splintering bone.
"Syria Sullion!"
Martha surrendered to the fury she had suppressed for Runaan’s sake, shrieking at the man.
"Runaan! What is wrong with you! The monster you vowed to destroy is right there! Kill him this instant!"
She bellowed for Runaan to reclaim her senses and lunged forward.
"At my back..."
Runaan seemed to stir at Martha’s scream, turning her head with agonizing slowness.
"Ah!"
The moment her gaze met Syria Sullion’s, her pupils dilated with a sudden, violent intensity.
"Syria Sullion!"
As Runaan cried out his name and lurched toward him, the blood-stained floral crown resting at her feet disintegrated like withered parchment.
The petals from the wreath caught an invisible current, swirling around Runaan and etching bizarre arcane symbols in the air.
As a void-like radiance erupted from the patterns, the world Runaan was perceiving shattered like a blow to a mirror. Through the cracks, the landscapes of her nightmares began to manifest.
"What...?"
Runaan’s fingers shook as she stared at Syria Sullion. In her vision, his image began to merge with Raon’s, and her deep-seated enmity toward him started to evaporate like mist in the sun.
Syria Sullion—the man she had been willing to trade her life to kill—now seemed as precious as Raon. She felt a flicker of self-loathing, but even that thought was swallowed by a growing internal shadow, leaving only Syria Sullion in her sight.
"Runaan! Get away from him!"
Burren signaled wildly, shouting for her to retreat.
"Strike! Take his head!"
Martha snarled, urging her to drive her blade through Syria Sullion’s throat.
Yet, Runaan did not pull back as Burren commanded, nor did she attack as Martha demanded.
Instead, Runaan let go of the sword she had always carried.
"Ahh..."
She simply stood there, shivering before Syria Sullion, looking exactly like the traumatized trainee who could never escape her past.
"Precisely. That is how a dutiful child behaves."
Syria Sullion opened his arms, acting as though this outcome were inevitable, and pulled the catatonic Runaan into an embrace.
"Ru-Runaan!"
"You absolute lunatic!"
Burren and Martha prepared to strike Syria Sullion with everything they had, but they jerked their blades back at the last second, seeing Runaan held against him.
"Syria Sullion. No..."
Runaan’s amethyst eyes turned glassy and were stained with a dark hue. She whispered the name she once uttered with pure loathing, tilting her head back.
"Older Brother."
Runaan addressed Syria Sullion as if she had regressed to her childhood, her blackened eyes drifting shut.
"Indeed, Runaan."
Syria Sullion patted her back with an air of expected triumph.
"It is I. The only one capable of shielding your spirit."
He held her more tenderly, nodding in approval.
"Yes..."
Runaan offered no struggle, nodding softly while held in his arms.
"Ru-Runaan..."
"Wake up! You've lost your mind!"
Burren’s eyes darted in panicked confusion, while Martha called out Runaan’s name until her voice cracked.
"Burren, and Martha."
Syria Sullion tilted his head up with a frigid grin.
"I owe the two of you a debt of gratitude."
He glared down at them with a look of sadistic thrill.
"Because of your efforts, Runaan’s conditioning reached completion much faster."
Syria Sullion continued to stroke Runaan’s hair, crediting Martha and Burren for the result.
"Liar!"
The veins on Martha’s forehead throbbed with her escalating rage.
"Explain yourself," Burren demanded, struggling to maintain a shred of composure.
"Runaan was bound by a primordial brainwashing hex. The more trauma she endured, the quicker the curse took hold. By placing such heavy emotional burdens on my Runaan, you accelerated the process."
Syria Sullion gave a soft laugh, mocking the idea that Burren and Martha’s attempts to save her had actually been her undoing.
"This hex feeds on dreams and evolves within the depths of the soul; it is a cage one cannot exit unaided. The dreamscape becomes far more enticing than the waking world, and the victim slowly submerges into it. The more the outside world screams for them to wake up, the deeper they dive into the dream for safety. By pushing her, you drove her straight back to me."
He curled his crimson lips, appearing profoundly satisfied.
"Such a foul magic exists?" Martha grimaced in disbelief.
"Within Eden, nothing is impossible. Particularly with the assistance of this individual."
Syria Sullion gestured, and a figure draped in grey robes emerged from the dark sorcery. The figure’s hand trembled slightly over a staff, indicating the ongoing maintenance of the spell.
"You bastards..."
Martha ground her teeth, looking between Syria, the architect of the misery, and the occultist serving him.
"My thanks. It appears you were more significant to Runaan than I anticipated."
Syria Sullion offered a mocking bow to the pair.
"As a reward, it is only fitting that your deaths be swift. Delivered by her own hands."
With a snap of his fingers, the air tore open, and two helms fashioned after the visage of a goat emerged. These were the artifacts of Eden, imbued with the malice of Baphomet.
"You will put it on, won't you?"
Syria Sullion laughed discordantly as he raised the first helm.
"Yes..."
Without a hint of defiance, Runaan bowed her head, submitting herself to the artifact.
"Runaan!"
Martha launched herself forward. She swung her blade with desperate power, seemingly past the point of worrying if Runaan might be caught in the crossfire.
"Dammit!"
Burren followed suit, unleashing a focused gale of cutting wind.
Jeoooooong!
However, a dome of black sorcerous energy manifested around Syria and Runaan, serving as an impenetrable bulwark against the duo’s assault.
"At last, our union is complete."
Syria Sullion’s laughter turned icy as he lowered the Baphomet helm onto Runaan’s head.
Inside the helm, a violet spark—matching Runaan’s natural eye color—flashed momentarily before being consumed by an absolute darkness.
Black tides of energy spilled from the helmet, accompanied by the ethereal bleating of a goat, enveloping Runaan’s form. Her Zieghart attire vanished, replaced by an armor that looked as though it were carved from ancient bone.
Runaan stood tall, clad in the Baphomet plate with greaves resembling a goat’s hind legs. All her natural warmth vanished, replaced by a radiating aura of lethal cold.
Satisfied that Runaan was bound in the armor, Syria Sullion smirked and donned his own helmet. The same dark fluid coated his body, forming a twisted suit of bone.
"Baphomet is a creature of duality; born as a pair, dying as a pair. Alone, it is merely a formidable beast, but together..."
Syria Sullion brushed the cheek of Runaan’s helmet.
"We possess the might to slaughter anyone!"
He descended into a fit of crazed laughter, celebrating the culmination of his long-term scheme.
"Yes..."
Runaan gave a mechanical nod, prepared to obey his every whim.
Syria Sullion’s boast wasn't empty; as if he had truly touched divinity, the heavens groaned and the earth began to fracture simply from the resonance of his voice.
Runaan’s combat prowess skyrocketed as well; the energy she emitted while wearing the Baphomet helm was that of a Transcendent, the sheer pressure crushing the landscape around her.
"What a load of trash."
Martha’s lip curled in contempt as she faced Syria Sullion.
"Agreed. Kill anyone? Plenty of men have said that before they died," Burren added, his chin tilted defiantly.
"We shall see who remains standing!"
"When Runaan comes to, I’m making her buy me a mountain of bead ice cream for this."
Martha and Burren ignited a fighting spirit that refused to buckle under the terrifying pressure of their opponents. Without a second thought, they charged.
"Observe. Those are the adversaries, Runaan."
Syria Sullion gripped Runaan’s hand and pointed toward Martha and Burren.
"Shall we eliminate these shadows together?"
He signaled to her to join the fray.
"Yes. I will..."
Runaan darted forward, her memories seemingly erased, swinging a blade coated in lethal frost.
"That's it! Kill!"
Syria Sullion moved in perfect sync with her, bringing down a massive, glowing blue greatsword.
The forces of the four warriors—all once of the Zieghart bloodline—collided, creating a shockwave that felt as though it might rend the sky.
Martha and Burren were thrown back, spitting blood. They were in a dire state, their uniforms shredded and soaked in red.
"This is..."
Burren wiped his chin, his expression darkening.
"This is going to be a nightmare. We’re losing the individual exchanges, and their teamwork is tighter than ours."
He gritted his teeth as he watched Syria Sullion and Runaan standing together like a dark reflection of a devoted couple.
"Stop whining!"
Martha stamped her foot in frustration.
"Are you planning to give up just because they’re stronger?!"
She clutched her hilt with white-knuckled intensity, determined to fight to the last breath.
"I’m fighting. But..."
Burren let out a heavy breath.
"It won't end well. In fact, it'll end with us dead."
He acknowledged their disadvantage as he watched the pair across from them.
"Hmm..."
Martha followed his gaze. Unlike them, Syria and Runaan were virtually unscathed, sporting only superficial marks that did nothing to hinder their movements.
'The gap is massive, just like Burren said.'
Runaan had always been their superior in skill, and the Baphomet helm had pushed her into the realm of a true Transcendent. Syria Sullion was matching her step for step, proving he hadn't just been hiding in the shadows all these years.
The only reason they were still breathing was their refined survival instincts and their deep familiarity with Runaan’s style.
"You're more resilient than I gave you credit for."
Syria Sullion laughed, genuinely amused.
"Your talents have flourished since I left Zieghart. I suppose that's the influence of being near that monster."
He gave a slight shiver, likely recalling Raon.
"But that monster no longer frightens me. We are whole now."
He grinned, confident that their combined power would soon eclipse even Raon’s.
"......"
Runaan stood silently, a puppet agreeing with her master’s every word.
"You disgusting freak!"
Martha spat out more blood, ready to throw herself back into the fire.
"Keep your head. It’s not just the two of them. We’re being watched."
Burren’s eyes flickered toward the Ghosts of Eden lurking in the perimeter.
"So what? You want to run? I’m not leaving! I’d rather rot here!"
Martha shook her head, refusing to back down.
"You mentioned you had a plan, right?"
Burren ignored her outburst, his eyes narrowing.
"I’ll create an opening. You take the shot."
He nodded, implying he would engage both Syria Sullion and Runaan at once, if only for a moment.
"Can you actually do that?"
Martha looked at him with skepticism.
"After you inherited the demon king’s strength, I saw how far behind I was. I’ve been training day and night."
Burren steadied his breathing.
"I’ve been dueling my father in life-or-death matches daily. I’ve stared at my own grave every single morning. Because of that, my ability to read a crisis has sharpened."
He managed a small smirk, gesturing to his battered body.
"Hmm..."
Martha studied him closely.
'I see it.'
Burren was in better shape than she was. Despite being on the front lines, he had managed to avoid the worst of the damage. His sense for danger had indeed evolved.
"But I can't sustain it for long."
Burren stepped forward, placing the burden of success on her.
"Understood. I won't need long."
Martha slammed a hand against Burren’s back, giving him the signal.
Burren moved instantly, charging at the two armored figures.
"Coming to meet your end, then."
Syria Sullion smiled at Burren’s desperate approach.
"If they crave death, let us grant it."
He raised his greatsword and signaled to Runaan.
"Yes..."
Runaan nodded, her eyes devoid of any recognition of Burren, and swung her frost-laden blade with lethal intent.
Syria Sullion’s greatsword came down like a falling mountain, while Runaan’s sword ascended, trailing a scent of iron and blood.
"Haah."
Knowing he was outmatched, Burren pressed on, his sword glowing with a blue gale. Instead of projecting the wind outward, the cyclones wrapped tightly around his own body.
!
Syria Sullion’s blade only grazed Burren’s shoulder, and Runaan’s sword barely caught the fabric at his waist.
"What?"
"How...?"
Syria Sullion and Runaan both faltered, looking at their blades. They had expected a killing blow, yet they had only drawn a trickle of blood.
"A fluke!"
Syria Sullion dismissed it as luck and aimed a horizontal slash at Burren’s throat. Runaan followed up with a series of rapid strikes, her frustration visible.
"Huuk!"
Yet again, Burren danced through the lethal geometry of their blades, taking only minor nicks as he closed the distance. It was no longer a coincidence.
"The wind?"
Martha watched from the side, seeing how Burren’s localized gales were parrying the enemy blades by the smallest of margins.
'He's using the wind as a reactive shield!'
Burren’s wind was as sharp as a razor. By wrapping it around himself, he was creating a field that pushed away incoming attacks. He wasn't strong enough to stop them, but he was deflecting them just enough to keep the wounds non-fatal.
'If he perfects that...'
Martha moved to the left, circling behind Burren.
'He'll be an unstoppable force.'
She gritted her teeth, inspired by the potential she saw in him.
'I can't let him fall here!'
The moment Runaan’s focus shifted entirely to Burren out of wounded pride, Martha launched herself, the ground cracking under her feet.
'I’m putting everything on the line!'
With her sword in her right hand, she gripped a bracelet—two serpents biting each other’s tails—in her left, charging straight for Runaan.
'Just let me reach her!'
She didn't necessarily trust Evelyn, but she trusted the woman’s craft. If she could snap that bracelet onto Runaan, there was a chance.
'I’ve got her... wait!'
Just as Martha went to latch the bracelet onto Runaan’s arm, she saw a massive shadow out of the corner of her eye.
A giant greatsword was inches from her face.
"You didn't think I was blind, did you?"
Syria Sullion had diverted his attention to her, abandoning Burren.
"You were too transparent. A waste of your friend’s distraction."
He laughed at her, mocking her predictable movements.
"That trinket in your hand... it’s not just jewelry, is it?"
Syria Sullion’s expression darkened as he realized what she was trying to do.
"Ugh!"
Martha swung her sword with bone-breaking force, barely managing to deflect the greatsword.
But Runaan’s blade was already coming from the other side, and the grey-robed shaman had launched a volley of dark magic from the rear.
Exhausted from blocking Syria, she was wide open.
'Dammit...'
Martha clenched her teeth.
'The bracelet has to survive!'
She prepared to curl into a ball to protect the artifact with her own body.
Suddenly, Runaan’s sword strike and the shaman’s spell collided with each other, canceling out in a strange explosion of energy. Their trajectories had been completely different; they shouldn't have touched.
"What...?"
"Hmm!"
Runaan and the shaman both let out sounds of confusion at the interference.
"What is the meaning of this..."
Syria Sullion’s brow furrowed at the anomaly.
'Now!'
Martha didn't stop to wonder why she was still alive.
Using the momentum of her previous block, she threw herself forward. She abandoned all defense, all counter-attacks—she was a human projectile.
Runaan, reacting with the speed of a Transcendent, pivoted her sword and lunged for Martha’s chest.
"Go ahead! Do it!"
Martha didn't flinch. She allowed Runaan’s blade to plunge into her body. Her world turned cold as the steel tore through muscle and bone.
Despite the agony and the freezing chill, she forced her limbs to move.
"Finally, you die."
Syria Sullion smiled, certain the battle was over.
"Vicious to the end..."
"I... I might be dying."
Martha’s smile was wider and more terrifying than Syria Sullion’s, even with a sword through her gut.
"But I’m taking my friend back with me."
She looked up and grabbed Runaan’s arm, the one that had just impaled her.
Uuuuuung!
The serpent bracelet was suddenly locked around Runaan’s wrist. Red and blue light flared from the eyes of the twin snakes.
"You!"
Before Syria Sullion could even finish his scream, a brilliant violet light engulfed both Runaan and Martha.
