I had already Imbued my arms with both of my weapons. Left one with the Pale Thorn and the other one with the Bone Shed. With the augmentation of Dawn Shard both of my memories were near Ascended rank.
Of course, the people watching did not know I had done that. They were thinking I was going to fight with my bare hands.
I could feel that Gunlaug was looking at me with contempt.
"Are you going to summon your memories?"
"This is all I have." I pointed to my red cloak.
He barked out a laugh—deep, arrogant, hollow. Then the liquid gold flowed forward and assumed the shape of a heavy battle axe, which Gunlaug then grasped and leisurely put on his shoulder.
'Well.. damn that counts as a transcended weapon doesn't it..'
Due to my arms being imbued with weapons I would still be able to parry. But I could not say the same for my own body. If that axe hit me it was going to slice through me like butter.
Additionally the Bright Lord was much taller than me and weighed twice as much as me. He was stronger, had longer reach, and much more experience in slaughtering people.
But even if he had all those he was nothing without his echo. That's where my aspect ability was going to be useful, combined with my innate ability which cancelled out his mental attacks from reaching me.
Plus.. he was a dormant beast. While I was a dormant devil.
"Any last words?"
I tilted my head a little. Looking at him indifferently.
"Immortal my ass.." I said as I cracked my knuckles.
And then, without wasting even a fraction of a second, Bright lord suddenly exploded forward in a terrifying, lightning-fast lunge.
The shift between peace and violence was so instant and swift that most people gathered in the great hall did not even realize what was happening until a few moments later.
With each of Gunlaug's strides, the floor of the throne room shook a little. He flew at me like a furious giant made of gold, swinging his battle axe with both incredible agility and horrible force.
II only just managed to duck under the vicious arc of the swing, the force of its passage close enough to make my cloak flutter violently. But Gunlaug was not done—not even close. Before I could fully rise from my crouch, his armored leg was already twisting toward me in a sweeping kick aimed directly at my head, the motion brutally fast for someone of his size.
Reacting on instinct, I pivoted and threw myself to the side, twisting my torso at the last possible moment as I brought my left hand up—not to block, but to touch. My palm met the gleaming metal of his greave for just a split second, a moment so brief it could have been mistaken for a glancing brush. But it was enough.
I rolled away in a fluid motion, letting my body absorb the ground with practiced ease, and as I came to my feet, I cast a quick glance back at him. The area of his leg where I had touched had already begun to change. The pristine golden surface was now stained with a subtle, creeping brown discoloration, like rot seeping into polished glass. It was slow, deliberate, and undeniable.
Gunlaug had felt it. He looked down for a fraction of a second, and then, with a flick of his will, summoned more of the golden essence to flow across the surface of his armor, attempting to patch the spreading corruption. But the repair held no effect. The healing shimmer slid across the surface like water over oil, unable to reclaim what had already begun to decay.
"So this is your trick.."
I didn't bother to respond. Instead, I shot forward without hesitation, every fiber of my body coiled into motion. He was already in the middle of raising his heavy axe again, its shimmering edge humming with lethal intent. But I veered sharply to the side, slipping just outside the path of the downward swing, and thrust my open palm toward the center of his breastplate.
For a split second, it looked like the blow would land clean—but then, with brutal precision, a golden spike erupted from his chestplate like a venomous fang. It drove straight through my palm before I could pull away. Pain exploded through my nerves, sharp and hot, but I grit my teeth and did not falter.
With my hand still skewered, I activated my corrosion. The spike began to decay, the shining gold darkening and flaking into dust around the site of impact. But Gunlaug wasn't idle. The axe dissolved in his grip and reformed into a blade in less than a breath, the liquid metal reshaping itself into a broad, glimmering sword that cut through the air with terrifying speed.
I sensed the movement more than I saw it and I yanked my arm free, tearing it out of the dissolving spike and throwing myself backward. But the golden blade was already extending unnaturally, growing like a spear mid-slash. Its edge kissed my side just before I could fully escape, slicing a shallow gash through my ribs.
Blood began to soak through the side of me, and yet, I never took my eyes off him.
The spike that had pierced my hand was still there—half-decayed, twisted, and wrong. It hadn't melted back into his armor like the rest of his constructs. My corruption had rooted itself into it. I could tell he was reluctant to touch the origin of the corrosion.
In the next moments, we exchanged several more blows but each was either deflected, dodged, or blocked. There was nothing elegant, graceful, or elevated about our fight — all there was was barbarous violence and cruel brutality, each of us doing everything in our power to break, cripple and kill our opponent.
A few seconds later, Gunlaug and me disengaged and staggered away from each other, letting the spectators draw in shaky breaths.
The Bright lord's pristine golden armor had several spots that corrosion was spreading on.
I had a sick smile plastered on my face, I had suffered several cuts to my body, none of them were vital due to me being immortal. Even if I lost blood I still had much more stamina than a normal mortal. However it was getting quite annoying to feel many cuts all over my body.
***
Everyone in the throne room, in one way or another, was thinking about the same thing, a cold and sickening feeling slowly spreading through their chests. How would they fare in such a fight themselves? The answer was simple — they would have been long dead, eviscerated in mere seconds by one of these awesome fighters.
Many people were still baffled that a man with no armor or weapon memories had stepped up against the Bright Lord. They couldn't understand how he was still alive, much less pushing back.
Everyone felt death breathing down their necks.
Among all the people watching the fight, however, there were two who observed Levi's every move with a different kind of attention. Sunny and Shashi. Their gazes were focused, sharp. They weren't just watching—they were analyzing.
And then, in the very next second, Levi's presence changed.
Something about him shifted, as if a hidden mask had been ripped off. His aura unfurled and rolled outward, heavy and suffocating, almost similar to Gunlaug's… but colder. Instead of fear, it carried hatred. It wasn't as overwhelming as the Bright Lord's Echo, but there was something twisted in it. Something deep.
Right in front of everyone's eyes, Levi began to change.
The skin on his forearms darkened by a few shades, the pale white turning into a dull, sickly gray. His nails lengthened into pointed black claws, the tips curved slightly like the fangs of some predator. Thick veins swelled under the surface, pulsing unnaturally as they crept up his arms, spreading like dark roots along his shoulders, his neck, and finally reaching his face, wrapping around his eyes like black tattoos and getting rid of his pupils.
Then came the horns.
Two obsidian horns sprouted from his forehead, growing at a sharp diagonal angle, curving slightly near the ends. They weren't smooth, but ridged, like bone that had been weathered by age and hate. A smile was already forming on Levi's face — cold, wide, and twisted in a way that was not human.
He didn't look like a man anymore.
He looked like a devil. A murderous devil standing in the middle of the Bright Castle's throne room, calm and ready to kill.
***
The silence that followed Levi's transformation was not stunned—it was terrified. A suffocating stillness settled over the throne room, as if the very walls had gone quiet to avoid drawing his attention.
Someone in the crowd took a step back. Then another. Even the guards flanking the Bright Lord hesitated, their grips on their weapons tightening, eyes flicking toward their master as if unsure whether to move or stay still.
Gasps rippled through the Sleepers. A few of them instinctively reached for their memories, as if the devil before them might turn on them next. Their instincts told them what their minds refused to accept—this wasn't just a man.
"W-what is he…?" a voice whispered from the back of the room.
Shashi's lips parted slightly, she let out a sigh. She knew this was going to happen before the fight had even started. Levi had told her his plans after all.
Sunny, on the other hand, didn't flinch. His gaze was steady—piercing, even. But there was something strange in his expression. A flicker of recognition… As if the creature standing in front of the Bright Lord was something he had seen in a dream. Or maybe a nightmare.
'A devil standing before the throne of a withered lord.'
Gunlaug's face had hardened.
He was no fool. He had seen plenty of monsters in his time, had crushed them beneath his boots, and wore their bones like trophies. But the thing standing in front of him… it was familiar. Not in shape, but in feeling. The way it stared at him. The way its presence warped the air. It was the same look predators gave each other before a kill.
***
My mind was feeling hazy..
I was feeling like my mind was going to explode from all the emotions that kept pouring into my brain. It was very hard to keep a sane mind after activating my augmentation, especially since I was a devil now.
I immediately diverted my killing intent towards Gunlaug. Who was already dashing towards me, his heavy golden booths shaking the ground. Even after witnessing that my abilities affected his armor, he still charged. Was he a fool?
The Bright Lord had absorbed the sword back into his armor. He had two straight blades grew out of his forearms, creating weapons that resembled long, heavy punching daggers.
We clashed once again, this time with even more fury. The people pressing themselves into the walls of the throne room trembled.
My frenzied form had abandoned all defense, swinging my corrosion imbued claws against him with all my might. Gunlaug's daggers were a true menace to resist, they flew at me from all sides, either in tandem or in a staggered rhythm, making it hard for the me to block them with my arms.
But I wasn't trying to anyways.
I was willing to take as many blows as possible to corrode his armor more. By this time his armor was not in a good condition, and the corrosion was spreading faster now that I had activated my augmentation ability. I could feel that Gunlaug was getting desperate to kill me as he swung his daggers in a way that left him defenseless in many ways.
As Gunlaug was going for a stab, I immediately caught his dagger in between my hands and turned the gold pristine blade into nothing but dust. In the next his other dagger plunged into my stomach drawing gasps from the crowd. I coughed blood, staining his golden armor with my blood.
Gunlaug twisted the blade, making me scream in pain.
"Good," he sneered, his voice cold and cruel. "Scream more. You'll pay for what you did to my armor."
I seized his wrist, gripping it tightly. My other hand shot upward with terrifying speed, fingers clawing at his helmet as I pulled him close—an embrace laced with deadly intent.
***
By gripping his wrist I immediately activated corrosion, when Gunlaug tried to pull it off his hand fell off to the ground as it slowly started turning into dust. My claws dug into his helmet, and I felt my claw touch his skin underneath.
His end had come. The corrosion would slowly spread onto his brain and kill him.
Gunlaug pried himself out of my grip.
"What did you do!?" He barked, his voice full of anger and desperation.
However my frenzied self was not in the mood to listen to his angry self as I pounced on him. Immediately delivering merciless punches to all sides of his armor. Gunlaug tried defending himself however his movement were becoming hazy.
Finally his echo starting coming off. Some people were seeing his face for the first time in their lives. Their bright lord was laid bare in front of them as I continued my assault.
"How does it feel to be stripped off your false immortality?"
I said with contempt as I delivered my punch to his face knocking him down to the ground. His face was sickly and webs of cracks were starting to appear on his head.
For a few moments, the Bright Lord remained motionless. Then, his body convulsed, a muffled scream could be heard once again, full of torturous pain.
Hundreds of people were watching him, stunned, their eyes full of disbelief, anger, and terror.
I looked at him as my augmentation came off. He slowly rose and then turned away. Swaying, the Bright Lord took one step forward, then another.
The crowd watched silently as he arduously made his way to the steps that led to the throne of white marble and climbed them, blood spilling from all over his head. his once golden armor flowing and swirling around his body in a state that resembled panic. It was heavily damaged, and rusty looking.
Finally, Gunlaug reached the dais and fell on his throne, looking down on the great hall of the ancient castle with a strange, wistful expression. Then, he strained to say something, but became twisted in a violent coughing fit instead.
In the end, he just whispered a few almost inaudible words and leaned on the back of the throne, his body relaxing. Sunny was perhaps the only one who had heard him, due to the fact that his shadow was hiding in the darkness of the alcove all along.
"I... tried. In the beginning..."
His words were cut short as my fist slammed into his skull, crushing it beyond recognition. The sound of shattering bone filled the hall.
"Shut up.."
The Bright Lord's reign had ended.
A few moments later, the armor suddenly shined with white light and then disintegrated into countless sparks, revealing the man who had ruled this cursed place for many years with an iron fist.
In the next few moment, Tessai, who had been staring at his dead lord with his usual morose expression, turned around and looked at the crowd of slum dwellers, then at the members of the Host.
The giant lingered for a second and then said, his deep, dark voice reverberating through the ancient hall:
"...What are you waiting for? Kill them all."
And then, everything descended into madness.