Chapter 102: Saint Ilarion Hospital (33)
This was not merely a change in weather.
It meant that the immense "etheric barrier" and the complex spatial spell with which Saint Ilarion had isolated Saint Ilarion Hospital from the outside world—and from intelligence sensors—had completely collapsed and been torn apart!
The hospital, once hidden like a cursed secret—a subterranean slaughterhouse unseen and unheard—was slowly being exposed to the city of Elysium.
The old man suddenly stopped walking.
He raised his head toward the falling raindrops, though his eyes remained closed.
His muttering changed—its tone becoming faster, more frantic.
Ilarion, suspended in the air, panting, his face twisted with terror and dripping with sweat and blood, realized what the rain meant as well.
The hospital was on the verge of total collapse.
Millions of tons of debris, blood farms, and laboratories would be revealed to the world above.
And worse...
The Transcendent "Kaiser Dravion," the absolute ruler of Elysium—who had intended to investigate this hospital next week...
He would sense this etheric explosion and the collapse of the barrier within seconds—and descend here like an enraged god to annihilate everyone!
Ilarion realized he was doomed.
The old Voider would tear him apart—and even if he survived, Kaiser would crush him.
But he was a saint driven mad by his pride and his sins.
If he was going to die, he would not die in darkness.
He would expose the Voiders—and force Kaiser to intervene!
"I won’t be the only victim tonight!"
Ilarion roared with a blood-soaked, insane laugh.
"You want to hide?! I’ll tear this entire abyss apart! I’ll make all of Elysium see the monsters of the Voiders walking in the light!"
Ilarion did not direct his next attack toward the old man.
He knew it was pointless—the old man would cut it apart.
Instead, Ilarion drew his arms to his chest and began absorbing all the remaining ether in his body—and in the entire hospital.
He drained the life energy from the fleshy walls and the shattered vaults.
His body transformed into a mass of blinding white light.
Ilarion was using his most powerful large-scale destruction technique.
He did not aim to kill the old man—he aimed to "destroy the hospital entirely," to detonate everything and turn the underground into a volcanic crater, creating an etheric beacon visible from the edges of the planet—a beacon Kaiser Dravion could not ignore!
"Supreme Purging Supernova! Burn in the light!"
Ilarion shouted, and absolute energy erupted from his body, expanding at lightning speed to consume the cathedral.
The old man opened his eyes.
For the first time, he opened his completely dark eyes.
The void within them pulled in the light.
His expression changed. His back bent further, like a predator preparing to strike, and his thin hand tightened around the sword’s hilt.
He had to be fast.
He had to end this before Ilarion’s light reached the surface, burned everything, and exposed his presence to Kaiser.
For the first time, the old man spoke clearly.
His voice sounded like two ancient stones grinding in a forgotten graveyard—rough, devoid of any emotion:
"No time for play... the light is annoying... must take the girl and silence the dog."
Valisera, who was listening, widened her crimson eyes in shock that froze all the pain in her body.
Take the girl? Who did he mean?
The old man had not come to protect the hospital.
Nor had he come to save them.
He had come to take "Valisera"—the vessel carrying the cosmic entity!
But before Valisera could utter a word, or Kyle—pinned to the ground—could comprehend what was happening...
The old man moved.
He did not walk.
He vanished from existence.
At the exact moment Ilarion’s destructive light began to expand—at the moment the heat would have melted Valisera and Kyle’s flesh—
The old man appeared directly above Ilarion in midair!
He gripped the sword with both thin hands, the blue veins in them bulging with sudden, monstrous force.
"Void Blade: Eternal Repose."
The old man whispered the words.
And brought the sword down in a single motion—smooth, silent, and slow in a way that contradicted its absolute speed.
There was no light.
No explosion.
Why wasn’t the hospital destroyed?
Why didn’t the lower floors vaporize from the supreme detonation Ilarion had unleashed?
Because the old man did not cut the light.
He cut the "cause" of the explosion.
He severed the etheric reaction itself at its root.
The blade pierced the supernova sphere... as if it were an empty soap bubble.
The destructive attack that could have erased an entire sector of the map... simply "went out."
The energy was severed from its core, and the light dissipated like smoke—turning the annihilating explosion into a faint flash that faded into darkness.
And the sword did not stop at the light.
The dull blade continued its path—piercing through Saint Ilarion’s body from his right shoulder, descending diagonally until it exited from his left side.
Silence.
The old man descended, landing on the fleshy floor with an almost inaudible touch, his wooden sandals barely making contact.
He slowly returned the katana to its black wooden sheath.
His hands resumed their weak trembling.
He closed his eyes once more, returning to his senile muttering:
"Blood... the blood stains the wood... where did the bird go?"
Click.
The moment the sheath fully closed around the blade and made that small sound...
The upper half of Saint Ilarion’s body slid off from the lower half.
The cut was perfect—atomic, smooth to the point that no blood flowed.
Ilarion’s body did not even realize it had died until a full second had passed.
But the strike had not merely split his torso.
The blade had also severed the saint’s golden head from his neck at the exact same instant it cut his body.
The head rolled...
The head of the false Transcendent, the ruler of the hospital... tumbled across the living flesh floor, golden blood spilling from the severed neck.
His golden eyes remained open—frozen in shock, disbelief, and cosmic terror at a death he had never imagined.
The head continued rolling in the cathedral’s silence...
Until it stopped.
It stopped directly in front of Valisera’s face—she who lay pinned to the ground, unable to move even an inch of her bleeding body.
Her crimson eyes stared straight into the dead saint’s eyes—mere centimeters away.
Behind the severed head...
Stood the senile old man.
His back hunched, his eyes closed, muttering incomprehensible equations, while cold rain fell from the open ceiling, washing the saint’s blood from his wooden sandals.
The hospital was finished.
The saint was dead, and his dreams had evaporated.
Alpha Squad had been crushed like insects beneath the feet of giants.
And the legendary Voider remained standing above them—dragging his sword in sepulchral silence, preparing to claim the grand prize from this hell...
While the blood of Alpha Squad, and the tears of the shattered Kyle, quenched the thirst of Elysium’s cursed abyss.