Demon King of the Royal Class-Chapter 673

Splash...

The rain continued to pour down. It had been about ten minutes, and Antirianus’s expression had already hardened. He watched as Ludwig, who had yet again managed to endure the relentless assault of vengeful spirits, staggered but somehow managed to stand.

“You’re standing up again.”

The dark flames that had once flickered along his right arm had long since been extinguished, and though drool hung from his mouth, Ludwig continued to rise, as if he wouldn’t fall unless he was truly killed.

Any ordinary person would lose their sanity just by coming into contact with these spirits, yet Ludwig endured their assault.

Even the Demon King had fainted from mental exhaustion after being attacked by them, but Ludwig, fully aware he was being toyed with, continued to grit his teeth and stand up.

Only to buy time.

Knowing his existence held no value beyond that, he refused to fall.

Could a soul of steel truly exist? Could an unbreakable human truly be real?

Once again, the torrent of spirits engulfed Ludwig.

Rrrumble!

At first, Ludwig had screamed as if his very breath would be stolen away, but now he no longer cried out in pain. It wasn’t as though he was getting better at enduring the pain; he simply lacked the strength to scream anymore.

The ashen storm passed through him, consuming him as he writhed on the ground like an insect, yet after that, he somehow managed to rise again. This time, he would not fall.

To the monster, this was no longer just a game. If he actually had to kill this boy, who was somehow enduring all this, without forcing him into utter submission and despair, it would be his defeat. He needed to break him, to crush him, and only then kill him once he could no longer rise.

If such an unbreakable will truly existed, he wanted to witness it with his own eyes. He had long been curious about such a possibility, and he needed to see if it could be broken. If this existence couldn’t be broken, it would be astonishing. If it could, it would reaffirm the belief that existence would always be consumed by despair.

Killing this boy directly would signify the monster’s defeat. So, he watched, waiting to see if the boy would rise again, even while his face was a mask of hopelessness.

Swish!

Crash!

A dark greatsword sliced through the storm of spirits, shattering the barrier the monster had conjured and grazing his right ear.

Antirianus’s right ear vanished, taken away by the swirling dark magic. In the space where the torrent of spirits had dissipated, a boy sat, gritting his teeth and gasping for breath.

“You still had that much strength left,” the monster remarked, touching the spot where his right ear had been.

He watched the boy’s face contort in despair at the failure of his desperate, decisive ambush.

He had endured storm after storm, biding his time for the moment the monster let its guard down, conserving every ounce of his strength.

It had been a hopeful ambush, but it had failed.

What if that single attack had succeeded? The miraculous strike had found an opening, but it had left nothing more than a scratch.

Antirianus smiled as he looked at Ludwig’s face, savoring his expression as he realized that he had lost his one chance.

The boy hadn’t just been enduring. He had been aiming for something.

“That’s a good expression you have,” Antirianus remarked.

‘There is no such thing as an unbreakable will.’

That was what he gleaned from his victim’s expression.

“Is that right arm your last hope?”

Ludwig’s matters were of no concern to Antirianus, so he had not cared to listen before. But he could see that his right arm appeared as if it had been grafted from another creature. Something sinister, crafted with dark magic... It was probably connected to the Immortals.

If his victim had been holding on, hoping for that arm to help him make a turnaround, then it meant everything to him.

Antirianus waved his hand, and a razor-sharp blade of wind sliced through the air.

Thud!

“Ugh...!”

In an instant, the source of the boy’s strength—the boy who had been enduring everything through gritted teeth—was severed.

“Kr... Ugh...!”

Ludwig groaned, clutching at the bleeding stump of his arm, now lost for the second time. Any hope of turning the tide had vanished. The sting of the toy had been taken away.

“Now, all that’s left is for you to suffer.”

Rumble!

Once more, a storm of spirits gathered in the monster’s hand and surged toward Ludwig.

With his final hope shattered, he felt himself breaking apart. There was no more hope for a turnaround. All that was left to do was to fall.

The monster reveled in the despair etched across his victim’s face. But then...

Rumble!

.

.

“Gr... Ugh...”

.

.

Boom!

A loud crash echoed through space.

.

.

“Ugh...” a groan escaped, breaking the silence.

.

.

For a moment, everything was still.

After each assault, Ludwig always managed to stand up again, no matter how much time it too him. Despite all his staggering, he eventually found his footing.

Each fresh attack sent him down to the ground, writhing and clutching the wound on his right arm, but after it passed, he somehow stood tall. Antirianus’s expression had grown stony, his gaze fixed intently on Ludwig.

Though his victim was dying and on the brink of losing consciousness from the bleeding, his will was unyielding, and he would continue to stand back up as long as it held.

He locked eyes with Ludwig, who kept rising.

That light in Ludwig’s eyes never dimmed, even as he writhed in pain. He knew that all he could do was buy time, and was fully aware that he was merely a source of amusement for his tormentor. He was a worthless opponent. No—he couldn’t even be considered an opponent, yet he continued to rise.

“Why do you keep getting up? You are nothing. You know you can’t do anything and have nothing to rely on. So why do you keep getting up?”

Even without any power of his own, he kept rising to his feet in a desperate bid to buy time. Did he truly believe there might be some hope if the Demon King awoke?

Ludwig, battered and barely able to stand, opened his mouth.

“Because this is all I can do,” he muttered blankly, his eyes dimming. “I don’t know how to do anything else. So even if this is all I can do, I have to do it. I don’t care about losing my right arm. It wasn’t really mine anyway.”

He took a moment to find his breath again. “Yeah... Getting up even when I fall. This is what I do. This is the only thing I’m good at. This is all I can do.”

He let out a hollow laugh. “I was always foolish but I have good stamina. That is my only strength. Running and running without stopping, picking up my sword over and over again. I always believed that if I just kept trying, something would eventually change. That’s how it always was... But in the end, I couldn’t become anything on my own.”

He clutched his trembling arm. “I had to attach a corpse’s arm to me just to feel like I was something. Yeah... I’m nothing. I have no power. This is who I really am...”

He looked up at his tormentor. “You can kill me anytime, but if you’re keeping me alive just to toy with me... Go ahead, try a little more. As long as I can, I’ll keep getting back up... Play with me a little longer... I’ll keep getting up.”

“I may be nothing, but this is the only thing I’m good at,” he whispered as he lowered his head.

Even as fear, despair, and pain battered Ludwig, his will remained unbroken. He vowed to keep rising, if only to buy a little more time.

For the first time in his life, Antirianus experienced a strange emotion: displeasure. Did a being with an unbreakable will truly exist? He longed to witness it, yet when confronted by a human that seemed to embody it, Antirianus found himself overwhelmed by an unbearable displeasure. His self-deprecating humility, and pleading to be toyed with a little longer, was almost intolerable.

How could he be so foolish? So acutely aware of his own insignificance, yet stubbornly refusing to yield?

Antirianus realized something crucial: Ludwig would not go down easily. In fact, he might faint from blood loss before even giving into despair. As long as his will remained strong, he would keep rising. But if he did finally collapse from blood loss, Antirianus would taste the bitterness of defeat.

The thought of his victim losing consciousness after pushing his body to its limits without ever breaking was a haunting one. It would mean acknowledging that he couldn’t shatter an unbreakable spirit.

The dimming light in Ludwig’s eyes revealed that he was nearing the brink—not because his spirit had faltered, but because his body was failing him.

“How can you say you’re nothing?” Antirianus wondered aloud.

He did not know the person who stood before him, but how could anyone speak so harshly about themselves?

“This old man had lived for an immeasurably long time, witnessing both the great and the insignificant among humans. I witnessed those of incomprehensible strength, and I saw those of noble bloodlines act more insignificantly than the humblest of commoners.

“Countless moments of despair. Countless moments of hope. I watched everything ultimately end in the futility of death. I have witnessed countless great beings, and countless insignificant ones. But I’ve never encountered anyone as seemingly insignificant yet as tenacious as you.”

His eyes bore into Ludwig’s. “How could anyone see that and not call that greatness? You are the most uniquely remarkable human I’ve ever known. How could I ever call someone like you nothing?”

The boy wasn’t strong enough to overcome the old monster. But he refused to break. He would not crumble under the torrent of pain that could not end his life. He just kept rising.

He knew there was nothing he could do to achieve victory, but he had a desire in his heart. He did not know if what he was doing was right, but he knew that allowing the death of the Demon King was undeniably wrong.

What needed to be done had to be done, no matter the cost.

It was the first time the old monster had encountered such resolve.

“I have lost,” Antirianus admitted, raising his right hand.

Within it was not the power to torment and inflict pain, but a blade of wind.

He had tried to break this man, but he had refused to yield. Therefore, he accepted his own defeat and resolved to end the man’s life.

Since he couldn’t break him, he would shatter him instead. This was the highest form of praise and respect Antirianus could offer this nameless human before his body finally gave out and collapsed. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

Wooong!

Ludwig watched as a blade of wind formed in the monster’s right hand.

He had no hope of winning this fight. All he could do was stand up, but even that felt pointless now. His opponent had lost interest in trying to break an unyielding foe, and was ready to end his life.

After him, it would be the turn of the fallen Demon King and then Ellen.

He had no idea what lay ahead. He couldn’t grasp what was happening. He had tried to protect the Demon King while constantly second-guessing himself, but even that had ended in failure.

It felt like despair.

It felt like futility.

Swoosh...

He looked up at the sky as the rain continued to pour down.

His life had been a series of failures. Whether it was protecting someone, becoming strong, or anything else, he had failed time and again. He kept making wrong decisions, losing repeatedly, and in the end, he was going to lose his life.

Was he destined to leave this world as a failure? Was this the only conclusion for someone as inept and foolish as him? To meet his end as a persistent yet insignificant figure... Was that truly his fate?

He was confident he would not collapse, but he could not promise that he would not die. And he had no way to strike back at the enemy before him.

Was someone like him not allowed to dream of victory?

He had given it his all. This was the best he could manage. It was heartbreaking and frustrating that all his best efforts only led him here, but he had done everything he could. He couldn’t ask for more. Wasn’t this enough? For someone like him, hadn’t he done enough?

In that moment, Ludwig couldn’t help but recall an old conversation.

He glanced back at the unconscious Demon King, cradling Ellen in his arms under the pouring rain. This was a being he had once respected, then despised, decided to kill, and ultimately vowed to protect.

He remembered the words he had heard from the Demon King, the words had driven him forward.

It was the night before the Temple Tournament semifinals, at the training grounds.

Ludwig, feeling the weight of impending defeat, turned to the Demon King—no, to Reinhart.

“Reinhart, can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“You’ve fought battles knowing you might lose, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“But you won them all.”

The Demon King, who always seemed to charge into reckless battles, had not been concealing his strength. Back then, he had been genuinely weak.

He’d kept his identity a secret, but not his power. He had not been pretending to be weak; he truly was.

Yet despite that, he always took on impossible battles. He knew he would lose, yet he fought anyway. And somehow, he always won.

Ludwig was curious about this. Why fight when defeat seemed certain? And how did he keep winning?

“How do you think that was possible?”

“You have to believe,” was the reply.

“Believe?”

“Yes.”

Ludwig had indeed heard those words before.

“Even when you know you’re going to lose, even when losing is inevitable, you still have to believe.”

“Believe you can win?”

“Yes.”

In every battle that seemed destined for defeat, where the only certainty was failure...

“Instead of thinking you’ll lose but trying your best anyway, you must believe you’ll win, no matter what. That you will win.”

“But what if you still lose?”

The Demon King rejected Ludwig’s entire way of thinking. “What does it matter? Saying you’ll do your best even if you lose is just excusing your failure. You try to justify yourself, saying you tried your best and that you’d do better next time. Isn’t that just giving your defeated self an easy way out?”

Saying “I did my best” was ultimately just an excuse.

It was the same this time. The moment one convinced oneself that this was the best they could do, it was over. They had already given up.

According to the Demon King, one needed to have the will and the resolve to win no matter what, and not make excuses for losing. Then, perhaps, by some chance, there might be a different outcome.

The Demon King had once more faced an impossible battle and emerged victorious through sheer determination.

‘Who can say it isn’t possible? That they can’t achieve such a victory? Why am I giving up? Claiming I have done my best, that I’ve reached my limit. Why am I quietly accepting defeat?

‘Instead of resigning myself to a life of losses and insignificance, I long for just one victory. I wanted to seize it, just once. I am not dead yet. Until my last breath, my life isn’t over.

‘I’ve lost the right arm that once gave me indescribable strength. But I still have my body. My legs are trembling, barely able to hold me up, and my consciousness is wavering, but there is still a drop of strength left somewhere.

‘Even if death was approaching, I won’t just wait for it. Although I can’t reach it, I will try.’

Ludwig’s relentless drive had carried him this far, despite the constant failures and defeats, despite collapsing into exhausted sleep each night. Despite it all, he had refused to give up. He had pushed forward with a stubbornness that bordered on ignorance.

Ludwig finally understood that this was his only weapon, his most absolute weapon. Therefore, as the blade of death loomed closer, he took a step forward.

Wooong!

He summoned whatever mana still lingered within him to fortify his body.

He hadn’t been able to defeat this enemy even with the transplanted Grandmaster’s arm. But as death approached, he knew he had to at least try to face it.

It might not work, but he had always moved forward with the hope that maybe it would. He was determined to hold onto this lifelong compulsion through to the very end.

“Are you... trying to fight?” the old monster asked, his expression shifting from displeasure to something akin to awe.

Surrounded by a faint blue aura of mana, the boy who shouldn’t have had the strength to lift a single finger took a step forward.

Though it was just a small kernel, there was still some strength left in him.

Even a light that seemed like it could flicker out at any moment was still a light. And even a weak light could push back some of the darkness.

Ludwig summoned what little strength he had left into his frail body.

“Yes. I have to fight.”

‘Even if it’s a battle where death seems inevitable, and an unstoppable enemy is out to kill me. Even when I’m terrified, when I’m full of despair. But if I’m destined to die regardless...’

Wooong!

“If I’m going to fight, I should hope for victory,” he said,

Even if the determination to win did not guarantee success, why shouldn’t the compass of his heart point towards victory?

“So...”

Why should he break, shatter, give in, and wait for death?

Instead, he wished for victory.

“I will,” he declared, a promise to himself, “defeat you.”

‘Right here, in this moment.’

Rumble!

A single beam of light pierced through the clouds that had blanketed the sky, illuminating a patch of ground on the earth.

With a resounding crash, something struck the ground in front of Ludwig, sending out a fierce shockwave.

It was unmistakably a spear.

“Oh...” the old monster murmured in awe as he gazed at the spear that had descended from the heavens in a brilliant flash. “That is...”

It was always the weapon of the lowly.

The simplest form.

The most lethal shape.

It was always the weapon of the weak.

A straightforward design, with a simple blade.

When the weak dared to challenge the strong, to stand against something they could never hope to withstand, the weapon of choice always bore this form—the straight and deadly line.

The old monster knew the name of this weapon.

The weapon of the weak.

The sacred symbol of bravery.

The Holy Spear.

“Alixion...”

That was its name.