Chapter 428: The Night the Moons Vanished

Without anyone to control it, the strongest arrow of Heaven—which had gathered enough divine power to wipe out the entire lower world—slowly dissipated, returning to the earth as pure energy.

The suffocating despair that had blanketed the world for an entire night finally vanished.

Orario, the top floor of Babel Tower.

Freya stood barefoot before the floor-to-ceiling windows of her lavish chambers. Holding a glass of blood-red wine, her gaze pierced through the clouds, quietly watching the night sky return to its tranquil state.

The moment the second moon completely disappeared, an intoxicating, delighted smile curved her lips.

“You didn’t disappoint me after all.”

She whispered softly, downing her wine in a single gulp. That brilliant, radiant soul had once again bloomed with a light that utterly captivated her.

Meanwhile, at Twilight Manor.

Loki slumped entirely into her sofa, letting out a long, heavy exhale. The tight knot in her brow finally smoothed out.

“It’s finally… over…” she muttered to herself.

The sudden, catastrophic crisis had been resolved without major casualties.

The Dungeon, 18th Floor.

“Hah… hah…”

Ais panted softly, sweat plastering her golden hair to her forehead. Her sword, Desperate, was still razor-sharp, but the endless waves of monsters had left even her feeling a long-forgotten sense of exhaustion.

Surrounding her was the defensive line formed by the Loki Familia, the Ganesha Familia, and various other adventurers trapped in the Dungeon. Everyone was battered, bruised, and pushed to their absolute mental limits.

Just then, an adventurer on lookout duty let out a shout of pure joy. “Look! The monsters… they’re retreating!”

That shout was like a spark dropped onto a dead battlefield. Everyone perked up, instinctively looking forward.

Sure enough, the monsters that had been crashing against their lines with suicidal frenzy now acted as if they had lost their prime directive. Their rabid momentum rapidly vanished. Instead of charging, they gave into their primal instincts and began to slowly back away, retreating into the pitch-black depths of the tunnels.

“Is it… over?”

Finn let out a sigh of relief, wiping the grime and blood from his face. They hadn’t been the main characters of this specific incident, but the pressure they had shouldered was immense. If that endless tide of monsters had managed to breach the surface, Orario would have been doomed.

Guild Headquarters, deep inside the Prayer Room.

Fels, entirely cloaked in black robes, quietly observed the magical projection floating in the air.

On the screen, the second moon had vanished.

“The crisis is resolved, Lord Ouranos,” he reported in his neutral, hollow voice.

“Mhm.”

Ouranos, seated upon his throne, slowly opened his eyes.

Fels fell silent for a moment, seemingly waiting for something. But after several minutes, the sight he expected never came.

“Strange…” Fels voiced his confusion. “Since it’s over, why haven’t we seen a pillar of light marking a god’s return to Heaven?”

As one of the few who knew the truth of this incident, he understood that the only way to slay the ancient monster Antares was to completely obliterate its core—the Goddess of the Moon, Artemis.

Yet now, there were absolutely no signs of a god returning.

Which meant Artemis wasn’t dead.

But how was that possible? How did they defeat Antares without killing the Moon Goddess?

“Heh…”

Ouranos suddenly let out a soft chuckle.

“It seems something happened outside of our knowledge.” His expression wasn’t one of confusion, but of genuine pleasure. “The more unexpected the outcome, the better the tidings.”

“The Focalors Familia… Flame Emperor Aiden…” Fels muttered, the image of the white-haired youth surfacing in his mind. “Did he do something unpredictable again?”

“To actually slay an ancient monster… Lord Ouranos, could he truly be… ‘The Last Hero’?”

“Whether he is or isn’t, he is the sharpest sword in our hands to slay the Black Dragon, is he not?” Ouranos replied smoothly.

He paused, his voice growing distant and profound.

“‘The Last Hero’ is the savior the gods have placed their highest hopes upon… but ultimately, it is a fleeting ‘expectation’. We don’t even know if such a person exists. Therefore, we never place all of our hopes on an ethereal possibility.”

“Isn’t that why the Freya and Loki Familias exist? Even without ‘The Last Hero’, we have countless adventurers stepping up one after another. And now, we possess a sword sharp enough to pierce through anything. That is enough.”

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