Requiem Of A Failed Hero

Raith maintained a piercing glare at Balam while the latter’s body underwent a rapid process of healing.

The battle was already long-drawn, it’s been hours since Raith had come to Therut and he had actively been in one thing or the other, not to say he just concluded a fierce fight with the ant king before coming. Even though Raith’s vigor was renewed every time he was resurrected– there was something called mental weariness.

While his mind grasped the gravity of the situation, his body, with each resurrection, reset its memory and awareness. Over time, the weariness in his mind began to manifest in the form of sluggish responses throughout his entire being—an undeniable consequence unknown even to Raith himself. He sensed his exhaustion, freshly resurrected as he was, yet he had not delved into the underlying reasons behind this sudden onset of fatigue.

Nevertheless, Raith remained resolute in his determination to bring this prolonged battle to a decisive end.

Immersed in his thoughts, he delved deep, searching for any reward he had obtained that might counteract Balam’s healing abilities. If he could achieve that, the fight could potentially become even more riveting. 𝐨𝘃𝗹.

‘Ah! I have that’ Raith exclaimed inwardly.

‘What are you thinking now, you psycho?’ Bal questioned, observing the unsettling grin that had spread across Raith’s face.

“I must say, I am thoroughly impressed by your ability to conquer death. How is such a feat even possible? Perhaps I underestimated you from the beginning. Were you never truly human, or did you intentionally deceive me, leading me to believe you were human so that I would hold back?”

Raith’s eyes narrowed, focusing on a singular statement amidst Balam’s words.

“You mean to tell me you’ve been holding back?” That was the only fragment that seized Raith’s attention amidst Balam’s discourse.

“What? You think I’ve been giving my all in our battles?” Balam retorted, his head tilting in irritation. “If I were to unleash my true strength, you would be nothing but a corpse…” Balam paused, contemplating his own words.

If Raith truly possessed the power to defy death itself, it rendered futile any efforts to defeat or kill him—he would simply resurrect.

‘But there must be limitations, flaws in this ability,’ Balam thought, his brows furrowing as he raised his head, dismissing the notion he had momentarily entertained.

Balam frowned his brows and raised his head, displacing the possibility of his last suspicion.

‘It is impossible, this is a worthless human. That is impossible’ Balam refuted in his mind with his eyes keenly fixed on Raith who was up to something now.

“It doesn’t matter what you have been doing before now. Because after now, you will have no choice but to fight me with your all.”

Balam’s frown deepened at Raith’s words. Indeed, he had consciously heightened the intensity of their fight, but he had not truly exerted his full power. Logically speaking, it seemed implausible.

Having traversed the gates of hell to arrive in Therut, Raith had only allowed 70% of his power to accompany him. If he sought to bring forth the full extent of his abilities, there could be no compromise—thus, he would need to physically exit Felfhiem and retrace his path to his desired destination. However, this task proved formidable, as navigating the way out of Felfhiem remained an insurmountable challenge for many of its inhabitants.

Raith swung his blade, Bal—

Squish.

Without hesitation, he drove the sword into his own abdomen, deliberately pushing it deeper until it pierced through his back, the blade emerging drenched and glistening with his own lifeblood. With a gradual withdrawal, he relinquished his mortal coil, surrendering to the ethereal realm.

[You have killed yourself]

[You have gained a level]

Balam’s eyes quivered with disbelief. ‘Is he insane? Did he just take his own life?’

[Due to the title effect ‘one who devours death, you will be resurrected]

Raith’s eyes snapped open, and his wound miraculously healed as he rose to his feet, retrieving his sword with a steady grip.

The true extent of Raith’s power now lay exposed before Balam’s eyes. It became undeniable that Raith possessed the ability to triumph over death itself. A frown etched across Balam’s face as the unsettling possibility, which he had momentarily dismissed, resurfaced in his mind.

‘Could it be that the abyss…?’ The thought sent a shiver down Balam’s spine. Despite the inherent rebelliousness of demons, they held a profound reverence for the abyss, for it was the very origin of their creation.

The notion that Raith derived his seemingly boundless strength from such a magnificent existence vexed Balam even further. He found himself unwilling to accept this reality, even though the mounting evidence pointed in that direction.

“I will wipe you out!” Balam growled, his arm outstretched. A swirling flame materialized in his palm, born from thin air. He positioned his leg back, assuming a stance reminiscent of one preparing to hurl a javelin.

Wham!!

With a resound, the fire spear shot forth from Balam’s hand. Simultaneously, Raith unleashed a calculated sword strike—a controlled, sweeping motion infused with his dark energy. The swing generated a concentrated wave of force, akin to the unstoppable might of a colossal wave crashing upon the shore.

“Sea Splitting Slash”

The sword strike possessed an extraordinary cutting power, capable of slicing through virtually any obstacle in its path. Armor, barriers, and even dense materials stood no chance against the sheer force of this technique, as it will effortlessly cleave and tore them asunder.

So, Balam’s fiery spear proved insignificant, effortlessly severed into two by Raith’s sword. With a swift follow-up strike, Raith’s blade generated a powerful shockwave that rippled outward, unleashing waves of destructive energy that engulfed Balam in a maelstrom of dark aura.

The surroundings trembled once more, bearing the weight of the considerable damage inflicted upon them, while the onslaught continued unabated.

Wham!!

Balam darted out of the eruption with a flare– a very angry expression on his face as he cleaved Raith’s torso with his bare hands, his speed was unlike anything Raith was accustomed to.

Balam’s anger was palpable, evident in his relentless assault as he launched himself at Raith with a newfound intensity.

Reacting swiftly, Raith leaped backward, his gaze fixed unwaveringly upon Balam. It was clear that something had stirred within the demon. Raith contemplated whether his plan had indeed borne fruit, triggering such a profound reaction.

‘I can’t believe it actually worked… it was just a speculation but it really did work’

A soft smile adorned Raith’s face as he observed Balam’s loss of composure. There could be no other explanation: Balam’s regenerative ability appeared to have faltered.

When Hallan Lamar had pierced Raith with a dagger from the blood rift, a special blood type had contaminated his own. His tainted blood now possessed the attribute of inhibiting certain effects, although Raith remained uncertain about the specifics. He had wagered on the possibility that Balam’s regenerative power was among those inhibited effects, and thus had impaled Bal into himself, immersing the sword in his own blood to execute his next strike.

Though Balam managed to intercept the strike and sustain minimal damage, he found himself vexed by the fact that the injuries on his hand refused to heal. Instead, they burned deeper into his flesh. What had Raith done to him so suddenly?

Balam seethed with fury. “Are you resorting to petty tricks now?”

“Huh?” Raith’s jaw dropped. “Tricks? This cannot be considered a mere trick, for it is an inherent aspect of my ability. Are you attempting to attribute your failure to my supposed pettiness? Come now, if I defeat you, I defeat you—it does not matter how.”

Raith’s words rang with truth, at least from Balam’s perspective. Although he might deem it dishonorable, the uncanny truth behind Raith’s statement perplexed him. Furthermore, he could not deny that he had once found every word that Raith spoke amiable, and it was strangely annoying.

“And so from now on… this fight is going to end with one of us dying and I think it is pretty clear who that person is going to be,” Raith stated.

Balam felt the sting of Raith’s words deep within, though he did not reveal any hint of hesitation. However, within him, fear blazed like an inferno. For the first time, he would engage in combat with his own life hanging in the balance—an unfamiliar sensation that sent shivers through his entire being. Yes, it was the sensation of fear.

At this juncture, Balam realized he could no longer hold back his strength while facing Raith. He still had to confront the archons, and if Raith truly possessed the power to end his life, then Balam had no choice but to exert his full 70% strength in this battle. He had to seize every opportunity to aim for Raith’s life

Balam clenched his fist, a transformation beginning to manifest within him.

His muscles rippled and swelled, as did his skin, gradually enlarging his frame. The lava streaks coursing across his body spread wider and grew thicker, while a crimson hardness washed over his skin, accentuating his sculpted physique. Two long, red horns sprouted from his forehead, his eyes turning a fiery crimson, and his entire being burned with an oppressive, fiendish energy.

Whatever version of Balam Raith had faced until now had merely been child’s play, for this was the true form of the Demon King Balam.