Turning-Chapter 868

A massive monster outbreak—an event far too large for any one person to resolve on their own.

And yet, thanks to miraculous acts of aid reaching out from every corner of Sharloin, no great catastrophe occurred.

Fishermen who had gone outside fearing for their damaged boats due to the hail were saved by successful Cavalry applicants, and in return, helped others evacuate. A priest of Galoam who had been staying at a small temple in a corner of Sharloin came out with his healing specialists, tending generously to the wounded out on the streets. The temple even offered its limited space to shelter the injured.

Knights and servants who had remained behind at the residence where Mayra, the First Princess, was staying, opened the gates and reached out to those in need. In time, even some of the forces loyal to the deceased Second Prince—who had been at odds with them—joined in to help. It was those who had been moved by the sight of Mayra’s genuine grief for her brother.

The lord of Sharloin never showed himself despite receiving reports of the chaos outside. In his stead, a high-ranking official used his authority to assess the situation and dispatched manpower. This same official, having recently suffered a blow from Duke Peleta, had already been thinking of extending a hand toward both Duke Hern and the Emperor’s faction.

The Sapphire Mage Alliance and the Merchant Guild, who had been thoroughly chastised by Yuder on his first day in the South, hesitantly stepped forward as well, having connections to the Cavalry. Keenly aware of profit, they understood that even if terrified, stepping in now would earn them credit later.

Low-ranking nobles from the Emperor’s faction, who had been quietly supporting the Cavalry from the shadows, and Awakeners who had yet to reveal themselves, also began to surface one by one to offer their help.

It was like watching playing pieces being laid down, one after another, on a game board.

But, of course, not everyone was blessed by fortune that day.

While most were too busy to notice their surroundings...

Diemon, an Awakener from the Star of Nagran who had once followed the Sage, slowly opened his eyes in the darkness.

Why am I here? His entire body throbbed as if torn apart, his memory hazy. Fear gripped him, but as he gasped for breath, the pieces slowly began to come together.

‘Ah. That’s right. Naham pulled me out and took me to where the Sage was... but the Sage...’

The moment Diemon recalled how the Sage hadn’t even spared him a glance despite Naham being right there, his expression turned rigid. He bit his lip and looked around. The urge to survive had not vanished, even amidst the storm of emotions.

He was imprisoned. A gag in his mouth, limbs bound tightly, and faint outlines of others around him in the same condition. Upon closer look, they were other Awakeners who had followed Naham.

‘So we were all captured and brought here... Thank god we’re not dead yet.’

He was the first to come to, a stroke of luck. For some reason, no one seemed to be watching, and Diemon thought this was his only chance to escape.

“Mm... mmph...”

His body still weak from injury, it was hard to muster strength. But after some thinking, Diemon rolled over to a nearby unconscious Awakener. Pressing on the other’s elbow, a sharp bone blade suddenly jutted out from that spot.

He had always thought that guy’s ability was useful—good thing he remembered how to use it. Diemon frantically rubbed his wrist bindings against the bone. His hands trembled, worried the other would wake, but thankfully the bone was sharp enough to saw through the ropes quickly.

Once his hands were free, the rest was easy.

“Haah... ha...”

Suppressing the pain from his untreated arm, Diemon staggered to his feet. Cold sweat poured from his face, but driven by the will to live, he fumbled through the darkness and found the only exit from the room.

There were signs of people just outside the thick door. Apparently, the captors hadn’t vanished—they had been guarding the door.

Diemon faltered for a moment... until opportunity struck.

‘...Please... Help... someone...!’

‘Aaargh!’

With a sudden explosion and distant tremors, the building shook. Screams echoed, and the presence outside the door abruptly vanished, likely rushing off to the source ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) of the noise.

Instinct told Diemon—this was his only chance.

He tested the door—it was locked, of course. But Diemon stumbled over to another unconscious Awakener and touched his body. This one had an ability to melt objects on contact.

“Ghh... ugh...”

Pushing himself beyond his limits, Diemon suffered worse pain than usual when copying abilities. He sobbed as he extracted just enough power to approach the door.

After much effort, the copied power finally activated. The lock began to warp, and Diemon was able to escape.

‘This place... is still inside the temple.’

Only after emerging did he realize that the building wasn’t far from where the fighting had occurred. The Cavalry had likely dumped the captured Awakeners here in a rush, but he couldn’t know that.

Hearing the battle noises in the distance, Diemon limped away in the opposite direction. He had escaped the room, but now he needed to find a way out of the building entirely.

How long had he been stumbling down that corridor?

Suddenly, he heard something—thumping on a door.

“...Let me out...!”

A faint voice, but Diemon knew instantly who it belonged to.

The voice of the person he’d feared and yearned for most—The Sage.

Could he have survived? Diemon, entranced, turned toward the sound. Behind a door much like the one he had escaped from, the pounding grew louder.

No guards. It seemed they too had run off to fight.

Diemon stood still and listened. The Sage’s feeble voice called out from within.

“Anyone... please help... If any brother or sister hears this call...”

“......”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

“Is there truly no one? Even someone from the Cavalry... Please... I have no combat ability... I’m innocent... If you would just hear my story...”

Strange. The voice sounded as noble and gentle as always, but it would suddenly turn pitiful, then hostile—back and forth. It made Diemon’s head pound.

And then he remembered Naham’s words when he freed him:

‘Haven’t you ever thought it strange? Giving everything to the Sage even as your body fell apart—never once trying to escape. And now look at yourself.’

‘.......’

‘Think about what the Sage’s ability really is. The moment you do... you’ll realize how long you’ve been fooled.’

Naham had pressed a pus-filled hand to Diemon’s forehead, and for a brief second, Diemon had seen something—a flash behind his eyelids. A vision of everything he’d done since meeting the Sage.

He hadn’t even realized how strange it was. And yet, in that moment, he had cried, overwhelmed by grief, betrayal, and emotions he couldn’t name.

That was how he’d ended up here.

And now—

Diemon thought he finally understood what Naham meant.

His heart throbbed with betrayal and agony, yet his mind still whispered that he wanted to help the Sage.

That couldn’t be right. It was as if someone else was manipulating his body like a puppet. Goosebumps ran down his arms.

Yes. This was the Sage’s power—not something noble, but a disgusting ability to enthrall and control others.

Moving them however he pleased—even if it killed them.

“...Grrrk...!”

The realization was agonizing. Shaking, breath ragged, Diemon heard the voice from the other side of the door abruptly stop.

“Is... is someone out there? Have you come to save me—or this person?”

“......”

“Who is it? Please answer. I beg you...”

That falsely kind voice made Diemon sick. But just as Naham had done, he no longer let it control him.

Without hesitation, Diemon turned away. But then, as if a thought struck him, he paused.

‘Come to think of it...’

He had been so blinded by love and the desire for the Sage’s recognition that he never considered it before: the Sage was an Awakener too.

And Diemon—could steal any Awakener’s power.

What if... he could steal this man’s power? Even if it was degraded... wouldn’t it be useful?

Diemon stared at the door, throat dry.

‘No... Why stop at copying? If I drain him completely and make it mine... that’s better.’

He’d done it once before—as a child, when he stole the power to summon and control monsters. That original user had died in agony, but Diemon had thought it a fair price.

Taking someone’s power and killing them... was the sweetest revenge.

And this... this could make up for his ruined, prematurely aged body. If he claimed this power, the Sage would be no more—and he alone would possess it.

No fear of revenge from the original user. And maybe... he could become someone new. Someone like the Sage.

Diemon’s heart pounded with excitement.

People often delude themselves into thinking they can access their full potential at any time. Diemon was no exception. He’d forgotten that he was now weakened by side effects, or that it had taken over a month to absorb that boy’s power before.

He turned and approached the door. The sounds of battle still raged outside.

‘Plenty of time...’

As he placed his hand on the door, the lock began to melt with pain. The Sage spoke from inside, thinking he was saved, but Diemon heard none of it.

As the door creaked open, Diemon smiled brightly.

And so did the Sage.

“This... Diemon! You’ve come to save me...!”

“......”

Behind the two men smiling with vastly different intentions, the door slowly closed.

Moments later, a sound too horrible to describe echoed from beyond—but the hail and the chaos of battle drowned it all out.

“Haa... ha...”

The moment that felt like an eternity ended, and Diemon staggered out of the blood-soaked room.

Behind him lay the Sage—his corpse wide-eyed, pitiful, and grotesque.

‘He struggled so much... greedy old man.’

The Sage’s end was pathetic. That smug middle-aged man, who once thought he ruled everything, screamed at Diemon trying to consume his power—then finally begged in tears.

Diemon wiped the blood from his wounded forehead. His hand looked shriveled, more withered than before.

Though victorious, he looked decades older.

He was now far older than when Yuder had seen him in his past life.

But still—he had won.

All he had to do now was get out. The world would be his.

Grinning to himself, Diemon wiped the blood and walked. His legs shook uncontrollably.

His vision blurred, eyes clouded with premature aging. His back hunched more with every step. The side effects of the power devouring him in real time.

But Diemon, unable to see himself, didn’t care.

Giggling in the dark, he shrank with every step. His white hair fell out in clumps. Teeth dropped behind with each shuffle.

He aged and aged until, finally, no bigger than a monkey—

He found the rear exit of the building, smiled with joy—

And collapsed, dead.