Meanwhile, Captain Lochagos Tychon and his knights had already entered the town.
A loud scream suddenly echoed through the air. The townspeople froze, shock and confusion spreading among them like wildfire.
But Captain Lochagos Tychon did not flinch. His expression remained calm as his gaze shifted toward the direction of the temple. He could feel it—that terrifying aura pressing down on the town like an invisible weight.
"Be prepared," he ordered his knights, his voice steady and composed.
Then he turned to one of the town guards. "Hey, you. Go tell your mayor to evacuate all the people of the town right now," he said calmly, though his eyes were deadly serious.
The guard hesitated, confused.
Captain Lochagos Tychon's gaze sharpened. "Do you hear me? Go tell your mayor to evacuate everyone immediately—unless you all want to die."
Without another word, he rushed toward the temple, his knights following closely behind.
Though he felt a slight relief knowing nothing had yet happened to the rest of the town and its people, a knot of tension tightened in his chest.
Because deep down, he wasn't certain they could stop Shin Yato.
As they advanced, the sound of horses galloping echoed through the silent streets, sharp and urgent against the stillness of the town.
Within moments, they reached the temple gates. Captain Lochagos Tychon dismounted in one smooth motion, his boots striking the stone with purpose.
"Surround the temple," he ordered calmly. "Some of you—enter through the gate."
His knights moved at once, spreading out with disciplined precision, steel glinting beneath the muted sky as tension coiled tightly around the sacred grounds.
The knights who entered the temple froze at the sight before them.
A corpse leaned against the wall near the entrance, intestines spilling out onto the stone floor.
As they stepped into the corridor, their boots splashed into blood that flooded the path ahead. Another body lay motionless, a gaping hole in its chest.
Their eyes slowly lifted forward.
There stood Shin Yato, his face calm—bored, even.
Near him lay a mangled body, crushed beyond recognition, the stomach caved in grotesquely. Saintess Kyria was slumped against the wall, barely alive, clinging to the thinnest threads of life. Her mouth was melted and burned, jawbone exposed; one of her hands lay crushed and twisted.
Her charred mouth opened in a silent scream, jawbone exposed, but no sound came — only a wet, gurgling rasp.
Not far from her was another corpse—its neck snapped unnaturally, one arm torn away.
The corridor reeked of blood and death.
And in the center of it all, Shin Yato stood quietly, as if merely waiting.
One of the knights, his voice tight with shock, shouted down the blood-soaked corridor,
"We found him, Captain!"
His grip tightened around his sword as his eyes remained fixed on the lone figure standing amidst the carnage.
Hearing the shout, Captain Lochagos Tychon's expression hardened.
"All knights—prepare your sword aura," he commanded, his voice calm but firm, his face deadly serious.
Around the temple, hundreds of knights tightened their formation, steel shifting as blades were drawn. A faint glow began to gather along their swords, humming with restrained power.
Beyond the barricade of armor and shields, the townspeople stared in confusion. Murmurs spread rapidly through the crowd.
"What is going on?"
"What is happening in the temple?"
Unease rippled through the town as the sacred grounds stood surrounded by armed knights, tension thick enough to suffocate.
The knights in the corridor tightened their formation, blades glowing faintly with sword aura.
Shin Yato looked at them, his expression calm. Then, a small smile formed on his lips.
"Sword aura, huh?" he said quietly.
In the next instant, he rushed forward.
"He's attacking!" one knight shouted as he swung his blade downward.
But Shin Yato moved effortlessly, dodging the strike as if it were slow and predictable. His hand shot out, gripping the knight's arm—
—and with a violent pull, he tore it free.
One knight's thought "This can't be human…"
The corridor echoed with a scream as blood sprayed across the stone walls.
Shin Yato moved through the corridor like a storm unleashed.
With his bare hands, he began tearing the knights apart. Armor shattered as if it were nothing more than fragile glass, offering no protection against his strength.
The knights swung their swords wildly, sword aura blazing as they attacked from every direction. Steel flashed. Aura crackled.
But Shin Yato dodged every swing.
Each movement was effortless—precise.
The corridor was too small for such a battle. Stone walls cracked under the force of missed strikes. Pillars splintered. The floor fractured beneath the chaos.
Within moments, the narrow hallway turned into a collapsing ruin, echoing with screams, shattering metal, and the wet sound of tearing flesh.
And in the center of the destruction, Shin Yato remained calm.
Hundreds of knights filled the corridor.
Some screamed in agony, their cries echoing against the shattered stone. Others lay motionless, their bodies piling atop one another in the narrow passage.
The small corridor became a graveyard. There was barely any room left to stand, barely any space to breathe.
The stench of blood thickened the air. The sight alone was enough to shake even the most hardened warriors.
The remaining knights panted heavily, their armor stained red, their hands trembling as they tightened their grips on their swords.
Step by step—inch by inch—they were pushed back.
Not by an army.
Not by a monster roaring in rage.
But by one man.
Shin Yato advanced slowly, calmly, forcing them backward through the mountain of their fallen comrades.
Shin Yato placed his hand over a knight's armored helmet.
For a brief second, there was silence.
Then—crack.
The steel caved in beneath his grip, crushing inward with a sickening sound. The knight collapsed instantly, lifeless.
The massacre within the temple no longer remained contained. The sounds of shattering armor, breaking stone, and dying screams echoed far beyond the corridor.
Outside, the surrounding knights heard it.
The townspeople heard it.
Some knights felt fear creeping into their hearts, their hands trembling around their weapons. The people of the town stepped back in horror, whispers turning into panicked murmurs.
But Captain Lochagos Tychon stood tall.
Unmoving.
Unshaken.
His eyes remained fixed on the temple entrance, jaw set, as the echoes of slaughter rolled into the open air.
After a few minutes, the screaming stopped.
The cries faded into silence.
Shin Yato had massacred every knight who had entered the temple.
He stood alone in the ruined corridor, surrounded by bodies piled high, blood pooling across shattered stone.
His entire body was covered in red—dripping from his hands, staining his clothes, tracing down his face like war paint.
He glanced at the fallen knights and spoke calmly, almost disappointed.
"You were knights… and you were scared of a little gore?"
A faint smile touched his lips.
"What a bunch of kids."
The temple fell completely silent once more.
Then—
The heavy wooden doors of the temple began to open slowly.
The old hinges let out a long, strained creak that cut through the suffocating silence.
Captain Lochagos Tychon tightened his grip on his sword. The faint glow of sword aura flickered along the blade, steady and controlled.
His eyes remained sharp, unblinking, as the doors opened wider—
Revealing the blood-drenched corridor beyond.
The temple doors stood open.
And then—
Shin Yato stepped out.
Calm.
Unhurried.
His body was drenched in blood, his expression unchanged, as if he had merely taken a quiet walk.
The moment Captain Lochagos Tychon saw him, something inside him snapped.
He already knew.
Every knight who had entered… was dead.
His grip tightened around his sword until his knuckles turned white, sword aura flaring violently around the blade.
"You demon!" he shouted, his calm finally shattered.
The air between them grew heavy.
And Shin Yato only looked at him—silent, indifferent.
"If I were a demon…"
He glanced briefly at the temple behind him—at the silence he had created.
"…none of you would still be standing."
His eyes returned to the captain.
The air grew heavier.
The knights behind the captain felt it—an invisible pressure pressing against their lungs.
And Shin Yato took one slow step forward.
"I'm disappointed," he added softly. "I thought your captain would be stronger."
Shin Yato slowly adjusted his grip on the sword.
His smile widened just slightly.
Without warning—
He swung to the right.
The blade didn't just cut the air.
It erased it.
A blinding arc of force surged outward, tearing across the right side of the temple grounds. The earth split open in a thunderous crack. Stone shattered. Formations collapsed instantly.
The one hundred and fifty knights stationed on the right raised their sword auras in desperation—
Too slow.
The wave passed through them.
Armor split.
Weapons snapped.
The every knights sliced in a single, merciless sweep.
The shockwave tore through the outer walls and ripped across the streets beyond, shattering windows and cracking facades, but losing force before it could level the entire town.
Dust and debris swallowed the horizon.
When the air cleared—
Nothing remained of the right flank.
Only a massive trench carved through the earth like a scar from a god's blade.
Shin Yato lowered his sword calmly.
No heavy breathing. No strain.
Just silence.
The surviving knights stared at the devastation.
Captain Lochagos Tychon's grip trembled for the first time.
This was no battle.
This was annihilation.
Shin Yato did not hesitate.
He shifted his blade slightly—
And swung again toward the left.
Captain Lochagos Tychon felt the surge before the steel even completed its arc.
"DODGE IT!" he roared at the remaining formation on the left side of the temple.
But the command came a breath too late.
The slash tore forward like a silver horizon splitting the world in two.
Sword auras rose in defense—shattered instantly.
Shields were cleaved through as if they were paper. Armor split apart. The ground ruptured beneath their feet.
One hundred and fifty knights were caught in the path and cut in half.
There was no explosion.
No chaos.
Just a clean, merciless line of destruction.
When the dust settled, the left flank was gone.
Buildings crumbled with thunderous roars, town screams piercing the agony—families mid-dinner crushed under collapsing walls, plates shattering amid the chaos.
Captain Lochagos Tychon had arrived with five hundred knights.
Now barely a fraction remained.
The place was carved with scars, and the surviving soldiers stood frozen—staring at the man who had erased their comrades with two effortless swings.
Shin Yato lowered his sword slowly.
"Two," he said calmly.
His voice carried across the broken courtyard.
And not a single knight dared to move
Shin Yato rested the flat of his blade against his shoulder.
His expression was calm.
Almost bored.
"Don't be scared," he said softly. "If you land a single scratch on me… I will spare you—and the people of this town."
His eyes settled on Captain Lochagos Tychon.
There was no mockery in his voice.
Only indifference.
As if he were offering a game.
The surviving knights stiffened.
A single scratch?
After everything they had witnessed?
Captain Lochagos Tychon stared back at him, jaw tight, aura flickering around his blade like a storm barely contained.
Then he spoke without taking his eyes off Shin Yato.
"Stíth."
His Vice-Captain stepped forward immediately. "Yes, Captain."
"The remaining knights. No one interferes."
A murmur rippled through the battered formation.
"Captain—!"
"That is an order."
His voice carried iron.
The remaining knights stepped back, forming a wide circle around the shattered courtyard.
This would no longer be an army's battle.
It would be a duel.
Captain Lochagos Tychon lifted his sword slowly.
Sword aura ignited around him—brighter than before, fiercer, steadier.
Across from him, Shin Yato lowered his blade from his shoulder and pointed it lazily forward.
His small smile returned.
"One scratch," he repeated.
The air between them grew heavy.
The final clash was about to begin.
As Captain Lochagos Tychon's sword aura flared brighter—
Shin Yato suddenly lowered his blade.
Then—
He slid it back into its sheath.
The sharp click of metal meeting scabbard echoed across the ruined courtyard.
The remaining knights stiffened.
Captain Lochagos Tychon's eyes narrowed.
"What are you doing?" he demanded.
Shin Yato rolled his shoulders lightly, as if preparing for something trivial.
"I said one scratch," he replied calmly. "I didn't say I would use my sword."
A faint smile curved on his lips.
"I'll make it easier for you."
The surviving knights felt their throats tighten.
Captain Lochagos Tychon's grip hardened around his weapon.
This was not mercy.
This was humiliation.
Shin Yato raised one hand slightly—
Empty.
"Come," he said.
The air between them turned suffocating.
Even without his sword…
He felt more dangerous than before.
Captain Lochagos Tychon did not hesitate.
He stepped forward—
Then exploded into motion.
His blade cut through the air in a blazing arc, sword aura roaring like a storm unleashed.
The strike was precise. Fast. Deadly.
But Shin Yato tilted his head slightly—
And stepped aside.
The Captain's blade passed through empty air.
Before anyone could process the miss—
A scream tore through the courtyard.
One of the remaining knights suddenly burst into black flames.
They weren't ordinary fire.
They burned dark—silent at first, then violently alive.
The knight collapsed, rolling on the ground, screaming as the unnatural fire consumed his armor without spreading to anything else.
The surrounding knights stumbled back in horror.
"W-What is that?!"
Captain Lochagos Tychon's eyes widened.
Shin Yato hadn't moved.
Hadn't chanted.
Hadn't even looked at the knight.
He stood calmly, hands empty.
"I never said," Shin Yato spoke quietly, "that I would fight alone."
The black flames continued to burn like a curse made visible.
The air grew heavier.
Shin Yato tilted his head slightly.
"Oh," he said calmly, as if remembering something trivial.
"I forgot to mention… every time you swing and miss—one of your people will die."
A small smile curved his lips.
The surviving knights froze.
Captain Lochagos Tychon's eyes burned with fury.
"You monster!"
He roared and lunged forward again, blade blazing with sword aura.
He struck—
Shin Yato stepped aside.
A second scream ripped through the courtyard.
Another knight was suddenly engulfed in those same unnatural black flames.
The fire did not spread.
It chose.
The Captain's breathing grew heavier.
He attacked again.
Missed.
Another knight ignited.
Again.
Miss.
Another scream.
The pattern became clear.
Swing.
Miss.
Scream.
Black fire.
The remaining knights began to tremble—not from fear of death…
…but from fear of their own captain's blade.
Some wanted to beg him to stop.
But no one dared speak.
Captain Lochagos Tychon's movements became more desperate. Faster. Wilder.
Each strike carried rage.
Each miss carried guilt.
Shin Yato didn't even counterattack.
He simply moved—minimal steps, effortless shifts, watching the Captain destroy his own men with every failed attempt.
"Come now," Shin Yato said softly. "Surely you can land one scratch?"
Another swing.
Another miss.
Another knight fell to the dark flames.
The courtyard filled with the sound of crackling fire and breaking morale.
It was execution by pride.
And Captain Lochagos Tychon realized—
The more he fought…
The more he killed his own men.
Captain Lochagos Tychon forced one final surge of strength into his trembling body.
With a hoarse shout, he lunged.
His blade cut forward—
Shin Yato shifted slightly—
Too late.
The edge grazed his shoulder.
Not flesh.
Just fabric.
A thin tear appeared across Shin Yato's clothing.
Silence.
The Captain staggered back, breathing ragged, barely able to stand.
Across from him, Shin Yato looked down at the small scratch on his clothes.
Then—
A faint smile appeared.
"You did it," he said calmly.
The words felt unreal.
Captain Lochagos Tychon froze.
Slowly… slowly… he turned his head.
The courtyard was silent.
No more flames.
No more screams.
Only stillness.
Bodies lay scattered across shattered stone.
All of them.
Every knight who had followed him.
Every soldier who had trusted him.
All gone.
Only one remained standing—
Vice-Captain Stíth.
His face was pale.
Horrified.
Shaking.
The weight of it crashed down on the Captain.
It wasn't Shin Yato who killed them.
It was his rage.
His pride.
His desperation to win.
His sword.
His knees weakened.
For the first time, Captain Lochagos Tychon looked small.
Broken.
Shin Yato brushed the torn fabric lightly with his fingers.
"Demon?" he said flatly.
"Monster?"
He looked at the Captain with bored, almost indifferent eyes.
"I am human too."
No anger.
No shouting.
Just a simple statement.
And somehow—
That made it worse.
Shin Yato stepped forward.
No hesitation.
No warning.
In a single violent motion, he seized Captain Lochagos Tychon's sword arm—
And tore it away.
The Captain's scream echoed through the shattered courtyard as he collapsed to one knee, blood staining the broken stone.
"Capt—!"
Vice-Captain Stíth tried to call out—
But Shin Yato turned instantly and hurled the severed arm.
It struck Stíth mid-word.
The impact crushed his skull and dropped him lifeless to the ground in a flash. Síth was opened in half and his little brain out.
Silence followed.
Stíth was dead.
The last of the knights was gone.
Captain Lochagos Tychon stared in horror, trembling—not just from pain, but from the realization that he was now completely alone.
Shin Yato stood before him, calm as ever, still holding the torn sword arm loosely in his hand before letting it fall to the ground.
No rage.
No heavy breathing.
Just stillness.
Shin Yato looked down at Captain Lochagos Tychon, who trembled on his knees, broken and bleeding.
"You acted like a hero," Shin Yato said calmly.
"But you are also human too."
The Captain forced his head up, his eyes filled with pain and defiance.
"Judgment… will come to you someday," he said, his voice shaking.
Shin Yato gave a small, indifferent nod.
"Okay."
And then—
He moved.
A swift, merciless motion.
Pulled out the Captain's head, body fell, lifeless, onto the blood-stained stone.
Blood was coming out like water.
Silence swallowed the courtyard.
Shin Yato turned away.
He walked toward the temple entrance.
The corridor inside was a graveyard of fallen knights. Armor shattered. Weapons scattered. Bodies parts everywhere, hands,legs, and head and no fresh air but the smell of blood clouded.
He stepped over the remains without looking down.
At the far end, Saintess Kyria was still there.
Leaning against the cracked wall.
Alive.
Barely.
As he approached, she tried to straighten, but her body trembled too violently.
Shin Yato stopped in front of her.
Then he knelt slightly so their eyes were level.
"Oh," he said softly, a faint smile touching his lips.
"Looks like your body barely healed itself… huh?"
Her lips trembled and murmuring.
"Please… kill me too… please kill me too… please kill me too…"
Her charred mouth opened in a wet, gurgling rasp — no words, just broken pleas.
It reinforces she's alive but ruined.
Her voice was barely more than a whisper, repeating, breaking, collapsing into itself.
Tears streamed down her face.
She wasn't asking out of courage.
She was asking because she could not bear what she had witnessed.
Shin Yato watched her quietly.
"No."
Just that.
No cruelty in his tone.
No comfort either.
He stood up.
Turned his back on her.
And walked away.
Saintess Kyria slid down the wall, sobbing, her hands clutching her own robes.
"Please… please… please… please kill me too…"
But he did not look back.
Minutes passed.
Midnight had already fallen over the town.
But the night was not quiet.
Cries echoed through the streets.
Screams carried in the wind.
Families searched for one another in panic.
Some houses still stood untouched. Those who survived the destruction slowly gathered their courage and moved toward the temple.
Confusion.
Fear.
Whispers.
As they reached the courtyard, they froze.
Bodies lay scattered across the stone. Burned armor. Broken weapons. And near the temple a headless dead body. Dark stains spreading across the temple steps.
Blood flowed from beneath the temple doors and down the stairs like a silent stream.
No one dared step forward.
Then—
The doors creaked open.
A small figure stepped out.
The townspeople gasped and instinctively moved back.
It was Kore.
Her clothes were stained.
Her hands trembled.
Her face looked empty—almost lifeless.
"Please… help me…" she said softly.
Her voice barely carried through the air.
An old woman pushed through the crowd and rushed toward her.
"What happened?" she asked, horror and worry shaking her voice.
Kore's lips trembled.
"Saintess Kyria… and the others… tried to summon a demon," she whispered.
"But it failed… and the demon went berserk… and killed everyone…"
Kore's voice was empty — the words coming out because they had to, not because she believed them.
Silence fell.
Shock rippled through the crowd.
Some began murmuring.
"So… it was true about the Holy Kingdom?" one man whispered.
"That can't be true," another said, shaken.
A woman clutched her chest. "Do you think a child would lie about something like this?"
The question lingered in the cold night air.
No one had an answer.
And above them all, the ruined temple stood like a silent witness.
The townspeople stared at the blood flowing down the temple steps like a silent stream, whispering the name of a demon that never existed.