Astion and Lionel moved with precision to shield Deneb. Simultaneously, the members of the Julien Mercenary Corps adjusted their formation, drawing their steel to create a protective circle around her.
Julien raised his blade with slow, deliberate intent, his gaze fixed on Arterion. His voice was like shards of ice as he demanded, "Explain yourself. Why are you demanding that Deneb give up her life?"
"I am stating a simple necessity," Arterion replied calmly. "The process of sealing the gate is not overly complex in its mechanics. We require the Sacred Stone's essence to suppress the Demon God's lingering power. However, the Saintess who serves as the conduit for that Stone must be offered as a sacrifice."
"Is there truly no alternative?"
"None exists. The closure of the Demonic Realm is bought only with the life of the Saintess."
"Then we refuse," Julien declared. He didn't hesitate; the decision was instantaneous. There was no scenario in which he would permit Deneb to be discarded for the sake of a ritual.
Arterion let a faint, unreadable smile touch his lips. "Consider the consequences of failure. If the portal remains, the disciples of the Salvation Order will eventually regroup. They will recover their lost potency and, in time, ignite the fires of war once more."
Julien remained silent.
"Even with the aid of a Saintess, it took a decade to see this conflict through. The death toll is immeasurable, and our own kin—the dragons—have been winnowed down to a mere twelve survivors."
The silence stretched, but a lethal sharpness began to glisten in Arterion's eyes.
"Do you honestly wish to repeat that nightmare? How much longer do you intend to bleed? Will you stop only when every human is wiped from the earth?"
Julien's jaw remained set.
"In fact, total extinction is the likely outcome of the next struggle. There will be no predestined Hero, no Saintess to lead you, and my kind will be even fewer in number."
Arterion leaned in, his voice gaining weight. "One life ends, and the cycle stops. Humanity would never again have to fear the shadows of the Demonic Realm. Peace would be a permanent reality rather than a fleeting dream. And yet, you stand there and object? You would deny the world this noble martyrdom? Is this the behavior of a Hero who claims to fight for the greater good?"
A low, vibrating hum began to fill the air. Arterion's presence expanded, heavy with a simmering rage. He had watched the world suffer under the Demonic Realm's influence for too long. He saw humans as short-sighted beings who prioritized their immediate desires over the survival of the species. To him, erasing the Demonic Realm was the only logical path, and Deneb's death was merely a necessary cost.
Despite the crushing weight of the Dragon Lord's aura, Julien's voice did not waver. "We refuse."
He didn't bother with a lengthy justification or a counter-argument. He simply met the dragon's fury with a cold, absolute rejection.
"I see…" Arterion exhaled, his aura receding as he let out a dry, mirthless chuckle. He knew the man was obstinate, but this level of defiance was unexpected. He tried a different angle. "You previously claimed you were willing to die for the world. I assumed you would recognize the necessity of a sacrifice for that same cause."
"One offers their own life when every other option has been exhausted," Julien countered. "We will not submit to a sacrifice that is being extorted from us."
Arterion turned his attention to Deneb, a cynical twist to his mouth. "The opinions of your protectors are secondary. The only thing that matters is the choice of the one on the altar. Saintess, are you prepared to give your soul to save this world?"
"I…" Deneb began, her voice brittle and unsteady.
She had spent her life yearning to be of service. Even as a lowly, unnoticed priestess, her heart had been set on helping others. When she was chosen as the Saintess, she had viewed the war against the Demonic Realm as a sacred duty, grateful for the power she had been given. She had fought with everything she had for the hope of a world at peace.
Now, she was being told that peace required one final thing: her life.
She closed her eyes, a silent prayer to the Goddess echoing in her mind. No matter the nobility of the cause, facing one's own end was a terrifying prospect. She was the Saintess, yes, but she was also human. Yet, if her death truly meant the end of the suffering—if it meant the world would finally know rest—she felt she could not say no.
"I will accept," Deneb said, opening her eyes with a newfound, quiet strength.
Arterion's smile widened as if he had already won. He reached out toward her.
"Deneb, no!" Julien roared, his eyes filled with a desperate, frantic anger. He had sensed she might choose this, but hearing it made the reality unbearable. He would gladly die in her place a thousand times over, but he could not lose her.
Deneb looked at him with a gentle, tragic smile. "Julien… this is the goal we've been chasing all along."
"Not at this price," he snarled.
"Please, let me pass."
"I won't."
As Deneb tried to move toward the altar, Astion stepped directly into her path. "Stop. Just wait a moment."
He looked around the room, his eyes narrowing. Something felt fundamentally wrong about the atmosphere. They were talking about the execution of the woman who had saved them all, and yet, there was a deafening lack of protest. Not a single person—not even their closest allies—seemed conflicted.
He looked at Iralniel and Grondal. Neither of them moved to defend her.
Astion's expression soured. "Did you… did you all know about this?"
Iralniel gave a somber nod, her eyes downcast. Grondal remained silent, his face like carved stone, eyes shut tight. Porisco and the other high-ranking clergy refused to even make eye contact.
A burning sense of betrayal hit Astion. Every person in this room was alive because of the Julien Mercenary Corps and Deneb's power. Without them, there would be no kingdom to save. And yet, at the finish line, they were all prepared to let her die.
Astion's fury boiled over. "How! How could you do this!" his voice thundered through the chamber. "You decided to throw her away without a single word to us? She is your savior! Your ally! Your friend! How can you stand there and let this happen!"
A massive eruption of mana surged from Astion's frame, swirling like a violent cyclone. The sheer pressure of his power was a physical threat to everyone standing there.
Iralniel spoke, her voice thick with regret. "I am truly sorry… but my people cannot survive another war like the last one." She knew the morality of their choice was bankrupt, especially against someone they owed so much. But the elves had been decimated; their spirits were broken. They craved the peace that had been stolen from them, and if this was the price, she was willing to pay it.
Grondal followed, his voice heavy with the weight of his crown. "I am abandoning my honor as a warrior. I will carry the shame of this forever. But I cannot lead my people into another slaughter. I don't have the strength to see them die again." To him, the choice was between his personal honor and the survival of the dwarves. He chose his people.
Porisco, the Pope, let out a weary sigh. "We feel the guilt, believe me. We know we owe our victory to you. But without a Saintess, the next war will be our end."
Deneb was an anomaly—the first Saintess in centuries. There was no promise that another would appear in time to stop the next invasion. The power of the Adversary was too great, and the Demon God's malice was eternal.
"The Goddess will forgive us," Porisco whispered, his voice dry. "Saving the world is her divine will. She provided the Saintess for this specific moment. If she carries this burden, the world survives."
Astion let out a sharp, cynical laugh, scanning the faces of the leaders. None of them were going to budge. Only the mercenaries stood firm, their circle around Deneb unbroken.
He grit his teeth and glared at Arterion. "Fine. You've turned everyone against us because they're too cowardly to keep fighting. But do you really think you can just finish this ritual whenever you want?" He didn't know the specifics of the sealing, but he was prepared to break whatever was necessary to stop it.
Arterion laughed softly. "As I said, it isn't complicated."
With a flick of his hand, Iralniel, Grondal, and Porisco ascended the altar. Each stood before a small pedestal. One by one, they produced the Sacred Stones that belonged to their respective races. Deneb had returned these artifacts to them after the war's end, acting on Arterion's advice that they were needed for the final seal. All she had left was the small decorative housing that once held the Stone.
Arterion placed his Stone on its pedestal and began to recite an incantation in an ancient, rhythmic tongue—a language not of the mortal world.
Suddenly, a pillar of brilliant light erupted from the Stone, piercing the ceiling. Following his lead, Iralniel, Grondal, and Porisco did the same, each chanting the words Arterion had taught them. As they finished, four pillars of light dominated the room.
"This rite awakens the latent power within the Sacred Stones," Arterion explained, watching the light. "In the past, the leaders of every race knew these words, but over time, that knowledge was lost to all but the Dragon Lord. I have shared it with them now."
He looked at Astion. "When a leader undergoes the ritual of recognition at the Source, it is all for this moment. You likely thought it was merely a traditional ceremony for a new ruler."
His gaze shifted back to Deneb. "However, the stones alone are insufficient. These leaders can summon the power, but they cannot direct it." He held his hand out to her again. "You are the only one who can harness this energy to complete the seal. You must do as I instructed—until your life is spent."
Julien's hand tightened on his hilt, his teeth grinding together. He wanted to tear the dragon apart.
But Astion stepped in front of Julien again, his eyes darting around. "Wait. Why are you telling us all of this?"
Arterion tilted his head curiously. "Because the sacrifice of the Saintess is a matter that requires total transparency."
"You could have just lied to us," Astion countered. "You could have tricked her into getting on that altar."
"No, because the Saintess must maintain her will for the seal to hold. She can stop it at any time." Arterion sighed. "We could not deceive you even if we wanted to. This is a task that cannot be forced; she must choose to see it through to the end herself."
"Is that so?" Astion murmured, his eyes narrowing as he processed the information.
Arterion continued in a level tone. "I understand your grief. I know this is a shock. But this is the solitary path to ending the Demonic Realm's influence. For the sake of existence, she must die."
The dragon's eyes flashed with a cold, predatory light. "And let me be clear, Saintess: you have no alternative. If you refuse, we dragons will personally execute your friends and every person you have ever cared for." He had no qualms about using terror to achieve his ends. If she chose to die, the world was saved; that was all that mattered.
Deneb had already reached her breaking point. She planned to try and soothe Julien's rage one last time before going to the altar. Arterion wasn't bluffing; if she didn't comply, he would destroy everything she loved. The other races might be hesitant, but they wouldn't stop him.
Julien, however, wasn't moving. "No."
"Julien, please move," Deneb pleaded. "I don't want more blood on my hands. I don't want you to die."
"I can't just stand here and let them kill you."
"Please…" her voice cracked. She had dreamed of a life after the war, of quiet days spent with the people she loved. But that was a fantasy.
'Ghislain… perhaps this was always the end of the road.'
The Julien Mercenary Corps was powerful, but they couldn't win a war against the dragons and the rest of the world combined. To save them, she had to die. She blinked back her tears. The thought of leaving Julien was more painful than the thought of death itself. But she couldn't let him see her cry, or he would never let her go. She had to be strong.
As she lowered her head and tried to push past Julien, a sudden movement blurred the air.
*Smack!*
Astion grabbed Deneb, pulling her away from Julien and into his own arms. Julien almost lunged with his sword, stopping only when he realized it was his comrade.
Everyone froze. Astion had pulled a dagger and held the sharp edge directly against Deneb's throat.
"Astion… what are you doing?" The room fell into a shocked silence.
Arterion scowled, his brow furrowing. "What is this? Has the darkness of the Adversary finally taken hold of your mind?" It was the outcome he had feared from the start.
But Astion wasn't possessed. He glared at the Dragon Lord. "The more you talk, the more this whole story feels like a lie."
"What are you talking about?"
"You say Deneb has to die for the seal to work. Fine. But what happened to the Saintess from the previous era?"
Arterion went still.
"Answer me," Astion demanded. "You said she refused to be a sacrifice. What happened next? Did you just let her go? The dragons, the kingdoms, the whole world—everyone would have wanted her dead to save themselves. Did you just let her live a long, happy life?"
The silence from the dragon was deafening.
"Or did she eventually give up and kill herself? If that was the case, why wouldn't she just save the world first? A Saintess would have that kind of resolve. So why didn't she?"
Astion pressed the blade harder against Deneb's neck. A thin line of red appeared as the steel nipped her skin.
"Tell me what happened to the previous Saintess—right now—or I'll kill Deneb myself and end this ritual before it starts."
Arterion remained silent. In that moment, Astion knew he was right.
It was better for Deneb to die by his hand right now than to suffer whatever fate the "sacrifice" truly entailed.