Chapter 85: The Final Flame
Silence.
Real, absolute silence.
The arena floor was littered with corpses—scorched, split, broken. The last of the monsters collapsed with a strangled roar, dissolving into ash beneath Isaac's feet. The battlefield no longer rumbled. The red haze that once hovered like a storm cloud above the arena began to thin.
Lira dropped to one knee, panting, one hand pressed against the stone to keep herself upright. Her cloak was singed. Her blade was cracked. But she was alive.
"You… you did it," she breathed. "We did it."
Isaac stood still in the center of the wreckage, weapons fading into spectral light around him. His body radiated heatless pressure. His breathing was even—controlled. But his eyes remained sharp.
Because the system hadn't said the trial was over.
And he knew it wasn't.
Then the voice came.
It rang from everywhere at once—deep, layered, and laced with fury barely restrained by form.
"You have done the impossible."
The stone beneath them trembled. Lira looked up, alarmed.
"You have butchered my rage-born children. You have survived my wrath and fed upon it."
"I am both… impressed—" the voice turned sharp, sharp enough to draw blood— "and offended."
The sky above them, once dark red, ignited with violet flame. The dome of the arena cracked open like a shell.
From its heart, something descended.
A silhouette formed in the air. Humanoid. Towering. Muscles forged from molten stone. Horns twisted backward like blades. A cape of writhing embers trailed behind it. Its eyes burned brighter than suns, and the ground bent beneath its presence.
"I am a shard. A fragment. A single breath from the true self. I am Wrath Made Manifest. You… will now face me."
"This is your final test."
Isaac's system pinged.
[WARNING: Demonic Entity Detected – Alignment: Wrath]Name: [Fragment of the Great Demon Satan]Type: Demon – Primordial Wrath ManifestationStatus Scan: Partial
Strength: 3,126Agility: 1,745Endurance: 2,083Intelligence: 1,202Willpower: 1,386Charisma: 19
Estimated Combat Rating: Cataclysm-Class Threat
Isaac stared at the numbers.
And blinked.
"That's it?" he said aloud.
Lira coughed. "Excuse me?"
He pointed. "I mean, look at that Strength. Sure, impressive. But the Charisma… nineteen?"
She followed his gaze and let out a disbelieving laugh. "That's why you're unimpressed?"
Isaac shrugged. "I've seen merchant goats with higher charm ratings."
"ENOUGH." The demon's voice shattered what remained of the sky. "I HAVE SLAIN LEGIONS. I HAVE TURNED S-RANK ADVENTURERS TO DUST."
It pointed a clawed finger at him.
"NOT EVEN THIRTY OF YOUR KIND COULD STAND AGAINST ME."
Isaac raised his hand and conjured Gravemaw with a flicker of thought. The giant spectral blade surged into his palm.
Then he conjured Silverveil, balanced in his other hand like a silver whisper of death.
And then, slowly, he began to walk forward.
"I'm not thirty adventurers," he said calmly.
"I'm just one."
He moved like a storm, his stat-dense body channeling impossible control with every step.
"And unfortunately for you…"
He stopped just before entering the crater where the demon had landed.
"…I've had a very productive day."
The demon snarled. The air around it exploded in flame.
Isaac's aura flared.
He wasn't backing down.
And unlike every S-rank before him, he didn't look afraid.
He looked amused.