The Saint Wants to Rest - Chapter 59.2
“This gate is a special altar painstakingly prepared solely for you. As you can see, that human’s life force is already perfectly linked to the core of this space. The harder you struggle to save that human, the divine power you pour out will become nourishment for this gate.”
The corners of Kim Min-cheol’s mouth tore upward toward his ears in a grin.
“The moment that power exceeds the critical point, a passage will open to allow our great race to descend upon this land. Your meager goodwill will soon become their horrific death, and in the end, it will bring about the destruction of this world. Is it not a truly wonderful conclusion?”
Kim Min-cheol’s ridicule echoed throughout the hall. As if responding to those words, Kairam roughly pulled out the demonic sword that had been impaled in Choi Jae-heon and raised it high.
At the same time, Vermouth stepped forward, aiming the Holy Sword at an angle. His usual indifference was nowhere to be found, replaced by deep-seated loathing and rage.
“Lord Ian, go.”
Vermouth immediately pushed Ian’s back.
“I will make sure that creature can never be seen on this land again. I will not let anyone touch even a single hair on your head without my permission, so you must do what you have to do.”
Simultaneously with that declaration, Vermouth kicked off the ground and shot forward. Kairam also charged ferociously while swinging the massive demonic sword.
Crash!
Vermouth’s pure white sword energy and Kairam’s pitch-black demonic energy collided head-on, triggering a bursting sound that tore the eardrums. The surroundings crumbled just from the shockwaves emitted by the clash of the two knights.
In the midst of that chaos, Ian desperately headed toward Choi Jae-heon. His breath reached the tip of his throat, but he could not stop.
“Brother! Open your eyes! Brother!”
Ian knelt beside Choi Jae-heon and placed his trembling hands on the man’s chest. However, the moment his hands touched, a terrible sense of wrongness shivered through Ian’s entire body. Kim Min-cheol’s words were not a simple threat. Though he had treated countless wounded in Lancia, he had never felt a sensation like this.
Normally, when he used his power, wounds should heal along with a sense of warm heat. But it was different now. No matter how much divine power he poured in, it felt as though it was leaking away somewhere.
Still, he could not give up. Ian gathered every ounce of power he possessed and poured it out. His complexion turned pale in an instant, but he did not stop his actions. It was because he could see his brother’s complexion improving ever so slightly.
‘But it won’t work like this.’
Compared to the amount of blood loss, the healing speed was far too slow. Humans die if they lose more than a certain amount of blood. Furthermore, it was just as the demon said. The power he was pouring out was helping to maintain this space.
Rationally, he knew. If this were Lancia, everyone would have told him to stop treatment immediately and kill the demon. But he could not do that. The person here was his only family. Even if they weren’t related by blood, the man had raised Ian with care all this time.
‘I won’t give up.’
They could not be saved with a level of healing power that merely closed wounds and stopped bleeding. He had to erase this space itself, the very rules of this twisted dimension set up by Kim Min-cheol.
However, the power of the Saint was always transmitted to the other person only through contact and pleasure. That was the blessing bestowed by the Goddess, and an absolute restriction that had bound Ian for his entire life since Lancia. Without contact, he could not even transmit his full power.
A perfect stalemate with no way forward. While a sense of despair choked him, Choi Jae-heon’s blood-stained, trembling hand heavily covered the back of Ian’s white hand.
“I… am okay.”
Even with blurred focus, Choi Jae-heon continued to speak clearly.
“I, *cough*. I’m really okay. You should get out quickly. Please, I’m begging you.”
Even as he spoke words to push Ian away, his hand could not let go of Ian’s hem until the end, unable to give up the warmth. Ian stared blankly at that hand.
In the distance, he saw the back of Vermouth fighting while taking Kairam’s heavy blows with his whole body. The knight who had been perfect and without a single wound his entire life was fighting a life-and-death struggle solely to protect him. Originally, Kairam had never held the upper hand against Vermouth. The fact that the knight could fight like that was likely because of this space.
He knew he shouldn’t cry. But it felt as though tears were about to burst out. Ian bit his lip and tried to endure, but it was not easy.
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