Forsaken Priest of the Hero's Party-Chapter 65: Grimudos Climax (2)

When intelligent beings first came into existence and looked around,

They had to pick up stones and branches to defend themselves against beasts and monsters. What did they rely on? Was it magic? even though magic existed during that time. Nobody knew how to use it.

No, the first intelligent beings found their answers within themselves.

What separated humans from beasts? What gave them the foundation to develop intelligence?

By focusing on their mental strength, they created a technique called mental arts. In Grimudo’s era, no one knew how to use magic. Instead, they cultivated their mental power and used it against their enemies.

Grimudo himself brought an end to that era. Hundreds of cycles have passed since then, and now, mental arts have been completely forgotten.

Later generations turned to magic instead of mental power. Magic was quicker and easier to enhance strength. Over time, everyone abandoned mental power and focused entirely on magic.

That era, when geniuses devoted themselves to mental power, will never return. Mental arts can never be restored.

This is why Grimudo’s mental attacks are one of a kind. They are not just techniques he created but the legacy of civilization, refined through the efforts of countless geniuses from his time.

However, the problem is that Grimudo’s legacy doesn’t stop with just one technique.

Swish!

The Vindication lashed out at him, but Grimudo didn’t move to dodge or block it.

The whip struck his body as if it were alive, its energy writhing with resentment. The Vindication, a weapon created by the Western family, was born from the anger and pain of those killed by demons. It carried the screams of those who died unjustly.

It was a weapon designed to destroy evil with evil itself, much like a Grim Reaper.

Despite taking a direct hit, Grimudo remained calm. Instead, Lucia Western cried out in frustration, striking the whip down with all her strength.

“We never compromise with demons!”

“Is that so?”

“Especially not with you, Grimudo!”

She had heard from Renheim that Kyle might have been in Larpentia, but she couldn’t tell him that now.

It wasn’t about loyalty between comrades. If Grimudo appeared in a small town within the empire, the consequences would be catastrophic. Lucia truly didn’t want to compromise with that monster.

The one who had reduced the Western family to a fate worse than death—leaving her father, mother, and siblings in misery.

She wanted to kill him, to destroy him somehow. Even if she couldn’t, she didn’t want to do anything that might benefit him.

Grimudo. The Ancient Demon King whose name they had only ever heard.

We, the descendants of Western, will surely punish you.

We are the only weapon that can defeat the strongest Demon King. We are the cries of those trampled underfoot.

Descendant, do not retreat. Grasp us. We will assist you.

The magical weapon, Vindication, was a demonic weapon that grew stronger by absorbing the grudges of those killed by demons.

For generations, the leaders of the Western family have been the carriers of those grudges. This weapon grew stronger over time, consuming the souls of former family leaders.

But that legacy ended today.

“Then I have no business with you either.”

After briefly staring at the whip that struggled to pierce him, Grimudo calmly grasped its tip with two fingers. The whip stopped moving and emitted a piercing scream.

At first, the sound was agony. Then it turned into weeping, before abruptly cutting off.

The part of the whip touched by his fingers bent and broke. Then the entire weapon shattered and vanished. Lucia froze, unable to move forward after witnessing this shocking sight.

“Do you think the power of grudges is great? Of course, it can be. But when faced with an even stronger mental power, no matter how strong the grudge, what else can it do but crumble?”

Only Grimudo, who had mastered mental arts to their peak, could achieve this unique method of destruction.

He eradicated the grudges and ancestral spirits contained within the whip through sheer mental fortitude. He exerted an overwhelming force upon them, leaving them no alternative but to disintegrate. Consequently, the heirloom of the Western family was irrevocably destroyed.

“Ah... ah, ahhh... impossible...”

Though she hadn’t received a mental attack, Lucia staggered and fell to the ground.

She didn’t get back up. Tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision completely.

“This can’t be...”

The Western family had nothing left. Even the whip, their family’s symbol, was gone.

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Now, all that remained was herself—alone. At this point, it was no different from the family being completely erased.

What she was experiencing felt unreal, like a nightmare. Grimudo continued walking, ignoring her, heading toward Yurinel. Yurinel Lakponcia gripped the holy sword, her hands trembling.

The Lich Albatross and his subordinates had fled long ago, and Harmael lay unconscious, groaning after the mental attack.

All that remained was Yurinel. How long has it been since Grimudo appeared? Already, they had been reduced to this.

No one made a mistake.

They hadn’t fallen into some trap.

This outcome had been inevitable from the moment Harmael decided to lure Grimudo in.

The reason things turned out this way boiled down to one thing ‘skill’.

It wasn’t that anyone had thought wrongly either.

The overwhelming difference in power was undeniable and absolute.

This gap was the reason for their downfall. In the end, their strength wasn’t even a flicker of flame. It was nothing but ashes, burned out before Grimudo.

We’re just... weak. Far too weak.

It didn’t matter who faced him. Against Grimudo, it was pointless.

In this nightmare where escape was impossible, no matter where she turned, Yurinel finally understood her duty. She was the hero. The one meant to cut down beings like Grimudo.

The holy sword whispered to her. Do not retreat.

But retreating wasn’t even an option now. With such a vast difference in power, escape was meaningless.

The only choice was to fight until the end, no matter how futile it seemed. Grimudo’s showed an unexpected curiosity.

“How curious.”

Step by step.

The ancient Demon King approached her at a steady speed. He moved as if he were merely taking a stroll. Would this even count as a battle for him?

It was like stepping on an ant. Yurinel swallowed hard.

“I thought you would flee, Now that the priest of the Ancient God is gone, you have no one left to rely on.”

Yurinel didn’t rush at him as he closed the distance. She couldn’t waste any energy.

With Grimudo coming toward her of his own accord, there was no need to make a move. She would need to conserve every bit of strength, unleashing her attacks with full force—just to hope for a scratch.

I don’t even hope for victory.

All she wanted was to leave one lasting wound.

If she could leave even a small scar on the ancient Demon King—proof that she, Yurinel, had fought against him.

If she could leave just that much, then her death wouldn’t be in vain.

It was resignation, that much was true. Besides, Yurinel was a practical person.

But she wasn’t a coward. She wouldn’t kneel and beg for her life, no matter how hopeless the situation seemed. She still had the bare minimum resolve expected of a hero.

She raised the holy sword, but Grimudo continued his approach, completely unbothered.

The holy sword was a weapon crafted to slay demons, imbued with the power of the Three Goddesses who created it.

Against demon-kind, it held absolute superiority.

What about Grimudo? Will the holy sword work reliably even against that terrifying being?

At best, it might be somewhat effective.

Perhaps not even that much.

“People in the world fear and revere me. Some even worship me. They see me as a savior who will overturn this rotten world. Yet I still haven’t forgotten—I was once just a single human. Even now.”

Charging in, knowing you’ll lose—that was courage.

Grimudo had seen countless people flee in terror. But those who stood their ground, fighting to the bitter end despite knowing it was futile, always fascinated him.

“I thought you would show a shameless and despicable appearance, I thought you would beg for your life. But you haven’t. You show resolve to fight as a warrior before me. For that, I will respect your spirit.”

Dark magic gathered in Grimudo’s hand, swirling and condensing into the shape of a sword. He grasped it lightly and replied.

“Come. I won’t use mental attacks.”

Defeating Yurinel would be easy for him.

A single glance from him could shatter her mind with a mental shock.

His mental power, refined over hundreds of thousands of years, was strong enough to control her like a puppet with just a whistle.

But he promised not to use mental attacks. Not only that,

He also declared he would not use magic.

“I won’t use magic either. Let us duel purely with martial arts.”

He wouldn’t use the mental arts he had mastered as a boy. He wouldn’t use the magic he had learned from dragons.

Yet Yurinel felt no relief. It didn’t change anything.

She still knew well that she had no chance of victory.

This was even more hopeless than a fight between a child and an adult.

Even if the child gave it everything they had, clenching their small fists and striking with all their might, the adult could easily subdue them with just one arm.

But even so, Yurinel couldn’t back down.

A moment later, the holy sword’s radiant light slashed through the darkness.