The Broken Halo

Chapter 956 - 955: A Friendly Conversation

Simon, Sonya, Akaza, Virella, and Ammor appeared above the battlefield.

Simon slowed to a halt. The wind supporting Akaza, Virella, and Ammor settled nearby as he controlled it.

For a moment, he simply looked down.

The mountain basin had become difficult to recognise. Craters overlapped the trenches, swallowing stretches of road and the foundations of defensive positions. Broken cannon barrels protruded from heaps of stone. Farther away, a collapsed ridge had buried everything beneath it, leaving only the upper half of a formation pillar jutting from the rubble.

Smoke drifted over bodies wearing human armour and bodies that needed none. Blood collected in shallow depressions where the ground had stopped moving.

The surviving humans had gathered behind whatever protection remained. Some kept their weapons raised. Others knelt beside the wounded, pressing cloth against injuries while exhausted healers moved between them.

Across the ruined ground, the demons stood in scattered groups. Several supported comrades who could no longer walk. Others watched the rift, as though another army might still emerge and rescue the invasion.

It had already been turning against them.

The God of War had devastated the army waiting in the Demon Realm. Soldiers, supplies, and the positions prepared to feed the invasion had been caught beneath his falling weapons. The demons on Earth had lost the support they were counting on.

Then Simon’s battle with the god had torn through what remained of the battlefield.

Advancing had become meaningless when the next shockwave could kill soldiers from both sides. Humans had abandoned opportunities to pursue retreating demons. Demons had scattered from positions they had bled to capture.

Now the cannons were silent.

Nobody was charging.

Virella looked across the basin with her lips pressed together. Beside her, Ammor released a slow breath.

Seeing the battlefield from above was a different sight entirely compared to standing on the ground.

Simon’s gaze moved beyond them and settled close to the edge of the battlefield.

Five familiar humans stood there.

Mara Veles looked up.

The rings within her metallic eye shifted, then stopped. Pavel’s floating lenses turned toward Simon. Ilona went still beside the wounded demon slayer beside her, while Dorian Krest’s fingers tightened around his bow.

Their eyes widened.

He was alive.

More than that, he appeared whole and without injuries.

His body had changed, and the aura surrounding him was almost unrecognisable. Yet none of them doubted who he was.

This was the same demon who had entered the battle as a mere Archfiend and ended up fighting the God of War.

They had witnessed enough of that battle to understand what interfering would have meant. Even approaching the wrong exchange could have killed them.

And now, looking at Simon made them feel as though a Demon King had appeared above their heads.

A Demi-God.

How could so much have changed?

They had seen the God of War retreat with Simon pursuing him. They had believed it was deliberate. A god drawing an enemy away, choosing better ground, preparing something a mortal could not understand.

They had never allowed themselves to believe he was fleeing because he might lose.

Yet Simon had returned with his comrades.

The god had not.

’The God of War... lost?’

To a mortal demon?

Pavel’s lips parted, but no question emerged. There were too many. What had happened after they disappeared? Where had this power come from? What had become of the god?

All of them gave way to something far more immediate.

What would happen to them now?

Mara felt sweat sliding beneath her collar.

Her attention shifted briefly to Sonya.

That one had killed Elara.

Even with Simon drawing most of her attention, Mara’s instincts warned her against dismissing the blind demon beside him. The danger coming from Sonya was enough to make her hands tense.

But Simon...

Mara looked toward the wounded behind her.

There were soldiers who could not stand without help. Healers with barely enough strength to continue. Defences that would struggle to withstand another ordinary assault.

If Simon decided to destroy the Carpathian Front, what could she put between him and those people?

Her Guardian Blessing?

The remaining formations?

Herself?

She had ordered two prodigies to kill him. Now he could wipe out the front that had sent them, and she could not think of a single order that would prevent it.

Stone scraped beside her.

Tomas stepped forward.

His hand tightened around his spear, and killing intent flared from him. Anger twisted his face as he stared up at Simon.

Mara’s eyes widened.

’Tomas, don’t.’

”What happened to my disciple?”

The question carried across the ruined ground.

Simon raised a brow.

”Your disciple?”

”Darius.” Tomas spoke through clenched teeth. ”Darius is my disciple.”

Recognition flashed through Simon’s eyes.

”Oh. Then you should be asking the God of War.”

Tomas’s grip tightened until the tendons stood out along his hand.

”What do you mean?”

”He was the one who possessed your disciple’s body,” Simon replied indifferently. ”Ask him, not me.”

For an instant, Tomas heard nothing else.

He remembered kneeling before the god. Asking whether Darius was alive. Accepting every insult because the answer had been yes.

The god would return his disciple.

He had clung to that assurance through every terrible clash.

And now this demon told him to ask that same god?

To Tomas, the words sounded like a deliberate sneer at the protection he had trusted. As though Simon were telling him to go and ask his mighty god why he had been too weak to save even the boy whose body he occupied.

The calmness made it worse.

There was no hesitation. No apparent weight to the loss of a disciple Tomas had raised through years of training and battle.

’Darius is dead.’

The thought broke through everything else.

Tomas planted his foot and drew the spear back.

”Tomas!”

Mara caught his wrist before his arm could drive forward. Her power crashed against his shoulder as she forced him down.

Dorian seized the spear shaft. At the same time, Pavel thrust out his hand, and lines of light tightened around Tomas’s legs.

His knee struck the floor.

”Let go of me!”

”You fool!” Mara shouted. ”Calm down!”

Tomas twisted, dragging Dorian half a step before Pavel’s restraints tightened.

”He killed Darius!”

”You don’t know that!” Ilona snapped, gripping his other shoulder.

”Let me go!”

”And then what?” Mara demanded. ”He kills you? He kills everyone standing behind us? Look around you!”

Tomas strained against them.

Dorian pushed the spear farther from its throwing position.

”Calm down, Tomas. Think about what you’re doing!”

Above them, Simon watched without moving.

Akaza glanced between the struggling human and the leaders holding him down. Virella and Ammor remained silent.

Sonya tilted her head toward Simon.

”Do you want to kill him?”

Simon studied Tomas for another moment, then shook his head.

”It doesn’t matter.”

”He seems to think it does.”

”He’s not a threat. And he doesn’t have much further to go before reaching the limit of his potential.”

Below, Tomas shouted again.

”His fury and hatred aren’t close to what that boy carried,” Simon continued. ”Almost every human still alive down there hates me. I can’t go around killing every human or enemy who hates me just to pull out the weeds by their roots.”

Sonya considered that, then inclined her head toward the struggling man.

”Then his friends had better keep holding him or they might all die.”

Simon said nothing.

There was another reason.

Darius was alive.

He had watched his sister sacrifice herself to save him. Simon knew what such a memory could become when someone carried it into training, into battle, into every moment when giving up seemed easier.

Simon was not afraid of Darius. But the young man had talent, a powerful physique, and a connection to the God of War. Those were things he could not simply disregard.

Killing Tomas would give his disciple another death to avenge, feeding the determination born from his sister’s sacrifice.

There was no benefit in adding fuel to that fire.

Simon turned his attention away from the Carpathian Front’s leaders.

Then he looked to the side, his eyes narrowing slightly.

”Let’s enter the rift.”

Sonya turned her head in the same direction.

”I want to see whether a certain prince and the leaders of Black Horn are still alive.”

A faint smile appeared on Simon’s face.

”If they are, I’d like to have a very friendly conversation with them. Especially the prince.”