The World After the Bad Ending - Chapter 162

The cult of mysticism.

Jenia Niflheim stood frozen, suffocating under such oppressive force that she couldn't even open her mouth.

Beads of sweat dripped from her forehead.

Of course.

For her, this level of pressure was unprecedented.

But that wasn’t all.

What gripped her body now was undoubtedly a manifestation of a peculiar power.

Mysticism—the Valor of Petrification.

Even Paladin Sentriol had been bound helplessly by this force.

Vulcan possessed a unique trait.

Just as magical engravings amplified when combined with mysticism, so too did his body naturally amplify mystic powers.

[The Beloved of Mysticism]—

That was Vulcan’s innate ability.

Through him, the Valor of Petrification had been enhanced, turning everyone to stone.

‘Move. Move!’

Jenia screamed internally, channeling her mana in a desperate attempt to shift her limbs.

But no matter how much mana she poured into it, her body refused to obey.

An overwhelming sense of helplessness gripped her.

Until she arrived here, she had trusted in her own magic.

Yet the moment she laid eyes on that man, she saw no chance of victory.

His sheer dominance was enough to make even a perfectionist like her admit defeat in an instant.

Vulcan Zebra.

A hidden bloodline of the Zebra Kingdom.

A man who, after enduring arrogance and hardship throughout his life, had turned his fury and hatred upon the world.

In truth, Vulcan and those gathered here weren’t far apart in age.

The reincarnated heroes had all been born relatively close to one another.

But Vulcan’s appearance was vastly different from theirs.

His face, wrinkled like the bark of an ancient tree, resembled that of a middle-aged man.

It was as if he had sacrificed his own vitality, much like a dark mage.

A gust of black wind swept through, scattering his ashen and black-streaked hair.

Beneath it, a deep scar was etched into his forehead—

A gruesome mark left by someone who had once tried to tear his mind apart.

Then, the scar split open, revealing a new eye.

With the emergence of the third eye, the pressure intensified even further.

Jenia realized she had forgotten to breathe.

"To think you came here of your own volition."

Vulcan’s lips twisted into a grotesque smile.

"How… thoughtful."

Three crimson eyes bore down on Jenia, suffocating her.

Fear coiled around her throat, choking her.

And then—one after another, the hands of the Abyssal God descended around Vulcan.

The spectral hands stretched toward those rendered motionless.

"Aquilin."

Vulcan was the one who had sold Musica to the Abyssal God.

Aquilin, Musica’s past life, had been an eyesore even to him.

"You should never have returned."

Musica had returned—even if only as a remnant of a soul.

Thus, Grantony had no reason to fully close the Reverse World.

And that had become the catalyst for this disaster.

To reclaim Aquilin, the Abyssal God had resorted to any means necessary.

The result? A pact with Vulcan—sealing away its own power.

THUD—

At that moment, the stairs below collapsed.

Darkness swiftly rose from the shattered remnants, filling the gaps.

The moment anyone stepped into that darkness, an endless abyss would swallow them whole.

Yet despite it all, no one could move.

Vulcan hadn’t just devoured the Hero Ordo.

He had burned countless souls, accumulating their power within himself.

The proof was the uncontrollable energy surging from him—an intensity even he shouldn’t have been able to handle.

Normally, that power would have run rampant, but with the Abyssal God’s aid, it remained barely restrained.

"Jerion."

Jenia’s body trembled.

She impulsively wished to escape this place immediately.

But her perfectionist trait barely anchored her here.

Her obsession with perfection managed to suppress her terror—for now.

"Your magic… was meaningless in the end."

Meaningless.

A declaration in the past tense.

For Jenia, who had no memory of Jerion, the words were incomprehensible.

"Narea."

Vulcan grinned savagely at Arc en Ciel, who stiffened in response.

"The goddess betrays us till the very end."

Having addressed each hero present, Vulcan clasped his hands together before him.

The hovering hand of the Abyssal God above him mirrored the gesture.

"The time for vengeance—over a thousand years in the making—has arrived."

Before the suffocating might of Vulcan and the Abyssal God, everyone remained petrified, staring blankly upward.

Jenia squeezed her eyes shut, facing the spectral hand now mere inches from her.

This was the end.

"I hereby proclaim from this very place—"

"I’m sick and tired of hearing that."

A boy’s voice cut through Vulcan’s declaration.

Slowly, Vulcan shifted his gaze.

There stood a boy with one hand raised toward the sky.

Of course, Vulcan knew who he was.

The boy who had thrown the Empire into chaos.

The one who, for some reason, kept interfering with his plans.

The one who had foiled the hostage crisis involving Saintess Arc en Ciel Narea and saved Musica.

Strangely enough—

The one who wielded Jerion’s ancient dragon magic.

Because of that, to Vulcan…

He was an enigma.

Hanon Airey.

His right hand was raised high.

How?

Vulcan’s eyes narrowed.

He quickly realized the boy’s method.

Mysticism negates mysticism.

Wrapped around Hanon’s body was the Steel Flesh—

A higher-order mysticism than the Valor of Petrification.

Hanon stood as the only one among them who could still move freely.

The petrification pattern—

Hanon had long since figured it out.

With the Steel Flesh in play, he had already prepared for this.

While everyone else trembled in fear, Hanon’s eyes gleamed undaunted.

When all were petrified—

Hanon was already thinking steps ahead.

Vulcan had allied with the Abyssal God.

Yet Hanon remained unfazed.

This world had already begun with a variable named Lucas.

Another unforeseen factor was only to be expected—

Which was precisely why he had prepared again and again, never letting his guard down.

The ring clutched in his right hand pulsed with light.

If it was just another variable, there was nothing to fear—he already knew the pattern.

BOOM—

The Abyssal God shuddered, realizing Hanon’s intent—but it was too late.

"Forced Skip."

The ring on Hanon’s finger erupted with brilliance.

In response to its call, the dark skies split open—

And in its place, azure lightning unfurled its maw.

COME—THUNDER CALL.

The goddess’s divine lightning, capable of piercing even the Magic Bow, descended across space.

The Abyssal God, having suffered under this strike multiple times already, hastily swung its hand—

――――――――――――!

A blinding explosion of light consumed the surroundings, muffling even the deafening roar.

Jenia instinctively shut her eyes against the brilliance.

"MUSICA!"

Hanon’s voice cut through the light, ringing clear.

The goddess’s thunder had forcibly dispelled the Valor of Petrification.

A stronger power had overwritten the mysticism.

The Abyssal God’s hand, seething with wrath, lunged forward—

This damned lightning again—its fury was absolute.

Dodging the attack, Hanon shouted:

"Reverse-summon the Abyssal God back with Grantony!"

While everyone else was petrified—

Hanon alone had foreseen this moment.

How to stop the Abyssal God?

The answer lay with those already present.

Hearing Hanon’s cry, Musica spread her hands wide.

The Reverse World was different from reality.

Even if Grantony remained in the academy, he could still intervene now.

In fact, precisely because he was at the academy, the Abyssal God couldn’t stop Grantony.

That was exactly why they hadn’t brought him along to begin with.

Musica, of course, acted without hesitation.

She had spent an eternity in the Reverse World.

She knew exactly how to wield its laws.

"Perfect!"

Musica flashed a wicked grin as her freed body moved.

Her eyes burned with fury toward the Abyssal God.

"It’s payback time!"

The suffering she endured at its hands—

Her life, stolen and shattered like so many others—

Even beyond her, the lingering consciousness of Vinesha roared with the same rage.

Black currents swirled as vengeful spirits howled.

The time for revenge had come.

As a soul mage, she unleashed her full might.

KWAOOOOOOOH—

The Abyssal God’s hand crashed down, obliterating the altar.

Musica crossed into the Reverse World.

But they weren’t done yet.

This alone wasn’t enough to stop the Abyssal God.

"Arc en Ciel! Paladin Sentriol! You two as well!"

While Musica and Grantony worked on the reverse summoning, they had to hold off the Abyssal God’s manifested form here.

Its power could be negated by the goddess’s own might.

"Y-yes!"

"By your will!"

The Abyssal God was a being sealed in the Reverse World—not complete.

But here, they had both a saintess and a paladin.

They could repel it.

And if they held it back, Vulcan would inevitably falter.

Amid the smoke conjured by the Abyssal God, black beasts emerged.

Creatures of inky liquid bared their fangs.

Hanon and Isabel kicked off the ground in unison, slashing with sword and blade.

KWOAH—!

A detonation erupted from Hanon’s grip, blasting apart one beast.

Isabel’s sword, imbued with the goddess’s blessing, cleaved through another without hesitation.

Through the smoke, Vulcan’s foot slammed into the ground—

Instantly, the altar’s floor morphed into towering pillars, surging upward.

Hanon effortlessly dodged, shouting:

"Jenia! Vulcan has a mysticism similar to spatial teleportation!"

Vulcan had planned to petrify everyone here—then slaughter them.

Or, if not that, ensure they’d be devoured by the Earth Dragon.

And then, he’d escape using his powers.

In fact, according to the original scenario, if Jenia wasn’t taken, Vulcan would succeed in fleeing.

Even now, he was poised to escape the moment things turned against him.

They couldn’t let that happen.

"Your celestial magic can negate it!"

But Jenia’s presence changed everything.

"You can do this!"

Jenia was stunned.

Vulcan’s power surpassed all expectations.

With the Abyssal God’s reinforcement, his combat prowess was monstrous.

Effortlessly wielding mysticism, he denied anyone from even approaching him.

Yet Hanon clashed against him without hesitation, steering the battle forward.

A boy her age was leading them in this situation.

He truly intended to bring Vulcan down.

For a moment, she wondered if she had gone mad.

Yet his resolve was genuine.

Just as before—he meant to win.

Amid the chaos, Jenia swallowed hard.

The clash against Vulcan sent shockwaves ripping through the ruined altar.

Yet Hanon emerged through the smoke, his strike relentless.

As she watched, Jenia recalled how Hanon had introduced himself:

A student of Jerion Academy.

She—a reincarnated hero—had been afraid.

But the students from his academy stood defiant before Vulcan.

SMACK—

Her palms struck her own cheeks.

Her gaze sharpened.

I am Jenia Niflheim.

The proud heir of House Niflheim.

Pushing self-doubt aside, she embraced only perfectionism.

Now, it was the only path left.

Starlight erupted around her.

She wouldn’t tarnish her family’s name.

She would win—for herself.

Drawing her staff, she roared:

"I’LL NEGATE IT!"

Hearing her answer, Hanon rolled across the ground, steadying his breath.

Unforeseen variables always arose.

But overcoming them rested solely on his shoulders.

Thus, the goal remained unchanged:

Defeat Vulcan.

"Isabel."

Hanon called out one final name as he raised his hand.

Within him, ancient dragon magic raged like a storm.

"We crush Vulcan here."

"Got it!"

Isabel responded instantly, unfurling the goddess’s wings.

Her eyes shone with unwavering belief—directed at Hanon alone.

All of them burned with determination, ready for a desperate fight.

Watching them, Vulcan felt nothing but disgust.

His gaze locked onto Hanon.

A single figure had upturned the situation in an instant.

Jenia’s celestial magic unleashed torrents of starlight.

Vulcan’s spatial mysticism recoiled.

Now, escape was impossible.

His eyes widened faintly.

He had gathered three heroes here—

Half of Narea’s soul, Jerion, Aquilin—

Calling the Abyssal God, he had intended to claim all three spirits.

But the resistance was far fiercer than expected.

He had meant to overwhelm them instantly with petrification and the Abyssal God—

Yet the situation had flipped.

All because of one person.

Hanon Airey.

In a single moment, he had rewritten the battlefield.

Of course, Vulcan still held the advantage.

Only two could truly oppose him—

Isabel Runa and Hanon Airey.

Two children yet to even reach adulthood.

The strongest forces—the heroes and the paladin—were tied up holding back the Abyssal God.

By all logic, Vulcan still dominated.

And yet—his displeasure deepened.

For some reason, that boy overlapped in his vision with another man from the past.

A single star who led all under heaven, forging galaxies beyond imagination.

Even in seemingly impossible situations—that man had always flipped the tables.

Thus, one truth became clear:

‘He must die.’

Leaving that boy alive would be disastrous.

Vulcan was certain of it.

The greatest threat here wasn’t the three heroes—

Nor the Woodworker outside battling the Earth Dragon.

No—

It was a single student of Jerion Academy.

Hanon Airey—also known as Vikarmen Niflheim.

Him.