The Heavenly Demon Can't Live a Normal Life

The people formed a long procession. At the front was a man with a large body moving ahead, receiving the gazes of everyone.

“Morales! Raise the honor of Valhalla!”

“We believe in you!”

“Nothing like Roman Dmitry can take Morales’s place!”

People were screaming from all sides. It was a familiar sight.

The monster of Valhalla or the man who was called the Fierce Warrior—Morales was the representative of Valhalla.

Having perfectly inherited the lineage of Valhalla, which people commonly thought about, he had proven his qualities as a warrior by wandering around the battlefield since he was a child.

He didn’t know what cowardice was. Even if his throat would be cut off, he genuinely enjoyed the confrontation with the strong, and when he first entered the rankings of Valhalla, he blew off the head of his opponent.

Ranked 12th—even though he wasn’t one of the strongest in the top 10, he was loved by the people of Valhalla regardless of his rank. It was like that.

He set out to deal with Roman Dmitry. People followed Morales and were confident of his victory.

‘Barbossa, I will break the cycle of evil by confronting you.’

Beyond his memories, he remembered his past encounter with Barbossa. Even at first, Morales wasn’t less talented than Barbossa, but he fell bleeding against Barbossa in a battle of the town’s best warriors.

It wasn’t because of his lack of skills. There was a force that hindered Morales before he went on stage, and he went on stage in the worst possible condition. He didn’t make any excuses.

In order to preserve his body, Morales knelt down. Even though he coughed up blood and had his skin ripped out, Morales looked up at his opponent. From that point on, the bad blood between them began.

His wounds from that day were covered with tattoos, and he devoted himself to training for the day he would meet Barbossa again.

However, reality didn’t change much. Barbossa was a descendant of a high noble family. With the power behind him, he grew up with full support, and unlike Morales, who grew rough in the wild, he developed by leaps and bounds.

6th and 12th. The future had been decided that way. The fine gap had now widened so much that he could catch up, but Morales still didn’t let go of his string of bad luck.

‘If I compromise with reality, I can live a comfortable life like you, but I am a warrior of Valhalla. In order not to be ashamed under the sky, I will try to become stronger with my own strength. Barbossa. I cannot tolerate a disgusting human like you wearing the mask of a warrior and being cheered on by people.’

This confrontation will take his life. Barbossa would try to kill him, but the memory of the day he clenched his teeth led him to the present.

He arrived at his destination. He saw the place where Roman Dmitry was staying. Morales took a deep breath, and with a loud voice as huge as his body, he called the name of the man who would fall as his sacrifice.

“Roman Dmitry! I, Morales, will deal with you!”

From the door, Roman Dmitry appeared. Upon hearing the name Morales, Roman didn’t react in particular. His face was devoid of fear, and Morales, who was interested in that, asked him,

“Roman Dmitry. I will ask you one thing. The Valhalla Empire invited you to fight against Barbossa to avenge the death of Count Denver. The pride of a warrior is nowhere to be found. It is obviously a position that puts your life at risk. So why the hell did you have to accept the invitation of the empire, knowing their intention?”

“Invitation for revenge?”

“What are they talking about?”

At Morales’s words, the people whispered. It was their first time hearing about it. Normal people thought that Roman Dmitry was just invited, but was there a dirty truth behind it?

The festival in Valhalla was a place to honor the souls of warriors. It needed people who would shine on the spot, but the leaders mixed in their greediness, which went against its true purpose.

Some of the people were angry. If Morales’s words were true, the Valhalla royal family plotted to defile Valhalla.

Roman Dmitry said,

“Why should I avoid it? If the place where my life is threatened is on a stage where we prove each other’s strength, then the Valhalla Empire cannot kill me.”

“Do you mean to say you will defeat Barbossa?”

“Otherwise, there is no reason to accept this invitation.”

“Hahahaha.”

Morales laughed loudly. Roman Dmitry—he liked him. Even knowing Valhalla’s cowardly plan, he trusted his own skills and stepped into the trap.

Reckless and bold—he was a man worthy of being called into Valhalla, which was known for its spirit.

“You are arrogant. Therefore, you deserve some respect. I love people like you who are mad. Warriors who fight with their strength until the end, knowing that they are here now, receive the blessing of Valhalla even after death. But it’s still too early. At the age of just 20, you didn’t even experience the real world. Dealing with Barbossa is too much. So, let me take your place.”

“You sound funny.”

Roman Dmitry chuckled.

“Until I reached the place that I am in now, dealing with swordsmen commonly referred to as Rankers, no one was certain of my victory. They always said the same thing as you. Still at the age of 20. Just like you said, I wouldn’t be able to win against the other Rankers who proved their skills. Yet, I am in front of you right now.”

He drew his sword.

“Do you think you will be any different?”

The words he said made a crack appear in Morales’s expression. It was not of anger but of joy. It was unexpected. Roman Dmitry, who was thought to be arrogant, was a proper madman who had the spirit of Valhalla.

The confrontation with the strong was always bloody. There were no questions or answers, and no words were needed.

“Fine. From now on, let us check who is the right warrior for the festival.”

His mana exploded, and Morales lunged at Roman Dmitry.

People didn’t see it. The moment they blinked their eyes, a man with a huge body that filled in their visions suddenly appeared in front of Roman Dmitry and brandished his great sword.

A powerful explosion occurred. Morales’s great sword generated an aura that was on a different level from those he had dealt with before, and this huge aura was one that wanted to devour Roman Dmitry.

The ground trembled. A shock would spread each time their weapons collided, and those who watched the scene fell to the ground or stepped back.

He tried to knock his head down, and Roman Dmitry raised his sword to block it, but Morales slashed it down like it didn’t matter.

It was a violent attack. With his chest wide open, he pushed forward with an attack without thinking about defense.

His sword cut through the wind, and Roman tried to strike it back. However, Morales sensed the movement of the sword right in front of him, and he exploded aura on a part of his body to change direction.

It was a really small difference. If there had been a margin of error, his skin would have been split open with his intestines gushing out, but Morales rushed at him as if nothing had happened.

“Where?!”

A broad-minded warrior—that was what he was called. He was an existence that didn’t care about the general match’s rules. Morales stood on the blade. On his skin, which was covered in tattoos, were the wounds that were barely visible and showed how beastly he was.

A messy group of cuts, rips, and open wounds covered his body, but Morales was a clenched-fist kind of man who believed that a fight without a scar was not a real fight.

Cornering his opponent, he raised his aura. His aura, which exploded as if it would pierce the sky, pressed down on Roman Dmitry once more.

‘He stopped this?’

Morales’s eyes lit up. The slash he just made was a 5-star sword attack that shouldn’t have been blocked. However, Roman Dmitry didn’t just block it. He immediately followed up and used the loophole it had. It was all too fast.

He reacted in an instant by exploding his aura, but Morales’s cheek had a line of red blood flowing down.

Roman Dmitry was real. He didn’t just have some foolish confidence. He was someone who really had the skills to deal with Barbossa.

‘The world is wide. To reach this level at the age of 20.’

Beyond his memories, he remembered the existence of the Best Sword. Even the monstrous creatures that Morales had to truly and fully admit defeat for the first time weren’t as strong as Roman Dmitry.

But Roman Dmitry was young. It was a harsh fate for them to meet when he was still young.

He stepped onto the ground. A wave of aura moved, and cracks appeared on the ground as if there had been an earthquake.

It was an unusual way to use aura. The ground collapsed, limiting the space that they could step on, and stones rose up, preventing Roman Dmitry from moving. He had driven his opponent into a corner.

Morales’s sword fell on Roman Dmitry.

It was a fleeting moment. The opponent’s intentions were clear. Morales collapsed the surrounding terrain for a pure power confrontation.

‘Is he different from the other Rankers?’

His opponents in the past—the use of their aura was limited. The aura that exploded from their bodies was expressed through a medium, or they just used it to amplify the skills of their bodies.

However, Morales was different. By spreading his aura onto the ground, it caused cracks like an earthquake, and he adjusted the stones in the air where he had gaps in his movement.

It was a moment’s thought, and he was cornered. Roman Dmitry could face him head-on, but he was actively responding to the intentions of his opponent.

He moved back, and as soon as he stepped on the ground, he staggered, and Morales rushed at him.

“No more running away!”

His great sword blew up in size. The sharpness of his aura was so great, and it looked as if the size of his great sword had doubled.

The attack exploded. Restricting the space by collapsing the ground and using stones, Roman Dmitry moved insanely out of the unavoidable situation.

Sparks exploded everywhere. Ordinary people couldn’t even open their eyes at the storm of auras, and the only thing they could see was a scene in which the lights of the auras intertwined and collided with each other.

The wind was being cut down. The air parted, and Morales turned to Roman.

He put his feet on the ground, and the ground collapsed. At the same time, a bouncing rock blocked Roman Dmitry’s movements.

That was the end. The moment Morales’s sword fell toward Roman, Roman’s form vanished.

Morales fell into a delusion. In the first place, it would be hasty to think he had the upper hand in the battle of strength and power, but there had been no effect on Roman.

In his previous life, he fought battles in various conditions—wide lands, shaky ships, and even the edge of a cliff where he couldn’t back down.

Space. It was just space. How to use it was up to the people.

As he gazed above, Roman Dmitry was there. He stepped onto the stone in the air, but the stone wasn’t falling down. Rather, it added solid footing for Roman.

Void Movement—it was a feat showing how great he was. Roman Dmitry used the stones floating in the air as steps and disappeared in an instant to where Morales couldn’t attack.

It was at that moment that Morales’s plan became useless. The way he had defeated countless enemies in the past, Roman Dmitry covered it up. It was incredible to watch.

As Morales was still shocked, a flame-like aura fell from above his head at the speed of lightning.