Entering Apocalypse in Easy-Mode
Chapter 311: The Protector

Chapter 311: The Protector

Clyde frowned after hearing the being’s words. He had pointed at his own chest — his molten ember-veined body serving as the vessel for whatever weapon Asmodeus had hidden away.

Clyde narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

The being exhaled, rolling his broad shoulders as if shaking off centuries of stiffness.

"I mean... that weapon. Or artifact, tool, curse, whatever you want to call it, is sealed inside me," he said, tapping his chest with a clawed finger. "It’s been here for longer than I can remember."

A heavy silence fell between them.

The only sounds were the distant crackling of scorched earth and the hot, whispering wind sweeping across the ruined battlefield.

Clyde stared at the being with his unwavering eyes. The being looked back, amusement flickering behind his dim orange eyes.

"You want to take it, I presume?" the being asked, a faint smile tugging at the edges of his cracked lips.

Clyde didn’t hesitate. "Yes. You’re correct."

The molten figure chuckled dryly. "And how do you know about this weapon?"

"That’s not really important right now, is it?" Clyde replied.

The being tilted his head, considering. Then, he gave a slow nod. "Right. I suppose it isn’t."

A low rumble echoed through his chest as he straightened, his stance shifting subtly — less weary, more deliberate.

"Then I guess this can only end one way." His burning gaze locked onto Clyde. "Either you kill me and take the weapon... or I kill you."

Clyde tightened his grip on his sword, his fingers pressing against the warm surface of the Elderglass hilt.

"Why?" he asked. "Why are you still protecting it? You said Asmodeus betrayed you. He left you to rot inside that stake for gods-know-how-long. Don’t you hate him for that?"

The being’s expression darkened, the embers in his eyes flaring for a brief moment before dimming again.

"I do." His voice was quiet but heavy, thick with centuries of resentment. Then, he sighed. "But I also don’t want to die."

Clyde’s jaw clenched.

A prisoner for who knew how long, bound by Asmodeus’s will — yet even now, the being’s instincts clung to self-preservation.

A warrior who had once fought for a Demon King, then abandoned and forgotten.

And now, a guardian forced to stand against Clyde, not out of loyalty but because he had no other choice if he wanted to keep living.

Clyde lifted his sword slightly, the faint glow of his fused energy flickering along the transparent blade. "Then I guess we both have something to fight for."

The being gave a small, almost regretful smile. Then, his molten fingers curled into fists.

"So it seems."

The air between them tensed.

Then, the battlefield erupted into motion.

Without hesitation, without another word, they moved. Because they already know what needs to be done.

The battlefield ignited in an instant. The clash of sheer will and ancient power.

The molten warrior landed his attack first. His clawed hand wreathed itself in hellfire, the flames twisting unnaturally and filled with the infernal energy that had once been Asmodeus’s gift.

He hurled the blazing force forward a storm of crimson and black fire roaring toward Clyde, distorting the air with unbearable heat.

Clyde met it head-on without hesitation.

His body flickered with golden radiance as he surged forward, the [Tidebreaker] skill flaring to life around him.

A shockwave of water-imbued energy exploded outward from his hand, a spiraling torrent of liquid force colliding against the infernal flames. The impact sent ripples of steam and raw energy everywhere, shattering the scorched earth beneath them.

The warrior’s eyes widened slightly — just for a moment — but he recovered fast.

"You wield Angelic power this well?" he muttered, his molten face twisting in intrigue. "What Archangel are you serving?"

Clyde didn’t respond. He was already in motion.

He closed the gap in an instant, his Elderglass sword slashing downward in a precise arc. The blade shimmered with holy light and water magic, a fusion of two opposing forces that became so lethal in his hands againts this hell abomination.

The being barely managed to twist his body away, Clyde’s sword carving through the air where his torso had been a heartbeat ago. But even as he dodged, Clyde didn’t let up.

With a flick of his wrist, he redirected his attack mid-swing, using the momentum to slash horizontally instead.

The blade connected this time, slicing across the being’s molten flesh — only for the wound to seal itself almost instantly, the ember-like veins pulsing with renewed heat.

The warrior grinned.

"Not bad."

Then he retaliated.

With an eruption of power, he drove his fist forward. The very air seemed to burn away in its path as a condensed explosion of hellfire shot toward Clyde at point-blank range.

Clyde barely managed to react in time.

He thrust his hand forward, activating [Tidebreaker] once more. A wall of turbulent water surged up to meet the infernal blast. The two forces clashed violently, steam exploding outward in thick waves, obscuring the battlefield in a blinding haze.

But Clyde had no intention of staying defensive.

Through the veil of mist, he propelled himself forward again, his sword flashing in a deadly downward thrust.

The molten warrior raised his arm to block — but this time, something was different.

The instant the Elderglass blade made contact, a deep hissing sound filled the air.

The warrior’s eyes flickered with something close to shock. His molten skin, which had effortlessly resisted his imprisonment for centuries, was burning — not from Clyde’s holy power alone, but from the water magic infused within it.

Steam billowed from the wound as it failed to fully heal this time.

Clyde’s expression remained unreadable.

Water was the perfect counter to fire. He was lucky to have this skill for this particularly. He didn’t even using any skill other than [Tidebreaker] and [Flight] in this Ruin.

His fused energy wasn’t just keeping up —I t was overpowering Asmodeus’s lingering influence.

The warrior exhaled sharply, flexing his fingers. His molten body trembled slightly as his wound finally began closing but much slower than before.

His gaze met Clyde’s, and for the first time, the amusement was gone.

"...So that’s how it is," he muttered.

Clyde didn’t respond. He simply raised his sword again.

And then, they clashed once more. This time, the winner was already decided.

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