"Come to the true Messiah, Novia—
One more sinful than even Jesus himself."
"It was you who deliberately allowed the burning of grain stores, letting the Jews within starve to death… all to fuel your magic."
Novia frowned, his gaze fixed on Doros Bar Kochba—the so-called Antichrist—whose body radiated ominous, pitch-black magical energy.
That malignant power drifting from Doros fell like black snow upon the earth. Any exposed flesh that made contact with it was scorched and charred. A mere glance could cause blindness, a careless breath or taste of it would dissolve one's insides. It was a miasma of death itself.
"To make sacrifices for the glory of the Messiah… it is their honor."
And so, outside the Holy City under the noonday sun, a flash erupted—blacker and more blinding than sunlight—followed by searing blue light.
The bloodstained sands of the desert cracked apart. The shriek of clashing metal rang out, shockwaves tearing through the air and reducing city walls to rubble.
This battle was not just a clash of two individuals, but of the forces behind them—
On one side, the combined magical might of the Roman legions.
On the other, the lives of every soul still breathing within Jerusalem.
Even the finest Mystic Eyes could barely track their superhuman exchanges.
"Your strength… compared to the lowly insects I've faced until now, you finally qualify as… entertainment."
"Though it's far from a real fight, at least I no longer have to suffer boredom. Rejoice."
Doros's hand, blackened by magic, swung down with monstrous force. It struck Novia's "spear." Though Novia successfully blocked the blow, a sharp crack echoed from his shoulder.
"This so-called 'spear' of yours… looks more like two swords fused together."
"Because that is its ultimate form."
The youth's words came as his attack exploded outward—a barrage of hundreds of strikes unleashed in the span of an instant. The spear's speed surpassed its previous limits, assaulting Doros like a storm of blades.
A cacophony of metallic clashes followed, yet Doros blocked each blow with his magically fortified hands.
The surging magical energy from their high-speed exchange sent violent shockwaves rippling in all directions.
"How pitiful. So this is your so-called strongest spear? In the end, you're just another lowborn worm. How much longer can you last? I imagine your magi are already gasping for air from the drain of supporting you."
"That's not for you to say."
His reply was curt. Though outwardly composed, Novia couldn't deny the truth—his power was steadily being consumed. But his heart remained calm, his mind quiet as a still pond, his presence diminished like dust upon the wind. He suppressed even the sound of his breath and heartbeat.
"Tch… what disgusting filth dares insult the strongest—me… and you, you worthless weakling, you won't even talk back? I didn't give anyone permission to insult you but me."
"There's no need for anger… It's my failure for not providing you with enough magical power to display your full might."
As they exchanged thoughts, Novia and Doros collided once more—their clash powerful enough to shatter Jerusalem's walls.
"Hmph. You plan to retreat? This one's magic may be despicable, but if you drag this out, you'll be dead before long."
"Powerful… unmatched… but unyielding. It's still too soon to back down… Albion's Dragon, once more—unleash everything."
Several seconds of silence passed—barely the span of half a breath.
"But… you—"
"Enough. I know you've decided. I've agreed. That's just how it is. This is fine."
"… Tch. That's what I, the strongest, should be saying. Fine then, I'll help you crush this arrogant freak flaunting his warped power."
A blinding brilliance erupted—not of physical light, but of pure, overwhelming magical energy searing the spirit itself.
The "spear" transformed. From its base upward, it was engulfed in rapidly surging blue and black, soon layered with furious crimson—burning over the blue like an angry wildfire.
Magic was woven into its perfect, "strongest" form.
Roaring magical power flooded forth.
A torrent of destruction—the overwhelming breath of Albion's Dragon.
As Novia's vision cleared, the world returned to focus—
And what he saw left him stunned—
The "Antichrist" Doros… was unharmed.
His body regenerated in an instant, like a reversed film reel rewinding time itself.
"Hahahaha! What a shame. Truly a shame."
"That strike… it could've defeated me, even with the lives of all Jerusalem fueling my power."
The silver-haired youth stood silently as the madman spoke, eyes locked upon him.
"But unfortunately for you… I also found Solomon's corpse."
"And I've made his body the source of my true Messiah's power!"
"You… you defiled the corpse of Mage King Solomon?"
A bitter metallic taste filled Novia's mouth as he spoke.
Doros had turned Solomon's corpse into a magical battery…
Then… what about the soul fragment within the corpse—Goetia?
Though Novia despised Solomon, even he wouldn't tolerate such desecration.
Could it be… even after a millennium, Goetia had yet to emerge?
"The Mage King?"
"Even if he still lived, he would kneel before me, the true Messiah."
Doros laughed, crazed and triumphant, striding closer to Novia step by step.
"I admire you, Novia. I forgive your sins."
"But every Roman besides you… will die."
"Come now, follow me. You have no magic left. You've already lost."
"You're not very persuasive, you know."
A faint smile crept onto Novia's face.
"Because me? I still believe that all people—regardless of who they are—deserve to live in peace and happiness. Not just one chosen group."
"I see… then I suppose I'll have to make you suffer a punishment even more excruciating than Jesus himself."
The conversation ended—
One-sided and final.
And then—
Every soul on the European continent… witnessed that scene.
Thus, in the New Testament — Epistle Before the Apocalypse, it was recorded as a historical fact passed down to future generations:
The world lost its color.
Darkness covered the land.
The Holy Spirit's words rang out—
"Let those who have ears, listen."
Even the Antichrist King… could not escape those words.