The Extra Can't be A Hero

Chapter 333

Sir Arthur and his cadre of trusted Paladins had ultimately chosen to seek refuge beneath the banner of House Solaris. To any outsider, it would have seemed a fortuitous turn—an elite brotherhood of sanctified warriors, sworn to purge evil, now standing alongside the Eldorin Order in their crusade against the Demon Empire.

Yet Leon did not share in that optimism.

It was not the Paladins' strength he doubted, nor their resolve.

It was their faith.

The Goddess's influence ran deep within the ranks of the Holy Church, subtle and insidious. Devotion could so easily become a chain, and chains could be pulled. Leon had seen it before—warriors of unshakable conviction reduced to vessels for a will not their own.

A single moment of divine interference could turn allies into spies… or worse, executioners from within.

So Leon kept his distance.

Rather than integrating them into Eldorin's core formations, he assigned Sir Arthur and his Paladins to the outer flanks. Watch, observe, and report—that was all he asked of them. I

t was a role that carried both trust and suspicion, a careful balance that ensured they would be useful without becoming a liability.

In a war where even gods played their hands, caution was survival. With that matter set aside—for now—Leon turned his gaze toward the true objective.

Morzeth.

The fallen city loomed in the distance, its once-proud walls now blackened and warped by demonic corruption. The air itself seemed to recoil from it, thick with malice, as though the land remembered what it had been—and mourned what it had become.

Eldorin had expected a siege, a drawn-out battle against entrenched forces.

But the enemy had other plans.

Before the Order could even begin their advance, Morzeth erupted.

A deafening roar split the horizon as the gates burst open, not in retreat—but in challenge.

The demons and their cultist servants surged forth like a tidal wave of madness, abandoning the safety of their walls in favour of open slaughter. There would be no waiting, no strategy of attrition.

This was a declaration.

At the heart of this chaos stood the rulers of Morzeth—the infamous Twin Brutes, Apostles of Vengeance. Subtlety was not in their nature. They were creatures born for carnage, beings who thrived not behind fortifications but in the visceral symphony of battle.

The skies darkened as hundreds of greater demons clawed their way into the open air.

Sludge Wyrms writhed like living rivers of decay, their bloated forms dripping corrosive filth onto the land below. Three-headed carrion birds shrieked as they circled overhead, each cry splintering into discordant echoes that rattled the mind. Even the oceans seemed to rebel, as aberrant, winged abominations—once fish, now twisted beyond recognition—tore through the sky with finned wings, spreading a suffocating miasma of demonic energy.

Below, the earth fared no better.

Thousands upon thousands of ground-bound horrors poured across the plains, their sheer number blotting out the natural contours of the land. Clawed beasts, chitinous monstrosities, and malformed giants trampled the once-pristine fields into a festering wasteland. Grass withered at their passing. Soil blackened. The world itself seemed to rot beneath their advance.

And leading them—commanding this tide of annihilation—stood two figures that dwarfed even the chaos around them.

The Twin Brutes.

They stood at the forefront like incarnations of ruin, each towering well over three meters, their forms sculpted with unnatural perfection—as though forged by a cruel god who valued destruction above all else.

Dante.

His skin shimmered with a deep, ominous purple, veins pulsing faintly beneath the surface like molten energy barely contained. His crimson eyes burned with cold intelligence, scanning the battlefield with the composure of a master tactician. There was nothing wild about him—only calculated devastation.

Every movement, every breath, carried the quiet promise that he could erase entire legions with but a gesture.

Beside him stood his counterpart. Damien.

Where Dante was controlled, Damien was chaos given flesh. His blue-toned skin was marred with jagged scars, each one a testament to battles fought and survived. His red eyes did not observe—they blazed. Muscles coiled and twitched beneath his skin as though he were perpetually on the verge of unleashing himself upon the world.

If Dante was the mind of destruction, Damien was its unrelenting force—a berserker who would not stop, would not falter, until everything before him had been reduced to ruin. Together, they were more than generals.

They were a force to be reckoned with.

"It's been a while, kid. You sure have some nerve, challenging us on our turf."

Damien stepped forward and sneered. Leon, standing at the forefront of this battle, squinted. The energies within the Twin Brutes had evolved into another tier, a level that even Leon hadn't anticipated. There wasn't the dreaded divinity, but it was something similar.

Demonic aura warped the air as Damien swung his club. Seeing the change in the air, Leon understood that the Apostles had received some sort of blessing from the Demon King.

"We never got to finish our fight… I still remember the day you ran with your tails between your legs."

Leon twirled Ascalon in the air, as its sharp blade glistened with divine might. Ever since Leon found out that the Goddess wasn't on his side, he purged all of the holy power that remained within Ascalon.

After all, the Holy Blade Ascalon wasn't forged by the Holy Church, but by the Solaris Founder. If anything, it simply adopted holy power to strengthen itself.

"Heh, taunting us, huh? Then again, we deserve it. For not finishing you off when we had the chance to."

"Oh, so you admit to running like a coward?"

"Hmph, even if we did, it wasn't due to you, weakling… And from the looks of it… the man who we all fear isn't here. So, who is going to protect you now?"

Dante interjected with great interest. Although they were called the Twin Brutes, the two Apostles had learned to control their emotions and not let their rage get the better of them.

Well, at least one of them did.

"Tch, let me have a go at him, Dante. I can rip his head off with a single swing of my club!"

Damien scoffed and was ready for a battle. Watching his brother's eagerness, Dante chuckled before saying, "You will have that chance, brother. But before that…"

Dante stepped forward without haste, his presence alone enough to still the chaotic advance of the demonic horde.

Then, with deliberate finality, he drove the base of his staff into the earth. The world answered. A violent surge of demonic mana erupted from the depths of his being, tearing through the ground like a geyser of corruption.

It did not simply rise—it violated the sky, a towering pillar of writhing darkness that twisted as though alive.

The air warped around it, bending under the sheer density of power as the heavens above were stained black. Clouds gathered unnaturally fast, churning into a spiralling vortex as thunder roared and jagged bolts of crimson lightning split the firmament.

It was not a spell. It was an opening.

The pillar pulsed once—then ruptured.

Like a gate torn open between worlds, the sky cracked with a deafening wail, and from that fracture, they emerged.

The first to descend was a grotesque crimson abomination, its form ever-shifting, as though it had never settled on a single shape. Dozens of elongated, mystical tendrils spilt from its mass, each one inscribed with glowing runes that pulsed like beating hearts. They lashed through the air with unnatural precision, tearing apart both space and sound, leaving behind faint distortions where reality struggled to mend itself.

Then came the second.

A towering lycanthrope clad in ashen-grey fur, its frame both regal and monstrous. Twelve immense eagle wings unfurled from its back, each feather edged like a blade and crackling with storm energy. Its eyes gleamed with predatory divinity, and with a single beat of its wings, the winds themselves screamed, as though the sky had been claimed as its domain.

And finally...

From the heart of the rift descended a figure cloaked in absolute black, its form unnaturally still amidst the raging storm.

Six eyes opened across its face, if it could even be called a face, each one glowing with a different hue of malevolent light.

Its presence did not roar like the others. It pressed.

A suffocating, immeasurable weight descended upon the battlefield, as though existence itself had grown heavier. The ground cracked beneath it. The mana in the air bent toward it. Even the storm seemed to hesitate in its presence.

A deity—not of divinity, but of something far older… and far more profane.

These were not mere demons.

They were calamities given form—entities that did not belong to this world, now forcibly anchored within it by Dante's will.

The weaker members of Eldorin could barely stand, their bodies trembling as they struggled against the crushing aura that bore down on them. This was no longer a battle between armies. It was a confrontation with beings that transcended mortal limits.

And Dante… stood at the centre of it all, his staff still planted in the ground, as though he had merely opened the door—and invited annihilation to step through.

"Those are…"

"Demon Counts."

Leon recognised their existence immediately. Amon did warn them that Demon Nobles could join the battle, and sure enough… the Apostles brought them to defend Morzeth.

"Leon…"

"I know, we are outmatched here."

Despite having every member of Eldorin present, it was difficult for Leon to fight back two Apostles and three Demon Counts. The wise thing to do was to retreat, regroup and call for reinforcements.

Alas, Leon didn't think to do that.

Why?

"But, Johann. We can't keep cowering behind Amon's protection. If we wish to fight against the Demon Empire… we must get used to fighting against the odds."

"Heh, now you're speaking like our Commander."

Johann chortled before glancing at the demonic army before him.

"I will handle the small fries," Johann decided. As the Archmage with destructive wide-area spells, he was most suited to thin down the numbers of the Greater Demons.

"The Demon Counts seem interesting… We can handle them."

Manon, Bawi and Yeon, three of the strongest members in Eldorin, marked their prey immediately.

"We will assist you."

The rest of Eldorin all assumed their roles with their respective captains. Leaving only Leon to face the full brunt of the Apostles.

The Twin Brutes stood before Leon with killing intent flaring within their pupils. And as Leon stood against them both, they each showed signs of amusement and hatred.

"Time for vengeance."