# Enhanced Translation
I reign.
Ivan moved forward, scattering the dust that had risen around him. His knees were still creaking. That single blow had reduced his physical capabilities by about 40 percent.
He tried to fully absorb the sensation he had just experienced. The feeling of submission—not from his rational mind, but from his instinct as a living being. Reverence toward a king, or perhaps a primal fear of an apex predator.
"Hmm... you understood as soon as you saw it?"
From a height towering at least two heads above Ivan, a smile formed on Einarr's lips.
His face was obscured by shadows and difficult to make out. But his eyes blazed fiercely like those of a predator lurking in darkness.
The killing intent of trained individuals can harm civilians. In the case of transcendents, it can even kill. In this damned medieval fantasy world, killing intent has a tangible reality.
The epitome of that field stood before him now. A being who could create phenomena comparable to magic through killing intent alone. His killing intent could force even transcendents to their knees, compelling everyone within range to submit.
The principle was clear.
"Materialization of killing intent."
"Thirty points."
Einarr tilted his head, as if waiting for a better answer.
"You need to offer a more insightful observation."
"The limit of species."
"...Oh?"
If he meant to understand the implementation process itself rather than the principle behind the phenomenon.
The answer was already there. The materialization of killing intent was merely a means, not an end. If one had to look at the purpose rather than the principle, then yes.
Transcending the limits of one's species. That was the true meaning of will-based martial arts that he had vaguely understood.
Engraving one's inner imagery and will onto the world. Drawing out intangible elements like killing intent, enlightenment, will, or experience to interfere with the principles of the world.
Without consuming mana, and despite not being magic, implementing things like... perhaps divine miracles.
Ivan knew about such things... Though he had deliberately ignored them, and they had been difficult to grasp from those who had used will-based martial arts until now.
Seeing someone wield primal desire itself as will made it even clearer. About the truth of will that he hadn't realized until now.
"...The way to become one of the Seven Dragon Lords..."
"To be precise, it's the path to becoming a god."
Einarr smiled grimly.
"Meticulously built will, intention that penetrates one's entire life, forcing that ambiguous concept upon the world. Yes, doesn't it resemble the concept of the Seven Dragon Lords?"
Those who transcend human limitations are called transcendents. Then, what should we call those who surpass the limitations of transcendents and reach will?
It is a boundary. A boundary drawn by the world itself. A line suggesting that although one may have a human form, stepping beyond it means one can no longer remain human.
It is a process of sublimation into concept... an endless path where a soul sheds its species shell to advance to a higher place.
Every human carries the potential to become a god. No, the same applies to any species in this world.
The Seven Dragon Lords are beings who walked that path, finally attained divinity, and imposed their lives and will upon the world to symbolize concepts. The result of gravity pulling in an overwhelmingly strong power and soul, consuming the principles of the world.
The culmination of thousands or tens of thousands of years of species evolution.
A chance mutation.
The finest product created by some fate in the world.
A mistake by the god who created the species.
Beings born with overwhelming talent who lived the life destiny assigned them and finally reached divinity. Yes, given such conditions that scholars have inferred, it doesn't make sense that there are no gods among humans comparable to the Seven Dragon Lords.
Ivan thought as he looked at Einarr.
If the human god, the minimum "qualification" to reach that is the completion of will-based martial arts, and then through some "unknown" experience and training, one finally reaches divinity.
Then...
"What comes after?"
"Hmm?"
"I understand reaching it by accumulating will. But what comes after that? It can't just end with repeated training."
"Haha, isn't it obvious?"
Einarr looked down at Ivan with the eyes of someone regarding a diligent student.
"To be unique."
"..."
Finally, all the puzzle pieces clicked together in Ivan's mind.
Why was there only one Dragon Lord from each species? Given those conditions, it makes perfect sense. It means that individuals of the same species who reached the same conditions killed each other until only one survived to become a god.
Such processes must have occurred countless times throughout history. The one who survives until the end becomes a god, reigning over and preserving the species.
And if another such being is born among their own kind, they become "unique" once more through struggle. If a new challenger kills their god, they inherit that god's concept and become the new god to reign.
It's an eternal chain of faith. If the Demon King hadn't united the world and waged war... each species would have drawn borders between themselves and lived the same eternal life without the unified racial consciousness of being "demon-kind."
Humans, on the other hand, couldn't do that.
Elves, who live eternally anyway, become trees and die after living a sufficient life. If an absolute powerhouse appeared among them, fate would have restrained them. The existence of Milestone would have suppressed the elves.
In the case of dwarves, I can't be certain. There wasn't enough time to understand them accurately. But if I had to guess, dwarves lack absolute numbers.
The population of their species itself was insufficient. They only had the underground of the Northern Mountains, and its scale was limited to a single nation. Though they occupy a region with excellent craftsmanship and technology, could that be enough scale to create a god?
If they have a god, it would be an artifact they created themselves. Like the ancestral legacies they so desperately desire.
But humans are different.
Will-based martial arts is not a new concept for transcendents. It has already existed in history, meaning it's merely a realm that talented individuals can reach.
Those who reach that realm aren't many in a single generation, but they can't be considered few in the scope of history.
Despite the existence of such individuals, why was there no human god?
Because they couldn't wage a war of complete annihilation against each other.
"There was a god. For humans too."
"Yes, probably."
Even when gods once roamed this world, humans worshipped a monotheistic faith. There is a god now called the "Lord," whose name is not even dared to be passed down.
After humans finally came to dominate the entire world, over the long ages, the doctrines of that religion have been changed and revised countless times... but there's one thing that never changed.
Never destroy your royal family.
When I first heard this concept, I thought it was a primitive medieval fantasy-style divine right of kings. A consensus created by those in power to protect the royal family in a world where transcendents exist.
Not completely devouring the opposing royal family even during conquest wars.
Never causing the downfall of the royal family even during rebellions.
I vaguely thought it was a consensus created to control all those variables and dominate this world forever.
But what if it wasn't? What if this was merely a device to prevent the emergence of a new god...?
In an all-out war between nations betting their destinies, if the whole world burns in flames of war, and finally martial artists who have perfected their will appear and kill each other in a slaughter...
If at the end of that war, a "unique" being emerges and attains divinity... humans too could have a god.
If that possibility itself was blocked, while attaching a plausible excuse that could deceive everyone, as it did Ivan.
"Do you understand now, brother? Why Maximillian was trying to kill us."
"He was... trying to become a god himself."
"Whether it was his own intention, or whether he went mad from the curse of the Seven Dragon Lords that had accumulated for too long... it's probably certain."
Einarr lifted his axe with a bitter smile.
"Now for the final test."
If you've come to understand this far, there's only one gate left.
"Prove that you are qualified."
As one who has "seen and learned" all the secrets of the Hero Party, to surpass the previous generation and go further.
Therefore, to qualify as a new Hero "Party" alone, to stand against the previous generation and usher in a new era.
"Show me your will."
Einarr's eyes gleamed, and once again killing intent began to tear and rip through the air.
A black storm distorted Ivan's vision and lunged toward his body.
Ivan raised his axe and nodded slightly.
"I'll gladly do so."
A snowy night in a coniferous forest, a landscape where red blood-soaked snow quietly covers a battlefield strewn with corpses.
In the midst of it, Ivan stands alone.
All the weapons lying around him embody the martial arts of every comrade he remembers. Every type of martial art he has seen rests here.
Einarr surveyed the scene and, for a moment, bowed his head in silence.
"Its name?"
"Memories."
"Who named it?"
"Edelplat Koenwulf."
"Sounds like an elf's naming. Discard it. What name did you give it?"
"..."
Ivan couldn't answer and fell silent for a moment. After staring directly into Einarr's eyes, he concluded with a sigh.
"Home."
"I see."
Einarr finally nodded. A transmigrator, surely he must have a world where he was born and raised.
Yet for him, home isn't a physical region, but merely a distant landscape that exists only in concept, in a far-off past.
A broken person. A pitiful one buried in memories.
Someone whose life purpose has been taxidermied in a distant era... And thus, has become perfectly suited for this role.
The only person who can reach the conclusion steadfastly, without wavering, without other desires.
"One hundred points, Ivan."
Einarr strode over and grabbed Ivan's head firmly.
"Stop my old friend, will you?"
After roughly tousling his hair, he lowered his arm, grasped Ivan's hand holding the axe, and raised it.
The forest dispersed. Back to Droan Kingdom at midday, to a makeshift stage in the middle of the wasteland.
In the center of countless kneeling warriors, Einarr raised Ivan's arm and shouted:
"Behold! A new hero is born!"
"WAAAAAAH—!!"
The warriors roared in awe before the duel between two great fighters.