Ray took a deep breath, his aura settling into an unshakable calm as he finished healing Maha completely. Her body glowed faintly with renewed vitality, yet she remained unconscious. Ray’s gaze shifted toward the demon, whose cruel smile now faltered under the weight of Ray’s presence.

  With deliberate steps, he advanced. The demon stumbled backward, clearly unsettled by the intensity radiating from the young man. Ray’s voice rang out, firm and commanding, echoing with the authority of a supreme monarch. “What are you doing in the human realm? Explain yourself!”

  Before the demon could respond, a shadow moved. Multiple assassin demons emerged from the treeline, blades glinting, eyes filled with malice. They lunged at Ray with lethal precision, aiming to overwhelm him.

  Ray’s eyes narrowed. With a fluid motion, he summoned his weapon—the Ghost Sword. The ethereal blade shimmered with spectral light, its edge cutting through the air like a whisper of death. Every attack thrown at him was effortlessly deflected or redirected. The demons screamed as their own strikes disintegrated midair, shredded by the unstoppable power of his sword.

  The demon he had first confronted stepped forward, hissing with fury. “You may have power, but you cannot stop what is coming! My kind will intervene in the human society. Your town… will burn. A stampede will claim them all!”

  Around them, Maha’s companions clutched their weapons, frozen between awe and terror. The forest seemed tense, as if even nature itself waited for the next move. The sheer scale of Ray’s power had silenced the battlefield, leaving only the anticipation of what would come next.

  Ray’s grip tightened on the Ghost Sword, his eyes burning like twin stars. He knew the demon’s threat was real. The lives of innocents, his friends, and those he cherished hung in the balance. The confrontation had only just begun.

  Without warning, the ground shook as more S-Rank demons emerged from the shadows, encircling Ray from every direction. Their red eyes glinted with malice, and their claws and weapons gleamed under the dim light. They hissed in unison, their movements coordinated, each attack meant to overwhelm him.

  Ray’s gaze hardened. Calm and composed, he drew a deep breath and raised his Ghost Sword. “Wind Cutter!” he shouted, unleashing a torrent of razor-sharp air slashing in every direction. The blades of wind moved like lightning, slicing through the charging demons with precise and lethal accuracy.

  One demon leaped high, swinging a massive axe, but the Wind Cutter split the air around him, cutting him in two before he could land. Another demon lunged with a flurry of claws, only to be shredded midair, his pieces scattering like leaves in a storm.

  The S-Rank demons pressed on relentlessly, refusing to stop. Each attack was faster than the eye could follow, but Ray anticipated every strike with inhuman reflexes. He moved like a phantom, dodging, blocking, and countering, each motion blending perfectly with his ghostly sword strikes.

  Every blow from Ray’s Wind Cutter obliterated the demons without leaving a mark on him. Their claws, blades, and fangs struck nothing but air as he weaved through the onslaught, the sound of slicing wind echoing like thunder through the forest.

  Even as more reinforcements appeared, Ray did not falter. He was a whirlwind of death, each movement efficient, controlled, and devastating. Demon after demon fell before him, their screams fading into silence, leaving the battlefield littered with their shattered forms.

  The forest trembled under the force of his power. Trees swayed, leaves scattered, and the very air seemed to hum with the intensity of his mana. Witnessing this, Maha’s companions froze, awe and terror rooting them to the ground.

  Ray stood at the center of the chaos, untouched, unyielding, his eyes blazing. The demons, no matter how powerful or numerous, could not harm him. The Storm of Blades had only just begun, and no one could stop the last monarch’s wrath.

  The SSS-rank demon circled Ray, his crimson eyes burning with fury. Each strike he launched was faster than the eye could follow, claws and fangs aiming to tear Ray apart. Yet, Ray moved effortlessly, dodging every blow with the grace of a predator playing with its prey.

  “Is that all you’ve got?” Ray taunted, his voice calm yet edged with amusement. “I expected a challenge, but you’re making this too easy.”

  The demon growled, his teeth bared. “You insolent human! You dare mock me?”

  Ray’s lips curled into a slight smile. “Human? I’m more than that. You should be careful who you toy with.”

  Rage flared in the demon’s eyes, and he lunged with renewed fury, faster than ever. Claws slashed, fangs snapped, and a wave of destructive energy burst toward Ray, intending to end the battle in a single strike.

  But every attack was futile. Ray twisted, jumped, and parried with uncanny precision, each movement turning deadly attacks into harmless air. His Ghost Sword glimmered like liquid moonlight, cutting through shadows and leaving afterimages in its wake.

  “You think speed can save you?” Ray called out, his tone teasing. “You’re only making this more fun.”

  The demon roared, his pride and anger blinding him. He charged with everything he had, but Ray’s sword met him midair. With a swift, precise motion, Ray slashed through the demon, the Ghost Sword slicing from head to toe in a single, fluid strike.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  The demon let out a final scream as his body disintegrated into ash, scattering in the wind. The forest was silent except for the soft hum of Ray’s mana, still radiating like a storm barely contained.

  Ray lowered his Ghost Sword, his eyes scanning the aftermath. Not a scratch marked him, and not a soul dared approach. The SSS-rank demon, once a terror of the human realm, had vanished completely—reduced to nothing by the power of the Last Monarch.

  Ray stood amidst the aftermath, the forest still echoing with the remnants of the battle. Around him, the surviving companions were shaken but conscious. The weight of responsibility pressed down on him, yet he knew what had to be done.

  “You all… head to Rex, the director of the Ranger Association,” Ray instructed, his voice steady despite the chaos. “Tell him everything that happened here. Take Maha with you—she needs care.”

  The companions nodded, understanding the gravity of his words. One strong, muscular girl hoisted Maha onto her back, carefully supporting her as she slept, unconscious but safe. A tank-job man carried three injured individuals, including the overconfident Yuma, while the others limped along, battered but alive.

  Ray approached Maha, kneeling beside her for a brief moment. He whispered softly into her ear, “Stay safe… I’ll be back.” Then, gently, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. Maha murmured his name in a faint voice, still half-lost in unconsciousness.

  The group began moving through the dense forest, careful not to attract attention. Ray stayed behind for a moment, watching them disappear into the green, ensuring they were on the right path. His mind raced with plans, strategies, and the promise of vengeance.

  Finally, he turned away from the forest edge, alone once more. The battle had been won, but the war—the war for survival, for balance, and for the people he cared for—was only beginning.

  As the forest gave way to the first signs of the town, hope and determination stirred in the hearts of those who had survived. Ray’s journey, as the Last Monarch, had only just begun.

  The surviving group pressed on through the dense forest, determination written across every face. As they neared the town gates, Ray’s instructions became urgent. He had foreseen the devastation that was about to come—a stampede unlike anything the town had ever experienced.

  The group reached the two town gatekeepers, men who had always stood as the first line of defense. Shock and confusion painted their faces when the group ordered them to flee immediately. “You must leave this town now!” the vice leader—the muscular girl who had carried Maha—commanded with authority. The guards hesitated, fear evident in their eyes, but the gravity of her tone left no room for argument. She repeated the warning: if they stayed, they would not survive.

  Without another word, the group pressed forward, leaving the two guards behind as the forest swallowed their retreating figures. Their destination was the Ranger Association, where immediate action was necessary.

  On the way, they encountered Ms. Anushka, the assistant of the Ranger Association. Her expression was filled with concern as she approached the group. “What is happening? Why are you all rushing like this?” she asked, trying to understand the urgency.

  The vice leader stopped her before she could ask more, speaking with unwavering authority. “Ray’s orders are clear. The entire town must be evacuated within three hours. No one is to defy his words. For once, we must trust him. If this is not done, every resident will die when the stampede hits.”

  Ms. Anushka, though skeptical, knew better than to question the resolve of those who had survived Ray’s power. She hurried to relay the message to Rex, the director of the Ranger Association. Within minutes, he had taken command, alerting every citizen of the looming disaster.

  The townspeople gathered anxiously at the North-West gate connecting to the Indian border, confusion and fear visible in every face. Questions flew rapidly: Why must we leave? How can we trust him? Will we ever return? Yet, the urgency in Rex’s voice left no room for argument. Families, merchants, and workers all moved quickly, herding themselves and their belongings toward the border.

  In the following hours, the evacuation became a disciplined march, the town slowly emptying as every resident crossed into safety. By the time the three hours had passed, the once-bustling town stood silent. Streets were empty, marketplaces abandoned, homes deserted. Dust and the faint echoes of hurried footsteps were the only reminders of the lives that had once filled the town.

  From a distance, Ray watched, his expression calm yet weighed with a hint of sorrow. The town had been saved, but at the cost of leaving everything behind. He let out a small sigh, the wind brushing against his face. The streets were dead now, yet the people were alive—and that was all that mattered.

  The Last Monarch had acted decisively, ensuring survival against overwhelming odds, but the shadow of the approaching threat loomed still. The stage was set for the next wave of chaos, and Ray was ready.

  Ray exhaled slowly, a rare moment of relaxation washing over him. From a distance, he could see that everyone he cared for had crossed safely into the Indian border. Their lives were preserved, but the threat of the demon stampede still lingered, frozen in time by his presence. It was now his turn to act.

  Focusing intently, Ray began to draw upon the vast reservoir of power that marked him as the Monarch of Infinity. His mind sifted through countless abilities, and he settled on the one that would decide the fate of the country and its people. Whispering with quiet authority, he invoked: “Infinite Void: Absolute Void Domain.”

  Instantly, a pitch-black void expanded, swallowing the entire country—the land once known as Bangladesh. The sky above darkened, and the horizon disappeared, replaced by a perfect, impenetrable darkness. From outside, no one could see in; from inside, no one could escape.

  The demons that had begun the stampede were now trapped. They clawed at the void walls, tried every spell and attack they knew—magic, brute force, even invoking divine and cosmic powers—but all efforts were futile. Within the domain, all forms of energy and intervention were nullified, leaving the invaders powerless.

  Beyond the void, the townspeople watched in awe and fear. They had escaped just in time, witnessing a phenomenon beyond their comprehension. Maha, still unconscious, rested safely in her mother’s lap, murmuring Ray’s name softly.

  Ray’s focus did not waver. He summoned another of his formidable skills: “The Infinite Requiem.” Light and shadow merged into a singular, devastating beam that targeted the trapped demons. The essence of each being was completely erased across all dimensions—gone, as if they had never existed.

  In the place of destruction, delicate flowers began to sprout, bloom, and flourish, transforming the devastated land into a serene, eternal garden. The power had not yet fully returned to his body, and Ray began to fall from the sky, the void crumbling around him. With no one able to follow, he activated the Teleportation Stone, vanishing instantly to an unknown location.

  From that day forward, the country once called Bangladesh became known as the “Eternal Silent Flower Garden.” Peace reigned over the land, yet Ray himself was gone, his body never found, leaving only the whispers of his power and the legend of the last monarch who had saved a nation with a single thought.