The Billionaire CEO Becomes the Youngest Emperor-Chapter 24 - 23: She’s here!

At the far west of the continent, a vast black mist with violet hues covered the entire region. Mysterious and menacing, it never crossed this boundary, as if held back by an invisible force. The reason was simple.

At the heart of this mist, the sword gods had built their camp over generations—a legendary stronghold they named "Supreme Shield." This name was no coincidence.

This mist was no ordinary supernatural fog. It was composed of pure energy, a force foreign to this world—far older and more powerful than ordinary mana. Its origin? A parallel dimension known as the Demonic Land. As its name suggests, it was the territory of demons, creatures that had nearly wiped out humanity 5,000 years ago.

But that extermination never came to pass. The first sword god, Ven, and his wife Luna, the first rank 10 archmage, stood against them. Together, they sealed the demons away in a lost dimension. However, the prison was not perfect. It had two flaws.

The first flaw lay in the cracks that periodically formed in this dimension, like fractured glass. With each rupture, waves of demons would escape. Their point of emergence was never random—they always appeared where natural mana was densest at that time.

In the present world, the northern region of the continent was where mana flourished most. If a new breach were to open, the north would suffer the consequences. This event was called "Demonic Night"—a calamity that, each time, plunged humanity into chaos.

The second flaw was that the first heroes' barrier required constant support from an external power. Without it, the seal would eventually collapse. That is why, for millennia, the divine swordsmen of each era bore the burden of keeping this dimension sealed.

---

The man telling this story suddenly clapped his hands together, marking the end of his tale.

"Do you understand now, Selene? Hehe..."

The man wore a tank top, exposing his superhuman muscles. His black hair, tied in a ponytail, enhanced his imposing aura. Even while sitting on a couch, he radiated an overwhelming presence, like a bodybuilder in the middle of a power display. And yet, despite his massive build, his face was strikingly handsome, reminiscent of a young Korean man in his thirties. His playful, almost childlike expression stood in stark contrast to his intimidating appearance.

His name? Ragnar Wolfrat. The oldest of the three Sword Gods of the continent.

Facing him, Selene, with her red hair and unreadable gaze, sat in her training attire, looking visibly annoyed. Arms crossed, she shot Ragnar a sharp glare.

— I already know all that. So you called me here just to tell me this story while I was training?

Ragnar put on an exaggeratedly offended expression.

— Tsk... Training, training! That's all you and Ingrid ever talk about...

Selene stood up without hesitation.

— If that's all, I'm leaving.

— What?! Wait! I'm not done! Stay, please!

In a theatrical display, Ragnar clung to Selene's leg, his eyes almost on the verge of tears.

He really looks like a child...

Despite her irritation, Selene knew the hierarchy between them was absolute. Ragnar, with his 300 years of existence in the realm of the gods, surpassed her by far. At barely 25 years old, she must have seemed like a mere child to him.

She had no choice but to listen to what he had to say.

Reluctantly, she sat back down.

— Fine... What do you want to tell me? Just make it quick, please.

Instantly, Ragnar regained his enthusiasm and flashed a wide grin.

— Good, good! I just want to tell you a little story and hear your thoughts on it.

His cheerful tone clashed with his massive, intimidating frame.

— Tsk... Fine, go ahead.

"Alright, alright. It's the tale of the Black Lamb. Don't worry, it'll be short."

In a peaceful valley, a shepherd once found an abandoned black lamb. Moved by compassion, he took it in and raised it with care, despite the elders' warnings: this lamb was not like the others. One day, they said, it would grow and become a monster.

Years passed. The black lamb became a powerful and majestic ram. The shepherd knew what had to be done. But every morning, as he watched it frolic innocently in the fields, he postponed the inevitable.

Then, one night, under the pale moonlight, a scream tore through the silence. The villagers rushed over, only to find a massacre. The entire flock had been slaughtered. At the center of the carnage stood a black beast, its glowing eyes piercing the darkness, its fur drenched in blood.

Ragnar smiled, but his gaze sharpened. The air around them grew eerily cold.

"If you were in his place, Selene..." he murmured softly. "What would you have done after hearing the truth about the Black Lamb from the elders? Before the carnage ever happened?"

"Huh?"

Selene frowned. The man before her still wore a warm expression, but she wasn't fooled. She, too, was a divine being, and her instincts screamed that Ragnar wasn't asking this question lightly. A subtle pressure settled upon her.

For now, it was best to simply answer.

"I would have killed the lamb immediately. That way, the future where the flock was massacred would never come to pass."

The words left her mouth naturally. But then—her eyes widened.

She fell silent.

She had realized it.

This story... It wasn't just a simple fable. It was referring to something else—her own situation.

"What are you..." Selene started, but before she could finish, Ragnar cut her off.

His piercing gaze locked onto hers, unwavering.

"Then tell me... why didn't you do it, despite the warnings?"

In that instant, the entire room trembled. No... the entire West trembled beneath Ragnar's overwhelming aura. His once playful expression had hardened into icy stoicism.

Yet, despite the crushing force pressing down on her, Selene did not step back. Her sharp gaze met Ragnar's head-on, as her right hand slowly moved to rest on the hilt of her sword.

Just in case...

She slowly opened her mouth, weighing each word carefully.

I can't run away now...

Her gaze grew even more unreadable as she made an irreversible decision.

— "I'm going to do it now... I'm going to—"

— "NOW... IT'S TOO LATE!"

Ragnar's voice cracked like thunder as he rose to his feet, unleashing the full weight of his aura.

And suddenly... the atmosphere shifted.

No.

The very air itself.

The oxygen seemed to distort, warp, mutating into a sinister energy—one visible only to the eyes of sword gods.

— "No!"

Selene shouldn't have been able to feel this. Not anymore. Not after stepping into the divine realm. And yet... Not even Ragnar's overwhelming presence had ever made her feel this way

This... this was worse than fear.

A primal instinct stirred within her.

The same feeling as prey sensing the looming shadow of an absolute predator.

She dropped to her knees, dazed.

— "No... no... this can't be...!"

Even Ragnar, the oldest and strongest of the three sword gods, clenched his fists, his forehead creased with barely restrained fury.

Then, in a grave tone, he declared:

— "From now on, Ingrid and I will bear the weight of this dimension. If we fail, it will spiral out of control. As for you... find a solution. No matter what it takes."

He turned and left the room.

But just before stepping over the threshold, his presence grew even more

imposing.

And finally, in a heavy whisper laced with inevitability, he uttered:

— "We can only rely on luck now..."

Because SHE is here.

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