Chapter 1425: Victory (Part 2)

Anthony clearly understood the new pope’s command was necessary. Once the monsters beneath the Well of Ascension awaken, the massive corruption will turn the sacred place of Seven Hills into a city of death in an instant, and the believers, no matter how devout, will be unable to reverse the infection, transforming into demons.

This may be the Evangelical Church’s last moment because now, apart from the warriors, Seven Hills needs no one else.

“What more should we do?”

Samuel inquired Anthony, as they remained in Saint Nalos Cathedral, using it as the frontline of resistance and the command post.

Anthony did not respond, his face consumed by immeasurable darkness, making it difficult to discern his expression.

“Is everything sealed?”

After a while, Anthony’s voice rasped as if all the moisture in his throat was gone, desiccated flesh compressing against each other.

“Yes, but we’re uncertain if the demons can be kept out, after all, this time…”

Samuel’s eyes grew dim, as Anthony’s lieutenant, he knew more than other demon hunters.

“This time is different from the Night of the Holy Arrival; that was merely an ascension ceremony, but this time it’s an ‘Ascension’ awakening.”

Anthony exhaled heavily.

It was as if he expelled his blood and breath from his lungs, displaying increasing old age with every breath.

“Samuel, I have another command for you.”

Anthony had decided on the next step of strategy, speaking to Samuel.

Samuel leaned in to listen.

“Leave here.”

“What?”

Samuel thought he had misheard, looking shocked.

“Leave here; Seven Hills is destined to become a city of death, this is unavoidable.”

The accumulated glory of endless ages is destined to collapse at this moment, an outcome already inscribed in fate, though Anthony wished it weren’t so.

He recalled the scene when he turned to flee, overflowing with swirling black mist.

Actually, Anthony knew the new pope couldn’t hold there; he should flee together with him.

But if he fled, where could he escape to?

Maybe due to staying long in the Static Holy Temple, the erosion on the new pope intensified, increasingly corroding his will; in recent months, the number of his hallucinations exceeded those of the past few years combined, and the deterioration of his flesh continued, his spirit subtly out of control…

In truth, Anthony knew the new pope wouldn’t last long; the avenger, fortunate to survive from the Night of the Holy Arrival’s inferno, was consumed by it again and couldn’t hold himself any longer.

Yet, like many believers deceive themselves, he always refused to consider this, constantly deifying the new pope in his mind.

Indeed, how could such a nightmare-like person fall so easily?

But reality forced Anthony to believe everything; he thought the new pope also knew his state, so he chose to stay alone in the end rather than transform into a demon and being slain by kin; he preferred dying by the Well of Ascension, just like the demon hunters perished together in the Night of the Holy Arrival.

“Samuel, I need you to leave here and tell others what happened here!”

Anthony said sternly.

“Someone must do this! You must survive!”

Samuel froze on the spot, and rather than ordering, Samuel felt Anthony’s demeanor was more like pleading, asking him to do this.

“I…”

Samuel didn’t know what to say for a moment; he had planned to shout about faith and glory, fight here instead of leaving, but facing such Anthony, he couldn’t say anything.

“I know what kind of person you are, Samuel, you long for victory, it’s such a war you long for, but realize we can no longer resolve this, there’s no victory, only defeat.”

Unlike Samuel, Anthony didn’t let fanatic faith cloud his mind; now he must remain calm and absolutely rational.

“Follow the Tiber River, leave Seven Hills, pass through Florence!”

Black mist seeped from the Gate of Celestial Kingdom’s gaps, ubiquitous, spreading the plague called corrosion, corrupting human minds.

Anthony pushed Samuel, just like the new pope urged him to leave.

“If there’s any supposed reinforcements, they must come from the sea; if they want to reach here quickly, it’s their only landing point.”

After bloody evacuation, Seven Hills should have no believers, yet monster roars echoed from all directions, as if the place had been surrounded by bloodthirsty monsters.

Corrosion worsened, and more people turned into demons, whether believers or soldiers.

“Go there and wait for their arrival!” Anthony shouted, “Tell them our deeds, tell them what happened here!”

The Gate of Celestial Kingdom trembled violently, as if something was pounding behind it, then these sounds intensified, as if thousands of hands were fiercely knocking on the door, long starved, impatient to return to the human world.

Hunters moved forward, continuously reinforcing the gate.

Samuel looked at the gate, perhaps the corrosion worked; he hazily saw everything in the mural come alive, angels and demons fighting, flames rising from below, dragging everything into a burning end.

“Samuel, winning this battle is the true victory, the victory everyone craves madly.”

Samuel’s gaze froze, expressionless, like a puppet, taking steps under Anthony’s push; he didn’t know how he left Saint Nalos Cathedral, just letting his body carry out the command, riding his warhorse, galloping madly.

Tell the successors what happened here.

Such a voice constantly reverberated in his mind until he rode away from Seven Hills, witnessing the continually erupting flames in the city, only then Samuel came to his senses.

His countenance gradually sank into fear, gripping the reins tightly.

“Ah—”

Samuel roared with all his might, as if it could dispel the fear in his heart.

Galloping wildly on the desolate meadow, following the Tiber River downstream, he was like the messenger of war, everywhere he went would soon turn into scorched earth.

An image of Anthony flashed in his mind; for a moment, Samuel suddenly felt disgust for the victory he pursued.

Not everyone can achieve victory in every battle; there will always be a day of defeat, and when they lose, it’s their dead moment.

Now the time of death has come; even Yanar’s authority can’t save him…he couldn’t save others.

Samuel could only keep galloping away, passed through familiar homeland, eyes cast toward the farther sea; on that clear sea surface, flickering sparks appeared, like stars reflected in the sea.

Those weren’t reflected stars.

Those were silently advancing warships, one followed by another, breaking wind and waves, carrying the monsters of Secret Blood.

They’ve come pursuing war, and now, they’re finally about to reach the end.

“We’re almost at the Holy Evangelical Pope Kingdom; once we enter the sea, we can’t hide ourselves any longer; what do you plan to do afterward? A raid?”

Corey looked at Lawrence standing at the bow; truthfully, initially, he resisted such madness, but seeing the sacred land so close, the evil within him reignited, flames rising in his chest cavity.

“No need for a raid; we just need to join the battle.”

Lawrence’s voice came slowly; he opened his arms, trying to embrace all the sea winds.

“Such a familiar feeling…”

Lawrence gazed at the distant blur of light, marveling.

“Familiar homeland.”

“Familiar sea breeze.”

“Familiar…evil anomaly.”

Lawrence felt every inch of his body throbbing in agitation; they feared, yet rejoiced, everything felt so familiar, as if cut from history and reconstructed before his eyes.

All this is so similar to that night.

The Night of the Holy Arrival.