Chapter 711: His Arrival

"Elise, how are you?"

Seeing the maid’s sword that had fallen to the ground, its blade visibly notched, eaten away by dense black fog, Astrid asked with concern as the head maid retreated to her side.

At her words, Elise shook her head, one hand slightly supporting her arm, her voice low.

"Reporting to you, Miss, she didn’t hurt me."

"But the assassination just now... seems not to have worked."

She had already driven the blade into a vital spot that would be fatal to an ordinary person. A typical mage, taking such a blow, would have died on the spot, forget about casting spells. Yet Brennild clearly did not fall within that "ordinary" range.

As her voice fell, the black fog outside the [Eternal Frozen Frost Fortress] finally concluded. Elise’s gaze, together with Astrid’s, landed on the torrent of dark-elemental force that had moments ago engulfed them, now reduced to lingering remnants.

The corpse stained red with blood began to exude a faint black haze. Threadlike strands coiled around the collar like ash-smoke from burning paper and wood, layering and winding, until at last they poured into the eye sockets.

The next second, the mage who had already lost all signs of life opened his eyes. The clarity once in his pupils was replaced by a gray, cloudy white. Blood-red ice crystals clinging to his stubble shaking loose as he rose, scattering onto the ground.

In full view of everyone, the dead man stood again, and a violent surge of dark-elemental fluctuations erupted with him at its center.

It looked like a early tier Arcanist rank dark spell, [Radiant Nova], yet its actual effect far exceeded what it should have been. Plainly, this was its divine-language version.

Sensing the deathly aura swelling from below, that profound darkness drove away great swathes of light, even causing a certain sluggishness in Lyra’s casting. The pink-haired girl immediately tightened her grip on her longsword; resplendent holy light burst from the tip, stirring layered waves of radiation.

Warm, gentle light rolled like a tide, washing over the Empire’s line. Through the gaps of armored ranks, Lyra saw the black-dressed beauty below, and the raven-haired head maid standing guard at her side.

Astrid being here meant the one behind those earlier abnormalities was not some other presence, but that sinful existence who had once crossed paths with them and now lurked upon the Kingdom’s soil.

This time, she absolutely could not be allowed to escape again.

Just as such a thought surfaced in Lyra’s mind, the [Sword of Light] in her hand produced that same trembling response as before. Fortunately, Lyra was prepared; her teeth slightly bit her lower lip, and in an instant her consciousness spread out, suppressing and erasing the interference. Still, her sword hand’s wrist trembled slightly.

What, exactly, was going on?

The next moment, the disturbance from the direction of Hoskar City gave Lyra the answer.

As the moonlit buildings throughout the city began to ripple with repeated tremors of light-elemental particles, so bright it made one’s eyes sting, the very center of it all, the Church of Light Cathedral, suddenly launched a brilliant light into the sky, dazzling like the sun.

That was... a holy relic of Light?

Inside the cathedral, the Saintess of Light, Monica, her soul still drained by the impact from a spatial artifact, leaned against the wall. Her legs were crossed, feet braced on the floor tiles, and she no longer had the presence of mind to care that dust was staining the sleeves of her Saintess vestments and the white stockings covering her long legs.

Under normal circumstances, an item stored in a spatial artifact, without the permission of the soul-imprint holder, that is, the owner’s will, could not possibly leave its independent space and descend into reality.

But just now, the gauze headpiece passed down through generations of Saintesses, the holy relic that should have been under Monica’s control alone, had suddenly broken through the spatial seal and manifested in the world.

Outside Hoskar City, the peak magical forces of both sides were colliding fiercely. Whether this change was good or bad, even the pure Saintess who served the omniscient and omnipotent Lord could not say.

Was this Astrid’s trump card? Or a method belonging to the one who had ensnared the Holy Emperor? Everything remains unknown.

Only a faint, ominous premonition coiled in Monica’s heart.

Forcing her body to move, she sat before the statue of the Lord. With folded hands, she prayed in a low voice, trying to use prayer to rapidly restore her damaged spiritual power.

No matter which possibility it was, she had to regain her combat strength as soon as possible to prevent anything unexpected.

At the same time, the Empire’s strongest combatant, Anthony, had already suppressed Hebrew, who had lost the advantage of initiative, to the point where he could no longer spare even a sliver of attention. He could only mobilize all his power for passive defense.

Dense, profound arcane sigils surfaced repeatedly in the night sky. Even space itself seemed locked down by these enriched arcane factors, violent bursts at arm’s length slammed into the outer wall and rebounded back toward the center, becoming yet another force concentrating its assault upon Hebrew.

Victory was gradually tilting toward the Valeria Empire, and the Pope of Light, Hebrew, paid the price for his lapse in focus, and for the arrogance of choosing to travel at night, when light-elemental particles were less active.

Watching Hebrew trapped high in the sky, the bearded imperial mage, his hair and beard gone white, judged that the odds were already seven-to-three. His wise gaze steadied, and his ocean-deep spiritual power drew arcane factors into place, preparing to finish the fight with a final spell.

Colorless, formless arcane swarms drifted between the folds of his white clerical robe, capturing every movement of Hebrew. Some of those arcane factors seemed to become part of space itself, using an extreme gravitational field to solidify several continuous points.

Peak tier-Arcanist rank arcane magic: [Lock of Desolate Continuance].

By fixing a region with vast amounts of arcane factors, it renders all existence within it motionless, like pinning a sheet of paper onto a sponge board with a sharp thumbtack. The thumbtack was the arcane cluster, the locked region was the paper, and the sponge board was space itself.

Once [Lock of Desolate Continuance] was fully released, not only would the target’s body be unable to break free, even the soul would be fixed. Thoughts would temporarily stall; spiritual power would be unable to connect. Precisely because of these manifestations, some in the magical academic world believed [Lock of Desolate Continuance] touched on a higher concept of time, and thus considered it as the highest and most difficult magic to master.

In the blink of an eye, the fluttering edge of the robe had already been solidified, frozen in the false, outward-bulging shape it had held mid-gust.

Then that eerie phenomenon began to spread inward, attempting to envelop Hebrew’s entire body.

With the lesson of his opponent before him, Anthony’s mind was fully concentrated on the man ahead. Although he sensed a sudden, dense tide of light and dark elements in the distance, he did not spare a thought to probe it.

His perimeter was protected by defenses that resembled arcane formations, making it difficult for even a mid-tier Arcanist’s full-powered attack to break through directly.

But [Lock of Desolate Continuance], so long as it succeeded, would seal their victory.

On the pale frostlands, after [Radiant Nova] erupted and ended, the black-mist-covered mage straightened. His gray-clouded eyes locked onto that thread of dazzling radiation in the heavens that lit the entire sky. The corners of his lips rose unconsciously. He did not care that blood saw from the wound at his throat, wetting his cold skin.

Acquire faith through misdirected worship; use the faithful prayers of the believers to revive the old god.

This battle, she had won.

It seemed like a long time had passed, but in truth, from the moment the relic broke free of its spatial restraint and flew out of the city to the moment Anthony cast [Lock of Desolate Continuance], less than half a minute had elapsed.

High in the sky, the pure-white relic, bright as a newborn blazing sun, trembled continuously, agitating the surrounding light-elemental particles. The deep night was driven back by brilliance. Dark-elemental activity was strongly suppressed; even the black fog defenses around Brennild, in her possessed state, were weakened to a thin layer.

"Is it dawn?"

"I just laid down, how could that be?"

"Something’s wrong. Come out and look."

Within Hoskar City, the light streaming indoors was far more intense than the silver moon. Many residents raised their heads toward their windows, and thus beheld a scene they will never forget in their lives.

Daylight-bright radiation hovered above the city, as though a sun long dormant underground had revived. Even far away, beyond an entire city between them, the royal capital of Velys, Seville City, can see that powerful wave of light.

Iris, dressed in thin leather and seated at her desk flipping through documents, noticed the intense light reflected in the sky. She rose unconsciously, palm braced on the glass.

That direction... Hoskar City...

What happened there?

At the center of the battlefield, every mage besides Lyra formed protective eye-shields with magic to resist the blinding glare. And in the very next second, the hovering above seemed to receive some sort of summons and shot towards them like lightning.

More precisely, it shot toward the Pope of Light, Hebrew, who had been locked by [Lock of Desolate Continuance].

Seeing it, Lyra instinctively tried to stop it, yet at the instant her body moved, Astrid’s warning suddenly flashed through her mind.

"If you feel that touching the relic right now will bring you extreme danger, then don’t try lightly. Your safety is always the first priority, Lyra, whether for the Empire or for me personally."

"We can always try slowly later. Don’t rush. There will be time."

It was exactly those few milliseconds of hesitation that made Lyra miss her chance to intercept. The resplendent holy light blinked into Hebrew’s body, then in an instant erupted with brilliance comparable to the flash of a nearly ten-thousand-ton TNT detonation.

Roiling shockwaves raised a vast haze of light, and the solidified arcane factors were overwritten, drowned, and thrown into chaos. Feeling the ripples spreading at the soul level, Anthony, his high-rank spell interrupted, furrowed his brow, eyes locked on the glare bright enough to blind.

Although he suffered a slight backlash of mana, a peak tier-Arcanist mage’s mental power was hard enough in quality to withstand it. Compared to that bit of damage, Anthony cared far more about what, exactly, was happening.

With [Lock of Desolate Continuance] broken, the battlefield fell into an eerie stagnation. Most people stopped attacking, tacitly waiting for the wave of light to disperse.

Commander Kales lightly wiped sweat from his brow, sensing the pure fluctuations of light elements in the air. Even his usually unruffled heart now holds a trace of confusion.

Such intense holy light was not weaker than what Lyra had displayed, indeed, for certain reasons, it was even more conspicuous than the relatively restrained pink-haired girl.

"..."

No, if the Imperial Regent and the Saintess of Light were right, then the Old Church of Light no longer believed in the omniscient and omnipotent Lord, but in that deity who was the Lord’s right hand, representing Judgment.

The Pope receiving his blessing was no strange thing.

On the other side, the diehard faction within the Church watched the scene before them, eyes brimming with obsession.

Their Lord had finally cast His gaze down, granting a miracle. The recovery of the lost holy relic was the greatest proof of divine protection, and even more than the miracle unfolding before them now.

Without question, their faith shone like the sun, and the road they walked was bathed in glory.

At this moment, all traitors and heretics will face God’s judgment.

"It’s been too long, Moserria."

The temporarily borrowed body issued a low, hoarse male voice, piercing as it echoed through space. Because it was in obscure divine speech, none present understood its meaning, only the speaker, Brennild; the Regent, Astrid; and the "Hebrew" floating high above could comprehend it.

"Open your eyes, and look upon the world after you and I withdrew."

The holy light faded. The illusory cocoon of radiance shattered, revealing the pure-white existence within.

Hebrew wore a crown condensed from holy light. His pure-white gloves and draped robe were hung with bright sacred fire and scorching waves of flame.

He stood in midair, looked indifferent and arrogant, sweeping over the lives below as if over ants. Only when he looked at Brennild did his eyes pause briefly.

A moment later, "Hebrew" spoke flatly.

"How pathetic, Brennild."

Then, as if utterly unconcerned with this sister of his, he turned his head away and no longer looked at her. Following the aura of the other half of a divinity, his gaze locked onto another person on the battlefield, the holy-light knight standing with sword in hand, Lyra Beckett.

Stared at by Hebrew’s indifferent gaze, Lyra’s heart tightened. A towering pressure seemed to cross the several meters between them and press directly down upon her head.

She had once, at the level of a Magnus, faced Hebrew’s full-force strike amplified through the relic, [Heaven’s Tremor, Solar Judgment]. Under ordinary circumstances, she should not have been like this.

Yet now, facing that same figure, Lyra felt from Hebrew an ancient aura completely different.

The relic was inside him. And the Hebrew of this moment was no longer him, or rather, not entirely.

Noticing the half-translucent knight’s sword in Lyra’s hand, Hebrew narrowed his eyes. A faint nostalgia seeped into his gaze. With a casual wave, the [ Sword of Light] trembled slightly, yet did not slip from her grip.

"..."

"So that’s how it is."

Sensing the abnormality, "Hebrew", or rather, Moserria, did not show any anger as Brennild had. He merely gathered away that nostalgia, slowly raised his hand, and spoke without the slightest inflection.

"One who steals divinity shall be punished by holy light and raging fire piercing the body."