Chapter 157: Long Night of Dark Fire (Part 4)
With a grandiose impact, the fierce flames and howling winds made it almost impossible to open my eyes. However, I quickly reacted, releasing my grip on the Tall and Slim Heretic. I tilted my head away just in time as the enemy’s arms came crashing down. Dropping into a horse stance, I raised my delicate left arm to block—
Boom!
An astonishing explosion resonated overhead.
The ferocious force crashed down like a heavy hammer, accompanied by a tremendous shockwave that suddenly spread the flames all around, engulfing my entire body. The ground trembled beneath my feet, dust and debris flew everywhere, obscuring my vision as the wind howled past my ears and the temperature around me abruptly spiked.
The Heretic suspended in mid-air came barreling towards me with his entire body. His muscular arms slammed against my raised forearm, and an immense pressure struck me, momentarily numbing my whole body. The resonating echo of his furious roar lingered in my ears, like a tolling bell, and the next instant, a slight pain radiated from my left arm.
I furrowed my brow.
“You… hurt me!”
The moment I shouted with righteous indignation, I twisted my waist, covered my right fist in frost, and my knuckles cracked loudly. The punch’s wind roared like a tiger, cutting through the dust and flames, and aimed at his abdomen—
Bam!
The force of this punch was like a cataclysmic blow that sent Superman flying. As the shockwave erupted, even the air before me seemed to explode and vibrate. The airborne Heretic hadn’t even touched the ground before his body folded in half, his chest almost touching his shins as he was hurled backward with a deafening whoosh, disappearing into a tiny black dot in the blurry distance.
The tremendous impact and recoil forced me to stagger back several steps, regaining my balance despite being momentarily thrown off-kilter. Without a second thought, I turned my gaze to the Tall and Slim Heretic, who had been blasted away over ten meters into the grass, covered in infernal flames and bl**d, desperately trying to rise… Not a chance.
Moon Step!
Whoosh—
In less than half a second, I lunged forward, the scenery blurring momentarily before becoming clear as I sped towards the bloodied and grotesque-faced Tall and Slim Heretic. One hand pinned him back to the ground as he tried to sit up, while the other hand swung down with a resounding slap, landing on his mangled cheek.
“Cough…”
That single slap almost snapped his neck at an unnatural angle, bl**d spewed from his distorted mouth like he was erupting in red flames. My palm throbbed slightly from the impact, and the sticky substance left on my hand felt incredibly unpleasant. My annoyance grew further, and just as I prepared to deliver a second slap, a whistling wind sliced through the air behind me.
Is this never-ending…
Are they really focusing all their firepower on me alone?
I abandoned the half-conscious Tall and Slim Heretic on the ground, turning around dramatically. Countless fiery projectiles skimmed the ground, raining down from all directions, the fiery winds roaring in my ears, igniting swathes of land into a glaring crimson.
“Brr…”
I exhaled a breath of chilly air.
Seeing the explosive onslaught of infernal fire rage towards me, I raised my right arm high over my head.
And then—wham!
Boom boom boom boom boom—!!!
Spikes, ice mist, frost, and waves of frigid winds converged instantly in a tempest beneath my arm, coalescing from below my feet, the ancient earth, and the scarlet night sky around me. Chaotic winds engulfed the scene, as ice blue and frost white forces swelled like a tsunami, crashing forward!
In an instant, the countless fireballs merely ten meters away were reduced to ash, vaporizing into mist within the frosty onslaught. The overwhelming power of Order surged forward without restraint, and the dreadful wave of ice spikes and frost formed an arc, plowing through the earth, dragging along stormy winds, at an astonishing speed, swallowing the infernal flames completely.
“Retreat! Form a line and raise shields! Quickly, pull back—”
The knights at a distance, affected by the torrent, awkwardly retreated, their shields raised. The Holy Lance from the town was swept higher into the sky, the impact of Frost Power extending far beyond, scattering rows of wooden fences—”crash, crash, crash”—and the swirling frost danced away, stretching two to three hundred meters into the orchards and up the hills within the town. The Old Priest at the forefront clenched his eyes shut, his graying beard coated with tiny bits of frost.
“What on earth is…”
“Such incredible…”
From behind the hill, several clergy gasped in tremulous voices.
Though they were positioned on the edge of the town, where the raging cold was the weakest, they had been watching the battlefield since Miss Silvya, the Pope Knight, charged out of town.
They watched as that seemingly young girl, entering a den of wolves, cut down one powerful Heretic after another. Being on higher ground, no one could see it more clearly; it wasn’t a battle at all, merely a one-sided annihilation, a veritable slaughter that was—
Utterly absurd.
If they hadn’t seen it with their own eyes, they would have never believed that those Heretics… the so-called “bl**d sacrifice” stage Heretics, practically immortal beings wielding immense infernal power, were being butchered so easily, without even a glimmer of resistance.
And the one performing this feat was merely a girl, just sixteen years old and newly appointed.
Oh, now she’s seventeen.
But this simply—
“Absurd, it makes no sense, how could this…”
While those horrifying Heretics were enemies, Miss Silvya was an ally—a just Pope Knight! Her performance mirrored her title as she single-handedly battled the Abyss, bravely confronting the wicked Heretics. Indeed, she embodied the spirit of the Iris, a powerful hero of humanity.
And while that was true…
The Old Priest turned dazedly, ice crystal particles glittering in the air, coated in frost upon his beard, and settling on his round cap. He shivered, and the clergy behind him looked even worse, with some stamping their feet due to the cold.
But their expressions, without exception, were filled with the absurdity of disbelief, struggling to comprehend what they were witnessing—this brutal domination wasn’t a hero subduing a wicked demon; it was as if a greater demon was demonstrating their power—could there really be someone so powerful?
“This simply…”
The Old Priest had served the Deity for forty years, and while there were plenty of Pope Knights, he had never encountered anyone whose affinity for the power of Order was at a level even close to that of the girl over there. Surely even the Sword Saint would struggle with that—this was nothing short of unheard of!
All she did was swing her hand.
Yet the icy onslaught was like a monstrous wave, sweeping through the area. The force of her attack didn’t even head my way; Miss Silvya, being a Pope Knight, wouldn’t disregard the town’s situation or the knights still resisting outside. In fact, the arc of the impact pressed nearly parallel to the town, targeting the two Heretics positioned that way… and now those two Heretics were buried in frost, completely invisible.
The icy shockwave enveloped and covered a vast stretch of land outside the town, its range extending uncertainly five hundred meters or more; the thunderous booming echoed like the collapse of the heavens and earth. The icy gusts were so fierce that the knights outside struggled to stay upright, while here, only a minor wavering of residual winds and dense bits of frost lingered in the air…
Even so, the Old Priest felt as if his old bones were about to freeze solid.
Shivering, he murmured to a few of his colleagues behind him, “What exactly are we doing…”
“With just her alone, it’s enough…”
One person heard him, similarly trembling, turning to him.
The Old Priest caught sight of a younger face shifting rapidly in color—from blue to pale, then purple—like they were holding their breath, unable to release or swallow.
He remembered this person.
Though not intimately acquainted, he had a slight aversion. Apart from this mission, the Old Priest had never dealt with him before, but he knew this young man hailed from the Holy City, standing out as part of the next generation within the Faith Organization—an elite with noble origins and exceptional talents. Because of that, he had often exhibited a pompous demeanor, declaring before tonight that he would make the Jester never return.
It was easy to understand why such a young man would be arrogant—at just twenty-something, mastering the invocation of miracles had surpassed the Old Priest’s forty years of pious prayer. Chosen by a Deity, from the day he received grace, he was on a different path from the common clergy who toiled for a decade to receive just a modicum of blessing. His future was undoubtedly promising.
He likely grew up surrounded by applause and accolades. Therefore, he didn’t understand humility or reverence, often saying things only young people would dare to voice.
Yet at this moment, the Old Priest looked into his eyes, where all arrogance had vanished, leaving behind a mix of emotions hard to define—fear, trembling, powerlessness, or defeat. Perhaps some deeply seated worldviews were shattered by such a world-shaking blow. After holding his breath for a while, this standout from the Faith Organization now stood before him, inexplicably expressing… what seemed like pity for the Heretics.
“That’s a bl**d sacrifice stage cultist!”
Indeed…
The Old Priest thought of teasing the young man a bit, trying to let him grasp the reality that the world was vast and there were always bigger fish to fry. Though he found him unlikable, he truly was a good prospect, and the road ahead was long. He didn’t want to see him defeated by youthful arrogance… That’s what he intended, but when he opened his mouth, no words came forth.
Wanting to laugh, he found he couldn’t.
Because that was truly…
A bl**d sacrifice stage Heretic…
Six of them…
Against a seventeen-year-old girl…
Without the slightest ability to resist.
“…Absurd…”
Finally, the Old Priest shivered again, uttering the word “absurd” once more before turning back to the town, his pupils trembling.
In his view, the sky was filled with dissipating frost, debris falling like stones, ice crystal mist swirling into the higher night sky. The vast swathes of infernal flames that had once raged were now extinguished, replaced by a scene that resembled winter’s frozen, icy landscape.
And within that scene, only a bright, scarlet flame still burned, standing out starkly against the frost-white backdrop.
That was—
The Old Priest squinted, peering from a distance; within the flames, there appeared to be a figure…
The figure was blurry, leaning on a cane, taking steps that were uncommonly awkward, making its way through the still-swirling cold, stepping over the icy, frosty ground, inching towards the direction of the girl.
