### Chapter 89: Metamorphosis (Part Eleven)
The yellow sand swept across the ground, gently blowing between the collapsed and burning ruins.
Carlos and Apheir stood side by side, and not far ahead, the female heretic named Ailna emerged from the steaming mist. Flames of infernal fire erupted around her once more, fireflies of light swirling enticingly in front and behind her. She strolled atop the crumbling, tilted walls of the ruins, looking down at the two Pope Knights with an expression of indifference framed by her bl**d-red eyes.
The wind seemed to grow fiercer, carrying with it a sorrowful “woo-woo” sound as if someone were crying. Carlos’s messy hair fluttered wildly as he suddenly appeared to have remembered something, his eyes widening as he gazed up at the western sky.
Old woman Apheir followed his line of sight.
Soon after, even the female heretic Ailna raised her head to look.
Rolling black clouds swirled ominously, nearly blocking out the sunlight, the sky turning as gray as twilight. Shocking lightning danced within the clouds like a bl**d-red dragon, accompanied by a deafening roar that lit up the entire world for a brief moment.
In that moment, they saw the ancient figure hanging in the gray sky.
“Teacher…”
“Sir…”
Carlos and Apheir mumbled in unison.
Ailna’s brow furrowed deeply, her expression finally shifting. She watched as the figure slowly descended from the sky, the infernal flames swirling around her growing ever more intense. Her hands, hanging by her sides, instinctively clenched, and her body began to tense up.
She felt a vague yet overpowering murderous intent, like an invisible force pressing in from all directions, invincible and unstoppable.
“Sword Saint Ryan…”
That name had haunted her for many years.
It was also a presence she could never surpass, no matter what.
Though she had prepared herself mentally, seeing that figure again made her feel an irresistible sense of pressure, as the old man’s silhouette gently floated down, light and frail yet feeling as weighty as a mountain, pressing on her chest and making it hard to breathe. Her heart raced, bl**d rushing in her ears.
She thought she had long since laid those hatreds to rest.
Her father’s d*ath, her mother’s d*ath — both caused by that old man’s hand, the one who had shattered the Gate of Truth, leading her onto this bloody path of thorns. But it didn’t matter; perhaps this was her destiny, as she was the child of the “Great Demon.” Demons ultimately do not meet a good end; someday, they are bound to d*e under the hero’s sword. It just so happened that the “hero” was the Sword Saint Ryan. Nothing more.
Ailna had kept telling herself to let the past go; even if the road ahead was dark, a glimmer of hope waited silently for her.
And hatred would only blind her eyes.
After her parents’ deaths, Ailna had been trying to strengthen her heart, to become resilient, resilient enough not to be shackled by any emotions, to become an excessively rational person.
And indeed, she had managed to do so.
Not long ago, before she had her first encounter with Sword Saint Ryan, Ailna was doing just fine.
But that night, when she truly faced that old man, she found the hatred buried deep within her explode even more fiercely than she had imagined, just like now, uncontrollable.
Though that anger was mixed with a trembling emotion.
But…
She was ultimately going to fight him again.
She had lost last time.
This time, Ailna wanted to win.
She wanted to k*ll him.
This might be…
Her last chance.
“You are Carlos, right?”
Ailna looked up at the descending figure, her face as cold as snow. However, her words were directed toward the swordsman not far away: “If you want to save her, then do your best.”
In the next moment, crimson flames erupted from beneath her!
“Female! Heretic—!”
“Hey, hey…”
A blazing heat wave rushed at them, with temperatures so high that the dirt beneath their feet began to vaporize. Old woman Apheir spat out bl**d foam, roaring against the raging storm, but she quickly started to retreat with Carlos. The searing flames spread to where they had just stood in less than two seconds, and tongues of fire shot into the sky, soaring dozens of meters high from the heart of the town.
Carlos held the old woman, bulging like a barrel, securely in his arms as arcs of lightning danced around them, pulling her back forty or fifty meters. He saw the center of the rising flames, where the female heretic’s body seemed to be twisting and transforming, her shadow growing immensely, reaching heights of fifteen to sixteen meters. Clawed limbs wrapped in scales burst forth from the flames, followed by a huge head resembling that of a dragon.
The two retreated to the destroyed narrow alley outside the ruins, jumping onto the still-standing high wall before coming to a stop.
In front of them, the area where they had previously stood was now engulfed in a rolling sea of flames. That bl**d-colored sphere, shrouded in dead smoke, floated above the inferno, and beneath it, in the center of the flames, a giant figure twisted its limbs, slowly rising up, pushing its upper body out of the fire and letting out a roar toward the heavens.
“Roar—!!”
The beast’s roar shook the ground, accompanied by swirling flames, crashing toward the stooped figure in the sky.
“Cough, cough, what is that thing…?”
Apheir gazed at the hellish scene, murmuring softly, “A dragon? No, that’s not a dragon…”
“Angelification…”
Carlos’s expression grew serious, a hint of fear in his eyes. “Her power has exceeded that of ordinary bl**d cultists. Why are such creatures still existing now…?”
“That heretic little girl was hiding this kind of power when we were chasing her earlier!!”
“Maybe it wasn’t hiding… This should be her last resort, burning herself up, hoping to d*e here.”
“Tsk…”
The two exchanged glances and looked up at the sky once more.
In their sights, the diminutive body of Sword Saint Ryan, who had yet to descend, began to sway in the scorching winds. That airflow lifted him higher into the sky, and the next moment, the shadow of the beast in the flames suddenly unfurled the wings sprouting from its back, igniting a more violent tempest and soaring upwards!
“Ugh…”
“Uh…”
Carlos and Apheir barely managed to stay on the wall as they were nearly swept off by the violent winds, both letting out muffled groans as they struggled to stabilize themselves.
Carlos supported the old woman’s back with one hand and raised the other to shield himself from the scorching hurricane. He saw the towering beast that had soared skyward, resembling the legendary dragon, but appearing more vicious and hideous. Its scales glimmered with what looked like bl**d, flames burning on its wings. Three tails bristled with barbed spikes, and four claws beneath it were equally intimidating.
That bl**d-red massive figure flashed past Carlos’s eyes, and before he could see it clearly, it darted toward the direction of the old man in the sky with incredible speed.
“Ahahaha!”
However, upon seeing this, old woman Apheir didn’t seem worried at all; instead, she laughed and cursed, “What a d*ath wish!”
She definitely had no intention of going to help.
Neither did Carlos.
Yet, what was running through the man’s mind at that moment was the last thing the female heretic had said to him.
He unconsciously glanced again at the floating, peculiar sphere, his eyes flickering as his brows slightly furrowed.
