### Chapter One Hundred and One: When the Sinful Flower Blooms (Comedy Edition)
A blinding white light cascaded down, instantly connecting countless white orbs above into a cohesive mass, creating a white sun in mid-air—totally contrasting against the black sphere higher up. The radiance almost drowned out the ghastly crimson haze below, illuminating the parched earth into a dazzling spectacle.
In that moment, it felt like the entire world had lost its colors.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—
A faint, intense sound of cutting wind emanated from the heart of the light, as countless slender rays shot out from the white sphere, creating an impenetrable net of firepower that quickly engulfed Carlos’s shadowy figure.
The Captain of Knights adjusted himself and zipped backwards. He heard the ominous hissing sound coming from the light, reminiscent of the earth being scorched. Feeling the oppressive heat rushing towards him, he couldn’t help but quicken his pace until he finally put enough distance between himself and the chaos before halting, his heart racing.
If he’d been just a moment slower…
He shuddered at the thought.
With that fear came a simmering anger, and his face darkened as if he had just eaten something particularly unpleasant. He turned to glare in Aresta’s direction.
d*mn it, does he really want to take me out too…
Of course, he kept those thoughts to himself. In his line of sight, beside the Young Bishop Aresta, stood five priests clad in white robes, who had dismounted from their beastly steeds. A golden glow still surrounded them, and they lined up in front of the Young Bishop, not even casting a glance his way, frowning in concentration, their gaze fixed on the area that had been completely engulfed in white light.
He didn’t recognize these folks.
Not that he was particularly close with anyone from the Faith Organization anyway. In fact, most of the clerics that had come this time were strangers to him, or perhaps folks he’d just barely met.
Now, folks like Cleric Larix—sure, they fancied themselves hot shots and loved to strut about, but once a battle began, they became the most reliable allies, working together like a well-oiled machine. But these priests next to Aresta? Totally different story.
What’s different about them, though? The Captain couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He just felt… since they arrived, aside from Aresta, these people didn’t communicate with anyone; they seemed unfamiliar with the Knights of the Graceful Scale, and even with other members of the Faith Organization. It was like they’d just popped up from nowhere, utterly oblivious yet far stronger than they appeared.
Divine Miracle “Nefilotda’s White Wing”…
The Captain failed to notice that it was a joint effort by a few of them, but the incantation was almost instantaneous and tremendously powerful. He couldn’t comprehend how Mr. Carlos could possibly escape such a rapid and indiscriminate attack. Even within the entire Faith Organization, only a handful of clerics could pull off something like this.
Are these guys, like, actually from the Faith Organization?
He inhaled deeply.
He didn’t shout out his indignation about why they suddenly employed such a no-holds-barred lethal miracle—the moment was not the time for that. The Captain understood well enough that the Young Bishop’s attitude towards Mr. Carlos was less friendly than he professed; it seemed he indeed wanted to capture him to successfully unleash the “Chain of Divine Lock.”
He was contemplating the possibility of letting Mr. Carlos d*e here.
Maybe he was still wavering, but the seeds of such a thought had already begun to sprout in his mind.
So, what now…
With a mind swirling with countless thoughts, the Captain forced his emotions down. When he caught Aresta casting a quiet glance his way, he turned back, avoiding eye contact, and stared straight ahead.
Before him, the blinding white light was gradually dissipating.
From the start of the attack to its end, there were no earth-shattering booms or heart-stopping explosions. But as the heat settled and the white feathers drifted down, a thick fog of smoke rose from the ground, revealing countless holes peppering the parched earth, the area engulfed by “Nefilotda’s White Wing” had been turned into a sieve, leaving no perfect footing in sight.
However…
The Captain spotted him—Pope Knight Carlos Gonzalez—still standing there amidst the swirling mist of scorched earth, like an unyielding, ancient tree, his figure straight and upright.
“Hiss—”
The Captain inhaled sharply.
This was impossible…
That man had endured an onslaught of such magnitude and was completely unscathed!
He heard the murmurs around him as the light faded, and there stood Carlos, sword in hand, positioned in the center of the ravaged land. The golden chains that had bound his feet were now nothing but shimmering particles in the air, having been shattered by Carlos’s strength, while his pale hair hung down his back, his ragged clothes stained with dried and fresh bl**d, droplets “plopping” onto the ground.
The man remained motionless.
Half his face was obscured by his hair, hard to see clearly.
Yet, in that bl**d-soaked state, and the fierce aura radiating from him, it somehow sent shivers down the spines of the Captain and his elite comrades, causing them to involuntarily step back.
Wait…
He was not entirely fine…
Drip, drip, drip.
Bright red bl**d was flowing down Carlos’s tattered clothes and over that arm, which had lost its sleeve, continuously pooling onto the soft, scorched earth below.
That man… he was injured…
And this time, it was serious.
The Captain took another step back.
His expression was wary, his eyes flickering as he involuntarily glanced in the direction of the Young Bishop.
In that moment, two ideas quietly bloomed in his mind.
Stop others from attacking Mr. Carlos any further…
Or take this chance to silence him for good.
The Captain took less than a second to make his decision—he raised his hand, paused momentarily, and then suddenly brought it down.
“…Capture him.”
His voice was barely above a whisper, just loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Go, follow me!”
“Faith Organization! Prepare the Sin Barrier—”
Step, step, step, step, step…
Scattered footsteps echoed beneath the gray sky and over the barren ground, rapidly increasing in volume, mixed with chaotic shouts. One, two, five, eight, and more figures surged past the Captain, golden holy light flaring up at the corners of his vision, chains rising, holy lances whistling. At the same time, from Aresta’s direction, two clerics leaped and dove toward Carlos’s position at breakneck speed.
This time, no one hesitated.
Perhaps it was because…
They truly believed they could capture Mr. Carlos.
“Phew…”
Amidst the swirling smoke, Carlos raised his head, looking at the warriors charging from all directions, glancing up at the holy lances darting down from above, and slowly exhaled.
With his right hand gripping the sword’s hilt, his body trembled slightly before steadying once more.
“…Heh.”
The man trembled, but for some reason, he couldn’t help but chuckle, dodging the lancing attack with a side-step, his bloodied left hand reaching into his chest pocket, feeling around and retrieving a bundle of white cloth.
Swish—
Carlos plunged his sword into the ground and quickly unwrapped the cloth in his hand. Inside, there appeared to be something resembling a snack or food, which he shoved back into his pocket, the now-open cloth fluttering in front of him, transforming into a pristine white cape that draped over him, billowing behind his back.
On that cape, faint golden irises bloomed quietly in the dust.
Ah…
What had he promised Leah again?
How could he make such an unreasonable choice…
Carlos mused to himself.
But even at this moment, he couldn’t quite pin down an exact answer.
All he knew was one thing.
“Little Shay…”
“When you wake up, you’ll definitely be hungry, right?”
