Chapter 178: The Years Have Not Yet Grown Old
However, after a moment of waiting, the corpse did not move again.
Dead as a doornail…
Thinking about it, the primary condition for becoming an angel is that you need to have an “egg” inside you. However, the Goddess of Sin was dead, and a new egg couldn’t be granted. The Holy Church wasn’t heading down that route either; otherwise, we would have seen someone with a “Mother Deity’s Egg” among the clergy by now. I just vaguely felt that the perverted nun had a chance of turning into a monster, so it was better not to leave the corpse behind.
Thus, tilting my head and glancing around to ensure no one was watching, I raised my hand and unleashed a fiery inferno, which went “boom!” and ignited the corpse, quickly turning it to ashes. After that, I extinguished the flames with frost.
The reason I didn’t use Dead Smoke was that I wasn’t keen on devouring the body of such a weak heretic. And the whole “eating people” thing was a real turn-off unless I absolutely had to do it. So I resisted.
After doing all this, I clapped my hands and looked down at my clothes—worn out and ragged, some parts even unwearable. Thankfully, due to my deliberate protection, they still covered my body, but the dirtiness was truly uncomfortable. I decided to find the Sword Demon; she had some new clothes.
With that thought, I jumped into the air.
…………
Outside the town.
Archbishop Anseier watched as Captain Salamus handled everything impeccably, leaving him relaxed and free of worry.
“Oh, it seems the commotion in the town has calmed down.”
The fierce explosions that reverberated in his ears, shaking the very ground, were now accompanied by astonishing holy light and had quieted down in less than three minutes. Earlier, the enemy had seemed fearsome enough to raise his worries, but Sister Kaimilante’s efficiency was far quicker than he had imagined.
So reassuringly strong…
This round was secure.
The old man thought to himself, then glanced over at Lord Tarlasya, who had a grave expression while gazing into the distance where the town was aflame, silent as a tomb, prompting Anseier to feel it was time to deal with internal issues.
Of course, they still had to wait for Sister Kaimilante to return.
Captain Salamus had very limited combat skills, and Anseier feared that relying solely on him wouldn’t be enough against Magipanny’s prized disciple.
“Lord Tarlasya, why does it feel like the situation is under control, yet you don’t look very happy?”
Since he couldn’t attack him directly, Anseier, in a great mood, decided to tease him a little: “Don’t you, deep down, wish for the Church to win? Surely not?”
The old man never considered that Sister Kaimilante could lose; the fight had wrapped up too quickly. It was obvious it was a total rout, and the result could only be that Kaimilante, as usual, used divine miracles to wipe out the invading enemy and effortlessly won.
He didn’t believe anyone could reverse the tide against Sister Kaimilante—not even St. George himself. No matter how strong the enemy was, if they truly were stronger than Kaimilante, it would be a long and exhausting battle. If not, then Kaimilante certainly won.
Tarlasya must have figured that out too.
That’s why he looked gloomy and silent…
Probably thinking about how to escape, huh?
You can’t escape…
The old man grew vigilant, keenly observing Tarlasya’s every move, ready to intervene at any moment.
Just then, the sound of birds chirping echoed above. A white bird swooped down and landed on Anseier’s shoulder. This time, there was no note—just a series of sharp, repeated calls.
Upon hearing those calls, the old man’s face abruptly froze.
Retreat…
Retreat!?
What’s going on?
What happened?
Did we lose???!
The old man stared into the distance, utterly bewildered.
The shouts of battle in the town didn’t carry this far, the thunderous roars had long since ceased, and the town, engulfed in flames, was now eerily silent, making it hard to discern what was happening. This message was sent by the Choir of Saints; it wasn’t the expected news of victory. This meant their ambush on Skarlij had obviously failed, but Sister Kaimilante was still in the town fighting. Why was the message about retreating!?
“Archbishop, what’s wrong with you?”
Captain Salamus, having arranged the elite knights for patrol, rode over and noticed Anseier’s shocked and bewildered expression, feeling puzzled: “Was the action in the town not going smoothly?”
The old man moved his lips but couldn’t say a word.
His earlier good mood dissipated instantly; now he felt as if he had plunged into the depths of despair. He began to wonder if some young, careless fool in the Choir of Saints had delivered the wrong message, even though that was nearly impossible.
“What happened?”
Seeing the old man’s demeanor, Captain Salamus’s expression grew serious, a bad premonition rising in his heart. He leaned closer to Anseier and whispered, “Did Skarlij escape?”
The old man shook his head and took a deep breath.
“There might have been a problem on the Choir of Saints’ side…”
He raised his hand slightly, and golden light suddenly erupted around him. Three white birds flapped their wings and soared into the sky toward the town.
Anseier’s expression was grave; retreat was out of the question. They needed to figure out what had happened before making any decisions. He addressed Salamus: “Keep a close watch to the west, and ensure everyone is ready for a potential enemy attack.”
Then he turned to the Pope Knight nearby: “Lord Tarlasya, could you please head into the town and assist in investigating the situation with the Choir of Saints?”
The old man didn’t expect him to actually come back with a report.
He just suddenly felt he didn’t dare to keep him around any longer.
…………
Winter Wind Town, west of the central square.
Boom!
The thunderous lightning pierced through the chest of the Black Robe and erupted from his back alongside a bloodied blade. The figure immediately went rigid, his hair smoking as he fell backward, and the Sword Demon Annasiris, gasping for breath, slowly pulled her jagged longsword from his chest.
Looking around, there were no other standing enemies left.
Whoosh—
Suddenly, a sharp wind howled overhead. In the blink of an eye, accompanied by a soft thud, the tattered cloaked girl appeared within view just a short distance away.
The gust of wind ruffled the Sword Demon’s flowing hair.
“…”
I furrowed my brow as I looked at the fallen members of the Choir of Saints, then shifted my gaze to the Sword Demon, taking a quick glance before my eyes focused on my father, who was leaning against a crumbling wall with the unconscious female hunter draped across his lap, both of them bloodied and weak.
So I headed over to them.
“Anna.”
As I walked, I spoke to Anna: “Where’s our stuff? Find some bandages and help me get my spare clothes; throw in the cloak too.”
“Okay.”
Annasiris acknowledged and sheathed her sword, limping toward a nearby pile of hay. Watching her, I couldn’t help but ask, “Are you hurt?”
“It’s nothing…” she slowly shook her head, lifting her pant leg to show me her injury, “Just a little issue.”
Her left ankle was slightly swollen…
Did she twist it?
How clumsy.
“That’s good to hear.”
Seeing she was truly fine, I nodded, passing by her and giving her a reassuring pat on the small shoulder: “You did well, thank you. I’ll treat you to something good when we get back.”
“Mm.”
The Sword Demon mumbled a response, her head nodding heavily.
Without any further chit-chat, I quickly moved to my father’s side, squatting down: “You’re hurt badly; how are you feeling? Just hang in there for a bit, I’ll go find someone… What do the medics in the army wear?”
“I won’t d*e…”
My father smiled at me, his face pale yet filled with a complicated and painful expression. Despite the cold weather, beads of sweat were popping up on his forehead: “I’m too stubborn to just… cough cough… get finished off…”
“Stop talking; let me see your injury.”
“What? It’s been two years since we last met… cough, did you become a doctor?”
“No, I just want to take a look.”
“I’m really fine.” My father shook his head with a smile, then coughed a couple of times before lowering his gaze, “But your Aunt Bella… her breathing is very faint… Go, grab the Lion Hunting Army’s horn, it’s over there… Blow it three times.”
“Okay.”
I looked at the female hunter lying quietly in my father’s embrace, her eyes closed, covered in burns and breathing a bit erratically, and my gaze lingered on their intimate posture for a moment before I stood up and left.
Not far away, there were gruesome hunter corpses scattered everywhere, bl**d and entrails spilling out, staining the snow a dark red.
I frowned and searched for a bit, finding a horn near a corpse that was missing its head and chest. I wiped off the bl**d, took a deep breath, and blew three times.
A melodious sound resonated throughout half the town.
After blowing, I dropped the horn and returned to my father’s side.
“Someone will come, right?” I asked.
My father nodded: “That nun, did she d*e?”
“Mm.”
After my response, I could see a more complicated and indescribable expression appear on his face.
With overt emotions difficult to hide mixed with a tinge of stiffness and coldness lurking beneath that excitement.
“Take off the mask…” he said.
I blinked in surprise.
Oh…
The mask was still on my face.
So I raised my right hand, pulled down the hood, which was so tattered it barely served any purpose, and then removed the mask.
My pure black hair flowed down like a waterfall, and my star-bright, blinking eyes, slightly drooping red phoenix-shaped eyes, evoked a man’s protective instincts. I had the same exquisite yet indifferent face as before, even unchanged from two years ago… or even five years ago before I went missing.
This is his daughter…
Skarlij’s eyes turned red again.
He was smiling; his smile looked miserable, almost like crying.
The man couldn’t even articulate what he felt, just gazing intently at that face.
The face that bore an uncanny resemblance to his daughter—returned from the dead, appearing like a savior in dire times, a petite figure capable of turning the tide. The exquisite yet cold face that called him father, reminiscent of his daughter at sixteen, remained vivid and unchanged.
But…
If we’re counting this year, his daughter was already over twenty.
And he…
Had long since gone gray, becoming an old man in his fifties.
