Chapter 38: Unstoppable (Part 1)
One step, two steps.
With each passing moment, Ramiel’s speed picked up. His eyes gleamed with golden light as he began to run.
On the battlefield ahead, explosions reverberated continuously. A woman known as Emily was clearly struggling; her brute force wielded terrifying destruction, yet she was no match for the petite female swordsman, who danced through the air like a lightning-quick dragon. Emily was at her wit’s end…
Her horrifying shoulder wound hadn’t fully healed, and suddenly she was slashed with several swords across her chest and back. This only fueled her rage, but the more furious she became, the more chaotic her attacks turned, allowing the Sword Demon to spot more openings. Soon, she was left with only enough strength to dodge ineffectively.
“Emily, fall back!”
Ramiel shouted, his voice carrying far. Who knew if she could hear him? Even if she did, Emily probably wouldn’t care at that moment—her lack of composure was her biggest flaw as the organist for the Choir of Saints. Every time she faced an opponent of equal strength, she ended up suffering due to her reckless nature, yet she remained stubbornly unchanged, unable to rein in her terrible temper.
Idiot…
The man thought to himself, transforming into a blazing golden beam. A whirlwind of light began to spiral around his palm, quickly climbing up his arm. He kept his gaze locked onto the Sword Demon zipping through the night, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike and take her down.
Then, he planned to deal with that special patient. Before the Northern Army outside could control the area, he needed to gauge just how strong she was, what her growth had been like, and if she posed a future threat to the church. He wanted to see it with his own eyes.
Amidst the swirling thoughts, just as he was about to cast a divine miracle, a voice suddenly echoed above him, as if someone were talking to themselves: “Is this really the Church, or The Gate of Truth…?”
It was a languid, melodious voice, just above his head.
!!?
What in the world…
The man’s scalp tingled as he quickly switched from charging to dodging, leaping away to a distance of several meters. The brilliant light in his hand faded in an instant as confusion crossed his face, and he looked up.
He saw a small figure that had been near the city walls suddenly appear in the low sky nearly to the side of the battlefield, still sitting atop an ice block with half a pastry in hand, muttering complaints about someone: “As expected, nothing beats the pastries mom makes… The chefs from Viki’s side are hopeless… Trying to bribe me with this? Hmph! I’ll definitely spill the drunken cat’s words tomorrow…”
Ramiel couldn’t make sense of what she was saying.
When did she…
How did she get here…?
This time, he observed the figure clearly.
A petite frame, a profile so delicate it seemed almost unreal, her dark hair fluttering with every shockwave below, and that soft, childlike voice—it was the special patient, the supposedly “dead” Pope Knight, Miss Silvya.
Miss Silvya had appeared in a perfectly strategic position, blocking the path he was planning to charge down, hovering about ten meters above the ground. After her nonsensical remarks, she casually popped the remaining pastry into her mouth, cheeks puffed as she chewed, then slowly turned her head towards him.
They locked eyes.
!!!
Just a glance made the man feel like his head had exploded. The momentum he’d felt just moments ago seemed to douse half of his fiery spirit with a splash of ice-cold water.
She’s warning me…
Warning me not to meddle in the fight…
d*mn it, she’s in cahoots with that Sword Demon.
“Hey, Anna.”
The “special patient” merely glanced at him, then lost interest, swallowing the last bite and refocusing on the battle below.
“You’re actually pretty impressive; I underestimated you before.”
She was talking to the Sword Demon: “With this level of lightning affinity, you could compete with Grandma Bersa. A certain bearded thug I know can’t compare… But his sword skills are really something; you seem to be lacking in that regard. Otherwise, this fight would’ve ended ages ago… If you want, I can introduce you to each other.”
Her tone was as casual as if they were chatting at a dinner table.
With a crack, the Sword Demon emerged from the sudden burst of lightning, sword raised, looking at the figure: “Are you talking about Carlos?”
“Huh, you two know each other?”
“Not really; we’ve met a couple of times.”
“Oh.”
The two of them were chatting like it was no big deal, completely ignoring Ramiel and Emily.
With a thunderous crash, Emily plummeted from the sky, creating a massive shockwave that sent debris flying. Her face was once again smudged with grime, her hair standing on end as she glared at the night sky: “Another meddling idiot? How the hell are they still talking…”
Her voice sounded like it was coming from someone grinding their teeth. As her injuries glimmered with healing light, she launched herself like a cannonball toward the tiny figure on the ice platform, shouting, “You think I’m trash? I’ll tear your mom apart first—”
“Idiot!”
Ramiel stood frozen, wanting to stop her, but it was already too late.
“Come down, you brat!”
As Emily rushed in, the distance of dozens of meters shrank in the blink of an eye. She reached the floating ice platform, launching her massive, holy-infused fist toward the girl, as if, in an instant, the incomprehensible force would reduce her to mush.
Yet, the Sword Demon, who should have reacted to stop her, merely stood there with an indifferent expression, gazing upward.
Ramiel’s heart sank.
This is bad…
In an instant, a myriad of scenarios flashed through his mind: the girl could effortlessly catch the punch, shrugging off the incredible force; or the punch might not even touch her, but an enormous ice mound would crash down, pinning Emily beneath it…
His mind raced, considering every possible reaction, driven by an instinctive urge to save his companion—even if it meant risking his life, otherwise everything would take a turn for the worse.
He saw Emily throw her punch, and his feet moved instinctively.
But just as he took a step, he suddenly froze.
In his line of sight, that shrieking punch erupted, but instead of wreaking havoc as expected, it explosively faltered mid-swing, the golden light on her fist eerily vanishing in an instant.
In mid-air, Emily trembled, her gaze going blank, gradually losing focus as she began to plummet from the night sky, head down, feet up—a process where even her healing miracle started to fade. With a thud, she crashed into the snow, and Ramiel could almost hear the sound of her vertebrae breaking. The bizarre scene left the man once again in a daze.
She saw that the special patient had red, ominous light glowing in her eyes.
