Karen and Ophelia followed Dorons' advance, keeping an absolutely safe distance between them.
In truth, if Karen were alone right now, he would have preferred to find high ground with a clear view, standing or sitting there to watch Dorons' push and whatever countermeasures would unfold.
Ophelia could not do that. Given her status, even if she wasn't mad enough to charge forward with her greatsword and hack at Dorons directly, she couldn't simply stand off in the distance watching the show with Karen.
The Dark Moon Blade granted Ophelia greater speed, and her physical conditioning served as an ideal vessel to bring out its power.
In this regard, Karen held no advantage. His physical condition had improved quite well through recovery, but that was only "quite good" by ordinary human standards. Fortunately, the spiritual power accumulated within him ran deep; it was merely a matter of expending extra spiritual power in exchange for speed boosts.
Yet to avoid being seen by outsiders, Karen did not use the Dark Moon Blade to accelerate as Ophelia did. Instead, he alternated between Order acceleration spells and dispersing into black mist.
He had to admit, witnessing Dorons advance and crush everything in its wake was truly staggering. It wasn't merely a transport mount; it was a genuine ferocious beast.
Wherever it passed—be it forests, streams, or hillsides—all was razed to the ground.
Just then, a dozen black dots appeared ahead of Dorons.
Ophelia slowed down and leaped into a nearby tree, and Karen's figure appeared on the other side of the trunk.
"It's my uncle and the elders."
Karen cast his gaze further back, spotting a small legion assembled from the Dark Moon Guard already beginning to take formation.
Yet whether in numbers or bearing—though both relied primarily on cold weapons—they were simply incomparable to the Order Knight Legion he had once seen.
The dreadful oppression and suffocation he had felt watching the knights march out of the cavern that day remained fresh in his memory.
Still, this was all the force Dark Moon Island could muster at the moment. Normally, it was more than enough to maintain port operations and local security, and even when the two major churches held a summit, they could spare sufficient hands for security.
But deploying them to face an onslaught like this was beyond their depth.
In external wars fought by the Church of Order, Whip of Order squads were deployed only in the third wave. No matter how excellent a police officer might be, throwing them directly onto a battlefield would never yield great results.
At a time like this, concentrating a breakthrough at a single point might actually work wonders. It was true that this was a colossal entity, but an enormous body was an advantage that could just as easily turn into a disadvantage.
Tafman stared at Dorons ahead. If only his fleet were here right now; against a gigantic entity like this, the magic crystal cannons aboard warships were always the best tool.
Yet thinking about that was pointless now. If they didn't act immediately to stop Dorons, this colossus would crush the town flat!
"Tafman, your injury..."
"It won't affect my fighting. The patriarch has already gone to ask the Church of Order for help. While Order certainly won't sit by, we must demonstrate our own worth as much as possible. I trust none of you elders wish to see our Dark Moon Island looked down upon!"
"We follow you. Give the order."
"Tafman, we're under your command."
"Even if we have to be dogs, we can't be the most useless dogs."
"Simple enough: breach its defenses and protect Elder Qimar so he can set up an array on Dorons' head. Charge!"
The order was brief, for Tafman trusted that these elders were all experienced enough to make their own choices based on the situation. Everyone only needed to keep a single common goal in mind.
Most importantly, they were all completely unfamiliar with Dorons. Records passed down on Dark Moon Island concerning Dorons were sparse, for after carrying Philias and his entourage to the island, Dorons had been put into slumber by Philias.
The elders shed their robes, revealing the armor beneath. Some wore heirlooms passed down through their families, while others wore suits they had personally designed and forged.
Dark Moon Island's smithing techniques had long been famous, but their arms were never exported commodities. It wasn't that they were unwilling to let weapons and armor circulate outside, but rather that the gear they crafted required Dark Moon power to unleash its full potential. To outsiders, aside from some collectible value, practical utility was remarkably low.
Over a dozen figures burst with dark-red radiance, charging toward Dorons together.
Elder Qimar naturally stayed in the protected center, his arms already draped with all kinds of array scrolls.
The blood mist swirling around Dorons served as the first defensive barrier blocking their path—a mist that had devoured countless plant and animal lives during its march.
Four elders split into two columns, bursting ahead of the group. Drawing their sabers and swords, they pushed their Dark Moon power to its peak and slashed straight into the blood mist.
The blood mist was torn open in a massive rift. Two on each side, the four elders pried the tear wider, holding open a passageway for those behind.
Cleaving through the blood mist was not overly difficult; the true challenge lay in holding it open, which was tantamount to pitting their own Dark Moon power against the behemoth's power in an attritional contest.
Tafman led the remaining elders straight into the blood mist.
Seeing them through, the four elders holding the breach withdrew their weapons and swiftly backed away. Regardless of success inside, when those within needed to exit, they would have to combine their strength once again to reopen the rift.
Dorons' gaze shifted slightly downward, as if taking note of what was happening beneath it.
Yet it did not stop to deal with them, nor did its speed waver in the slightest, continuing its charge toward the island's town.
There lay the densest concentration of the Dark Moon bloodline; there was the heart of vengeance!
"Onto its body!"
Tafman held his blade in his sole hand, standing as Elder Qimar's final line of defense, while the other elders fanned out to intercept oncoming dangers.
Though Dorons did not stop specifically to swat them, much like the involuntary twitches and reactions one had when bitten by mosquitoes, those reactions were still terrifying threats to such minuscule beings.
Scales began flying from Dorons' body, ricocheting toward them. Each scale was the size of a house. The Dark Moon elders swung their weapons tirelessly to cleave them apart. One of them, after shattering seven scales in a row, swung at an eighth, only for a layer of smaller scales to emerge from the debris. He could have dodged completely, but letting the scale through meant the group being protected as they climbed might be hit, halting their progress.
So he chose to endure it with his body. In the end, though he deflected the scale's trajectory, the impact sent him flying backward. Before he could regain his balance in midair, his body was sucked into the violent wind vortex generated by Dorons' movement, his fate unknown.
Next, when the group climbed onto Dorons' neck, massive barbels swept back and forth relentlessly, each lash descending with terrifying force.
One elder was swatted away, his outcome upon landing uncertain.
Another, caught between two barbels, was smashed directly into a mist of blood.
Humans possessed many methods for dealing with such giant behemoths, but when an emergency forced them into close contact, the disparity in absolute power became painfully stark.
In this regard, Dark Moon Island's martial system was especially disadvantaged, as their mastery of spells and arrays was generally low—and that was even after Bernard had introduced systems from the Church of Light to bolster them.
They preferred and were more accustomed to fighting with their bodies and martial techniques, treating spells and arrays merely as auxiliary aids.
Naturally, the primary reason was that researching and passing down spells and arrays required sustained, colossal expenditures. Storing them in books didn't equate to inheritance; each individual's learning and training process, maintained across generations, was where the true cost lay.
That was why after Allen Manor fell into decline, the family didn't even possess a decent teleportation array.
At the same time, this was where the orthodox churches derived their might: possessing the vastest reserves of resources and talent, they could sustain their oldest, richest heritages across generations while continuing to develop and expand upon them.
In the tree, Karen glanced at Ophelia. She was gripping her greatsword tightly. Clearly, she genuinely wanted to charge in herself, yet she knew all too well that with her strength, doing so would only make her a burden and hindrance.
What frustrated her even more was that going to the newly assembled legion would accomplish nothing either. She had no talent for military command; though she had read books on the subject and received guidance from her uncle, she had never had practical combat experience, making it impossible to step in and lead now.
Ophelia turned to Karen and asked anxiously, "Why hasn't the Church of Order stepped in to help?"
"Gathering personnel takes a bit of time," Karen could only offer as an explanation.
Because today's meeting had concluded early, and since Order was the victor, people were generally relaxed. Yesterday was fine, but today unusually many had slipped off to enjoy themselves. Even though the massive commotion caused by Dorons' awakening was certainly felt by them, gathering quickly still took time.
However, seeing as the Dark Moon Island guards had already gathered into a loose legion, Karen believed Order's rally speed would only be faster. Every Whip of Order squad was composed of elites from their respective districts; once the black crows took flight, they could pinpoint their rally points immediately.
Yet he could hardly tell Ophelia:
*Order is deliberately holding back, waiting for the most critical moment to intervene so as to maximize its importance and reap the greatest gratitude.*
Nor could he tell her:
*Order wants to see just what its newly acquired dog is capable of, so we're letting you show your tricks first.*
Escorted and cleared by the elders, Tafman and two others finally succeeded in delivering Elder Qimar to Dorons' head.
Yet the moment the four landed, Dorons' two long brow-tendrils swept across. Two elders leaped up to slash at them, but the newly severed tendrils dispersed an instant later, transforming into countless thick iron chains that bound them fast.
Roaring, the two elders intentionally plummeted toward the neck, driving their weapons deep into Dorons' flesh. To them, Dorons' skin was like a cliff of solid rock, and by using themselves as spikes, they pinned both brow-tendrils in place.
"Set up the array!" Tafman shouted to Qimar.
"Understood!"
Elder Qimar began laying the array. He had the highest mastery of arrays in the Council of Elders; at this moment, he used every spell scroll he had accumulated, aiming solely to complete the array at maximum speed.
By now, Dorons' colossal body had advanced dangerously close to the Dark Moon Legion.
"Behind us are our families! Dark Moon warriors, summon your courage—we cannot retreat!"
The elder commanding the formation issued the final order to lock ranks.
Though this legion was cobbled together on short notice and its formation was loose, the fact that it had not broken in the face of such a terrifying monstrosity was already commendable.
Once the distance closed further, they would have to swarm Dorons like ants, and the casualties would inevitably be catastrophic.
Behind the battle line, artillery rushed to the field had just finished assembly. There were not many, only thirty-odd pieces, and they were small-caliber guns capable only of firing spell shells.
Dark Moon Island's offshore fleet possessed formidable firepower, but by the time they returned, the town would have been trampled who knows how many times over.
The island did have large-caliber spell cannons and magic crystal cannons, but all were installed near vulnerable landing points at the harbor. For nearly a century, Dark Moon Island itself had seen virtually no warfare, all threats neutralized offshore by their fleet. Such military equipment likely suffered from neglect and improper maintenance, but even without such issues, there was no time to relocate them here now.
Dismantling large-caliber spell cannons took time, and relocated magic crystal cannons required reassembling and carving internal array patterns before they could fire—there was simply no time.
Nor could the coastal installations at the docks reach this far inland; Dorons had been slumbering on the island itself, not invading from the sea.
Karen had seen the catapults the Order Knights brought on campaigns. Though they appeared far more primitive than cannons, each catapult was inscribed with spatial arrays. They merely looked antique, yet in actual combat effectiveness and destructive capability, they far surpassed magic crystal cannons.
During the First-Day War, the reason the Order Knights had breached the holy lands of the Church of Samsara so swiftly was that, in most cases, a few salvos from those catapults shattered the defensive arrays entirely. What followed was the knight armies rolling in to crush all organized resistance.
…
"Looks like after this, Dark Moon Island will definitely be begging to purchase war armaments from us—weeping and pleading for them, in fact."
Hearing the bishop beside him speak, Worflen nodded. "Indeed, but the foreign sale of war armaments involves far too much. It will primarily depend on Lord Kred's opinion."
Seated there, Cardinal Kred said nothing, merely watching in silence as the colossal silhouette steadily drew near.
Behind the bishops, more than half of the Whip of Order squads had assembled. On the flanks, two bishops specializing in arrays had already finished deploying formations with makeshift crews.
Their efficiency was leagues ahead of Dark Moon Island's, and the Order priests wore calm expressions, pointing and chatting about the scene ahead without a hint of panic.
These people were a negotiation delegation, yet from a mere delegation of diplomats, experts capable of deploying arrays could be effortlessly found. Such was the terrifying foundation of the Church of Order.
Yet just as Karen had guessed, the Church of Order was in no hurry to intervene; after all, the behemoth was still some distance from the town.
Cardinal Kred rolled his neck slightly, then, as though weary of watching the scene ahead, bowed his head as if dozing off.
On the perimeter, Patriarch Viner neither wailed aloud nor pleaded hysterically. He simply knelt there, motionless.
His heart was at peace;
his heart was also helpless.
…
"How much longer?" Tafman shouted.
"Almost! Almost!" Qimar replied.
By now, centered on him, a large-scale detonation array had been laid out. He was currently embedding precious array materials to enhance its destructive power upon activation.
Teleportation scrolls burned continuously in his hand, steadily transferring in the precious materials he had personally hoarded. Throughout the process, he showed neither hesitation nor regret.
In normal times, the Council of Elders was a venue for factional infighting and power grabs, but facing the threat of their homeland being crushed, they could unite against a common foe.
Just then, Dorons seemed to sense the threat atop its head. Scorching breath billowed from its mouth, and in an instant, white, scalding vapor enveloped the area above its neck. Outsiders could see nothing within, while those inside felt as if plunged into an oven.
Immediately after, Dorons began thrashing its head.
The terrifying inertia and the resulting astral winds created massive interference for Elder Qimar as he set up the array.
Seeing this, Tafman radiated the power of Light, bending down to press his palm against the "ground."
Seeing this scene, Elder Qimar froze.
"Keep setting up the array!" Tafman roared at him.
Elder Qimar immediately refocused on the array.
When Tafman emanated the aura of Light, Dorons, which had been thrashing its head, suddenly calmed down. Though it continued advancing toward the town, it stopped thrashing, seeming to thoroughly enjoy the sensation of Light caressing the crown of its head.
It uttered a deep rumble—rare since its awakening—as if responding to Tafman atop its head, expressing the yearning from deep within its heart.
With Light serving as a medium, their minds resonated together, more direct and pure than spoken words.
Tafman continued radiating the power of Light, tears streaming down his face.
…
Far away on a hillside, Neo shook his head.
"My, my, pulling something like this... you really have no shame, do you? Tsk, tsk. If this actually succeeds, it won't just be boring—it'll be regrettable, even... disgusting."
He reached a hand forward, conjuring a holy pattern of light. As the pattern spun into motion, a white-robed phantom appeared in the center of the pool atop Dorons' shell.
This was the spiritual imprint Philias had left upon Dorons. In the past, it was used to communicate with the beast; after all, it was so massive that even sitting on its back, shouting to it was like trying to holler across mountain peaks.
The white figure mirrored the exact stance of Neo on the distant hillside.
Neo spoke,
and the white figure spoke in unison:
"He has betrayed the Light. Watch your head."
Chapter 273