This afternoon, Lanqi had spent some time saving the Destruction Great Clerics and acquiring the Three Phantom Demons. That evening, sensing that the city-state's barrier had dissipated, he made his way toward the source of the battle in the northwestern district.
"That bastard had the nerve to lay a finger on Talia! Beat the crap out of him!"
"Just let me out! See if I don't rip him to pieces!"
At that moment, the furious voice of a woman was still echoing relentlessly in his mind.
Back in the northern continent, Lanqi had obtained a noble Pink Sacred spell card, [Forbidden Curse Seal], from the Herrom Endless Library. He then had the [Poet of Great Love] combine it with the mechanics of [Hymn of Compassion] to forge a new magic—
With the target's consent, he could sign a temporary subservient contract with a demon, transforming them into his familiar summons and establishing a faint telepathic connection.
And once they possessed the traits of a summon, they could be sealed into magic cards by the [Nuclear Fusion Wolf].
Earlier, during the bishop election, Lanqi had lent the Three Phantom Demons to Side. Now, the three great demons had reverted to being Lanqi's familiars.
The corresponding trouble was that after forming the contract, they would constantly chatter in his mind. Antanas in particular was exceptionally noisy.
Lanqi's head was currently filled with her voice.
Though Antanas had wanted to rush in as backup, Pranay advised Lanqi that if the situation could be resolved without utilizing their power, it was best to avoid deploying them—though Pranay would launch ultra-long-range offensive magic if necessary.
Because if the three of them intervened, the enemy would very likely confirm the existence of these three Tier 8 powerhouses after today.
As the ultimate information asymmetry in their combat strength, it was naturally best to keep them hidden.
In the end, Lanqi accepted Pranay's advice.
"Why... did you trick the Son of Destruction into running away?"
Hyperion looked up at Lanqi, asking somewhat nervously.
"The Three Phantom Demons are my trump cards for going to the Creti Empire to rescue Duke Mikhail and Duchess Ephatia. It's too early to expose them on the battlefield now," Lanqi replied with a helpless smile.
"..."
Hyperion instantly clutched Lanqi's clothes tightly, at a loss for words.
She had said words of gratitude so many times that she was running out of ways to express them.
All she could do was etch everything into the depths of her heart, waiting for the day she could repay him.
After quite some time had passed, she finally loosened her grip slowly, as if suddenly realizing something.
"By the way... could you put me down now...?"
Hyperion's face flushed slightly as she mumbled.
Without realizing it, she had let Lanqi hold her for a long time. Earlier it was because Salomon hadn't left, or perhaps because she hadn't yet recovered from the shock. But now that Salomon was completely gone, there was no reason for Lanqi to keep carrying her.
"Can you stand firmly? Are you injured anywhere?"
Lanqi didn't move, merely asking.
"Uh..."
Hyperion hesitated for a moment.
"I feel... like my leg might be slightly sprained. Could you..."
She felt too embarrassed to continue, wondering if her lie was already far too obvious.
"Then I'll carry you somewhere safe," Lanqi answered.
"Thank you for the trouble."
Hearing Lanqi agree, Hyperion felt even more sheepish, answering with her head bowed.
"It's fine. You're very light. It's no trouble at all."
Lanqi smiled.
"..."
Hyperion should have felt pleased by such a sincere compliment, but now she only felt a bit panicked.
Just how did he manage to never mention it directly, yet make every single word revolve around it...?
Forget it, stop overthinking.
Hyperion simply closed her eyes, leaned against Lanqi's shoulder, and pretended she was already asleep.
...
Meanwhile, on the other side.
In the central part of South Vantina's main city near the southern district, turmoil and unrest permeated every corner. From time to time, the rumbling of the earth echoed from the southernmost reaches.
In the streets, officers in polished armor hurried past, the heavy clanking of their footsteps echoing through the quiet night air, seeming to constantly remind the town's residents that the danger of tonight was far from over.
And amid this tense atmosphere, a lone figure slipped quietly through the dark, murky alleys.
Cloaked in a dark mantle, his footsteps were light and nimble, blending seamlessly into the night.
In the narrow alleys, dilapidated stone buildings cast mottled shadows beneath the moonlight. The intermittent flicker of lights in the windows betrayed the residents' anxiety and dread over this turbulent night. Occasionally, a cat's mew or the creak of a wooden door drifted from some unseen corner.
Salomon used a bit of everyday magic to clean the bloodstains from his face, unwilling to let anyone see that he was in poor shape. His steps moved as though he knew the path like the back of his hand—or perhaps someone was actively guiding his route. He wove deftly through the shadows, dodging the occasional patrolling soldiers. Even in such turbulent times, he appeared remarkably composed.
Finally, after crossing a street, a faint glint of torchlight and a familiar figure appeared ahead.
"Lord Holy Son, please take this path," guided the Great Cleric who had come to receive him, gesturing ahead.
Salomon nodded, turned around the corner, and stepped into an even deeper, darker alley.
He had already briefed these loyal Destruction Great Clerics on the upcoming plan one by one.
The Great Clerics in the eastern district were preparing to launch a final assault.
Those stationed in the northwestern district were to assassinate Lady Hyperion the moment Loren was lured away!
And those in the southern district were tasked with securing his retreat.
When the time came, even if a furious Loren came in pursuit, he would prioritize rescuing the civilians whose lives were threatened by the Great Clerics. Or rather, all the civilians in South Vantina's urban districts were now Salomon's hostages.
Salomon could hardly wait to see Loren's frantic, impotent fury.
Loren was strong, all right.
Pity he had traded his brains for it.
From the stories Ivanos told, Salomon had deduced that Loren was someone incapable of making the right choice in a dilemma. Especially when faced with the dilemma of saving a specific individual versus saving the masses, an indecisive Loren who wanted to save both would end up saving neither!
"Although I don't know who's clashing with Marquis Somerset in the south, Loren, you're ultimately far too naive," Salomon sneered with malicious glee.
Suddenly, Salomon felt a chill at his lower back, instantly followed by a piercing pain that seemed to drain every ounce of strength from his body, radiating outward from that icy coldness into all his limbs and bones.
He could hardly believe it.
Right then, the Great Cleric following behind Salomon plunged a dagger viciously into Salomon's kidney.
Salomon turned his head in dazed shock, only to see that the Great Cleric who had been trailing him had an utterly frigid gaze, having already leaped backward to open up distance.
"You..."
Trembling in disbelief, Salomon sank onto one knee.
What terrified him wasn't just the betrayal of this single Great Cleric behind him.
It was the silhouettes of a crowd of Great Clerics emerging from the end of the alley.
They were all Great Clerics of the Destruction branch. Their task today was to lie in wait for an opportune moment to attack, draw enemy fire after the successful assassination of Hyperion, and facilitate Salomon's escape.
Yet now, their eyes were clouded and vacant, as though thoroughly brainwashed, as they advanced toward Salomon with heavy, measured steps.
"Salomon, how cruel you are..."
"He was right after all. You only want us dead. Only he truly loves us."
"You are the obstacle on our road to happiness..."
"You must die here today!!!"
Some of their eyes bulged nearly out of their sockets, pupils unnaturally dilated, bloodshot, and frenzied. Others had their eyes and mouths curved like crescent moons, their horrifying aura and eerie grins resembling a pack of serial killers that only prowled the dead of night.
Under the faint, crimson moonlight, their shadows stretched long and twisted across the dark alley. The muscles on their faces twitched as if from prolonged strain. Mumbling words like "love," "happiness," and "Lady Goddess" under their breath, every breath they drew was accompanied by a bizarre, tremulous shudder.
Then, time seemed to accelerate.
Every single Destruction cleric charged like madmen at the battered Salomon.
Salomon was utterly dumbfounded.
Just what kind of unspeakable evil had these people encountered to end up like this?!
Salomon's heart pounded like a war drum, blood coursing furiously through his veins as an intangible terror took hold.
No, run—he had to flee to the south!
Since Loren was in the northwest, the one clashing with Marquis Somerset in the south was most likely that mysterious cardinal.
They shouldn't have been fighting in the first place, because the Blood Clan and the Resurrection Church weren't mortal enemies.
He had to get the message out that an evil god was lurking in South Vantina!
As long as he could reach the south of the city, find Marquis Somerset, and reach that cardinal from the northern continent, there was still hope for survival!
Chapter 510