The Death of Loren

Early September. Deep in the night, in Valhalla Canyon. Located about three hundred kilometers outside the eastern border of the Aloran Kingdom, this treacherous terrain of crisscrossing valleys was a secret shortcut leading into the kingdom. Towering cliffs several thousand meters high stood on either side of the canyon, their razor-sharp peaks piercing the clouds. The rock faces were scarred with hideous chasms, resembling countless gruesome wounds etched into the earth. Bright moonlight bathed the canyon walls, where strange vegetation swayed faintly at the edges in the night breeze. Yet the silence that should have reigned was shattered by the roaring din of battle. Every clash brought the deafening rumble of collapsing boulders and falling trees. Surging mana wreaked havoc across the gorge. Rushing streams were forced backward, churning into the air in reverse torrents with thunderous roars. The ground split open repeatedly, with countless bottomless fissures snaking outward, cleaving through the canyon's bedrock layer by layer. Wherever the horrifying aftermath of mana swept, everything was reduced to nothingness. This no longer seemed like power a mortal could possess. At the center of the battlefield stood a woman in silver armor—Juliana, the Undying Sword Saint of the Aloran Kingdom. Her plate armor was crisscrossed with horrific gouges, and crimson blood welled from the rents. Even so, she stood upright as a pine, the pristine, gleaming longsword in her hand radiating a chilling edge, as if capable of cleaving through myriad illusions. Facing her was a black-clad figure suspended high in the air. Draped in an ink-black robe, he hovered with his back to the night sky and the luminous moon, holding a mechanical staff. Through the drifting mist, one could faintly discern a handsome, cold face with indifferent eyes—eyes gleaming with arrogance that looked down upon all living beings. The suffocating wave of mana swirling around him felt like a tangible, crushing weight, pressing heavily on Juliana's chest. Gyat raised his staff once more. In an instant, countless dark silhouettes materialized from the void, blotting out the sky and plunging the entire canyon into shadow. Pitch-black and glistening, twisted like briars with razor-sharp edges, they radiated a chilling menace and surged directly toward Juliana's vitals! Juliana gritted her teeth, her gaze turning razor-sharp. A few dozen minutes ago, the light beast cavalry she led had still been stealthily traversing the canyon, carrying returning students from the Aloran Royal Academy. At the end of August, she had set out to lead the academy's students back to Aloran from the distant Kingdom of Hutton at the easternmost edge of the Eastern Region. War had suddenly erupted mid-journey. The mana rail train was damaged, communications were jammed and severed, and they were forced to change routes several times. Now, they had finally neared the Aloran Kingdom. So long as they traversed the secluded Valhalla Canyon and slipped across another hundred kilometers, they would reach Aloran territory. Then came an eerie, sudden fog, followed by that dread-inducing figure appearing high above the gorge... Juliana had realized at once: Gyat, the Third War God of the Creti Empire who held the Sardonyx Seat, had tracked them down! By all accounts, Gyat of the Sardonyx Seat should have been accompanying the main forces of the Creti Empire on the western front of Aloran. It made little sense for him to take a massive detour and appear several hundred kilometers east of the kingdom! Encountering the Third War God here could only be described as abysmal luck. With a flick of Juliana's wrist, sword light burst into countless phantom arcs, shattering the black shapes to pieces. Yet the pulverized shadows coalesced again in midair, turning into an even denser flurry of blades that choked half the sky! Juliana swung her sword repeatedly in defense. Wherever her blade struck, the silhouettes shattered, dispersing into faint specks of light. No matter how desperately she struggled, an endless tide of dark figures continued to surge, multiplying by the second until they swallowed her whole in the blink of an eye. Countless blades bit into Juliana's armor with piercing screeches. Blood sprayed from the gaps in her plate, tracing dazzling arcs of red through the air. Gyat's illusions and offensive magic blended the false with the real, making it nearly impossible for her to tell them apart. "Break for me—!!" Clutching her gleaming silver sword, Juliana unleashed crisscrossing sword auras, hurling streaks of lightning toward Gyat. Moving with nimble footwork, she shattered stone and collapsed the ground wherever her blade pointed, whipping up terrifying shockwaves that engulfed miles of the canyon. Gyat dodged with effortless composure. His form moved like a wisp of black smoke, drifting through Juliana's sword strikes. Whenever the tip of her blade came within an inch of grazing his hem, he would lightly tap his mechanical staff, conjuring phantom images from all directions to disorient her judgment. Juliana gritted her teeth, fury blazing in her eyes as she charged the War God once more. Specializing in illusions and sealing, Gyat of the Sardonyx Seat possessed mana that surpassed human limits, and his affinities made escaping from his grasp practically impossible. Juliana had no choice but to engage him in a war of attrition, hoping some students could make it back to the kingdom to summon reinforcements. Yet even with her extraordinary vitality, she had no confidence she could hold out long enough against him. The [Seal] attribute countered [Regeneration] too severely, and her spirit attribute was not high enough to grant sufficient resistance against [Illusion]. Gyat's myriad illusions not only controlled and disrupted her, but could even inflict genuine, lethal damage! Regardless, she had to fight. A majestic, torrential aura erupted from within her, sweeping across heaven and earth like the descent of a deity! It was a power capable of severing cause and effect, reversing life and death. What [Original Slate - Regeneration] radiated was the soul's light that had once rivaled the gods! In just a brief moment, her wounds completely knitted together beneath a shroud of mist. "Did you think you were the only one with an Original Slate?" Gyat raised both hands above his head, chanting under his breath. Across the canyon under the night sky, heaven and earth shifted in color as countless purplish-black magic arrays took shape, devouring everything around them. An invisible, divine radiance steadily corroded the very foundation of the gorge. Endless waves of mana collided amidst turbulent currents, producing deafening booms. It was none other than the blessing of [Original Slate - Illusion]. Juliana gripped her longsword, bracing herself for the impact. Behind Gyat, a colossal phantom materialized. Thousands of meters tall, pitch-black, clad in heavy armor, and wearing a demonic mask, it loomed like an archdemon. Boundless mana surged within its roaring bellows, black lightning rolled across the heavens, the earth fractured, and the mountains wailed. Space warped and twisted; even time seemed nearly frozen in that instant. The boundary between life and death blurred. Juliana let out a fierce roar, her longsword carving a blazing arc that unleashed a sword aura like a tidal wave. This was her signature technique—a lethal strike capable of severing the soul! Gyat's expression remained utterly unmoved. With a wave of his mechanical staff, a streak of dark light flashed, and more than half of Juliana's sword aura was sealed in midair! A colossal force crashed into her. Hurtling toward the demonic phantom's giant fist, she was violently flung back and smashed into the canyon's cliff face. Rocks and trees for miles around disintegrated into powder. Dust billowed, blotting out the heavens. Coughing up a mouthful of blood, Juliana forced herself to her feet through agonizing pain. A direct clash was not viable; her recovery speed could not keep up. Even setting aside attribute counters, the enemy's raw strength was far superior to hers. In midair... "Your sword technique... is very similar to a middle-aged man I met a few days ago." The hovering Gyat suddenly spoke, looking down at Juliana on the ground in a tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. "What are you talking about...?" Juliana wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth and stubbornly raised her blade. If he was willing to halt his offensive and grant her precious recovery time, she welcomed it—every second she could stall counted. "Leonard, I believe he was called? A Tier 7 general of the Aloran Kingdom." Gyat seemed amused. Juliana's pupils constricted violently. "A few days ago at the Zerde Highlands, I encountered a legion named the Urn Star Table." Gyat continued his recollection. The Aloran Kingdom's legion had been quite formidable. Backed by fortress defenses, the imperial vanguard could not have easily won the Battle of the Zerde Highlands on its own. Unfortunately, the vanguard had successfully drained the barrier's energy reserves, and Gyat's sudden appearance instantly tipped the scales, wiping out the entire legion. "If you had been there back then, perhaps the outcome of the Zerde Highlands battle wouldn't have been so certain." Gyat absentmindedly analyzed the past engagement. If the fortress had possessed a Tier 8 powerhouse from the start, the vanguard would have struggled to exhaust the barrier. Or so long as the barrier stood, suppressed by its field and supported by rear units, even he would have found it difficult to overpower Juliana while braving the garrison's fire. At the very least, had they held out for a single energy recharge cycle until the energy core cooled and reactivated the barrier, the fortress could have mounted a counteroffensive. Unfortunately, the United Council of Kingdoms' Tier 8 powerhouses could not cover every strategic location, and top-tier combatants capable of rivaling the Twelve War Gods were few and far between. "Instructor Leonard... you fought him?" Juliana's voice trembled. Though she foresaw a reality she could scarcely accept, she still fought desperately to deny the possibility. "Yes. Killing him was effortless. He was weak." Gyat stated it as plain fact, concluding his review and looking down at Juliana. "You're lying! He was the strongest!" Juliana shouted hoarsely, tears spilling uncontrollably from her eyes. General Leonard, who had taught her swordsmanship since childhood, was practically a father to her. That she had risen from a petty thief girl on the frontier into a revered soldier of the realm was owed entirely to his guiding grace. Yet Gyat merely looked at her with faint pity and bewilderment. As if asking: why are you so angry? "Decay Cardinal Farmer even placed a special request with the Creti Empire to bring back Leonard's corpse." Gyat seemed to suddenly remember something. Over the past two years, the Decay Cardinal had harbored a bitter grudge against Juliana. He had specifically named everyone connected to her, vowing that once captured, he would thoroughly dissect and transform them with forbidden magic and biochemical experiments. "Gyat!!" Juliana let out a roar of grief and fury, her entire body engulfed in blinding silver light. Her power peaked amid sheer hatred. Every strike carried the force to tear space apart, and the terrifying pressure of her sword made the entire canyon shudder. Her strikes were wild and sweeping; at this moment, she wanted nothing more than to tear Gyat to shreds! Yet facing Juliana's onslaught, Gyat showed not the slightest panic. At times he cast layered illusions, leaving her disoriented amid the false and real; at times he retaliated with seals, reducing her maneuvers to nothing; at times he teleported, causing her attacks to strike empty air. It was like a cat toying with a mouse. "An amateur of the mind will never be a match for me." Gyat smiled effortlessly, a sinister glow gleaming from his mechanical staff. The next instant, a colossal black vortex formed beneath Juliana's feet like the gaping maw of a demon, instantly swallowing her whole! Juliana let out a shrill scream, feeling the power within her rapidly draining away. She could hardly tell what was a feint and what was a genuine spell, sometimes having to rely purely on luck. That had been a real spell—a trigger-type seal laid by Gyat, capable of absorbing his opponent's mana! Juliana sank to one knee, her entire body trembling violently. She strained with all her might to stand, but her limbs felt heavy as lead. Juliana threw her head back and screamed, her voice echoing to the clouds. Raising her sword high, dazzling silver brilliance lit up the entire gorge. Veins bulged along the back of her hands, and resplendent golden runes surfaced across her skin—the ultimate combat form dormant within her. In an instant, a majestic surge of power erupted through the canyon, her sword aura condensing into an undying dragon that plunged toward Gyat, wild force sweeping across a hundred miles! Gyat's gaze grew slightly more serious. Even driven to the brink, this Undying Sword Saint could still unleash such terrifying might. A cold glint flashed in his eyes as he lightly tapped his mechanical staff forward. Tier 8 Sealing Art: [Thousandfold Myriad Seals]. The next moment, countless chains burst forth without warning, binding Juliana and her surging sword aura from all directions. Nearly berserk, she raised her arm and brought her sword slashing down, the crisscrossing sword aura cleanly severing thousands of shadowy chains! At the same time, her figure blurred, closing the distance to Gyat in an instant, her blade aimed straight at his throat! "Hmph." Gyat snorted coldly, disliking anyone getting close to him. Mist swirled around him, abruptly billowing outward in a wide radius, shifting unpredictably like a clinging shadow. No matter how close Juliana's blade drove, it could not graze Gyat in the slightest. In contrast, Gyat struck with blinding speed. With a single wave of his hand, a streak of purplish-black light shot from his palm, sinking directly between Juliana's brows! Juliana let out a bloodcurdling scream, plunging straight toward the earth like a kite with a broken string. Her internal organs felt as if gripped in an iron fist, making even breathing excruciatingly difficult. This was Gyat's Tier 8 illusion art: [Heart-Forging Soul Reaping]. It could only be cast at close range, severely hindering the opponent's actions while torturing them with agony comparable to being flayed alive! At long range, he would kite and restrict her movements; at close range, she would suffer even more grueling mental torment. Boom! Billowing dust surged upward, veiling heaven and earth. When the dust cleared, a bottomless crater was carved where Juliana had fallen, nearly cleaving the canyon in two! Juliana knelt on one knee like a battered rag doll. Gyat remained suspended in the sky, looking down at her expressionlessly. Though they might still trade several exchanges before the victor was decided, the ultimate outcome was already self-evident. Even the Undying Sword Saint would ultimately be crushed one-sidedly. Gyat spoke no further to Juliana. He merely gathered his mana in silence, watching his dying foe. The magic arrays spanning heaven and earth spun rapidly, converging into a massive black hole. Countless purplish-black pillars of light erupted from the void, sweeping across the world like a plague, reducing everything in their path to cinders. "..." Juliana looked up at the silver moon, intermittently shrouded by dark clouds, knowing she would not survive until reinforcements arrived. Even at the academy students' top speed, reaching an area free from communication interference would take time, and they likely could not contact other Aloran forces by now. In her lifetime, rising from a slum thief girl to a protector of the realm was already incredible fortune. If there was any regret left, it was not being able to walk to the very end with that man. Indeed, for someone of her wretched origins, not even the Goddess of Fate would approve of her ending up with the High Priest. Since it had come to this, even if she died here, she would inflict the heaviest possible blow on Gyat of the Sardonyx Seat. Just as Juliana gripped her hilt, about to be swallowed by Gyat's magic, a biting gale suddenly tore through the sky, crashing into Gyat like an invisible greatsword. "Gyat, crawl back to your Creti Empire!" A voice laced with fury echoed through the canyon—an authoritative decree carrying the weight of thunder. From the howling squall high above the distant gorge, ancient runes covered the air. A figure in a black priest's robe hovered amid currents of air that seemed to turn into pure lightning, setting off crackling cocoons of electricity. His raised finger pointed across heaven and earth, using the invisible sword of air to blast Gyat back. The void ruptured. A deafening roar accompanied by blinding light reverberated through the canyon. Enveloped in black mist, Gyat was tossed backward like a falling leaf, crashing into the distant cliffside and kicking up a storm of dust. Juliana stared at the horizon in disbelief. Recent rumors claimed that if one merely called Loren's name in their heart, he would appear—like a jest of the Goddess of Fate, showing up in places he had no right to be. Even on her return journey, she had heard rumors that Loren had purportedly saved the populace amid the civil turmoil in Palieu, the City of Flowers. Juliana had dismissed it as superstition. She never imagined Loren would truly come here to save her. Juliana's eyes widened in shock, gazing up at the figure descending from the sky. Loren's profile was etched in sharp black-and-white shadows, his brown hair whipping in the violent wind like rolling storm clouds. His gaze was that of an absolute powerhouse looking down upon the earth. "Loren? Why are you here?" Juliana's voice trembled with weakness and emotion. "Juliana, take the students and run toward Aloran. Don't look back." Loren immediately hurled her clear, using wind magic to escort her toward Aloran territory to the west, his voice carrying on the wind to her ears. Streaking across the sky like a tempestuous meteor, Juliana wore a conflicted expression, a flash of struggle and reluctance in her eyes. Yet she understood this was no time for sentimentality. She trusted Loren's strength. Remaining here injured, she would likely fall victim to Gyat's illusions and become a liability that hindered Loren's hands. Moreover, she understood what Loren meant: as a protector of the Aloran Kingdom, she had to return inside Aloran's barrier as soon as possible to maximize her strategic value. The capital could not afford to lose her, lest Aloran become the easiest breach among the three major eastern powers! "Loren! Stay safe!" Juliana steeled her resolve, turned her head, accelerated her flight, and soon vanished beyond the far end of the canyon. "..." Loren didn't understand why Juliana had so readily accepted his presence here—something that defied all logic. Yet the opponent he now had to face—Gyat of the Sardonyx Seat, the Third War God—brought extraordinary pressure. Against a top-tier War God specializing in illusions and seals, Loren was unsure whether he could win. At best, holding him off would not be an issue. Before Loren's voice fully faded, Gyat rose from the rubble. He appeared largely unscathed, his robes not even soiled with dust; Loren's earlier assault had been completely deflected. "Indeed, High Priest Loren comes and goes like the wind, just as imperial intelligence reported, liable to appear anywhere. I truly didn't expect an unexpected harvest today." Gyat looked at Loren as if he had finally met an interesting foe. "..." Loren was unwilling to converse much with Gyat. Talking with an adversary skilled in illusions made it all too easy to walk into a trap. Yet the enemy's words were equally baffling. He hadn't left the Kingdom of Hutton in years; how could even the enemy so casually accept the fact that he was here? He had originally set out to retrieve Lanqi from the Kingdom of Posen. He knew Lanqi possessed unique command and leadership talents, and his role in the war was indispensable. Fortunately, with Paladin Commander Florence and the Chosen Saintess, the Ice Snow Witch, present in Hutton's heartland, the safety of the royal capital, Ikerite, remained secure even with Loren's brief absence. Thus, Loren had set out in secret. Upon arriving in Posen, he learned through local intelligence that Juliana had taken far too long to return to Aloran, which meant she must have run into severe transport difficulties. Considering that imperial War Gods might be lying in wait, Loren had tested the waters with his amateur astrology, and the Goddess had repeatedly sent him ill omens. Unable to put his mind at ease, he had rushed toward Aloran alone. In any case, Lanqi was safe in Palieu, deep within Posen; fetching him a bit earlier or later made little difference. Ensuring Juliana's safe return to Aloran territory, on the other hand, concerned the safety of countless lives. The sky gradually darkened. Beneath the crimson-tinged moonlight, dense storm clouds took on an eerie scarlet hue. Lightning flashed and thunder cracked, howling terrifically as it swept up sand and stones. Loren and Gyat confronted each other from afar, their mana climbing steadily as visible shockwaves collided in midair. The next instant, ten thousand air currents surged into the clouds from Loren's raised palm, condensing into an invisible greatsword that thrust straight toward Gyat. Gyat chuckled softly and waved his mechanical staff. A deep-purple barrier materialized out of thin air, shielding him. Surging mana rolled across the barrier's surface like ripples on liquid mercury. The invisible greatsword slammed violently into the barrier, detonating with an earth-shattering reverberation. The entire Valhalla Canyon rocked and trembled under the impact. The magic cast by Gyat of the Sardonyx Seat was far more potent than what he had used against Juliana. Evidently, facing Loren, Gyat had begun to fight with full power. Emerald gales and deep-purple mist intertwined, unleashing cataclysmic tempests. Wherever Loren's hurricane swept, even the void seemed on the verge of tearing apart. Gyat swung his weapon again, the mechanical staff twisting and reconfiguring into a wand. Streaks of purplish-black lightning fell from the sky, coiling around Loren's limbs like venomous serpents. Loren paused momentarily, but quickly broke free. Once Gyat shifted his staff into a wand, the spell's destructive power dropped, but his casting speed increased dramatically. Loren needed a moment to adapt to his opponent's new combat rhythm. The moment Loren revealed a slight opening, Gyat raised his wand toward the sky, and the heavens abruptly darkened. Countless dark shadows emerged from the void, sweeping toward Loren in a choking swarm. Every shadow turned into a sharp briar with razor-like edges. Loren's expression shifted slightly as he gathered air currents to defend. Whirling currents encircled him like flowing armor, shearing away most of the thorns, though a few still managed to pierce his body. Loren grunted, feeling an inexplicable power rapidly sapping away. With his weapon in wand form, Gyat's damage was no longer as lethal, but his crowd control grew increasingly frequent and vexing. The fierce clash between Loren and Gyat in Valhalla Canyon raged on. Wherever the storm passed, solid rock was sheared to dust, while Gyat wove uncanny illusions, cloaking the earth in purple haze that baffled mortal and spirit alike. Loren slammed his palms together. Instantly, thousands of sharp streaks of wind and thunder roared forth, carrying crushing weight as they charged toward Gyat like the chariots of the gods. With a flick of Gyat's finger, countless purplish-black chains materialized from nowhere, coiling around the wind and thunder like pythons, instantly crushing them into drifting dust. "Tier 8 Lightning Magic... Rumor has it that aside from wind, the High Priest's best attribute is light. Yet it seems you wield every attribute just as proficiently." Gyat smiled with curiosity. "What is your primary attribute, really?" In his view, it wasn't that wind had chosen Loren, but that Loren had chosen wind. Out of the thirty-one attributes, Loren was likely adept in the majority. Loren kept a cold face and offered no response. He disliked bantering with opponents during combat. He had to admit that facing a foe skilled in illusions and seals put him at a disadvantage. His aptitude leaned toward elemental magic; against elemental opponents, he could almost always produce a counter, regardless of their attribute. Yet against elaborate, tricky fields like illusions and seals, he was genuinely unsuited. For now, he could only test which spells were most effective against Gyat. Loren raised his right palm above his head. A pillar of blazing white light shot straight toward the vault of heaven, illuminating the sky as bright as day. Countless dazzling motes of light rapidly gathered in midair, weaving into an immense web of brilliance that draped down over the canyon. "Light magic combined with barrier magic. You truly know a great deal." A purplish-black barrier swiftly coalesced around Gyat, keeping the vast net of light at bay. The two mighty forces collided violently in midair, erupting with deafening thunder. Veins thrummed along the back of Loren's hand as he exerted every ounce of strength to sustain the net. Gradually, however, this clash yielded no result once more. "A pity that I know it too," Gyat murmured. A magic array spanning miles took shape beneath his feet, radiating a suffocating, horrifying aura. Purplish-black motes swirled wildly within the array, transforming into chains as thick as giant pythons that whistled toward Loren's light array. The mana far surpassed before, bringing the air to a standstill as atmospheric pressure plummeted. Loren channeled his mana, swiftly forming a wind barrier before him. Under the clash of barriers, fine cracks appeared across the wind shield, leaving it tottering and precarious. The mana within Loren erupted. In an instant, blinding light burst from him, weaving into a typhoon in midair that crashed directly into Gyat with immense force. Two destructive forces collided violently in the void, releasing an earth-shattering boom. Both barriers shattered in an instant, creating a massive mutual cancellation of control. Loren panted for breath. Across from him, Gyat still appeared completely at ease. Specializing in illusions and sealing magic, Gyat excelled in spirit to begin with. In a prolonged war of attrition, Loren would almost certainly exhaust his mana first. The only option now was to drag things out with all his might, relying more on divine arts than spells to buy enough time for Juliana, after which he would find a way to break away from Gyat. Divine arts drew upon the divine power that composed all things, consuming less mana than standard spells, but daily uses were strictly limited; exceeding the threshold would cause mental collapse. The true dilemma was how to break free of Gyat. That relentless crowd control was far too troublesome; escaping from his grasp might be harder than defeating him outright. At this thought, Loren took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He couldn't afford distracting thoughts right now—he needed to focus entirely on the fight. Unexpectedly, Gyat suddenly retracted all his mana. Elegantly straightening the collar rumpled by the recent clash, he looked at Loren with an amused gaze. "Mr. Loren, do you truly believe my goal is to decide a victor with you?" It was as if Gyat had seen right through Loren's intention to stall for time. He didn't mind indulging Loren's wish. "What do you mean...?" Loren frowned, an uneasy feeling creeping into his chest. Gyat's demeanor was far too leisurely, as if he were toying with prey. Could he have another objective? Loren watched Gyat's every movement closely. "Is it not possible that, from the very beginning, I was stalling you as well?" Gyat answered with a question, casting a meaningful glance toward the sky with a sinister smile playing at his lips. Suddenly, a piercing red glare sliced through the heavy storm clouds, plummeting into the canyon like a colossal comet. The shockwave unleashed a gale that battered the trees across the gorge. Watching the sea of fire ignited by the crimson comet, Gyat raised his mechanical wand once more. Loren had no time to keep watching Gyat as a chill ran down his spine. He whipped his head toward where the red light had landed. The ground had split into a crater hundreds of meters deep, with rolling heat waves billowing outward. At the center of the crater stood a violent figure clad in dark red heavy armor. His black hair flared like flames, and his eyes burned blood-red, their sharp intensity sending shivers through the soul. Scorching heat waves swirled around him, warping the surrounding air. The earth was suppressed by his presence, and the air seemed to combust. "Philip of the Bloodstone Seat, Seventh War God of the Creti Empire?!" Before Loren could recover from his shock, Philip's silhouette expanded rapidly in his vision. Transforming into a crimson blur, Philip lunged forward, throwing a punch. The fist tore through the air wrapped in roaring flames, striking with unstoppable force straight against the light shield erupting around Loren. At the same time, Gyat twirled his mechanical wand, instantly shattering Loren's light shield into countless fragments. Loren was forced to deploy an emergency defensive spell to block Philip's ambush. Seventh War God Philip extended his right fist with explosive power and murderous intent. The moment the sonic boom rang through the canyon, dust exploded outward, and Loren was sent flying backward violently. The savage force brought down the entire valley wall where Loren crashed like a collapsing tidal wave. The impact was faster than thunder, echoing through all of Valhalla Canyon! Before Loren could even draw breath, Gyat struck cold and unannounced. Countless purplish-black chains burst from the earth, instantly binding Loren tight. Loren struggled desperately, but the vile chains clung to him, siphoning his mana like leeches. In the blink of an eye, Philip unleashed another punch. His fist bore down with the weight of mountains, the heat of tens of thousands of degrees setting the air ablaze. Watching Philip's fist close in, Loren knew defensive magic would only be dismantled by Gyat again. His mana surged frantically once more, choosing a desperate frontal clash against Philip. "Die!" Philip laughed wildly, crimson light blazing on his fist as he smashed it viciously toward Loren's chest. Just before the fist made contact, radiant light erupted from Loren's body, mana condensing into a sphere of blazing white light around him. The orb detonated. A deafening roar echoed through the canyon. Blinding white brilliance swallowed Philip's silhouette. Infused with the compressed mana of the Tier 8 peak, it brought his fist to a dead halt! Having traded wounds with Loren in that desperate collision, Philip rose from the rubble. He stood tall, but his skin was severely burned, smoke rising from his scorched flesh. The skin of his knuckles was torn open, crimson blood streaming down his arm. "High Priest Loren is indeed remarkably valiant. Facing the two of us simultaneously, you don't show a shred of fear." Looking at his blood-stained fist, Philip actually laughed. "..." Pale-faced, blood trickling from the corner of his lips, Loren forced his trembling body to stay upright. That strike was not the proper way to fight. Facing the Seventh War God, Philip of the Bloodstone Seat—who specialized in [Enhancement] and [Fire]—one should never clash head-on. With Gyat present, he had been forced to trade wound for wound with this madman to withstand the assault. Facing two War Gods at once, even a battle-hardened veteran like Loren felt immense pressure. Against Gyat alone, Loren had felt he could hold his ground, but the moment Philip appeared, the pressure had multiplied dozens of times over. The only silver lining was that Philip was not as strong as Gyat; that clash had inflicted considerable damage on him. Winning through hit-and-run tactics was now practically impossible. With Gyat's crowd control, escaping was equally difficult. Perhaps his only option was a desperate gamble: take down Philip first, then find a way to deal with Gyat. In any case, he should be able to stall until Juliana reached Aloran safely. Just as Loren prepared for this fight to the death... A faint scent of sandalwood drifted from an unknown origin, entirely out of place with the night breeze sweeping the canyon. Loren's eyes snapped wide, cold sweat beading on his forehead as he looked toward the source. A young man clad in a white robe embroidered with intricate, magnificent patterns already stood on the other side of the canyon. He had short, pale-gold hair and clear features. Yet what set hearts trembling were his serene, clear silver eyes, which seemed capable of seeing through all things. "I have long heard of your renowned name, Mr. Loren." Simonro of the Emerald Seat, the Eleventh War God, appeared in midair as well. With a wave of his hand, he instantly healed all of Philip's injuries. The wounds Loren had traded his life to inflict vanished without a trace, and Philip's martial aura returned to its peak. Loren inhaled sharply, staring at the three War Gods encircling him in this shadowy gorge. He understood their scheme. Even the Eleventh War God, Simonro—a specialist in [Healing] and [Wind]—had arrived. The three War Gods who had come to this desolate canyon hadn't dispatched a single person to pursue Juliana. All three had stayed here for Loren, as if calculating with certainty to eliminate him. From the very start... These War Gods had intended to hunt down the pinnacle combatants of the United Council of Kingdoms! "We originally hoped only to dispose of Juliana. We never expected the big fish we reeled in would be you, High Priest Loren." Simonro of the Emerald Seat spoke with faint regret, a faint smile gracing his lips. "..." Loren took in the scene. Three War Gods joining forces was something he had never imagined. Yet the question remained: How had they planned such a flawless stealth route, bypassing the reconnaissance of the United Council of Kingdoms to arrive here, and accurately pinpointed Juliana's position? The night wind howled through the canyon beneath a gloomy sky and a high blood moon. The three War Gods looked across at each other, all looking down at Loren. Loren stood alone, bathed in the pale red moonlight, his face etched with sorrow. Life and death no longer mattered. What mattered was what he could still accomplish now. "Sorry, Lanqi. It looks like I won't have the chance to see you again." Loren could see no possibility of taking on all three at once, nor could he go retrieve Lanqi. From the very beginning, the ending had been set in stone. Like melting ice collapsing into the waves with a sigh. He muttered to himself. "So High Priest Loren can feel fear too?" Philip of the Bloodstone Seat chuckled at Loren's solemn expression. Loren was the calmest enemy he had ever seen at the threshold of death. It was precisely because of that composure that Philip believed Loren understood the impending despair better than anyone. "Living in this world, who wouldn't feel fear?" Loren cast aside his black priest's robe, leaving only his black shirt. His eyes were like the coldest frozen lake in winter, staring at his three opponents through the howling tempest. "We know the Creti Empire's atrocities inside and out. Even if it isn't me, someone will eventually break this endless cycle and bring down retribution." His pupils seemed flooded with silver light, surging his mana to its absolute peak. Be that as it may. In these final moments, he could shed the shackles of the High Priest— And fight purely as a man!! Outside the eastern border of the Aloran Kingdom, beneath the blood moon, violent winds howled, and a battle echoing the divine era was once again on the verge of erupting. Like lanterns lighting up the horizon, the night sky turned to daylight time and again, only to dim once more into shadow.