The snow over Brillda began to fall more heavily.
The steadily thickening snowfall drifted down to the foot of the towering Ostro Heights, blanketed by an endless expanse of verdant pine forest.
Along the undulating terrain of the city's western district stood a magnificent, temple-like beige complex—the Imperial Military Staff and the Imperial Army General Headquarters.
At the deepest, innermost core of this stronghold lay the Hall of Divine Descent. Shaped like a subterranean amphitheater, it was encircled by twelve imposing archways. The dome above was inlaid with a mosaic composed of myriad luminescent, immortal crystals, casting a radiant shimmer across the obsidian marble floor below, as though placing the hall at the very center of a starry river.
Today, however, Brillda was plunged into chaos, and the Hall of Divine Descent was eerily deserted.
Directly beneath the transparent glass mirror at the center of the round table was the hall's most mysterious forbidden sector.
Deep in the subterranean depths, a black interlocking puzzle cube glowing with a strange crimson light was bound to a stone dais by layer upon layer of chains, securely enclosed by shimmering anti-magic steel pillars on all sides.
All six faces of the cube were densely inscribed with ancient incantations from the Syros Empire and the Holy Domain of Elsaya. The chains wrapped around it writhed and coiled almost as if alive, exuding the distinct aura of void creatures.
The Gate of the Illusory Domain was originally a supreme sealing spell used by ancient sealers to imprison the immortal Blood Clan. Recorded in the Moon Temple of the sacred grounds, it required a blessed relic of the Wolf Sage as a medium to be cast without cost; otherwise, the caster would suffer a lethal backlash. Later, it had been forged into an equipment card.
No one noticed that inside this mirrored cube, within the infinite space of the Illusory Domain, a violent upheaval was unfolding.
In this banished void realm, every trace of color had been stripped away, leaving only endless desolation. Barren of any vegetation, the landscape was a wasteland of scorched ruins and ghastly void creature remains.
Tremors rippled through the black desert from time to time. A biting gale howled across the expanse, whipping up dark sand mingled with the faint stench of blood.
In this dead, silent void, a solitary figure was still locked in battle.
Clad in a black priest's robe, he blended almost seamlessly into the gloomy surroundings.
His face was taut with vigilance, his short brown hair fluttering in the wind, but his eyes showed not the slightest hint of giving up.
At that moment, black mist surged toward Loren from the horizon, and dark clouds pressed low overhead. Accompanied by ear-piercing rumbles, the entire realm shook violently.
It was no ordinary mist, but a blotting army of void creatures.
Boom!
The ground before Loren convulsed suddenly. Gray-black dust erupted into the air, swirling with spewing volcanic ash, as a fissure snaked out from the depths of the wasteland, jagged and winding, over a dozen meters wide.
Colossal, spider-like void monstrosities scrambled out of the chasm, leading a horde of grotesque, reeking void beasts. Some resembled worms, some aberrant fiends, some ghouls—all saturated with a venomous malice, like dregs shoveled straight out of hell into the mortal realm.
At this critical juncture, a thunderous divine retribution sliced through the lifeless void like a cascading lightning waterfall.
Loren brought his hands together, and a raging airstream converged instantly in his palms, spinning into a silver vortex.
When the vortex detonated, natural disasters coalesced into a roaring hurricane that swept toward the void army.
Natural calamities encompassing ice, fire, light, darkness, wind, thunder, earth, water, and wood flashed within the hurricane, sharp as razor blades. Wherever it passed, void creatures were sliced to ribbons and giant serpents severed into segments, splattering black blood in all directions.
"At least I can cast spells like this freely in here, and I'm getting more and more proficient," Loren thought to himself. He no longer felt any real pressure from these monster swarms.
Unstable spells he had never dared cast casually—or even practice—in the mortal world could now be unleashed without caring about secondary disasters or consequences.
Moreover, for some reason, starting just a moment ago, Loren felt things becoming noticeably easier.
These void creatures felt flimsy as paper.
He could not tell whether the creatures had grown weaker or if he had grown stronger.
Logically, it should have been difficult for him to make rapid progress, as he had already reached the absolute peak of Tier 8 inside the Illusory Domain.
The airflow encircling his body shimmered with cool sparks of lightning as the elemental fury of nature coiled and roared around him.
Every time he raised his hand, a natural disaster condensed and surged forth with overwhelming force, detonating in the air, leaving no void creature alive in its wake.
Wind blades coalesced in Loren's grip, mincing oncoming void worms with a single flick. Lightning plummeted from above, charring void behemoths to cinders in booming blasts. His attacks reshaped the terrain itself—shattering the earth, freezing rivers solid, and leveling everything in the path of his gales.
Finally, Loren looked up toward the canopy of the sky, gazing at the massive, veil-like violet-crimson eye.
An alien divine consciousness that Loren could not fully comprehend even through divine analysis resonated in his ears, enfolding the entire world. Deep within the dark clouds, that veil-like violet-crimson eye opened periodically, an uncanny light gleaming in its pupil.
Loren knew that several of the mightiest void entities inhabited the Illusory Domain. Immortal and indestructible in this space, they seemed almost synonymous with the realm itself. Even he could not defeat them head-on and had to do his best to evade them.
Yet at this rate, he might soon be able to take on even them.
The earth ruptured once more, opening a fissure several kilometers long before him. Void creatures surged out like a tidal wave, flapping, howling, and launching a fresh offensive.
Loren narrowed his eyes, lightning crackling across his pupils as thunder crashed down from above, striking the center of the hurricane with pinpoint accuracy.
Battle erupted anew.
Within moments, snow-white ice crystals drifted down from the sky, scouring the remaining carcasses of the void creatures until not even ashes remained.
"Strange... Where did I get so much power of faith?"
Standing unmoved on the glacier forged from his own magic power, Loren murmured in perplexity.
Now he finally understood the true reason he had grown stronger.
It was not that the void creatures had inexplicably weakened.
He had genuinely become more powerful.
Even across the dimensional barrier of the Illusory Domain, Loren could sense a near-overflowing surge of faith attempting to pierce through the foreign space and infuse into him, giving him a faint premonition that he was beginning to transform toward the Tier 9 divine domain.
Long ago, he had often felt that much of the faith gathering upon him had come out of nowhere. But the surge washing over him now was on an unprecedented scale.
If it was not a hallucination, once this staggering amount of faith truly settled into his being, he would likely break through into Tier 9 immediately.
"No way, right?"
To skip straight from reaching the Tier 8 limit to completing the hardest step—gathering enough faith—and ascending directly to Tier 9?
Loren was utterly bewildered.
There were far too many things he could not make sense of.
Yet historically, whenever such a phenomenon occurred, it almost always meant that vast numbers of helpless people were trapped in dire peril and praying for someone to save them, causing such an immense concentration of faith to gather.
Rather than figuring out why the faith had chosen him, what worried him far more was what in the world had happened outside over the past two months to make them seek salvation from someone who had vanished without a trace.
***
Meanwhile, up on the surface, the snow fell thicker and thicker.
"The Brillda Mafia has mobilized in full force, executing a premeditated strike aimed directly at several key energy hubs across Brillda, completely bypassing the garrisons of the First Gendarmerie Brigade of the Capital Garrison and the Imperial Special Operations Division."
The broadcast voice of a news reporter echoed from every giant screen across Brillda.
Whether in the major kingdoms or the southern titan that was the Creti Empire, municipal laws strictly prohibited the use of destructive combat magic in core urban zones. Utility magic enjoyed broader leeway, but entering a combat stance immediately triggered security warnings and suppression arrays.
Only in select special districts could high-tier magic be unleashed without restraint, and Brillda had its share of such zones.
They were categorized into legal combat zones and gray areas.
For instance, the Silver Moon Restoration Society of the Midnight Council, which had recently become a frequent topic among Brillda's citizens; the Mist Watchers, long treated as an urban legend; the Dawn Order tasked with maintaining order in the Pantheon, including Chief Ritualist Simonro; the Voice of Truth Group, the news media conglomerate controlling Brillda's most authoritative broadcast channel; and long-established factions like the Moat Port's Brillda Mafia—all either held official permits for combat zones or commanded their own gray territories.
"However, the situation has now completely changed."
"Setting aside the riots ignited by the Brillda Mafia taking advantage of the turmoil, with this many Tier 8 combatants clashing simultaneously, the city defense barrier can no longer keep up with the suppression."
"It is like a group of Tier 8 hero units diving towers on the battlefield; even without a minion wave, the defensive infrastructure simply cannot handle them."
On the screen, studio analysts were discussing the developments with grave expressions.
The footage of the primary battlefield at Creti Memorial Square, where Loren and Hyacinthus confronted each other, remained relatively static. But the several other Tier 8 battlefields being broadcast made the camera screens shake intermittently.
In the southeastern sector of the city...
Winter in the port district of Brillda was marked by howling gales carrying fine, swirling snow.
Across the sprawling harbor, only the wind echoed between the vast stretches of empty shipping containers.
Snow coated the staggered containers, softening their rigid edges.
Above this steel labyrinth of containers and narrow alleys, several figures appeared, trading blows.
"As I said, I only want to stop you from interfering with our companions seizing the eastern energy station. I have no desire to fight to the death with you."
At the head of the group stood Migaya, draped in deep, shadowy magic that branched out into countless threads floating behind him, guiding a multitude of black marionettes.
He raised his hands and addressed the pursuers.
The pure black sky began to take on an eerie crimson tint, and the air seemed to solidify.
Having been forced all the way into this gray zone, they could indeed unleash their abilities without restraint.
Correspondingly, the War Gods showed every intention of letting loose and settling matters of life and death.
In this harbor belonging to the Brillda Mafia, the War Gods could fight with absolute destruction, free from worrying about harming Brillda's civilians.
"I knew you would back Chief Priest Loren. So it really is you, Duke Migaya," Jasper said with a sneer from the front of the opposing line.
"There's really no need for this. Can we call a truce here? If you don't attack, we won't either," Migaya said, gazing at the Brillda Mafia's territory with utter heartache.
This was legitimate imperial property, and his wife was even a shareholder. Fighting here was nothing short of wrecking his own home.
"What do you think?"
Fourth War God Jasper radiated blue brilliance, a cold gleam flashing across her azure mechanical eye.
She had no intention of trusting this man.
Besides, with three of them against three on the other side, they held the advantage; there was no need to adopt an evasive strategy.
"Duke Migaya, our apologies, but we must place you under arrest and move to support our comrades elsewhere. Of course, you are also welcome to surrender."
Beside Jasper, Eighth War God Canzel cut an even more imposing figure in his black plate armor, his modified cybernetic body gleaming with a frosty metallic sheen.
Just then, a blood-red comet streaked across the horizon, trailing a long tail like the fangs of a rabid hound, tearing the sky open with a deafening roar.
"Cut the chatter! Let's fight!"
Accompanied by this furious bellow, the figure of Philip of the Blood Carnelian plummeted from the sky, landing firmly beside Migaya, who promptly dodged aside with an expression of weary resignation.
The newcomer wore dark crimson armor, his black hair flying like flames, his eyes bloodshot and terrifyingly fierce.
Scorching heatwaves rolled off him, distorting the surrounding air.
Instantly, fierce combat erupted.
Originally, the matchup was Migaya against Fourth War God Jasper of the Jade Seat, and Iphatia against Eighth War God Canzel of the Sunstone Seat—a two-on-two deadlock where both sides were evenly matched.
However, Talia, fighting nearby against the Seventh War God, struggled to counter his single-target onslaught while needing to conserve her mana. She had no choice but to merge her battlefield with Migaya and Iphatia, letting her sister and brother-in-law absorb some of the pressure.
"Sorry! I couldn't hold back this battle maniac!" Talia called out, pursuing right behind Seventh War God Philip and apologizing to Migaya and Iphatia.
Under her control, countless gray fissures manifested and spread through the air, stretching like cobwebs toward the enemies to tear everything apart.
Jasper and Canzel struck simultaneously, dashing through the air with the momentum of wind and thunder to press the attack!
Containers were shredded under the impact of magic, carving massive craters into the ground as steel rebar disintegrated to dust in the blistering heat.
"It's fine, Sister! Protect yourself and stay behind me!"
Iphatia knew her sister could not afford to expend too much of Lanqi's mana.
"You dare lay a hand on my husband and my sister? Now I'm mad too."
Appearing as a silver-haired young woman, she no longer wore her usual naive expression as she faced the three War Gods, her voice dripping with chilling malice.
Seizing an opening, she drew back, flicking her hand as flames of curse transformed into dozens of black fire serpents, coiling toward Jasper and Canzel.
"Bring it on!"
Philip of the Blood Carnelian had fully entered a battle-crazed frenzy.
He threw his head back and roared, blood surging as crimson magic patterns flared across his skin.
With a furious bellow, the earth beneath his feet shattered, and hundreds of pillars of fire erupted into the sky, rushing straight toward Migaya, Iphatia, and Talia.
The pitch-black curses burned like hellfire, twisting and rending the air wherever they swept.
Under the extreme heat from both sides, shipping containers melted and deformed, the scorching airwaves over the charred ground vaporizing the falling snowflakes.
"Good thing I can act as the healer. Let's just stall them slowly, then."
Instead of retreating, Migaya advanced. With a sweep of his hand, dark threads responded, weaving a massive net before him that completely absorbed the surging pillars of fire. At the same time, he began healing the two sisters, chanting dark incantations to provide them with continuous attribute enhancements.
The terrifying shockwaves kicked up wild winds and colossal waves, setting the entire harbor into a churning tempest.
***
In the southern sector near Saint Creti Monastery...
Heavy snowflakes swirled in the howling northern gale, weaving a white curtain that nearly obscured the sky.
The pristine snow reflected what little daylight remained, casting an eerie bluish-purple halo where the earth met the heavens.
Saint Creti Monastery stood solitary amid the blizzard, like an island in an endless expanse of snow.
The faint shimmer encircling the monastery was cast by its defensive barrier, enveloping the holy grounds to ward off external intrusion and protect the students.
As if radiant light and deep gloom descended at the same moment, six distinct figures manifested in the void outside the barrier.
Suffocatingly powerful mana and atmospheric pressure radiated from them, causing the entire barrier of Saint Creti Monastery to tremble faintly under their presence.
Inside the monastery, priests and students watched the catastrophe from their dormitory windows, all color drained from their faces.
"Why have the Chief Priest's subordinates come here?"
"They were probably trying to cover their companions who are seizing the energy stations, and ran into the War Gods."
"The mana ripples from those three... don't feel human..."
"They're demons! Even powerful demons who should have gone extinct long ago are aiding Loren! Did he borrow the power of devils to crawl back from hell?"
Normally, if Headmistress Violet had been present, they would not have feared an incursion by Tier 8 demons in the slightest.
Yet Violet was presumed dead following the Blood Clan upheaval days ago. The Holy Domain of Elsaya at Saint Creti Monastery had lost its greatest protector and now had to rely entirely on reinforcements from other War Gods.
As murmurs surged back and forth, the students and priests inside the monastery displayed a mixture of terror, confusion, reverence, and fury.
"All faculty and students, do not panic! Do not leave the protective barrier under any circumstances! Three War Gods are currently shielding us. Follow the monastery's directives. Should any mishap occur, I, Acting Headmistress Naila, take full responsibility."
The broadcast continued to echo calmly across the monastery grounds.
Outside the barrier, high in the distant sky, the three Great Demons confronted the War Gods in tense silence.
At present, the command structures of the First Gendarmerie Brigade and the Imperial Special Operations Division were in total disarray.
Colonel McCrae and Major General Nikolai were making blunder after blunder, to the point where their forces had actually begun exchanging fire.
"Those two pigs are trying to shift blame onto each other, fighting among themselves even now!" Tenth War God Julius of the Red Tourmaline cursed, listening to the reports coming through his earpiece.
"I've always said the Imperial Special Operations Division shouldn't have been left outside the Capital Garrison Command. This is the lingering trouble left by Emperor Saint Bardo," Ninth War God Ryan of the Amethyst remarked, equally exasperated.
Yet they could not afford to dwell on such details.
This was a melee involving multiple Tier 8 powerhouses.
They had no time to clean up after the First Gendarmerie Brigade and the Imperial Special Operations Division.
"What kind of monsters are you?" Twelfth War God Bianca of the Cat's Eye demanded, pointing sharply at the three figures across from them.
"You may call me the Lord Protector."
Leading them was Antanas, her wine-red short hair flying wildly like flames in the freezing wind, accentuating her strikingly fair, stunning countenance.
Having reverted to her original combat form, she curved her red lips into a sharp arc that seemed drenched in blood and killing intent.
"We have now pledged ourselves to the Church of the Goddess of Fate, accompanying our fellow demon, the Ice Snow Witch, to preserve the balanced order of this world."
Beneath her white mantle, Sinnola wore a black gown, floating beside Antanas with her eyes half-closed on her plain face.
In her role as the Lord Spellbreaker, she leisurely raised her right hand. A pitch-black scythe materialized from thin air, a cold, somber light gleaming along its blade.
"You may choose to cease hostilities and remain here, and we will not strike either."
Pranay's expression was detached, utterly indifferent to his surroundings.
He raised his chin slightly, cloaked in an aura of aloof distance, as though born to gaze down upon mortals from on high.
"The three of us are far stronger than the three of you. Why should we agree to a truce?"
Ninth War God Marquis Ryan's gaze was calm and sharp, his emerald eyes deep as the ocean. Yet at this moment, they were keen as a blade, staring straight at the demons like a lion poised to pounce.
He raised his right hand slightly, his fingers curled around the phantom hilt of a sword, prepared at any moment to summon his sharp magic blade.
Though he hesitated internally, he could not afford to show hesitation before the enemy.
"Don't think I'll hold back!"
Just then, Julius's dark red eyes flared with fierce light. He pointed forward, and his heavy cannon roared, scorching energy coursing wildly through the barrel before swelling to its absolute peak!
A blinding pillar of light surged forth, tearing through the void with destructive force as it blasted directly toward the demon camp. Spidery fractures tore open in space wherever it passed, spewing gale-force winds and chaos.
The beam whipped up layered shockwaves, driving the blizzard in an overwhelming wave toward the demons—a furious roar capable of shaking the very foundations of heaven and earth!
"It seems you've chosen to fight."
A cold smile tugged at Sinnola's lips; she had already heard her brother's prediction.
She lifted one hand and flicked the scythe in her grip. A black barrier rose instantly, blocking the path of the searing white light beam.
The dazzling pillar of light struck the barrier reinforced by Antanas, erupting into a violent blast of fire.
In an instant, two entirely opposing energies collided fiercely, scattering beams of light that pierced straight into the clouds.
The sky over southern Brillda was illuminated bright as day, brilliant pyrotechnics bursting from the clash like a miniature sun blazing midair.
Inside the monastery barrier, the students watched in utter shock, their eyes wide with disbelief. A few younger students lost their footing, their knees buckling as they trembled in terror, their faces pale as ash.
"Julius, calm down, meow!!"
Bianca's tail bristled straight up in fright. She grabbed Julius, trying to stop him from recklessly firing again.
Whenever she witnessed Julius's behavior, she would sooner believe herself to be a traitor than suspect him of having any subversive designs.
"Julius, let's hear what they want first."
Ryan also raised a hand to hold Julius back, his palm slick with cold sweat as he warily watched the three demons opposite them.
Duty demanded they fight the enemy; displaying hesitation now would easily lead their companions to mistake them for traitors among the War Gods.
Yet Ryan was thoroughly unwilling to wage war near Saint Creti Monastery.
His sister was inside.
Ryan could not fight purely for imperial glory like Julius, because at this moment, his sister's safety outweighed everything else.
***
As the hour drew near to ten o'clock—the designated moment of the final duel—all of Brillda remained shrouded in chaos and tension.
To the north of the central district, beneath the crystal canopy barrier, the streets were completely deserted. Only the howling wind whipped up the remaining snow, letting out shrill laments.
Amidst this silent street, a figure gradually emerged from the blizzard.
"Simonro's barrier is finally complete. I can finally move."
A man in a simple white physician's coat with short, silver-white hair grumbled softly under his breath.
Barely twenty minutes ago, Lukayed, Fifth War God of the Mica Seat, had assisted the Imperial Special Operations Division in repelling the Silver Moon Restoration Society's assault on the Manhote District energy station, successfully securing the hub in the north-central part of the city.
Thanks to his presence, the skirmish had been resolved effortlessly without casualties, and the residents had been evacuated far away under the direction of the Imperial Special Operations Division.
While the operation had appeared grueling to the Special Operations Division, Lukayed had barely broken a sweat. He still carried his dark-gold medical kit on his back, his immaculate white coat touched only by a few snowflakes.
"Should I reinforce Ryan's side? Doesn't seem necessary... Jasper's side doesn't really need me either... Saron wouldn't want my help anyway. Forget it, I'll go help Jasper break their stalemate."
Lukayed muttered to himself, squinting as if sensing something.
Suddenly, his expression changed, his gaze turning grave as he looked into the distance.
He sensed an exceptionally powerful magic fluctuation nearby.
His heart tightened, and his pace involuntarily quickened.
"Halt, Lukayed of the Mica."
Just as he was about to leave the street, a cool, crisp voice rang out unexpectedly.
Lukayed stopped his hovering advance and turned toward the voice.
At the end of the street, a slender female figure walked slowly forward.
She was enfolded entirely in frost and snow, her silver-white hair cascading to her waist, dancing in the wind like frost, blending seamlessly into the blizzard.
"Ice Snow Witch Almis..."
Lukayed narrowed his eyes slightly, speaking her title in a calm tone.
As a priest of the Church of the Goddess of Fate on the Northern Continent, the Ice Snow Witch possessed a fair degree of renown on the Southern Continent as well.
"Mr. Lukayed, though I am sorry, I must intercept your advance."
From the start, the Ice Snow Witch's objective had been to tie down Fifth War God Lukayed.
Both being healers, neither possessed overwhelming offensive capabilities. Even if Lukayed was stronger than her, breaking through her ice-attribute crowd control to force his way past would be exceptionally difficult.
And wearing each other down would make it hard to determine a victor quickly.
"If possible, I truly have no desire to fight a priest like you."
Lukayed's expression shifted slightly as his hand moved to the medical kit on his back.
"Likewise."
As the Ice Snow Witch spoke, the temperature around her plummeted drastically. Frost condensed into rings of ice crystals, refracting a faint blue light. Dark clouds churned in the sky, and snowflakes rose spontaneously from the ground.
"Under ordinary circumstances, sparring with an honorable opponent is a pleasure. But fighting you here today is truly terrible."
Lukayed frowned inwardly.
Terrifying magic power swirled around the Ice Snow Witch, almost tangible. The air condensed from the chill, and a thin layer of frost gradually crept up the buildings on either side of the street.
"Since we've crossed paths here, allow me to witness the strength of the Fifth War God."
As the Ice Snow Witch's words fell, a gale laden with ice and snow howled forth, whipping up a blinding flurry as it pounced fiercely toward Lukayed.
The biting wind cut to the bone. Lukayed felt a sharp sting on his cheeks, and even the magic power throughout his body seemed on the verge of freezing over.
Yet he did not panic in the least. Shifting his stance, he charged straight into the blizzard.
He slapped the medical kit on his back; a portion of alchemical toxins surged into his body, granting him comprehensive physical enhancement, while another portion transformed into an incendiary agent, beginning to melt the frost that locked down the street.
***
In the western outskirts, on Mount Ostro...
The boundless peaks of Mount Ostro rose in layered ridges, their slopes blanketed in snow that gleamed with brilliant silver under the storm.
Yet this serene scenery was shattered by thunderous commotion echoing across the sky.
"You really are strong, Second War God, Saron of the Obsidian!"
Sigrid leaped into midair, unleashing a radiant, silver-clad punch that bored clean through a snow-capped peak.
A ranged blast of titanic force surged straight for Saron's face. Saron reacted with blinding speed, bringing his black blade across to parry. The collision of blade and fist erupted in a deafening crash.
The two forces locked in a contest of strength, sending tremors through the mountain that cracked boulders and split the earth.
Saron exerted force through his wrist, his dark blade gleaming with chilling light as he attempted to seize the offensive.
Anticipating the move, Sigrid caused a blinding silver aura to burst from her fist, refusing to yield him even half an inch of initiative.
They clashed across the sky one moment and crashed into the ground the next, uprooting trees in their ferocious melee.
"..."
Though Saron remained silent, the earnest focus in his eyes showed that he had found an opponent he had long anticipated.
He thrust his black sword forward, his technique shifting abruptly. The tip of the blade traced an uncanny arc through the void, bypassing Sigrid's punch in a flanking curve before striking downward toward her slender neck while her guard was momentarily down.
Sigrid's pupils contracted. At the critical split second, she jerked her head aside, barely evading the strike, yet her body was hard as steel, withstanding the blow through sheer aura reinforcement.
Her entire form shone as though bathed in pristine moonlight. She drove her fist forward, the strike carrying the momentum of a roaring dragon and the fury of a hurricane.
"Exhilarating."
Saron swiftly pulled back his sword, parrying the avalanche of force while shifting to active defense, weaving layers of sword curtains before him.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
A flurry of metallic clashes rang out like an iron foundry in full swing, tearing open the layered curtains of snow across the sky.
On the far side of the mountain...
Third War God Goyate gripped his mechanical wand with both hands as countless strands of dark-purple spider silk erupted from a magic array, pouring toward the ground like a torrential downpour.
Wherever the silk touched, life seemed drained from all things—trees withered, snow was ground to dust, and even the drifting air froze solid.
"Stop running!"
For Goyate, this opponent felt uncharacteristically easy to handle. Savoring the horrifying tremors from Saron's fight nearby, he even felt relieved that his opponent was the Cardinal of Dimensions rather than the Bishop of Domination.
The magic threads surged forward, snapping toward Torriador like hungry wolves.
"Aaaah!"
Torriador wore a look of sheer terror, scurrying away with his head tucked in. No matter how he dodged and leaped, the threads followed like a shadow, closing in step by step.
In the blink of an eye, the silk wove into a colossal web, sealing off all avenues of retreat, poised to engulf him.
He had no choice but to dive into a spatial rift, blinking dozens of meters away before resuming his flight.
"Are you going to fight or not?!"
Goyate's blood pressure was beginning to spike.
The Cardinal of Dimensions wasn't actually weak, but he did nothing but run, feigning helplessness the entire time. After dragging this out for so long, Goyate was thoroughly irritated.
Goyate had already switched his mechanical staff into its fastest-casting, lower-power wand form, yet the Cardinal of Dimensions still managed to slip away.
Even on the far side of the distant peak...
Sensing the one-sided chase between Goyate and Torriador, Sigrid and Saron felt both distracted and speechless.
"Are all of your Cardinal Bishops this quirky?" Saron asked, sword held at the ready during a rare lull in their clash.
"Not really," Sigrid replied, standing against the wind. Her pale hair billowed, her eyes gleamed like violet stars, and her posture was as imposing as a war goddess descending upon the world.
Bathed in pure moonlight, her fists clenched, she exuded a chilling presence that declared her intent to conquer everything before her.
The two stared each other down for a moment before striking simultaneously. Sigrid threw a punch packed with titanic force, aiming straight for Saron's face.
Saron flicked his longsword, blade flashing as he deflected the titanic blow.
Meanwhile, on the other end of the battlefield, Torriador looked as though he was on the verge of being caught.
"Help! Murder!"
Torriador scrambled frantically to evade Goyate's attacks.
"Keep shouting, and I'll..."
Goyate's eyes sharpened with genuine intent.
A cold light flashed in his gaze as he lightly pointed his mechanical wand forward.
The next instant, countless chains manifested out of nowhere, locking Torriador and his spatial portal down from all directions.
A dense mist swirled around Goyate, expanding outward over a massive area, drifting and clinging like a shadow. No matter where Torriador fled, he could not put an inch of distance between them.
Goyate struck with blinding speed, sweeping his hand as a beam of purple-black light burst from the mechanical wand, aimed straight for the back of Torriador's head!
"Lady Sigrid, save me!"
Torriador had no choice but to envelop himself in a six-sided spatial cube, slipping into a near-immune state that allowed him to bypass all of Goyate's sure-hit spells.
"Torriador, don't interrupt my duel with Saron!"
Sigrid threw a feint at Saron before flashing in front of Torriador, using the force of her fist to drive Goyate back.
Though she spoke sharply, she exchanged a brief glance with Torriador.
Torriador had deliberately lured Goyate over to force a two-on-two situation.
This was an outcome both of them had wanted.
Before her words fully settled, a chilling glint slashed in.
It was Saron's black blade.
Sigrid dodged to the side.
Silver light flared brilliantly from her fist, blasting toward Saron from a distance.
At the same time, the mechanical wand in Goyate's hand shifted back into a slower-casting but far more powerful staff. A chain magic array formed in the sky, and binding threads poured out, descending over Sigrid and Torriador like a web.
Sigrid felt her movements hitch.
"Goyate, you can't hold a candle to Askson! His sealing magic was far scarier than yours—he could actually go toe-to-toe with Sigrid!"
Torriador raised a hand to erect a spatial barrier, cleanly intercepting that web of threads and deflecting it elsewhere.
"You think you're qualified to talk?!"
Goyate landed on the ground and struck his staff heavily against the earth. The ground cracked open, and countless vines burst from the fissures, coiling skyward like giant serpents before whipping fiercely toward Sigrid.
Meanwhile, Saron brandished his black blade, his sword intent biting and cold. With every slash, the void was severed, tearing open several black voids.
Facing the pincer attack of vines and spatial rifts, Sigrid was unstoppable. Her fists hammered out in succession, an overwhelming barrage of strikes whose shockwaves blew the falling snow away and shook the entire mountain peak.
Radiating dazzling silver light, she resembled a deity descending to the mortal realm, pounding the vines into ash and tearing the black rifts apart with her bare hands.
The terrain ravaged by their battle was left in utter ruin.
Towering pine trees were ripped out by the roots, lying scattered in heaps with shattered branches and broken stone pillars, while scorched earth and rubble littered the pure white snow.
Most terrifying was the weather: lightning danced wildly, gales screamed, and the falling snow was whipped into a vortex by the violent air currents, unable to settle. The entire expanse of Mount Ostro wept under this earth-shattering clash, trembling before the chaotic brawl of four peak powerhouses.
Yet as the fight progressed, Goyate began to feel that something was amiss.
The Bishop of Domination and the Cardinal of Dimensions treated him as though he were on their side, not attacking him at all.
The two Cardinal Bishops focused entirely on double-teaming Saron, almost as if creating the perfect opportunity for Goyate to launch a sneak attack against Saron.
Even Saron was forced to start guarding against Goyate.
"Goyate, you should not have interrupted my battle," Saron murmured with slight displeasure, not even looking at him.
Earlier, the fight between Goyate and Torriador had felt far too staged, as though Goyate were merely playing around with him.
Given the current situation, however, they had no choice but to fight a chaotic two-on-two.
"Saron, I am not a traitor!" Goyate shouted in furious frustration.
Yet he realized the moment the words left his mouth that it sounded even stranger.
It sounded almost as if he were asking Saron to lower his guard so he could strike him.
"Doesn't look like he's that easy to fool," Torriador and Sigrid whispered to each other.
"Saron, don't let them get in your head! They're despicable Cardinal Bishops of the Resurrection Church!"
Veins bulged on Goyate's forehead as he listened to their whispers.
To his ears, their words meant literally that Saron wasn't easy to trick.
To Saron's ears, however, it carried an entirely different connotation!
The earth-shattering battle resumed on Mount Ostro.
A slaughter bordering on the divine domain was beyond mortal comprehension.
"Switching plans," Sigrid and Torriador said in an open scheme. Instantly, Sigrid charged toward Saron and Goyate.
She shattered Saron's sword curtain with a punch, only to be forcefully teleported by Torriador's spatial displacement, appearing directly in front of Goyate and slamming a fist toward him.
"!"
Though Saron reacted in time, he did not dare step in to block the blow for Goyate.
If he took the full force of the Bishop of Domination's strike head-on while exposing his back to Goyate—who was acting extremely suspicious—a single slip would mean his defeat and death, spelling disaster for their allies.
In that split second, Sigrid gave Goyate no chance whatsoever. The violet eyes that usually held an easygoing calm were now coated in freezing frost, replaced by decisive, unyielding slaughter.
Like a tempest, she drove her fist deep into Goyate's body!
The berserk force of her strike caused the entire ridge behind Goyate to collapse like a crashing tidal wave. Their initial collision was swifter than thunder, echoing across the entire city of Brillda!
A massive fissure cracked open across Mount Ostro as if the mountain were being swallowed whole, collapsing step by step. The exquisitely carved sculptures and glass panes of the Capital Garrison Headquarters shattered instantly, fragments scattering in the wind.
In the rubble, Goyate's furious eyes reflected Sigrid's figure as he was blasted downward.
Even though Goyate's battle instincts slowed the world down in his perception during a crisis, Sigrid's lethal strike had approached without making a sound. By the time the sonic boom reached his ears, he had already been struck, and only then did a fatal crack erupt in the air.
Without giving Goyate a single moment to catch his breath, Sigrid's pursuit arrived before him once more.
"Goyate, let's go play somewhere else!"
Like a falling star, Sigrid knocked Goyate away, propelling him toward a separate battlefield to the west.
Going all out now, her skin was enveloped in a faint silver radiance, pure and sacred as a crescent moon. This was no spell, but the phenomenon born from the flawless synergy of her physical constitution, immunity gear, the Original Slate, and her fist intent.
Sigrid possessed an Original Slate distinct from those held by the other Cardinal Bishops—the [Original Slate - Foundation].
When she threw a direct, basic attack with everything she had, the slate triggered, granting a massive surge to its destructive power.
"Goyate!"
In the distance, Saron dove down to intercept Sigrid on Goyate's behalf.
At this moment, Saron realized that Goyate truly might not be a traitor; otherwise, Sigrid would never beat him within an inch of his life like this.
Even if it remained an enemy trap, Saron could not stand by and watch Goyate die.
Yet before he could finish his descent, Saron felt his vision warp, as though stepping through a spatial wall, finding himself back high in the sky.
"Your opponent is me now," the Cardinal of Dimensions, Torriador, spoke up.
At this moment, his voice was no longer flippant, facing Saron with deadly seriousness.
"Sigrid, the rest is up to you," Torriador muttered silently toward the direction Sigrid had vanished.
"..."
Saron stared with mixed emotions at Cardinal of Dimensions Torriador.
He realized he had fallen into their trap.
Torriador's entire objective had been to swap opponents with Sigrid—having Torriador stall Saron while Sigrid crushed Goyate.
The Cardinal of Dimensions' earlier cowardice hadn't seemed fake.
Yet this same Torriador, who had been chased all over the place by Goyate, now dared to challenge the Second War God, who was far stronger than Goyate. Saron found himself entirely unable to read what kind of man Torriador truly was.
"Heh, Mr. Saron, could we settle this peacefully?"
Watching Goyate get blasted into the distance like a silver comet, Torriador finally made a proposal to Saron.
He was already beginning to feel scared.
Lanqi's strategy had worked wonders in successfully swapping their targets.
However, all the pressure had now shifted onto him.
"Devious tricks."
Even Saron, who was usually devoid of emotional ripples, was nearly provoked to anger.
He needed to hurry and help Goyate.
Since both Goyate and Torriador had become the sacrificial roles, the match now came down to which of the advantaged fighters—him or Sigrid—could break through their opponent first.
"Give me a break! My attack power might not be that high, but I'm top-tier at staying alive!"
Like an acrobat, Torriador manipulated the spatial ripples around him to keep Saron from leaving.
Enclosed in a transparent six-sided cube, he floated in midair; any attack would pass straight through him.
Just then, Saron's sword suddenly quivered.
Torriador turned his eyes in shock toward the center of Brillda.
It was a disturbance far exceeding the combat on Mount Ostro, so immense that the concussive force could be heard echoing through the triple barrier even from this distance.
This could only mean one thing—
The battle between Hyacinthus and the white-robed pope had begun.
***
Amidst the snow, the Hall of Divine Descent reached toward the clouds.
Its crystalline facade still radiated a dazzling golden brilliance, as though magma flowed beneath its surface.
It was a miraculous stone that had remained indestructible through hundreds of millions of years.
Yet at this moment, the structure shuddered violently under the heavy impact of Goyate's body.
Though Goyate had taken consecutive lethal blows at close quarters in sheer fury, he possessed numerous damage-reduction and life-saving items. His body was not blasted away again; he quickly stabilized his stance between the ground and midair, dark purple mist formations bursting from him. Reflecting the rage in his eyes, an invisible magic barrier unfurled before him, withstanding Sigrid's punch. As his figure vanished into concealment, concussive sound and airwaves rippled outward in successive rings.
"You despicable wretch, Sigrid!"
Having resisted Sigrid's onslaught, Goyate resumed his retreat, every word spat out like a curse. His heavy, cold magic carved gouges into the gloomy hillside like blades, striving to seal off all space between him and Sigrid with illusions and sealing techniques.
This woman was too monstrous.
She was simply unstoppable.
From the moment he realized the lane-swap tactic between Sigrid and Torriador had succeeded, Goyate knew this woman had come to kill him.
His figure remained concealed, his breath ragged, his footing somewhat unsteady. The snowy mist cast shadows across his face, making him look all the more pale and haggard.
"What on earth was this creature fed growing up...?"
Goyate ground his teeth, his voice low and raspy, venom dripping from his tone.
He had fought opponents who possessed only raw stats without complex mechanics.
For example, Juliana, the Sword Saint of the Kingdom of Aloran who held the [Original Slate - Rebirth].
He could easily suppress such opponents, thrashing them until they had no room to retaliate.
The Bishop of Domination's mechanics were even simpler than Juliana's.
The problem was that her stats were ridiculously overtuned.
It felt as if the Moon Goddess had balanced her numbers with her feet, and her aura felt eerily similar to Violet's.
She wasn't even human; she couldn't be stopped.
Violet had been a stat monster too, and one with mechanics to boot. Goyate had never understood why a priestess like Violet possessed physical stamina and strength comparable to a warrior's.
A perfect race like the Wolf Clan, which possessed no weaknesses and only advantages, had truly gone extinct for good reason—their very existence was fundamentally unfair!
"As long as I reach that place...!"
Goyate fled desperately, praying that Saron would break through Torriador as soon as possible, or better yet, that Hyacinthus would swiftly defeat Loren. Right now, at Creti Memorial Square in central Brillda, Goyate could clearly sense Hyacinthus and Loren clashing—the terrifying might of those divine-era slashes felt like the wrath of a god.
And he had to stall for time before Sigrid caught up to him.
He still had an unequipped epic card he hadn't retrieved.
It was stored at the very bottom of the Hall of Divine Descent.
[Illusory Domain]
[Card Type: Equipment Card]
[Rarity: Orange Epic]
[Attributes: Sealing / Illusion]
[Tier: 8]
[Effect: Can drag a target into an illusory barrier, continuously summoning illusory void creatures within the barrier to assist in combat. If hard crowd control is successfully maintained on the target for five seconds or more, they can be imprisoned within the Illusory Domain. Until unsealed, the Illusory Domain cannot be used again.]
[Note: It may have sealed space and time together. The interior of the Illusory Domain is akin to a parallel world without any concept of time; everything within is thoroughly disrupted and frozen in stasis.]
Only by reclaiming the [Illusory Domain] would he have the means to fight back against Sigrid.
Maintaining crowd control for five seconds could usually only be achieved after beating an opponent into an extremely weakened state.
Even if he could not directly seal Sigrid, he could use the illusory barrier opened by the equipment to constrain her, fighting on his home turf to stall until Saron arrived!
Goyate produced a seal carved from sardonyx and pressed it into the groove on the temple doors.
In an instant, layers of restrictions lifted one after another, and the heavy stone doors slowly parted to grant him passage.
Goyate slipped inside, dissolving into a dark shadow amidst the heavy snow before vanishing without a trace.
He knew that without other War Gods guarding it, even the barrier of the Hall of Divine Descent could not hold Sigrid off for long.
The Bishop of Domination's fists could shatter anything in this world. Even against Saron's sword, Sigrid had met it head-on with her steel-like fists. Just thinking about it made Goyate's ribs ache; he never wanted to be hit by such a thing again in his life.
Only the temple at this moment gave him a shred of comfort.
The interior of the temple was solemn and grand, filled with ethereal, lingering music.
It was a heavenly melody played on harps, flutes, and wind chimes.
The melody rose passionately one moment and murmured softly the next, cloaking the entire hall in an atmosphere of sacred serenity.
The music seemed to chant sacred psalms, yet also whispered histories from tens of thousands of years ago, purifying the soul, soothing wounds, and bestowing infinite peace and salvation.
Thin morning light filtered through the rose window, scattering vibrant colors across the floor and decorating the interior in shimmering splendor.
Goyate's figure flickered like a specter down the corridor, arriving at the sanctuary of the War Gods.
Just as Goyate breathed a sigh of relief, a brilliant silver light suddenly illuminated the exterior of the temple, rising like a full moon to dispel the sanctuary of shadows.
Sigrid was already demolishing the walls.
Every concussive blast made Goyate's scalp tingle.
He terrified himself with the thought that the horrifying wolf-woman might appear behind his back at any second.
Even as the thought crossed his mind, the rumbling behind him grew increasingly violent.
Sigrid had likely breached the Hall of Divine Descent.
"You despicable wolf-woman, I'll take you down with me!"
Goyate bellowed, forcibly driving what mana he had left to erect barrier seals down the corridor he traversed.
However...
Through his detection spells, he realized this woman had no intention of following the corridors at all.
The Bishop of Domination completely ignored walls, smashing straight through any obstacle she encountered. Even if it took a fraction longer, she flatly refused to navigate the hallways.
Cold sweat instantly drenched Goyate's forehead.
This barely slowed her down at all.
Her thought process had been entirely different from normal people from the start.
The Bishop of Domination was hunting him down along a straight, direct path.
No, he could not let her succeed!
Goyate sprinted with everything he had toward the center of the Hall of Divine Descent.
Before long, however...
He noticed the light beginning to dim.
It wasn't that the light had faded, but that a shadow had overtaken him.
Before Goyate's mind could finish processing the realization...
The shattering sound that had seemed deeper inside the building only a moment ago was now right before his face!
"I need to take you down fast, or my man won't be able to hold out much longer."
A woman with green hair and violet eyes occupied his entire field of vision out of nowhere, her gaze looking down upon him with chilling sharpness.
Lanqi could withstand Hyacinthus, but Hyacinthus was no fool; if he noticed Lanqi only defending without attacking for too long, he would realize something was wrong.
She needed to complete the most crucial step of Lanqi's plan.
Without giving Goyate any room to react, Sigrid slammed her fist into his body once more!
The berserk force churned through the interior of the Hall of Divine Descent like a crashing wave, collapsing it in a roar faster than thunder that shook the entire Ostro mountain range!
The floor tiles of the hall cracked open, caving in step by step. Goyate and Sigrid plummeted into free fall, crashing into an entirely new, cavernous subterranean chamber.
"Admit defeat, Goyate."
Sigrid glanced around the underground sector of the Hall of Divine Descent, stepping toward Goyate, who lay slumped dispiritedly against the ground.
"Heheh..."
Shadows crept across Goyate's forehead, yet the bloodied corners of his mouth slowly curved into a smirk.
"Didn't see that coming, did you, Sigrid?! This was my escape route all along!"
The moment Goyate's mana began to flow, the black interlocking puzzle cube behind him—glowing with eerie red light, bound by chains atop the stone dais, and flanked by flickering anti-magic steel pillars—began to twist and unlock!
A terrifying force surged, as though poised to drag both Goyate and Sigrid inside in the very next second!
Yet before Goyate's laughter could fade...
His eyes widened as if he had seen a ghost.
Mist billowed outward.
As if a deity were tolling a bell, ripples of golden divine-era radiance spread into a tempest, expanding from the Hall of Divine Descent until it swept through the entire city of Brillda, heralding the birth of a supreme powerhouse of the Tier 9 divine domain into the world.
Standing amidst the misty radiance was a man whose eyes were filled with equal bewilderment.
Like melting, collapsing ice, sighs rippled across the air.
He stood alone in a black priest's robe, bathed in sacred hymns, his face full of compassion. Having long transcended the threshold of life and death, the only thing he heard within the power of faith was the suffering of all living beings.
Life and death seemed to matter no longer to this man.
Yet to Goyate, this was a sight far more terrifying than death itself.
"Lo—Loren?!" Goyate screamed.
Chapter 849