Chapter 256: Holy Sword

“Lastly, this is also my request as a father. I hope Cicero can die as a human.” Pegira finished speaking, and his body disappeared within this space.

Corleon’s calm gaze finally grew a little complicated, but in the end, he only let out a sigh.

He raised his hand to summon the Light Orb Pegira had given him, gently stroking it once, before pushing the Light Orb outward.

The Light Orb slowly drifted, touching the wall that was about to turn into light. Then, as though there was no obstruction at all, it passed through, gradually accelerating, rising, rising, rising—constantly rising—until it finally stopped before the Morning Star, which radiated infinite light and heat.

Outside the Morning Star, there was a floating tower so small in comparison it was like a speck of dust.

Inside this floating tower was Aivas. His body curled inward, appearing almost transparent and illusory, with only a single visible blue heart beating steadily. With each beat, dense blue magic overflowed from his body, absorbed by the floating tower—or rather, actively drawn from his body by it.

The floating tower stood as though confronting the Morning Star, or as though it opposed something within the Morning Star.

The Light Orb formed by the Holy Spear did not linger. Very quickly, as if having found its target, it fell—falling, falling, endlessly falling—until it descended like a meteor.

…

Outside the Church Nation’s Holy City, countless Fishmen surrounded the city. In one section of the encirclement, there was a massive breach, where a regiment of knights in black armor—crafted from some unknown material—stood in formation. Around them emanated an ominous Mystery.

The Fishmen instinctively avoided this area, but some restless ones who trespassed inside saw the black knights. Immediately, their bodies swelled and twisted before bursting apart, dissolving into puddles of black water that tainted the ground.

Suddenly, one of the black knights raised his head, his eyes glowing red. Soon, two more knights’ eyes lit up with the same crimson hue.

“Is it Pegira’s doing?” a voice asked.

“It feels twisted even just sensing it… is that the Holy Spear?” another asked with uncertainty.

“He couldn’t resist striking at us?” a third voice questioned.

“No. The impact site is not here, but on that newborn god.” The first knight replied.

“He’s insulting us? Why kill that thing and not us?!” The second knight roared angrily. He was Wrath among the Original Sins, and he considered it an insult not to be killed first. His fury blazed.

“It’s not certain he acted at all. Isn’t he close to death? Could this be his final strike?” the first knight said.

“No way. If he really wanted to strike at a god, he wouldn’t be so gentle. He would grab the god, shackle its will, and beat it savagely—then tear apart its body, its will, its everything—finally making it into some grotesque thing.” The third knight said.

“So he’s already dead?” the first knight asked.

“Why don’t you sense it yourself? We are his sealed ones.” The third knight sneered.

But before they could act, four more knights’ eyes lit up.

“He’s dead.” Their overlapping voices rang eerie, spreading beyond the space reserved for the black knights, sweeping across the Fishmen. Those struck by the voice swelled, twisted, and exploded one after another into black water that corroded the land.

On the Fishmen’s side, the commander of the assault—a Fishman Explorer blessed with the descent of the Fishmen’s God—suddenly lifted his head. In his eyes, a light streak fell from the sky.

Sensing danger, he roared, stirring the Fishmen into chaos. The Deep Divers he commanded rose from the earth, restless and howling, stomping down Fishmen beneath them in blind frenzy.

The Explorer wanted to flee, but he felt locked onto, certain he would be killed even in the deep sea.

Crack—his body twisted, as if something tried to escape from within.

It was the will of the Fishmen’s God, trying to abandon the body, even willing to share its Authority with him.

But it could not escape—both the Explorer and the god’s will were shackled, awaiting despair’s arrival.

The light struck down. The earth shook as if by a meteor, tearing apart and sending violent shockwaves outward, crushing nearby Fishmen. Even the distant walls of the Holy City cracked with a massive fissure.

As the tremors ceased, the latent force of Original Sin spread. The already dead Fishmen twitched again, their bodies swelling before bursting into more black water.

Seven knights emerged from the black waters, gazing at the Fishman Explorer pinned to the ground by a very familiar great spear.

“As expected, it is the Holy Spear. Just seeing it makes me feel unwell.”

“Pegira is truly dead. If he still lived, our wills would already have been erased.”

Before their eyes, the great spear slowly floated up, transforming into a golden Light Orb, which then streaked into the distance.

“That direction? That boring fellow?”

“Looks like Pegira passed the Holy Spear to him?”

“Does he want him to continue suppressing us?”

“Hahahaha! We’d better pay him a visit then—lest he forget us.”

“And what of the Church Nation? Gluttony, those monsters you cultivated won’t be able to breach it relying on just these knights.”

“When the Fishmen’s side births a new Fishmen God, they will attack the Church Nation again. Through the newborn god, I already marked all Fishmen with the target: to erase the Church Nation.”

“Then why not change their Faith? Why not let them fall into Original Sin?”

Gluttony fell silent before muttering, “…I did not think of it.”

“Looks like he beat the wits out of you.” The other six knights laughed.

“When they condense another god, I’ll change their Faith then,” Gluttony said.

“Forget it. After experiencing this once, the Fishmen will surely choose to ascend through flesh, not by summoning a blank will. With the Faith of millions—or even tens of millions—you may not capture it before your true self emerges.”

“Let the Fishmen have the Church Nation. Have the Original Sin Knights seal its exits so none can escape. I can’t wait to greet him again.”

…

At the border of the Diocese of Rod, within the marshlands polluted by Original Sin, ripples stirred. Seven knights crawled out, staring at the towering cross before them.

“Pegira, that liar, is dead, isn’t he?! Did he give you the Holy Spear? Why didn’t you strike me with it just now?! Do you look down on me?!” roared the knight possessed by Wrath’s will.

The cross glowed faintly, and Corleon’s will manifested above it, gazing at the seven Original Sin Knights.

“Hahaha, you’ve come out. I am—” Before the voice could finish, he saw Corleon raise a hand. In it was the very Light Orb they had just seen.

Corleon gripped the orb and lifted it high. In his hand, the orb condensed into a Holy Sword that radiated pure light.

“Run!” One of the Original Sin wills shouted. Then Corleon swung down the Holy Sword.

Boom—an endless torrent of light exploded forth, the golden surge instantly engulfing the seven wills. It cleaved across the long stretch of black mire tainted by Original Sin, opening a pure path through it like parting the sea.

The golden torrent surged past the corrupted lands into the domain of the Sinful Aberrants, swallowing those tainted by Original Sin, only fading once it reached the Holy City of the Church Nation.

On the Holy City’s walls, knights who had climbed up in alarm after the earlier earthquake now stood stunned at the sight of the pure, radiant road before them.

A massive figure stood up, taller than even the walls themselves.

“Patriarch! This…” A knight pointed at the road, then turned to the Patriarch, at a loss for words.

Patriarch Darks stared at the road, his gaze reaching far into the Original Sin territories, where the corrupted surged toward the road, desperately trying to corrode it through self-mutilation.

Darks spoke in a muffled voice. “Odysseus, I now appoint you as the leader of the Virtue Knights. You and the remaining three Virtue Knights must leave.”

His voice boomed like muffled thunder, shaking the ears of all who heard.

Shock covered Odysseus’s face.

Darks continued, “Before leaving, you must take the Original Sacred Scriptures with you. Follow this road to its end. Only then can the fire of the Church Nation survive.”

“The Holy City is about to fall.” His gaze turned toward the great fissure in the wall, where knights directed civilians in a futile attempt to patch it.

But Darks knew—the Holy City had once been reinforced by the Three Sages through the Earth Veins, and now that it was breached, even Fishmen could gnaw through its walls with their teeth.

Odysseus looked at the fissure, then at the endless blackened land beyond the walls.

He knew that was Original Sin’s corruption. Anyone stepping there would be polluted, save for the few Virtue Knights.

The Sinful Aberrants had long since encircled the Holy City, advancing only because of the Patriarch’s might, leaving the assault to the Fishmen.

But if this continued, once the food reserves were exhausted, the Holy City would fall.

Suddenly, Odysseus asked, “What about the Saintess? She went to seek aid from the Corlay Family. They have many Sacred Relics—perhaps they can break the blockade to the Northern Kingdom.”

After a pause, Darks replied, “Her mission ended long ago. Whether she lives or dies no longer matters. The Corlay Family cannot be relied on, and the Northern Kingdom is merely another Principality of Corlay.”

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