Chapter 286: The Cup of Life

Compared to the legion’s charge on Julian’s front, Salvador and George were much simpler.

Towering waves surged and then came crashing down. The heavy impact shattered even the fishmen that originally lived in the sea.

The buzzing sound of “Wong~” spread out as Salvador slammed into the ground. Strangely, ripples spread across the land around it, and its enormous body swam across the earth as though moving through a lake.

It was as if endless water surged from beneath its body, controlled by its will, following its massive frame forward.

Even Deep Divers were crushed under its enormous collisions.

It was simply too vast—so vast that merely gliding across the land was enough to trample countless fishmen to death.

Within the waters that spread with its advance, swarms of piranhas darted about, greedily devouring fishmen in the torrents. They then rapidly split and multiplied, spawning new swarms that followed Salvador’s advance.

During this time, it had absorbed the magical power of Lake Salvador to its limits. Beyond creating these torrents, it also allowed the piranhas to multiply rapidly.

This was an extension of its flesh and blood—a manifestation of its magic.

Salvador understood that being driven into the sea was inevitable. Thus, it sought to amass as much power as possible. The magic at the bottom of the lake would be carried away, and the fishmen would also become its strength.

The waters surged forward. George stood firmly upon Salvador’s back, his eyes solemn. Within his sight, the fishmen engulfed by Salvador’s waters seemed to dissolve into them.

The destructive force Salvador displayed made George understand why Priest Agamemnon had to drive it away.

When Greenwood formed into a kingdom, Lake Salvador was at its very center. With such overwhelming power, if it were left unchecked, a single outbreak from this core would devastate half the kingdom’s order in an instant.

Suddenly, the countless eyes beside George opened wide. Scarlet rays burst forth, firing indiscriminate bombardments all around. Flesh and blood of fishmen flew in every direction before being consumed by the waters.

Salvador’s voice echoed in George’s ears, “Over there—that is where the will of that God of the Fishmen resides. They are still preparing the ascension ritual.”

Following Salvador’s faint guidance, George looked northward and saw a high platform.

His pale golden eyes glimmered faintly. Upon the platform, the bodies of fishmen were stacked together.

They clung and pressed against one another, biting each other until they formed a solid mass. The dense scales, the flowing blood, the gnashing teeth, and the pale eyes created a sight that made the body instinctively recoil in revulsion.

Salvador continued, “Human, within our agreement, I will only bring you this far. From here, I shall continue east into the sea. The torrents I created will last for seven days. Any fishmen that enter them—unless they are Deep Divers or Explorers—will be devoured by my children. After seven days, my children too shall journey to the sea.”

George said, “Thank you for your help.”

Salvador gave no reply.

George took a deep breath, lowering his body slightly as the blood within him surged, gathering strength toward his feet.

Salvador said, “No need to be so cautious. My body’s might is not something a human like you should underestimate. If you are too slow, I will cross this land. I will not stop for your sake.”

George nodded, no longer charging his strength slowly. He crouched and suddenly leapt upward. His body shot toward the heavens with such force that Salvador’s massive body sank downward, and several great eyes on its back burst under the pressure.

“Wong~” Salvador let out an imperceptible roar. After steadying its body, it surged toward the sea at an even greater speed. Behind it, faint traces of blood drifted, quickly devoured by piranhas.

……

As the borrowed strength waned, George’s body slowly descended, still some distance from the platform.

Suddenly, over a dozen violet beams shot out from the platform.

His pupils shrank. In mid-descent, unable to react in time, George could only pull the shield from his back, raising it before him to block the beams.

The beams were thin—even thinner than a pinky finger—yet three of them striking his shield blasted George back several dozen meters.

He glanced briefly and saw faint scorch marks upon the shield.

This shield was forged from carefully refined steel, imbued with the Blessing of Holy Light.

From the sheer impact of those beams, George realized they could have pierced steel alone. It was only because of the Holy Light that the shield held.

George had heard that ever since the death of Pegira spread, the Underground City suffered a Dark Creature upheaval. Those Dark Creatures attempted a counterattack, and even several vampires crawled out. People were shocked to discover that the Dark Creatures were no longer afraid of the Morning Star’s radiance.

After suppressing that upheaval, mercenaries captured several Dark Creatures alive and handed them to the Church’s priests. The priests invoked Divine Word, and though it harmed them, it no longer dissolved them entirely as before.

From the bishops’ discussions, George had learned that the Dark Creatures were affected by Holy Light in much the same way as the fishmen. In other words, Dark Creatures could be treated as Aberrants, and Aberrants could be treated as Dark Creatures.

Naturally, these fishmen also required purification.

Landing from the sky, George’s legs struck the ground firmly, crushing a few unfortunate fishmen beneath him.

He exhaled deeply and drew a spear.

By habit, he always carried an Oak Spear. In the past, he would carry more, but this time he had brought only one.

Though oak, blessed by the Lord, carried Holy Light well, the enemies he faced now were beyond what oak alone could handle.

Raising the spear, Holy Light slowly gathered upon it. The faint glow thickened until it was as though he held a ray of light in his hand.

The fishmen on the ground surged toward him. This was the ascension site of the Explorers, and naturally filled with fishmen. They guarded the platform and also served as sacrificial fodder when the accumulated power for the ritual proved insufficient.

Ignoring them, George’s eyes lit up, spotting the Explorer upon the platform. Compared to the others, he bore a crown upon his head, and his body carried a wound cut by a blade—icy cold on one side, searing hot on the other.

That Explorer’s six violet eyes turned toward George, locking gazes as though in challenge.

“Go!” George shouted, hurling the spear with all his strength.

In an instant, golden light streaked through the air toward the Explorer. Along its path, violent force exploded, tearing through fishmen, leaving wounds of raw power and burns of Holy Light.

This was the first time since the werewolves that George had torn through so many Aberrants with Holy Light. He felt this strike carried more bloodshed and less sanctity compared to when the werewolves were dissolved instantly.

Yet George’s eyes remained resolute. He drew his longsword and charged along the path opened by the spear.

The Explorer atop the platform did not move, but two others below raised their thin arms. As though cradling some power, space warped around them. With a push, their force surged outward, shrieking faintly, colliding with the Holy Light spear.

With a thunderous boom, the spear shattered midair. Shards carrying Holy Light fell upon fishmen below, making them shudder as though scalded by sparks.

George’s gaze grew heavy. The Holy Light erupted around him, streaming forward like a torrent as his speed soared.

Several Deep Divers rose in his path. Their dorsal fins quivered with fear, yet under their superior’s will, they marched forward to block him. But the torrent pierced through them as though nothing stood in its way, carrying away parts of their bodies.

The wounds looked as though cut by sharp blades and devoured by Holy Light alike.

The massive bodies of the pierced Deep Divers collapsed. Those behind, freed from their superior’s will, staggered backward and slowly sank into the ground.

An Explorer floated into George’s path, wielding a grotesquely twisted sword in one thick arm while its thin hands wove before its chest, producing sharp, piercing sounds.

A Deep Diver rose before it, exposing its back. The Explorer grasped the sword and stabbed deep into its spine, slicing it open.

The Explorer then slid into the Deep Diver’s wound. Once it vanished inside, the wound closed, and the ground trembled.

The dorsal fin swelled, and the body crawled forth from the earth—larger than a Deep Diver, with ocean-blue skin and calm eyes like still waters.

It lowered its body slightly before charging forward, water vapor shrouding it like flowing streams.

Torrent met torrent as Holy Light clashed with the rushing waters. Fishmen scattered, those too slow either torn apart by light or dissolved by water.

When the torrents collided, space itself seemed to freeze before twisting under the weight of both wills.

This was the purest clash of will and strength. Finally, it erupted, unleashing a shockwave that twisted space, tore the ground, and annihilated the fleeing fishmen.

When the tremors subsided, George stood with only his sword. His shield lay at his feet, twisted beyond recognition. Behind him knelt a headless fishman, its scales peeling away.

George’s eyes grew unfocused. Though he had won in body and will, his own body burned, his head dizzy.

With trembling hands, he drew forth the Cup of Life. As it touched his lips, half a cup of water appeared within.

This water of life was the accumulation of the faith and reverence of the children of Lever Town toward the Cup of Life over the years.

The life-giving water flowed down his throat, cooling the burning heat and soothing his dizziness.

When George drained the cup, his spent strength was replenished, and his body brimmed with power once more.

Stowing the cup away, his eyes fixed upon the platform.

One Explorer withdrew silently and vanished. The fishmen scattered like a receding tide, leaving only the crowned Explorer standing still upon the platform.

Its eyes met George’s—like an invitation.

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