Chapter 572: Allow Me To Go First

Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

The day the angels arrived in Isythre was one nobody would ever forget. Some people would remember that the descent happened as a result of the bad blood between the Voidwalkers and the Church. More will remember the splendor with which the angels descended, and others would recall the Holy Light that encased the realm, healing the people of ailments they had suffered for years. There were all miracles worthy of being recorded, but they only mattered to Isythre.

There was, however, an event so marvelous, even the inhabitant of other realms could not help but notice: the brilliance of a supernova.

On that day, everyone in every realm, be it nighttime or daytime, looked up the witness the stars shattering. These people knew that they would not see something as grand as this ever again.

In the diary of one Ignaz the Bard — a renowned litterateur, relationship guru, and researcher of Cute Anime Girls — this grand event was recorded.

‘Bright stars! Can anything compare to the brilliance with which you died? Your death was too sudden, and the sky was destroyed and our minds seared; it is everlasting! The glow from the feathers in the Archangels’ wings… Oh, how they hid in shame under these reverent beams. But, no striking tempest is without its thunder, and this too came with a wrathful rumble: the blare of the herald trumpet, the overture of our march! Let those gilded, divine thrones quake as they hear the defiance in our war cry!’

The Pope, who was still at his seat in the Holy City, could also see the mighty explosion take place, and he thought it was another miracle performed by the angels. No one would have thought that the explosion was the result of some stars being destroyed. The believers of the Church shared the Pope’s thought, so when the sky became incomparably radiant, they began to pray even harder.

Despite their fervency, nothing happened. Then, even more embarrassingly, it was revealed after an hour to all ten million followers in the city that the angels had long since arrived. They just happened to descend directly in Shamshire instead. Needless to say, it put the baffled Holy City in an awkward spot. After all of the city’s wealth and time in creating a beatific, spiritual atmosphere, these angels were not even going to bequeath a look at their display of devotion?

Apparently, as the believers accompanied their anticipation with litanies and hymns, the sky above the partially-ruined Shamshire — due to the late VP Grant’s doing — suddenly broke apart for a pearly gate of light.

No one could tell why these angels had chosen to arrive directly at the frontlines. Was it because they had begun to feel uneased by where the battle seemed to be heading? Regardless of the truth, the Pope himself thought it was a most welcoming change. He very much rather these warriors showed how serious they were of this battle by throwing themselves into the fight as soon as possible than to see them squander their time for ritualistic frivolities.

The technical problem of the angels’ unannounced change of plan, however, was that none of the chosen hosts was in Shamshire at the time of their arrival. So who had the angels picked as their mediums?

The answer was the Church’s troops who were still stationed in the ruined city, such as Archbishop Austin and St. Zachary, the captain of the Templars. While they were on their knees in prayers, they suddenly found themselves shining in a soft, golden glow before rising into the air. When they looked down on their white ceremonial robes, they discovered that their clothes had turned into golden armors as wings of light spread widely behind their backs.

One of Baiyu’s least desired situations had come true. The legion of angels who had come down to fight the Voidwalkers were not kawaii girls in short skirts, but burly men with hairy legs and eight-packed washboard abs. Behold, a group of Billy Herrington [2] with wings and angelic halo!

Baiyi’s nightmare was not the only thing that had come true. With two of the Church’s most prominent and powerful figures selected as the angels’ hosts along with a slew of the most devoted and advanced in power level clerics, crusaders, and templars, the Walkers’ worst-case scenario had also become a reality. Now, high up in the sky above Shamshire, people were rising into the air, their golden wings gleaming brightly against the background blue.

As soon as they had recovered from the enemy’s first sneak attack, the Voidwalkers had climbed to the battlements of the city wall, taking in the uncanny scene of the distant horizon filling with large, golden wings.

The Archmage was the one that spoke everyone’s mind. “Whoa. Here’s an entire troop of pro-gamers right at our first match, guys. From here they all look like a flock of pigeons, though.”

Although calling the angels “pro-gamers” before the match even started seemed like a self-defeating exaggeration, what the Walkers’ really meant was that they were on their most guarded. With a wide-range magic nullification technique as the angels’ first move, it was no wonder that the Walkers, who had just narrowly circumvented the attack, were not keen on underestimating their enemies.

“I sure hope our other teams manage to serve their purpose as distractions later,” the Archmage murmured before counting the number of wings in the sky.

Thirty-five angels had come for The Just War. All of them bore the standard look of a descended angel: eyes blindfolded by a piece of white fabric and bodies hovering in the air with the help of wings of light. They looked as immaculate and imposing as they had always presented themselves to be, exuding a sort of radiant aura that could compel men to grovel at their feet.

The angels soared higher and higher into the sky and encircled Shamshire. They illuminated the city with their intensifying holy brilliance, transforming its ruinous appearance into that of a sacred place akin to the Divine Realm itself.

The first two angels who had taken over Archbishop Austin and St. Zachary’s bodies rose above the circumambulating angels raised their heads high. In their majestic voices, they spoke one after another like a duet.

“Thou art in the presence of Archangel Paimon, Vassal of Tylemus, Lord of Time.”

“Thou art in the presence of Archangel Baal, Vassal of Krachlon, Lord of Nature.”

“We appeareth before thee to mete out wroth judgment to the fiend and enemies of gods who lust after thy Lords’ power. We shalt anon returneth what hath lost to whence it cometh.”

“May ye who accepteth our Lords’ lighteth into your heart taketh us with most wondrous humility. Be blessed with bountiful valor and raiseth thy swords by our side.”

“Whenever there is light, thy highest Lord shalt be with thee!”

The angels’ manifesto was thus delivered in a one-after-another fashion between the two Archangels. Strangely, without raising voices, their words were heard by every believer regardless of where they were in the realm.

Immediately after their proclamation, a curtain of golden light swept through the land to screen for those with the most robust faith. Then, those deemed worthy were designated as the champions of mortals and the angels’ allies, cradled by a golden aura that slowly materialized into a full plate of sturdy armor.

These armor-clad believers suddenly stood up from their submissive position and began to swarm towards the nearest teleportation portal as though they were in a trance. Their ultimate destination? Shamshire, where they would fight side by side with the angels!

Terrifyingly, the Voidwalkers’ latest challengers were indeed an actual army, led by the angels in their armor of light, made of soldiers who were so bewitched by their faith that they forgot to fear death. Just as gods had promised in the Pope’s revelation, the angels were mighty as they were steadfast!

Still high up in the air, Archangel Paimon fished out what looked like a scepter broken by its half.

“This is the all that was left of Bella’s Arbiter’s Right in the Divine Realm. I implore you to be more mindful of how to use it,” Archangel Baal advised.

“Time will be squandered as our troops gather,” Paimon murmured, spying a glance at the streams of humans pooling below their feet like ants. He tucked the scepter back into himself and said quietly, “Humans… Their footwork leaves so much to be desired.”

“But our time is not scarce,” Baal replied reassuringly before pulling out a sword forged out of pure light energy from his sheath. Pointing its tip to Arfin, he raised his voice and ordered, “Andromalius, Dantalion. Go forth and lay waste to the den of the sinners, who are enfeebled by our holy light.”

The two named angels flew out of the circle below Baal’s feet and sped towards Arfin without a word. Below them, a few believers broke off from the congregation and began to follow the two angels on foot.

“Yo, would you look at that? Two of them are heading towards us,” the Archmage said, his eyes never taken off from the two winged figures coursing towards them closer and closer. “Strange, innit? They’re supposedly superior to all mortals, including ourselves, but they still wanted to test us first. They’re more careful than I expected.”

“Ooh, ooh, me me me! I’ll steal their lives in no time!” The Fairy Walker chirped excitedly, still riding the high of beating her romantic competitor earlier.

“Hold your horses, young lady. Your power shouldn’t be wasted on something like this,” The Archmage replied, waving his hand to halt the Fairy Walker from jumping into action. “At times like this, let the elderly pave the way.”

He raised his magician staff. His large flapping robe began to billow noisily under the rising energy as three magical formations materialized above his head, before his chest, and under his feet. From the looks of it, it seemed to be building up for a complicated, slightly time-consuming spell, yet its preparation was over already. At the end of the Archmage’s quick incantation, the old dolt even managed to say, “See? Formations are the true, best way to do magic!”

The three formations moved to align themselves at his chest, and a purple light beam shot out from its middle to the angels. Against the Archmage’s usual style, the attack was unflashy and nondescript, but it was quick enough to reach the first angel’s vicinity in milliseconds.

Eyeing the incoming attack, the angel raised his sword in front of his chest to brace for it while muttering flatly under his breath, “Weak.”

The purple beam pierced through his light-forged blade and bore through his throat.

A mortal would have died on the spot with their vital point so cleanly stabbed, but an angel was no mortal. He remained in the air and rubbed the wound on his throat, nonplussed. To him, the injury was akin to a papercut that would not even require much Divine Energy to recover from.

He was about to bring his power when a new sensation rocked him off his assurance: pain. He had never felt it before.

Bafflement and dull surprise were written all over the angel’s face as waves of agony flared up in his throat. Then, in that moment of confusion, he discovered that the body he was using was rebelling against his control. He moved his hands to the neck and clenched around it, his body writhing uncontrollably. Losing control, the angel fell from the sky.

The body made a heavy thud as it crashed onto the ground. On its spot was no longer the magnificent figure of an angel but a mere nameless crusader, whose that was spilling dark red blood. There was no sign of life on the man’s face.

The sudden turn of event baffled the other angel. How did such a basic attack from their weakened foes manage to take down his comrade? Did something go wrong during their possession ritual?

This slight pause of hesitation cost this angel’s life; another purple beam shot out from the enemy’s city, and this time it punctured through his skull.

The angel quickly learned what had befallen his friend at those exact moments before he crashed onto the earth in an even less dignified manner. By the time the two’s human companions had reached them on the ground, they were terrified to see not the angels but two unknown corpses.

“Bwahaha! It seems that my latest technique, ‘Space Ripper Stingy Eyes’, is a success! This power is truly unmatched!” The Archmage laughed in pride at the direction of the Soul Armature Practitioner.

“Great, now you’re using a JoJo reference as your technique name,” the Soul Armature Practitioner said with a sigh. “With that said, being able to take down two angels like that really shows that our effort in studying Noirciel has borne incredible fruits…”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep