image [https://i.imgur.com/eY2gF5l.png]

"There isn't even a sliver of hope for you to defeat me! Why resist?"

"Because my goal is to protect everyone, and you pose a threat to the happiness I strive for!"

"YOU... ARE SOOO... BORING!!"

With a powerful stomp, the very earth quaked beneath him. "I will demonstrate to you what true power is... I WILL SHOW YOU ALL! YOU MEAN NOTHING!"

Raising his hands, a chain of lightning arced between his fingers, a sinister dance of purple and black, the two colors drawn together. This was the "Shadowbolt Torrent," a spell of the 6th tier, requiring vast amounts of magic to cast. Each second of the casting demanded tremendous mana, especially for those less skilled in magic. It was intricate to cast and perilous to maintain, as the spell bore a risk of explosion.

Yet he performed it flawlessly. And from his fingertips, malevolent bolts of lightning danced.

"I will show you... the essence of true fear! Tremble and repent, for this is the magic of 6th tier!"

He directed his lightning toward Mila and Contii. The two of them hastily conjured defensive holy magic, reinforcing it with their combined efforts. A radiant pillar sprang into being, a haven against malevolence.

Yet The lightning bolts tore through the radiance as if it were paper. The protective shield stood no chance; the lightning detonated upon impact, obliterating all in its path. Contii was thrown skyward by the sheer force of the spell's shockwave.

Mila turned her head in desperation, witnessing the event unfold. She screams Contii's name in vain, watching his body flung into the distance as the electric shock convulsed his body.

With their defense shattered and Contii incapacitated, Mila stood weakened in the aftermath of the devastating magic hurled her way. The power Yosef wielded surpassed her comprehension. She was dazed; how could such immense power be harnessed?

Yosef poised for his next assault, once more opting for the shadowbolt torrent. The purple lightning bolts weaved between his fingers, his eyes gleaming with excitement at the ease with which he dispatched Contii and thwarted their defenses.

Yet his arrogance prompted him to speak, delaying his strike momentarily. "Graybeard's life is forfeit unless you accompany me."

"I have faith in Graybeard! Your lackeys can never defeat him."

Yosef chuckled in response to her words.

"What's amusing?" Mila demanded, her anger palpable.

Yosef's chuckle grew into a laugh, his eyes a reflection of madness. He spoke, "While it's true my followers might struggle against Graybeard—he is just a proud dwarf—BUT that doesn't mean he can prevail against 'Her'."

"Who is this 'her' you're referring to? Enough with your games, tell me!" Mila demanded, a sense of dread washing over her at the thought of someone stronger than him was present.

Graybeard... please... don't do anything stupid!

Yosef's eyes turned serious as he replied, "You'll find out soon enough..."

He's toying with me... and defending is no longer an option...

Before he could launch his attack, Mila assumed an offensive stance with her sword raised, ready to overcome whatever challenge lay ahead. Beneath her demeanor, she silently cast a spell, a technique Arbious had taught her. His counsel resonated: in battle, concealing intentions until striking was paramount.

"Air shards."

Her spell was as silent as the wind. As she invoked it, the air condensed into ice-like projectiles that hurtled toward Yosef. But it was already too late.

The second barrage of lightning attacks tore through both her projectiles and defenses with ruthless efficiency. The lightning struck Mila directly, coursing through her body and sending her convulsing in agonizing pain. Steam rose from her form as her body absorbed the electric shock. Her eyes widened with the intensity of the assault she endured. The realization of her helplessness began to set in, slowly gripping her consciousness. Her mind threatened to go blank, her resolve crumbling under the weight of her adversary's overwhelming power.

"ENOUGH OF THIS!"

A melodious yet commanding voice resonated across the city.

The clamor of hooves followed, and Yosef's attention was drawn away as a commotion arose. Before him materialized an assembly of knights. Bedecked in gleaming white armor that emanated an aura of holy magic, they rode forth on majestic steeds, each knight armed and equipped beyond measure. These were the holy knights—the pinnacle of strength, the grandest force the world had ever witnessed. At their forefront rode a radiant woman, donned in substantial armor that left her face unobscured. Her curly brown hair cascaded down to her chest, complementing her eyes of the same shade. Yet, there was an allure to her gaze, something captivating that held Yosef's attention inexorably.

The knights, mounted and proudly displaying the banners of Octavia, advanced into the town square, each knight a formidable presence. The Cultists who had been stationed as sentinels were dispatched without mercy, leaving those remaining to confront the holy knights alongside Yosef.

The clattering of hooves halted as the leader of the knights dismounted. She strode forward, undaunted by the presence of the cultists.

"In the name of King Julius, I command you and your followers to lay down your arms and surrender. Persisting in this resistance will only bring you more suffering."

"WE WOULD NEVER SURRENDER TO YOU! WRETCHED WHORE!"

The leader's eyes widened, intrigue flickering within them. "You recognize me, then?"

"Samille the Purifier! Your reputation precedes you! But if you think you can purify us, you're gravely mistaken! Despite your strength, you underestimate me! I AM THE CARDINAL OF WRATH AND SLOTH! YOUR POWERS MEAN NOTHING AGAINST MINE!"

Samille directed her guards to stand as her retinue, her gauntlet removed and flung across the expanse of the battlefield. Her voice resolute, she declared, "I extend to you a challenge, a duel between us."

Yosef's gaze fell upon the gauntlet before him, his wrath erupting in a tempest of fury. His eyes quivered with the intensity of his rage. "A CHALLENGE? I WILL HAVE YOUR HEAD, YOU WRETCH."

In an instant, Yosef conjured a shrouding black mist that enshrouded the battleground. Amidst the obscurity, Samille stood her ground, her vision swallowed by the darkness. With a display of immense strength, her sword cleaved through the gloom, rending it asunder.

On the opposite side emerged Yosef, poised to cast a spell. A bolt of lightning sprung forth from his hand, a familiar sight but under different circumstances.

Employing her mastery of swordsmanship, Samille expertly deflected the lightning with her blade alone, rapidly bridging the distance. Her sword arced towards its target, her onslaught unwavering.

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Her strikes bore down upon Yosef. Eluding each blow by a hair's breadth, he abruptly teleported away.

"Feeling the pressure, are we?" She grins.

"Bah! This is merely a prelude to what's to come!"

The ensuing incantation heralded a grander spell. A wide-reaching, area-of-effect incantation was unleashed: Rain of Fire, akin to the malevolent technique employed by the Demon God during the siege of Tasildor, though on a scaled-down level.

As magical sigils adorned the skies, flames descended in a fiery deluge. Swiftly sheathing her sword, Samille employed both her open hands to conjure a colossal magical barrier, enveloping the entire battlefield, shielding both the cultists and the Holy Knights. This expansive attack threatened to wreak havoc not only among the battling factions but also to lay irreversible devastation upon the city itself.

"What madness drives you? Are you so callous that you would launch a barrage of hellfire at your own forces!" Samille's voice reverberated, her barrier upheld by sheer will.

"They are naught but pawns in a grander design! In death, they shall zealously further our goals!"

"You're deranged!"

"ENOUGH OF YOUR PRATTLE! I'VE GROWN WEARY OF YOU!"

Yosef, still afloat in the air, opened a dimensional rift, from which he retrieved a tome steeped in abyssal darkness.

This particular tome was unique, one of the original triad. Etched upon its cover was the emblem of hell itself: a pentagram of malevolence, traversed by a serpentine emblem. This symbolized the Authority of Hell.

"By the dominion granted onto me by Lord Arbious, I shall sow death and ruin across this land! BEHOLD! LET THE RITE OF DAMNATION UNFOLD!"

The heavens above contorted, the anguished souls of the departed unleashing their mournful wails. Their cries pierced all present, clouds of doom amassing overhead. Knights clapped hands over ears to shield against the tormenting echoes while Samille, defenseless, felt her strength leave her body.

image [https://i.imgur.com/7fgH3qs.png]

The sounds of battle in the distance reverberated through the corridors, the echoes penetrating the walls of the church. Unyielding, Graybeard stood firm alongside Joan, surveying the church's interior. Within, an unsettling stillness reigned. Amidst this quiet, prayers were murmured, but one voice stood out— A soft, resonant tone of an unfamiliar language.

Tension weighed upon Graybeard, a sensation shared by Joan, as they cautiously made their way through the sacred hallways. There were people present. Yet... there was something wrong. They were insane. In silence, one hit his head on the wall leaving it bloodied. Over and over. An old woman, her hair covered with cloth, prayed on her knees. Yet no light answered. She appeared to be in an endless cycle of torment as streams of tears came down her face. Amidst this madness, countless others could be heard, muttering to themselves as if they had lost their minds.

The walls bore sinister marks, traces of crimson staining the glass. A voice within Graybeard urged retreat, an instinct he resisted.

Gradually, Joan's senses snapped. "Something's off... Mr. Graybeard, we need to leave—now!" He pleaded.

The doors, once ajar, ominously sealed themselves with a creaking that permeated the atmosphere. Undeterred, Graybeard stood resolute. "I promised Mila I'd rescue them. I won't leave empty-handed."

At the far end of the church, an imposing cross adorned a pedestal, a common sight facing the entrance. Emanating from the shadows, bathed in the eerie red light that filtered through stained glass, an enigmatic figure emerged. The form before them could be surmised as a woman. Even amidst the darkness, her crimson eyes gleamed, an overwhelming dread radiating from her being. Clad in dark robes, distinct from the cultists' attire, her vestments bore a symbol unlike the three-headed lizard—instead, it depicted a red eye. Resembling the Demon God's very own.

With a mere glance, Graybeard discerned her magical power, surmising her to be an even greater threat than Yosef, the supposedly unbeatable foe according to Ifrit's assessment.

"YOU MUST FLEE! THAT IS... HOW IS SHE ALIVE?!" Ifrit's panic resounded within Graybeard's unconscious.

Setting aside Ifrit's plea to escape, Graybeard continued down his path.

"Who is it you seek to rescue...? Yourself? Mila? Or individuals you know nothing about?"

Before them, poised behind the lectern, her gaze fixated on Graybeard, disinterest evident in her eyes. "Well, not that it matters... Still, it was foretold you would be here..."

"Well, I'm glad I could make it...? But who do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

"Ah, that's the spirit... I suppose you could inquire about my identity from that trapped demon within you."

"Gray... you have to escape... Now!" Ifrit implored.

But how does she know of you? This isn't making any sense!

Fear shivered through Joan's frame, his eyes trembling. his hands shook, his body broke out in cold sweat.

"Ah... and here we have it... A human, frozen in place... Am I truly that menacing?"

"I might... just kill the both of you... Yet, in your current state, it would be rather dull... How about it, can you scream for me?"

"Joan, run."

"But..."

"RUN, DAMN IT!"

With a surge of intense emotion, Graybeard overcame the oppressive grip that had ensnared him. Seeing this, Joan sprinted toward the exit, screaming at the top of his lungs that he did not want to die.

In an instant, the world blurred, and before comprehension dawned.

Joan's life flashed before him, his struggle against evil, his pain, his happiness, his memories with Contii, the time he shared with Mila, everything in one moment as his head was severed from his body. His lifeless corpse fell to the ground, his head tumbling across the floor, blood gushing out of his severed neck. All Graybeard could do was watch. It happened in less than a fraction of a second. his jaw fell agape, caught in a whirlwind of shock and panic. The event occurred with such swiftness that it was as if time itself had momentarily frozen. His throat felt a sense of heaviness, yet his voice struggled to scream or speak. Slowly, his gaze fixated on the woman who remained resolute at the lectern, her composure untouched by Joan's death.

"What... in the name of all that's unholy... Is... that...?"

Behind her sprawled the lifeless forms of numerous men, women, and children. She stood atop this morbid gathering, the floor strewn with their bodies and soaked in their blood. Each one seemed to have had their flesh cruelly torn away as if they had been preyed upon.

Ifrit... who is she...

"She... she's the Cardinal of Greed and Envy... The apex of their hierarchy... Leader of the demon cult, the mightiest embodiment of the sins," Ifrit whispered to Graybeard.

"That's the truth." She leaned forward on the lectern, her voice laced with boredom.

"You can hear him?"

"Indeed... Though I never took the great demon Ifrit for such a pitiful weakling."

She sighs, "He won't even argue back... What a loser..." She moved away from the lectern as she spoke, her robes trailing behind her. An aura of madness revolved around her, the red hues of light from the stained glass above casting an eerie tone across her face. She was mad, beyond mad. In the wake of all the darkness and chaos, she remained undeterred, as if she didn't even care. Graybeard, who believed Yosef to be madness itself now understood the true definition of the word. Merely standing in her presence, he wanted to gouge his own eyes out, his skin crawled, as he realized the humans who were hurting themselves were also under her influence.

"What have you done to them?!" Graybeard demanded, yet his voice cracking in fear.

"Isn't it obvious?" Her voice carried a mocking tone as she stepped over the lifeless forms in her path, descending from her elevated position. "I personally ended their lives. Their pitiful, miserable, boring lives."

"Was it because of the scripture?" Graybeard's voice demanded. "Was Arbious the one who put you up to this?!"

She grins at him.

"ANSWER ME!"

"No. It was for the sheer amusement of it." Her eyes remained vacant, devoid of any trace of emotion or empathy.

Graybeard took a step back in fear as his gaze averted from her eyes.

"Still... This is growing rather tedious... And you appear quite inadequate in fulfilling the amusement I seek... Maybe I should venture outside and face your precious Mila... To have her bleeding on the ground as I cannibalize on her does bring such joy to my mind... I feel my mind trembling... Oh, such delicious pain..."

"If she leaves, those outside are doomed." Ifrit expressed his worry to Graybeard.

Graybeard overcame with fear, his body trembled and quaked in fear. He knew fighting her would mean certain death, yet he could not allow her to go outside, for if she were to join with Yosef, all hope would be lost.

"Then... I'll do everything in my power to prevent that!"