What should I do if the hero is resurrected in the Monster Girl Encyclopedia?

Chapter 192 The End
gold.

Ash.

Red.

The mottled colors, blended together, filled the entire field of vision of the hundreds of newly formed, petite sculptures.

These beings, equivalent to Edda Fonso himself, naturally transmit their pain and sensory experiences to one another. Thus, hundreds of times more suffering ascends and grows in an immeasurable, geometrically compounded manner.

However, just as Mirad and Ryan's combined strike, imbued with golden light and crimson flames, was about to hit, the already thin and hunched figure of this Saint of the Reincarnated Body straightened up ramrod straight.

The excruciating pain of shattered bones and torn tendons was like a fleeting cloud to Ada Fonsi.

In the era when he was still alive, with his many bodies, he punished evil and upheld justice, leaving behind stories that were either humorous anecdotes or heroic tales throughout the continent. He had already become accustomed to the pain caused by his momentary negligence or failure to take care of others.

His body had been scattered across the continent, so whether it was day or night, there was always one body that remained conscious. Unexpected battles would always disturb his sleep, and the pain would become unpredictable.

Who knows when, the heavy body that you have forgotten may encounter a dragon or some other monster, be roasted into charcoal, crushed into mincemeat, and have every bone in your body shattered... and those excruciating pains will enter the minds of every sleeping and awake heavy body.

Of course, he could remove the miracle he was burdened with, allowing himself, whom outsiders considered foolish and prone to making inexplicable moves, to finally rest.

But there are too many injustices in the world.

How could he allow himself to indulge in a deep sleep?

That's why he sought out the angel, wanting to return to the mortal realm and give the dulled, unsharpened spear tip a chance to shine again.

He never imagined... this wasn't the righteous war he craved at all. The words of warning stuck in his throat, impossible to utter... it was an absolute restriction.

"The next generation is to be feared, the next generation is to be feared!"

Adafonte's figure became ethereal, and Mirad could see through his chest the rubble and broken benches behind him.

"He wreaks havoc on Rescueya with his absurd and evil doctrines... His doctrines are crude and his ways are flawed. We are unwilling and unable to argue with him. Today, the two of you have spoken for me, saying what has been on my mind."

"But... that's far from enough."

He gazed at the distant altar, bathed in tri-colored light... There, nothing remained; even the remains of the holy image that composed of the horse and spear were long gone.

"...Is he dead?"

Luo Geng glanced at the quantified magic reserve count on her wrist... it was just depleted, leaving only 20% for emergencies.

The Annihilation Mode uses high energy consumption to achieve incredibly precise strikes, and the abundant monster magic it carries can also transform enemies within range into monsters or night demons.

Now that she has exhausted all her magic power, she can only use the remaining bullets, which are infused with magic power, to attack.

"He's not completely dead. After all... Saint Idafuns and that steed are merely fragments of His spirit. Like the hero Rescadeer whom we encountered in the palace, they are part of Him, aren't they?"

Hiolitta pushed up her small glasses, which had somehow appeared on the bridge of her nose, with the heel of her hand. "So, this isn't over yet, everyone! Stay alert!"

Aida Fangsi was stunned for a moment, then clapped her hands and laughed, "Little girl, you know Him very well! Such knowledge at such a young age, you have a bright future, a bright future!"

...Actually, I only managed to get on the good side of my fourth sister at the last minute. She knows far more about the Heavenly Realm than I do.

Feeling guilty, Hiolitta looked away and quietly shut down her private communication channel with her fourth sister.

Dust swirled and, under the influence of an invisible wind, slowly gathered, forming a human figure wearing a hood, with thousands of hands converging into wings.

"...I have indeed seen what you have shown. But I still cannot accept that it surpasses God's love and charity. At best, it is nothing more than showing off in a moment of crisis and the fleeting pleasure of words."

The enormous winged hand pointed at Idafuns, “Saint Idafuns, the Holy One with a Reincarnated Body… In the current situation, I believe you have broken the oath between us.”

Ada Fonso let out a strange laugh, his cloudy eyes instantly clearing, and his hunched back no longer bent. "Oh, it seems He finally couldn't stand my meddlesome talk anymore... You don't need to worry about this old man. He was destined to die, having witnessed the filth of this world and been powerless to change it. It's lucky that he met you young people in the end."

He turned around, his gaze lingering on Mirad, Loran, Ryan, and Siolitta in turn. "I thought that people would have made some progress after more than a thousand years. But I never expected that this country would still be so corrupt... Among us, there are those who have raised the banner of rebellion, those who have been stripped of their power, those who are disheartened, and those who have closed their eyes... naturally, there are also those who have done so."

"Fortunately... there are still young people like you who are willing to continue..."

His smile froze on his face.

Then, like a puppeteer adjusting a newly made puppet, the frozen smile vanished at an extremely fast speed, replaced by a cold face identical to that of Rescadeer.

Mirad tightened his grip on his sword slightly. He looked at Ryan, Loran, and Siolitta, and could see uncontrollable rage in each of their eyes.

That was a shared anger that arose naturally from the fact that the dead were used as tools, their minds and personalities arbitrarily erased.

The angel's face was hidden beneath a hood, and magic began to gather at the tips of the wings formed from His thousands of hands.

Thus, the children of the orphanage, the coachmen, the nobles clinking glasses—all living beings still within the territory of Rescadeye at that moment—were illuminated in His perception.

The monotonous voice rang in everyone's ears once again.

"Saint Mirad, the Resurrected One. If you are unwilling to join my ranks, then a fierce battle between us is inevitable in the future. It would be better to settle this now..."

No one answered His words. Swords flashed, axes spun, and magic bullets whistled!
Meanwhile, Hiolitta, petite as she was, was hiding behind the ruins, reinforcing the monastery's defenses with an unprecedentedly serious expression. The magical barrier used to block sight and spying was already at its limit after withstanding repeated waves of magical energy, and probably couldn't withstand much more.

There was no time to shift the battlefield. The unprepared Rescade was like a flower that could be picked at will. All she could do was try her best to minimize the impact of the aftermath of the battle on the city!

Just as the three attacks were about to converge and the defense was about to be completed, a streak of emerald green meteor streaked down from the other side of the sky!
The whistling sound of the arrow tearing through the air made the entire orphanage tremble. The magical barrier that had once isolated the orphanage from the outside world and prevented prying eyes vanished like morning dew in the face of this arrow.

The arrow pierced the chest of the angel's fragmented spirit with precision. The verdant spells wrapped around it spread like a living thing, instantly absorbing the magic around it. Then, tender green shoots sprouted from the arrow.

The angel's thousand-armed wings froze in mid-air. The destructive magic that was about to pour out, capable of completely engulfing the entire religious kingdom of Rescade, was nipped in the bud before it could be unleashed, and was absorbed by the arrows of the immortal branches.

Mirad gazed at the still-trembling emerald leaves that served as tail feathers, their distinctive fragrance filling the air. The elven script engraved on the arrow shaft was gradually fading... He looked thoughtfully in the direction from which the arrow had come.

…A tall, slender figure in pale green disappeared into the clouds.

Mirand raised his hand, as if to greet her or gesture for her to come over. But in the end, his hand fell back down. He did nothing. He was unable to do anything.

Ryan, standing nearby, raised an eyebrow, seemingly expressing some concern about Mirad's increasingly chaotic interpersonal relationships.

But that was ultimately Mirad's private matter, so in the end he said nothing. He was unable to say anything.

"Wow, wow, sisters! But since you're already here, why not come down and take a look? I'd really like to see the legendary 1.9-meter-tall elf in person..."

Luo Ran is very easygoing.

"She won't keep following us, will she...?"

Hiolitta wiped away her sweat and straightened her disheveled clothes before jumping out from behind the low wall. She held her hand like a cup and looked up at the horizon with Mirad. "As expected of your number one fan, Lady Mirad, even I admire her dedication."

"...the Valkyrie who failed to return to heaven."

The illusory image of an angel formed from dust flickered for a moment, then vanished completely after leaving behind this one sentence.

The prepared offensive was interrupted... Although a second round could be launched in a short time, the opponent was already on guard, and the effect would inevitably be less than the first time. Moreover, with unknown variables entering the game, He needed some time to assess the opponent's risks.

As for the saint who was reborn... his miracle has already been recovered.

The remnants... need not be concerned.

So, only Eddarfons remained in the chapel.

His eyes were vacant, and the patched priest's robes on his body gradually disappeared, replaced by a set of gleaming silver-white riding armor.

The armor was ancient and dignified in style.

The knight remained silent as he mounted his horse. He tucked the sacred weapon—which, if wielded with unwavering resolve, could dispel all illusions and obstacles in the world—tucked tightly under his arm.

The pure white steed neighed, its body no longer bearing those distorted faces, its chest no longer impaled by the cold tip of a spear. It had finally regained the divine and agile appearance that a warhorse should possess…

"Old sir..."

Luo Gen's eyes flickered, and several long cannons emerged from behind her.

Although what lies before me is merely a broken body devoid of personality and mind, the thought of ending it still feels somewhat...unbearable. After all, not long ago, he was a saint who would rejoice at the emergence of outstanding successors and be heartbroken by the decline of this nation.

"Let me do it."

Mirad stepped forward, turning the holy sword in his hand around.

With the help of the monster's magic, the other party may be able to regain flesh and blood and walk the world as a knight.

But... as Ada Fonso himself said, he was already dead and needed no further treatment. Since he had no more attachments, Mirad would not force him to remain in the world.

For a hero who has long since passed away, a fair and square duel is a fitting final farewell.

“Ryan?” Mirad turned his head to look at the red-haired hero beside him, who had been silent since the beginning.

Ryan didn't speak, but instead slammed the axe handle into the ground. He crossed his arms, turned around, and looked at the stained glass window that was now shattered and reduced to rubble.

"……Row."

The short syllables squeezed out from between the teeth of the war god and the hero.

"Um...so."

Luo Gen landed on the ground, retracting the gun barrel from her back into her backpack. She scratched her cheek, looking around somewhat awkwardly. "This pile of rubble... Dude, you want to help? My robotic arm might be able to lend a hand..."

Her words were the last straw; the already crumbling vaulted ceiling of the corridor finally gave way, and the last piece, along with the pieces around it, collapsed to the ground, raising a cloud of dust.

"...I tidied up here before the sergeant at the door rushed over."

(End of this chapter)