Having traversed countless realms, can you possibly be as clever as me?

Not enough, not enough, far from enough!

Sins must be atoneed for, sinners must die, and their atonement is far from sufficient!

On the third day, the miracle was reversed.

The calamities of war, hunters, and innocents, which granted the virtuous the power to hunt the wicked indefinitely, were miraculously taken back, and the weapons returned to humankind's own hands.

The remaining calamities did not descend from the Dongjiang River, because they were no longer of any importance.

On the night of the third day, he summoned the final Knight of the Apocalypse.

This time, however, no knight answered his call.

Because he was the last knight.

"Take this child and leave." Tsugumi looked at Francesca, handed Tsubaki over to the pleasure-seeking criminal, and said softly.

"So you've still decided to unleash the Apocalypse?" Francesca laughed heartily, then vanished like a puff of smoke.

"Hehehe, I look forward to your performance!"

Now that things have come to this, Tsurugi no longer wants to think about or care about conspiracies or problems.

Right now, all he wants to do is get this done!

The Pale Knight, the Crimson Knight, and the Yellow Knight gathered behind him, and now he would summon the fourth knight.

He raised his right hand, summoning death; gray mist gathered around him, converging throughout the entire snowfield city.

But as he began to summon the last knight, his mark of wrath lit up.

'Power of the Heavenly Path has been detected; your character card [Demon Noble] has changed!'

Your inscribed skill [Power of Destruction (Lv3)] has been upgraded to [Power of Destruction (Lv4)]!

[Destruction Power (Lv4)]

‘诞

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Born into a realm of destruction, the demonic noble possesses your own unique methods and means of annihilating others. You have gained the power to become death itself; you are death!

You have gained the temporary status: [Apocalypse Death Knight]

[Apocalypse - Death Knight]

The fourth living creature was a rider of the grey horse, whose name was Death, and Hades followed him. They were given authority to kill a quarter of the earth by sword, by famine, by plague, and by wild beasts.

Dongjiang took his first step out of nothingness, and black ice shards bloomed beneath his feet like a spider web. His dark robe fluttered in the wind like a falling night, occasionally revealing the black armor beneath the hem.

The armor was not a complete suit of armor, but rather a remnant of past glory. The shoulder armor still had the curved structure of wing reliefs, while the breastplate was cracked with countless lines that looked like pulsating blood vessels. Below the waist, the armor had merged with the rolling shadows.

The hooked sickle in his left hand hung low, its blade gleaming with the warmth of all life within its range, while the sickle in his right hand was raised high above his shoulder, its tip piercing a slowly pulsating soul.

Behind him, inconspicuous wings, like gray mist, stretched out, along with the ribbons hanging from his armor, as if a shroud had been stretched over the body of a radiant and holy angel. His face was hidden in the darkness of the hood, making it impossible to see his features, only the deep, dark night.

"interesting......"

Tsugumi looked at the lifelike replica of the Soul Reaper Malthael and let out a pleased laugh.

"Let's go." He summoned a ghostly warhorse from the gray mist, and together with the three knights behind him, they galloped across the sky.

And so, amidst worldwide fear and scrutiny, the Apocalypse Riders began their global journey.

They arrived in New York.

“Behold,” Tsurugi’s voice seemed to be a proclamation mixed with the sighs of a thousand dying men and the echoes of the underworld, as if it came from the deepest depths of the earth.

“The city is full, and the hands of its inhabitants are stained with injustice. They have gold and silver as their security, lies as their walls, and the blood of their neighbors as their decorations.”

He raised the scythe in his right hand, and the soul pulsating on the tip of the blade suddenly intensified, bursting forth with a ghastly white light.

"Therefore, I will overturn the judgment here!"

The words fell like the gavel of conviction. The Pale Knight—the conqueror on white horse—raised his crown. The invisible pressure materialized into a real plague, not as visible sores or viruses, but as the collapse of order and the breaking of all social bonds.

The sirens, shouts, and curses had already reached their peak during the day and night of chaos, but as the Pale Knight waved his crown, everything was swallowed by silence.

The crowd's eyes went from panic to emptiness. The guilty rulers, having lost all their dignity, climbed to the top of a tall building in a world where they no longer held power, and jumped to their deaths, committing the sin of suicide, never to be reincarnated.

The Crimson Knight spurred his fiery steed, unleashing a raging inferno of violence. A pervasive, indiscriminate wave of rage swept through the land. Within families, between neighbors, eyes blazed with fury fueled by old grudges, wielding anything within reach that could be called a weapon.

The streets of New York were instantly transformed into a scene of carnage, with blood staining the snow and wails replacing all the noise.

The Yellow Knight's scales tipped, and the power of famine spread silently. Supermarket shelves emptied instantly, stockpiled food vanished in an instant, turning to dust or poison. The chilling hunger gnawed at every gut, forcing them to painfully repent for their past mistakes.

Only the innocent or those who have atoned their sins can alleviate the burning thirst that emanates from within.

And Dongjiang, transformed into death, patrolled the city skies. With each slight swing of his left-hand sickle, the warmth of thousands of souls was stripped away, their lives extinguished like candles in the wind. Corrupt officials died suddenly in their treasure-hiding chambers, and swindlers perished amidst their fabricated lies.

The perpetrators of violence and evil were backfired on by the violence they themselves had provoked...

In just a few short minutes, New York's population of eight million had been reduced by more than half. Amidst the world's trembling and fear, the saint who carried out all this did not stop.

“We will go through all the nations of this earth, as Jesus went through Rome. No one who bears the mark of sin will be spared.”

The Four Horsemen's journey continues, starting in Snowfield City and beginning in New York. Gray fog of death, scarlet clouds of war, pale plague of order, and deep yellow scales of famine, like four ominous waves, sweep across the entire North American continent.

Wherever it goes, sins are dispersed.

227. Defeat Joan of Arc, and the Heroic Spirits Arrive (Bonus Chapter, Please Vote!)

The souls of the deceased linger on either side of the Dongjiang River.

These are the souls of children, the souls of infants, the souls of innocent people who were taken away by the powerful, toyed with, tortured, and murdered on the island.

They were deceived, plundered, and served on the island's dinner table during the most beautiful years of their lives.

Some of them had only just begun their lives when they became prey for those people.

By bringing them along, Tsuruga wanted to remind himself that he should not show mercy.

Sins must be paid for, no matter the cost.

The Four Horsemen travel across the world.

The terrified people, after taking up arms again, began to try to destroy their judges.

Dazzling fireworks lit up the skies over every part of North America, followed by mysterious glows that carried the secrets of bygone days.

It was nothing but dirty fireworks.

No attack could reach Apocalypse.

Thus, cities wailed in war and plague, fields lay barren in famine and panic, and the moral defenses of the human heart crumbled like sandcastles. The sky was shrouded in gray-yellow and dark red clouds, obscuring the sun and moon, with only the passing knights casting despairing shadows.

News was interrupted, power grids collapsed, and the entire national machinery of the Americas disintegrated under the double blow of internal collapse and external calamity, succumbing to this divine punishment filled with religious terror. The chapters of Revelation were turned in the real world, and the words were transformed into iron and blood, fire and tears.

They traveled for three days, traversing all those who repented and pleaded, showing no mercy or compassion, and handed down all their judgments, utterly severing the entire American continent.

All nations crumbled and collapsed, war vanished without a trace, famine disappeared, and sinners fled into death.

There are still living people in this vast world, but only the truly innocent remain.

Those who commit grave sins die in judgment and are condemned to eternal hell, while those who commit minor sins atone through suffering. But in the end, only those who have cleansed themselves of their sins are allowed to remain in the cleansed new world.

Of course, almost all of these innocent people signed a contract for their souls, giving up their freedom of souls in exchange for ascending to heaven after death or exchanging it for a better afterlife.

What remains here is only the ruins of modern society, and the 'Garden of Eden' cleansed by the flawless judgment that denies humanity and all sins.

They swept across the Americas, and then raced toward Europe.

Europeans were both terrified and excited about this.

What they fear, of course, is their government, their tycoons, and their magicians.

Especially those noble families who have ruled this continent step by step since the Roman era, who consider themselves noble and sacred, are filled with anxiety when faced with a test that consists of only one aspect: morality.

After all, most of them knew they couldn't pass.

They did everything in their power to save themselves, and after realizing that all of humanity's weapons were doomed to be no match for the knights, they placed their hopes in the mysterious.

They summoned ancient heroes.

Just as the Four Horsemen were unstoppable in their might, treading the path of light into the European continent and annihilating most of Western Europe under their iron hooves and swords, they reached the skies above Paris, where the dense, impenetrable clouds were suddenly torn apart by a beam of light.

Light converged, and a figure appeared.

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She appeared above the sea of ​​clouds. She wore silver-blue armor, her white battle skirt fluttering like a banner in the winds of calamity, and the iris emblem on the holy banner in her hand shone brightly, as if it could dispel all gloom. Her long golden hair was tied back in a long braid, and her clear and firm blue eyes stared at the gray knight who brought death before her.

"Stop here, knight who spreads death and despair!"

Her voice was clear and resonant, carrying an undeniable resolve, piercing through the fog of death and the clamor of war, echoing clearly between heaven and earth.

“I am the Lord’s faithful servant, called to appear here—Jeanne d'Arc! These judges who use destruction as a pretext to commit slaughter are neither the will of our Lord’s mercy nor the true face of justice!”

Joan of Arc slammed the holy banner in her hand heavily into the air, sending out a pure halo that temporarily repelled the surging gray mist. She pointed her sword at the Tsurugi River, her eyes burning with the flames of a martyr, but instead of attacking, she chose to persuade.

"Stop, saint from another land! I know the sins of humanity are grave. But true redemption is not about covering darkness with deeper darkness, or punishing death with endless death! Your path only denies all of humanity!"

Tsurugi reined in his gray warhorse, his hood slightly raised, as if he were gazing at the saintess blocking his path. The three knights behind him also temporarily ceased their calamity-spreading and stared at the saintess.

“Joan of Arc, Saint Joan of Arc…” Tsurugi’s voice rang out in a mocking and sarcastic tone.

"Whom do you serve? Your god? Or the force that cast you down? Are you a heroic spirit? Or a saint?"

"Whose soldier are you? And whose messenger are you?"

The dissipating gray mist emanated from beneath her hood and robe, swirling around Joan of Arc, conjuring up a vivid image of her dying moments.

“You also harbor resentment.” Tsugumi looked at Joan of Arc and chuckled softly.

"While you may now be hailed as a noble and selfless saint, you were cursing them the moment you were burned at the stake."

"In my opinion, you were much more beautiful back then than you are now. You were a real person then, not just a so-called follower. The idealized image is nothing more than a stereotypical image of longing."

"Of course I would, after all, I was once human too." Joan of Arc readily admitted this, then said earnestly.

"But while I resent them, I also pity their ignorance. Saints, our duty is to guide them onto a path of repentance, not to destroy them!"

"At least now, at this very moment, my lord would never want you to be like this! Shed this cloak of death, lost ruler! What I see is not a knight wielding divine judgment, but a soul consumed by rage!"

Dongjiang narrowed her eyes slightly. "My lord? Does that refer to Teacher Da Ye?"