My mom is waiting for treatment, and you're summoning me to be a hero?

"It's as if I don't have a demigod henchman."

As soon as Lin Mo finished speaking, overlapping dragon roars exploded from the black sword.

Hongyuan's golden dragon body was the first to burst out of the ghostly light.

The hundred-meter-long dragon wings fully unfolded within the light curtain, and the golden scales shone brightly under the interplay of holy light and crimson.

The light curtain that had descended when the Pope made his wish was also expanded by this suddenly appearing behemoth.

But that's not all.

The souls of eight demigod dragons emerged one after another from the black sword.

The soul storm unleashed by the dragon's wings shattered the stone slabs beneath the Pope's feet.

The Pope's lips twitched, and the faint smile on the young man's face finally froze.

"You're really something, you made up for the numerical disadvantage so easily..."

Before he could finish speaking, the sound of waves crashing down from the void.

Tashuk's soul emerged from the black sword, riding the waves.

The merfolk demigod's fish tail transformed into a translucent tail fin in his soul form, surrounded by rings of pale blue water elements.

The Pope's eyelid twitched.

That's not all; there are also the souls of three demigods from the divine realm.

A burly man entwined with the laws of lightning, an old man wielding the laws of gravity, and an old woman surrounded by the laws of life.

The Pope was speechless.

"this……"

"So you can't say anything now?"

Lin Mo said jokingly.

Finally, enormous, eerie green tentacles flew out from the ground, each covered with countless gray-white eyes.

The Thousand-Eyed Sea Demon.

At the end of each tentacle stood the figure of a demigod.

The chieftain of the Black-skinned Demon Clan, the ancestor of the Rockshell Clan, the former chieftain of the Frostwolf Clan... and those few demigods from small human kingdoms who were killed one by one by Lin Mo in the Elf Forest.

Their eyes, glowing with a ghostly blue flame of their souls, looked down at the Pope.

"It seems I have more demigods than you."

Lin Mo's voice broke the Pope's silence.

The Pope finally came to his senses, his lips parted, and for the first time, his clear voice carried a hint of urgency.

"I make a wish..."

"Too slow!"

Lin Mo spread his five fingers, and a black light screen exploded from his palm, instantly engulfing the entire dueling arena.

Death in the arena.

The Pope's wish was abruptly cut off in his throat, and the holy light, the white robe, the boy's face, the outline of the tower castle... were all swallowed up by endless darkness.

This darkness is not nothingness, nor emptiness, but a viscous, ink-like, weighty black.

The ground beneath my feet was black, there was no sky above me, and there were no boundaries in any direction.

The only light in the space was the black sword in Lin Mo's hand and the Holy Light Cross on the Pope's chest, which was still faintly glowing.

Lin Mo took a deep breath, and ten times the physical strength surged and roared through his meridians.

That force was so strong.

So much so that with each breath he exhaled, a visible shockwave would ripple through the dark space.

He looked up at the Pope before him and spoke calmly.

"Next... that's what one-on-one is all about."

The Pope's lips moved, but before he could speak, Lin Mo's sword had already arrived.

This time, Lin Mo directly activated his Saintly Awakening.

The black sword now has an invisible layer of laws on its blade.

This is a pure law of killing.

Everything in the world must die; this is the power of the Holy Awakening. It can kill anything, regardless of its nature or ability.

The trajectory of the black sword was precise to the millimeter.

The sword cut into the Pope's neck.

Then... clang!

A deafening clang of metal striking metal exploded in the dark space.

The recoil force traveled along the sword to Lin Mo's wrist, causing a slight numbness in the area between his thumb and forefinger.

It felt like being struck on some kind of unreasonably hard entity.

His black sword can cleave through holy light arrays, sever the bones of demigod dragons, and cut an entire city in two with a single strike.

But at this moment, the sword was stuck on the Pope's neck, and no matter what he did, he couldn't push it in even an inch.

His skin was still that youthful, fair skin, without scales, armor, or any light enhanced by any laws; it was just an ordinary layer of skin.

But his black sword couldn't cut through it.

Lin Mo's eyes widened.

The Pope stood in the very center of the dark space, a black sword at his neck, his expression still calm and unhurried.

The smile on the boy's face was still there, but now it carried a hint of mockery.

He spoke slowly, this time not as a wish, but as a calm narration.

"You don't actually think that the strongest demigod on the continent only knows how to make wishes, do you?"

Lin Mo frowned.

He sheathed his black sword, took a half step back, and shifted his gaze from the Pope's neck to his eyes.

Those eyes, like ancient wells, reflected the darkness of the death arena, with two extremely faint golden points of light shining deep within their pupils.

"There is a secret that no one on the mainland knows."

The Pope spoke calmly, as if he were telling an old story that had nothing to do with him.

"Actually... I am also a hero."

Lin Mo raised an eyebrow.

This answer was indeed unexpected.

The Pope reached inside his white robe and slowly pulled out a book.

It was a golden book with no words on the cover, only a holy cross pattern that glowed faintly in the darkness.

The edges of the pages have a bronze hue from the passage of time, and the laws emanating from the entire book are of the same origin as the Holy Light Array, but are purer and more ancient.

"This is my sacred armor."

The Pope held the book in his palm, and with the tip of his other finger, he lightly traced the holy cross pattern on the cover.

"Making a wish? That's just my Divine Inspiration ability, while my Divine Awakening ability..."

He paused for a moment, then raised his hand and gently tapped his temple with his index finger.

The boy's smile finally blossomed into a genuine one, a smile tinged with fervor and pride.

"It's imagination!"

Lin Mo sheathed his sword, his brows furrowing slightly.

"So, the moment my sword fell, you imagined yourself possessing extremely strong defense to block this attack?"

Upon hearing this, the Pope's faint smile deepened, turning into undisguised mockery.

"No, no, no, your imagination is too vague. No one can respond to such a vague concept as 'extremely strong defense.' Vague imagination can only yield vague results."

He raised his right hand and gently tapped his temple with his index finger, and the two golden spots deep in his pupils suddenly lit up.

"What I envision is a body strength comparable to the second-generation Demon King, Iron Crack."

Lin Mo's brows furrowed even more.

Iron cracked.

He was all too familiar with that name.

The blacksmith who forged the Black Sword, a legendary dwarf blacksmith, the man who forged three divine artifacts for the elves.

Three thousand years ago, the various races of the continent united to declare war on the divine realm and personally sealed its existence.

Alduin said that Ironbreaker is the strongest of all the Demon Lords in terms of direct combat power.

Just like the weapons he forged, his powerful physique was the result of countless years of training.

The Pope, on the other hand, only needs to use his brain to possess the same physical strength as Iron Crack.

"Hahaha……"

At that moment, the Pope suddenly burst into manic laughter.

"Lin Mo! You are indeed strong! But I... am stronger than you! Today, I will offer you to the gods!"

Then... Lin Mo's second sword fell.

Without any buildup, without any warning, it was simply the purest and most direct raising of the hand and a sword strike...

puff.

The black sword cut into the Pope's left shoulder, slashed diagonally across his chest, and emerged from his right rib.

The sword's edge tore the white robe apart, the skin peeled back, and blood gushed out, splattering onto the dark ground.

The iron-crack level of physical strength didn't work... no, it did work, but it was still cut open.

The Pope staggered back two steps, looking down at the sword wound across his chest that ran the length of his body.

The wound wasn't deep enough to be fatal, but it was definitely an injury.

His fingers touched the peeling skin at the edge of the wound, felt the warm blood gushing out, and his fingertips became stained with his own blood.

He stared at the bloodstains on his fingertips for a long time, then looked up, his manic smile frozen on his face.

"This...how...?"

"You have the strength of iron."

Lin Mo slung the black sword back over his shoulder, his tone as calm as if he were explaining a simple arithmetic problem.

"Then I'll just use an attack that can break through the iron-cracked defense."