Start in Terra, immortal

On the other side of the battlefield.

Paladin Milan Rochebach was kneeling on the ground, fully activating his healing spell, and a gentle holy light enveloped the dying Holy Fist Wolfgan Beona.

The latter had a deep, bone-revealing wound on his chest, from which black blood, corrupted by chaos, was constantly seeping out.

However, Wolfgang didn't seem too concerned about his injury.

He grabbed Milan's arm, his voice weak but urgent as he asked, "What happened, Milan? Shouldn't you be... at the Throne of Chaos, assisting Lord Michel and Zhao Xin in fighting against Ozma?"

Milan wiped the sweat from her forehead, which had seeped out from overexertion, and temporarily stopped the treatment.

He raised his head, his gaze sweeping across the horrific battlefield and landing on the black palace shrouded in a thick aura of chaos. His voice carried a hint of complexity: "Lord Michel... he stopped all the other clergy outside the throne. Now, only he and Zhao Xin remain, facing Ozma."

Before the throne of chaos, the radiance of the barrier isolates the inside from the outside.

"Aren't you going to let them know that you can't actually 'hurt' Ozma?" Zhao Xin gripped his spear, the tip pointing diagonally at the ground, his eyes fixed on Michelle beside him, whose breathing was beginning to rise and fall.

Michelle shook her head slightly, her delicate face bearing a solemnity beyond her years: "It's not the time yet. In their eyes, Ozma is an 'absolute evil' that must be eliminated."

If I, as their leader, were to tell them the 'truth' right now, their morale would likely crumble instantly, and the entire battlefield would descend into uncontrollable chaos.

After speaking, he said no more, put his hands together, and a divine radiance as bright as the rising sun surged out from his body!

The massive barrier rapidly expanded and solidified around him, eventually enveloping and isolating the entire "Black Land" where Eloreno was located, like a giant cage of light.

At the same time, an irresistible suction force emanated from within the barrier, forcibly pulling all the imposters on the battlefield, including Belial and Temat who were engaged in fierce combat, along with the pervasive chaotic aura, into the black earth.

This radiant barrier, like an indestructible wall, completely separated the black earth from the real world.

After completing the construction of the barrier, the light around Michelle suddenly dimmed, and her aura visibly weakened, making her almost unable to stand.

Ozma, who was sealed on the throne and surrounded by chain-like holy light runes, did not rush to break free.

His purple eyes swept over the weakened Michelle, finally settling on Zhao Xin, who was still full of fighting spirit and holding a long spear, locked onto him.

The latter's sharp and incomparable aura, yet subtly carrying an aura that made him instinctively wary, led him to choose to remain inactive for the time being.

"You should know very well," Ozma's deep voice echoed between the thrones, carrying a smug, unbridled arrogance.

"You cannot 'kill' me. Even if you seal me here, it will be in vain. As long as chaos endures, I will eventually return."

"It's Michelle who can't hurt you," Zhao Xin calmly interrupted him, slowly raising his spear, its shaft gleaming with platinum-gold light. "Not me!"

No sooner had he finished speaking than the spear pierced Ozma's chest with perfect accuracy.

"Ugh—!"

Ozma let out a muffled groan, a mixture of excruciating pain and disbelief.

He clearly felt a completely different force, seemingly capable of directly dismantling the structure of the chaotic origin, surging wildly into his body along the tip of the spear. Wherever it passed, the surging chaotic energy rapidly weakened.

"You... what kind of power is this?! How is this possible?!" For the first time, genuine horror and panic appeared in Ozma's eyes.

He clearly sensed that the source of the power of the two people in front of him was the same as his own, and according to common sense, they should not be able to cause him such a fundamental injury.

Zhao Xin flicked his wrist, and the spear was suddenly withdrawn.

He calmed the slightly turbulent power within his body caused by the forced circulation, and looked calmly at Ozma, whose aura had suddenly dropped.

"Now," Zhao Xin's voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear, "can you still be as fearless as you were just now?"

Ozma did not respond.

Zhao Xin's attack, imbued with the essence of another world, not only severely damaged his chaotic core but also left an incurable "wound" on the soul level.

At this moment, severely injured and under the combined pressure of the seal exerted by Michelle, this god of chaos has fallen into a forced deep slumber.

"Do you... want to destroy him?" Michelle asked softly, looking at Ozma, whose life force was weak, on the throne.

Zhao Xin shook his head, and his spear dissipated into specks of light: "No, I cannot truly destroy him. In essence, I am just like you, unable to inflict fatal damage on him."

He admitted, "I used a power that wasn't mine to deliver that blow."

When he was unable to inflict effective damage on Ozma, Zhao Xin contacted Rosso via Soul Link.

Rosso's response was concise and clear: "Punishment is acceptable, but do not kill."

Immediately, Zhao Xin was granted temporary access to a portion of the Spirit Realm's energy. The power infused into the spear that severely injured Ozma was the "Spirit Realm Power," which transcends the laws of the Arad world.

Upon hearing this, a knowing glint flashed in Michel's azure eyes. He asked no further questions, but simply gazed deeply at the slumbering Ozma.

"Let's go," Zhao Xin turned around, facing the faint light filtering through the barrier. "There are still many clean-up matters to be dealt with outside."

After checking the seal's stability one last time and confirming that Ozma had no chance of reviving in the short term, Michelle followed Zhao Xin and stepped out of the radiant barrier that separated the real world from the black earth.

Outside the barrier, the eagerly awaiting clergy first saw the imposter vanish suddenly as if wiped away by an invisible giant hand, leaving only the traces of battle and exhausted comrades on the battlefield. After a brief moment of confusion and unease, they finally saw the two figures return safely from the depths of chaos.

"Look! It's Lord Michel and Lord Zhao Xin!"

"Did the imposters disappear because they succeeded?"

"We...won?"

Only when Michelle and Zhao Xin nodded to everyone in confirmation did their tense nerves suddenly relax, and immense joy, like a flood bursting its banks, instantly engulfed the battlefield.

"We won! We won!"

"Grandma Kle!"

"Bravo Remedios!"

Cheers, shouts, and sobs of joy mingled together, the ecstasy of surviving a catastrophe washing over every tired yet excited face.

Some roared to the sky, releasing the pent-up emotions in their hearts; some knelt down to pray, thanking the gods for their protection; some tightly embraced their comrades, sharing this hard-won victory.

After the initial excitement subsided, Michel gathered everyone together. He stood on a high place, his youthful figure appearing incredibly composed in the afterglow of the setting sun.

"Fellow soldiers," his voice resounded clearly and powerfully throughout the arena, "Ozma has been defeated and sealed here by our combined efforts. But—"

He raised his voice slightly to suppress the rising noise, "Chaos has not been eradicated. The root of the 'Curse of Blood' still exists, and imposters may still lurk among us, waiting for their chance to strike."

The path to dispelling chaos and purifying the world remains long and arduous. I urge you all not to let temporary victories lull you into complacency; the mission is far from over!

Upon hearing that Ozma had only been sealed away rather than destroyed, the buzzing of discussion among the crowd resumed, and worries and doubts began to surface.

"quiet!"

A stern and authoritative shout suddenly rang out.

Zhao Xin stepped forward, his gaze sweeping across the crowd like lightning.

His undeniable past record and the absolute strength represented by the name "Saint's Edge" gave his rebuke enough weight, and the scene quickly quieted down.

"Ozma poses no threat in the short term," Zhao Xin's voice was calm and resolute, carrying a convincing power. "We have gained valuable time. The immediate priority is to maximize the impact of this victory, restore order, heal the wounded, stabilize morale, and accumulate strength for the day when the 'Curse of Blood' is completely severed and the continent returns to peace."

He paused, looked towards the distant direction of the clergy, and made a decision:

"Now, it is time to return to the Order, regroup, mourn the fallen, heal the wounded, and then—with firmer steps, continue our unfinished journey."