Academic gathering with Lich colleagues

The Guardians, who should have been on guard, found themselves seemingly trapped in perilous territory on all sides. However, the Shadow Beasts' attacks were easily repelled by the swarm of Guardians, and their counterattacks were like popping balloons – one Shadow Beast after another was shattered with a single blow. Despite the relentless onslaught of the Shadow Beasts, not a single Guardian fell behind, and in the blink of an eye, the Guardian Legion had reached the foot of the mountain.

"They're planning to storm the altar!" Sersera exclaimed, watching the Holy Light Legion, surrounded by hordes of beasts, reach the foot of the mountain. They were still a long and arduous journey to the summit, but Sersera had a premonition that they would turn despair into the witch's despair.

"Why? Those beasts are at the fourth level of strength! Why can't we cut through their armor? Why can't we withstand their attacks? Why are they so powerful!"

Wenli rushed to her side anxiously. "This is what I wanted to tell you, Sersera."

"Through our deaths, we have confirmed a rumor."

"Above the races, there exists a special crown in this world, the crown of the era. It favors those who lead the era, making all those who possess that power even stronger. They can easily crush mystics of the same level. Sersera, now is the age of the Holy Light, and we are just pitiful people cowering in the corner, hiding from the light."

Wenli looked at the terrified Sersera, a bitter feeling welling up inside her. "If you hadn't seen it with your own eyes, you wouldn't believe it either."

Chapter 253 The Reborn

Cecilia no longer questioned Wenli's words; she gritted her teeth and ordered the vengeful witch to continue attacking the guardians.

"We must not let them reach the summit! Veraliz is the mistress of the witches, our hope!" More shadow beasts began to charge at the paladins, but with little effect. The guardians advanced slowly and methodically, and the witches were put on the defensive, seemingly helpless in the face of this situation.

The guardians' battle group advanced slowly, their pace significantly reduced. Closer to the altar, the shadow beasts' attacks were more frequent; their full-body armor, not their own, bore dense claw marks that wouldn't heal. The witches were indeed making slow progress in prying open the guardians' armor, but at the cost of dozens already reduced to ashes by the guardians' outward-released holy shockwaves. And the rate of witch extinction was accelerating; the guardians were learning, learning how to distinguish the disguised witches among the beasts—beasts without a leader were just beasts.

Cecilia watched her sisters howling in the flames, her heart bleeding. She looked at Ms. Wenli standing beside her, her lips parted, the ones she had bitten open.

“We need your help. No one can stand idly by now. The mistress cannot be harmed.”

Wenli looked at Sersella, whose face was gloomy, and her expression softened.

“We’re already doing it, Sersella.”

When the Guardians had advanced about a hundred meters, something changed around them. The turf ripped up, vines tangled their iron boots, and forest witches draped in turf leaped out. They screamed and chanted spells, turning the ground beneath the Guardians' feet into soft mud. Although the Guardians immediately burst into golden light, creating a solid path of holy light beneath them, their speed still slowed.

Just then, witches hiding in the corners jumped out, using their witchcraft to layer spells on the tall paladin, neutralizing the layers of buffing divine magic. Their power couldn't inflict further harm on the paladin, but stripping away his facade of unwavering resolve was enough.

One by one, ghostly phantoms appeared out of thin air. They surrounded the guardian who had fallen into stagnation at the center and did what they did best: the banshee's howl that would annoy even a lich.

A piercing scream assaulted the brains of every guardian, amplified countless times by the Hive Consciousness. Blood flowed from the noses of the guardians, their brains severely impacted. But it wasn't fatal. The Crown of the Era suppressed all anomalous forces with its Holy Light, and their robust physiques allowed them to recover quickly. The attacks they suffered during this process at most only scratched their skin.

However, the Guardians' formation was disrupted, with Paladins, Shadow Beasts, and Witches mixed together, their collective consciousness broken, and the smaller number of Guardians found themselves on the defensive.

“That’s not enough.” Ceresera looked at the tangled light and shadow and finally understood what kind of power the Crusaders truly were.

In one-on-one combat, even the weakest fourth-tier paladin can hold his own against three shadow beasts of the same level and a witch. Currently, the average strength of the witches is the same as that of the weakest paladin. Moreover, there are the fifth-tier guardians, the backbone of the legion and its largest group. Having lost their group consciousness, they roam freely in the chaotic battle thanks to their far superior abilities compared to the witches, rescuing the weaker, novice guardians. Furthermore, as they regroup, their group consciousness is gradually returning, and they are becoming a unified whole again.

“We must stop them. They won’t fall for the same trick twice.” Cecil took a deep breath, her expression returning to calm. Looking at Wenli, Cecil extended her hand. “I need you, Wenli.”

Faced with Cecil's overtures, Wenli readily accepted, "For the future of witches, my sister." She crossed her arms, and the silvery blessing on the back of her hands shone brightly.

The scythe emblem on Wenli's hand, belonging to the vengeful witch, and the double moon emblem on Cesar's hand, belonging to the witch of death, also known as the Moonshadow Witch, were merged into one.

The power of shadow and death enveloped them.

In this cold world, we only have each other, a closeness that transcends blood ties, which has given us new life.

The newborn witch mother burst forth, gliding through the night sky like a giant bat, swooping down into the ranks of the paladins. Her piercing roar echoed in the minds of all the witches.

"Sisters, unite!" The vengeful witches and the witches of death, who had been overwhelmed by the assembled paladins, began to cooperate. They understood each other's strength and started fighting together, as if these two sworn enemy witch clans had also developed a collective consciousness.

The Witch Mother charged into the battlefield like a hunting leopard, rushing towards her target. Dark gray shadow spikes were burned by the flames of holy light. She looked at Frey, who wore a flame-shaped helmet—this was her target. Losing her commander would severely damage the legion's morale.

Frey was separated from the figures of shadow beasts and vengeful witches, who stared menacingly at the isolated Frey, their sinister gazes seeming to rip flesh from his skin.

"Paladin, you must die. I'm sorry." The witch mother slowly walked in, behind her, sharp spikes that bloomed like flowers, like shadows or ghosts, pointing directly at Frey.

Faced with such a threat, Frey clapped his hands, and flames appeared in his palms.

"Fifth-tier strength, not bad. Your own legion possesses a collective consciousness, but you don't allow other legions to use it. You like decapitation tactics, capturing the leader first. We have so many things in common."

"However, there is one more difference between us."

"You've never seen a sixth-tier mystic use their abilities, have you?"

"!!!"

Nelson had joined the other paladins, and they were fighting a difficult battle against the cooperating witches. The witches had an endless number of shadow beast minions, and their power was superior. However, the continuous high-intensity battle began to accumulate fatigue in the guardians' hearts, and the sporadic collective consciousness also made Nelson feel the fatigue of his consciousness.

"Individual strength is still too weak. I really want to reconnect with the collective consciousness."

Heaven did not hear his complaints, but the commander of the Guardians did. With a deafening explosion, the burning flames engulfed everyone around him.

The land was burning, the air was burning, the enemy was burning, and he himself was burning. The flames, glowing with holy light, climbed up his body, the stinging pain of healing wounds, the surging strength within him, and the renewed, expansive hive consciousness.

In the collective consciousness of the Guardians, they saw their legion commander.

The twelve legion commanders were engulfed in flames, their iron armor melting away to reveal ashes-like bodies, with blood flowing like lava through fine, spiderweb-like veins. Their eyes shone like stars, as if a sun were hidden beneath their heads.

They didn't look like humans; they were more like small, humanoid lava giants.

The burning Frey seized a witch, her screams turning into a scorching hiss from the flames. Frey watched the witch mother escape the explosion, a sound of regret escaping his parched lips.

"I'm sorry, the situation has reversed."

Chapter 254 The Guardians

Nelson was not afraid of Frey and the other twelve new forms in the Legion, because the collective consciousness was telling them, these novice paladins, a story about the Guardians.

When the Black Death ravaged Locarrot, fear and death overwhelmed the city. Corpses filled the rivers, clogging the waterways, and the streets were littered with abandoned bodies. Locarrot's governing body had already perished at the very beginning of the outbreak; before the churches closed, the priests applied for aid from the church.

The newly formed Guardian Legion was tasked with rescuing Locarrot.

One of the four Crusader leaders, His Holiness Raphael Baidmon, would come to save the city. The citizens, who had long heard of his name, began to pray in their hearts, and some squatted at the city gate, hoping day and night for the arrival of the paladin.

The paladins did indeed arrive, but Raphael was nowhere to be seen in the procession. Moreover, this group of rude paladins made little contact with them. They used their holy light to examine every citizen of Locarrot, and those found to be infected with the plague were taken to a vast arena, the former site of slave battles.

The Locarotes felt insulted, but worse still, they were surrounded by other plague-infected people. Those who were physically healthy and thought they were alright struggled desperately.

"You cannot lock me up with those who are destined to die! You are committing murder! You damned paladins!"

Panic gripped the citizens. They avoided the paladins, fearing they too would be diagnosed with the plague and imprisoned alongside them, dying of the disease together.

The guardians also created a barrier of holy light outside the arena to prevent those inside from escaping. Paladins and priests sat in a circle around the barrier, ignoring the infected inside who were banging on it and cursing them, and devoutly chanted scriptures. Golden particles of light sprinkled on the infected, but they were unaware of it.

While Raphael was away, an old priest was in charge. His name was Vitim, a highly respected elder and mentor to many paladins. In his youth, he had read books on medicine, and all these actions were at his behest. The infected had all witnessed this.

Vitim was the first to call upon the Guardians to chant scriptures outside the light barrier. Even during his rest time, he would lead the Guardians to personally examine the infected, carefully checking for abnormalities in their bodies.

At first, these measures were ineffective; deaths continued in the quarantine zone, leading to a riot among the other infected. They screamed in terror, acting like madmen. They clung to the walls of light, watching the elderly men chanting sutras with venomous and sinister curses, like demons from hell.

"Demons? You are the demons! I despise your holy light, your justice! Justice will not let us die a miserable death, you hypocritical devils! You want to purify this city! You want to sacrifice us!"

The infected, believing he had seen the truth, became hysterical. His behavior aroused suspicion among the novice guardians and sparked many unusual voices in Locarrot City. Among the infected were their families, and now these guardians had to watch them die. Suspicion and controversy made Locarrot even more indifferent to the guardians.

Led by Vitim, the Guardians concealed their dissatisfaction with the citizens' indifference towards them.

"Teacher, what are we doing? Reciting scriptures is not helping to save them."

Seeing his impatient disciple, Vitim smiled. "The method is hidden in the scriptures, in our minds. The Bible contains everything in this world; we only need to find it, with your piety and perception, Pierre."

At one point, an angel descended outside the city of Locarrot.

Raphael Badmon's arrival thrilled both the guards and the citizens. Vitim smiled as well.

“Pierre, when Lord Raphael arrives, please tell him that the cure for the plague is in the third book of the Gospels, but we still need to find its exact location.” Vitim stood up and walked towards the light screen, behind which was a crowd staring intently at him.

"Teacher! What are you doing!"

Vitim gave a humble smile. "Pierre, I've been infected too. That's where I should be."

"No! Teacher, look into these people's eyes! They want to devour you alive! Don't go in, you'll..."

“I should go in, child, for all of us, for the end of the plague. Please continue my work.”

Outside the city, Raphael landed in front of a paladin. The guard had a handsome appearance that was no less than Raphael's, and his angular features were even more appealing than Raphael's, because he was more manly.

“You are late, Your Majesty Raphael, very late.”

“I’ve gone to eliminate the source of the plague, Frey. With you and Mr. Vitim here, everything should be handled well.”

Frey nodded. "The citizens of this city are on high alert, and they need your reassurance. As for the epidemic, Mentor Vitim is handling it, and I believe there will be results soon."

While Raphael and Frey were chatting, Pierre ran over and told the leader that Vitim had been infected and had walked into the light barrier.

As Raphael approached the light barrier, a confrontation had already broken out inside. A dozen guardians were protecting Vitim in a corner; Vitim's face bore several bruises and wounds. The moment the old man, responsible for rescuing the infected, entered, he was tackled by the frenzied mob. Unable to bear it any longer, the guardians rushed in, protecting the old man and beating up those who had attacked him. The man, beaten and bruised, smiled.

"You've come in too, you filthy holy light! You will be tortured to death by the Black Death just like us!"

Vitim looked at the children apologetically, "You shouldn't have come in."

“It would be better for us to die than to watch you suffer without doing anything! Besides, His Holiness Raphael has arrived, and I believe that he and his guardians will surely heal us.”

Raphael watched everything unfold and assured the people within the light barrier and his protectors that he would save them.

“Let the priests who maintain the light barrier step down, and let our fellow paladins take over their work. We are more resilient than they are.”

Over the next few days, the Guardians devoted themselves to reciting scriptures, while Raphael patrolled the entire city, where everyone needed the angel's presence and the power to put their minds at ease.

Within the light barrier, things took a new turn.

One day, one of the men who had hurt Vitim knelt before the old priest. His father had also contracted the plague, and his health was deteriorating rapidly. The old man felt his end was near, and his last request to his son was...

“I need a pastor, my child.”

“Mentor, we don’t need to help him. He deserves what he did!” The evil deeds of that day replayed in the man’s mind. Supported by family ties, he finally realized the ugliness of his past. He did not argue, but simply lowered his head and silently begged with tears in his eyes.

“I understand, my child. Please allow me to offer your father my final prayer.”

"Professor Witim, this person isn't worth all this!"

“But his father deserves it. It’s not a difficult thing. I’m just going to meet an old man who is about my age, a friend I’ve never met before.”

Led by the man, they saw the old man who was nearing his end. He was so thin that he was just skin and bones, lying in several layers of crumpled cloth. His lifeless eyes had lost all light, and his lips opened and closed like a fish's.

"My child, is it you who has returned?"

“Yes, Father, I have brought back a pastor.”

"May the Holy Light bless you, sir."

The old man lying on the bed actually smiled. "Thank you, Your Excellency. The blessing of the Holy Light is invaluable to me at this moment." The old man slowly turned his head as he spoke, and he raised his bamboo-like arm from under the covers and stretched it out to the air in front of him. "Your Excellency, I have a request. I beg you."

Vitim grasped the old man's hand. "If I can, I will grant your request."