Academic gathering with Lich colleagues

"Your Excellency, I beg you, forgive my child." The old man, on his deathbed, used his last strength to grasp him tightly. "I can't see your face, but I can hear people's voices. The marks of the harm my child caused you must still linger on your face. I'm so sorry, my child. He wasn't a bad person. He was very good to me, but this terrible cold is ravaging everyone here, and my health is deteriorating. I know the burden in my child's heart. Your Excellency, we are not like you; we are just mortals, mortals burdened with original sin." The old man spoke, extending his other hand, calling to the man, whose face was already streaked with tears.

“My child, sin exists in the hearts of every one of us, but that is no excuse for hurting others. I know you are suffering a lot, but this is something every man has to go through. You are a strong man, my child. Promise me one last time, okay? Don’t make this mistake again, and apologize to the pastor.”

"Yes!!! Father..." As the old man's wrist fell limply, the man cried out in a hoarse voice. "I promise you! Father! Did you hear me! I will apologize to the priest and beg him to forgive my sins! Did you hear me, Father!"

The children's painful cries could not wake the father; he did not hear their promises, but the trust in his heart had already made him close his eyes.

In the afterglow of the cremation of the old man's body, the man knelt before Pastor Witim.

“I am so sorry for everything I have done to you, especially your forgiveness, which made me feel even more ashamed of my own wickedness. Your Honor, please forgive my sins and allow me to bear the punishment for them.”

Vitim patted the man on the shoulder; his hand was thicker than his father's, yet it felt the same weight in his heart.

"I forgive you, child. As part of your duty, live on until the day the Holy Light saves us."

Tears welled in the man's eyes as he knelt down reverently and kissed the soil.

"Praise be to the Holy Light."

Vitim now has his first follower, Locarrot, and the number continues to grow. When death walks with you, many of people's pretenses are shattered; they may initially go mad, but eventually become numb from the lack of response, while some, guided, pursue their inner voice.

"Praise the Holy Light." "Praise the Holy Light." "Praise the Holy Light." Led by Vitim, the crowd prayed devoutly within the wall of light. Some recited scriptures, while others offered silent blessings, following the old pastor's teachings and doing the right thing.

The peaceful scene within the barrier of light further motivated the guardians; they were saving those who truly deserved to be saved—the followers of the Holy Light, their own people.

"We've found it! Your Majesty Raphael, we've found the sign of the Holy Light!" A few days later, the ecstatic Guardians found Raphael publicly blessing everyone in the central square.

What is the hint?

"It's a story from the Bible."

Raphael carefully examined the marked sections.

"Salt City?" That's a story. Once upon a time, there was a city extremely wicked, and the Holy Light decided to completely destroy this evil city. An angel was sent to guide the only good family in the city away, instructing them that no matter what, they must not look back. Everything proceeded as planned, but in the end, the wife, out of curiosity, glanced back, and she turned into a pillar of salt.

Raphael pondered the revelation of the Holy Light, and finally he learned the method of healing.

In the very next second, Raphael appeared among the Guardians like a gentle breeze.

"The Fire of Purification is a divine spell that can eradicate plagues. I can cast it, but... the Fire of Purification will only save the good, that is, those who possess the Holy Light. For others, they will be turned to ashes by the flames. I understand that the people inside are potential followers of the Holy Light, but how long will it take to strengthen them to the point where they can withstand the Holy Flame? Many people can no longer endure it."

"In the end, is it still a multiple-choice question?"

"No matter what, save as many as you can!" The guardian immediately brought the news that the Holy Light could save everyone into the light barrier. At first, there was joy, but soon, people realized that it wouldn't be easy. The citizens of Locarrot were a very cold and snobbish people, and in the eyes of the Holy Light, this was defined as sin. Even if they had changed now, they couldn't change their past.

Within the barrier of light, a frenzy of holy light erupted, everyone pleading for its favor. Some received it, others did not. The despair of gaining hope only to lose it again should have driven them mad, yet they had already experienced something similar. The frail old men, watching the children who could now ignite the holy light, shed tears of joy.

"Praise be to the Holy Light."

Everyone is racing against time, while the paladins outside the light barrier are enduring torment.

Then, new devastating news arrived. Vitim was dying from the Black Disease, and on the night he passed away, all the infected people gathered around him, looking at his kind face and weeping.

Vitim smiled, looking at the crowd. "Birth, aging, sickness, and death are the natural order of life. Do not grieve excessively, my fellow human beings. Believe that the Holy Light will surely save us. Praise the Holy Light."

In his final moments, Vitim cast his last divine spell, a sacrificial blessing. The flickering afterglow of his life force, like a fleeting burst of fireworks, bathed the five infected in his radiance, granting them his holy light and his will. Vitim, the forerunner of the holy light, exchanged his own death for the rebirth of five radiant lives.

"Three days from now, I will use the Flame of Purification to end all of this." Raphael returned to his room, issuing his final judgment before leaving. No one could argue against this command. All the Guardians were seizing the last moments to save as many people as possible.

Frey approached Pierre, who was guarding the barrier.

“Pierre”.

"Yes, Commander Frey."

"...It's a private matter."

"Oh, what's up, bro?"

"When will you get married? Our family needs someone to carry on the family line."

"Huh? You're the eldest brother, you should settle down first. After all, you're so handsome, if you want to continue the family line, find someone, why are you asking me?"

"..."

Three days later, Raphael hovered in the sky, like the Sword of Damocles hanging over the heads of the infected.

"Wait a minute!" Twelve guards, including Frey, stepped forward.

"What's wrong, Frey?"

“I have an idea to save the rest, Your Majesty Raphael. We twelve are the strongest paladins among the Guardians; we can build a barrier to protect their lives.”

Raphael frowned. "No, your methods are futile."

“Your Majesty Raphael, please let us try, no matter what.” Frey insisted repeatedly, which was unusual for him.

Although Raphael had his doubts, he agreed to Frey's request, since the plague would no longer pose any threat to them.

Twelve paladins stepped into the barrier of light, standing among the crowd awaiting the baptism of flames. "Those who have not yet felt the Holy Light, gather around us; we will make one last attempt." The twelve guardians acted like a protective umbrella, surrounded by those waiting to be saved.

Raphael raised his sword, the power of holy light transforming into scorching flames, and with a fierce slash, it crashed down.

At this moment, the twelve paladins immediately revealed their true intentions. How could they possibly know more about divine magic than their leader, Raphael? It was all a ruse.

Twelve holy light spears coalesced in his hands, their flaming tips piercing each other's hearts. Golden blood sprayed through the air. Frey had finally fulfilled the dying condition for activating the Blessing of Sacrifice; his blood transformed into a rain of light, dripping onto those around him. Twelve young, powerful lives—should be enough to bring salvation to these people.

"Frey! You bastards!!" Raphael's roar echoed across the sky like the might of the heavens.

Frey roared as he looked at the purifying flames that were right in front of him.

"Partial salvation is utterly worthless!"

"If the Holy Light cannot save them, then I will save them in the Holy Light's place!"

"If I can't even protect the people behind me, what right do I have to uphold justice?!"

"I'm a protector!!!"

Flames devoured everything. They washed away the plague and sins, leaving behind abhorrent burns on them; they were the victims. The twelve human-shaped torches standing in the flames were scorched beyond recognition, barely retaining a semblance of human form.

The radiance shone upon the twelve fire-bringers; it was the radiance of the divine kingdom.

The fallen angel opened the gates of God's kingdom, keeping the souls of the sacrificed under his command.

Raphael, having severed one wing, barely managed to fly in the sky, his golden feathers and blood dripping onto the land bathed in the light of God's kingdom. The flames of the twelve fire-bringers would never be extinguished, as they gazed upon the angels above, their leader.

Raphael gave a holy smile.

"Your lives are in my hands, my damned legion commanders."

Chapter 255 The Holy Light BOSS's Fate

Even amidst the radiant holy light, the crimson flames remained striking. Frey, engulfed in flames, took a step forward, and the land, already charred in the first explosion, once again displayed fiery red sparks.

"We are the last victims." His breath was hot and his voice was dry and low.

The two fused witch mothers stared at the monster before them. As mysterious beings, they were being shown a higher level of strange power by holy light. They pursed their lips, feeling the dry, cracked skin at the corners of their mouths; the intense heat was affecting them all.

The guardians reformed, unharmed by the flames, and even healed their wounds and regained their strength within them. The flames burning on their warhammer armor had already inflicted a painful punishment on the warring witches.

At the fourth level, the mystic can draw upon the power of their race.

At the fifth tier, the mystic will become a powerful individual, possessing the qualities to become a leader.

At the sixth rank, one spreads out their power, creating a "region," a favorable battlefield for their race to fight on. They become the ruler of their own domain.

The initial fiery bombardment instantly completed the cluster consciousness network, healing injuries, arming the burning, and interfering with the high temperature. This was not the full power of the Firebringers.

"A place of purification."

As the twelve Firebringers unleashed their full power, the air distorted, and the soil and air hissed as they burned, but there was no trace of flame.

Several witches who were nearby suddenly let out a wail. Under the horrified gaze of their sisters, their skin began to crack, and flames shot out from their bodies. They were set ablaze and turned into wailing torches.

“It’s fire, invisible fire. We need to protect ourselves.” The clever witch cast a spell on herself to resist the scorching flames. Frey looked at them and shook his head. The flames of holy light were like a malignant infection, seeping into the energy within the gaps in the use of magical power, igniting the magical power. So what everyone saw was that the witches who used their power within the purified area slowly swelled up, and finally exploded in the flames, leaving nothing behind.

They were turned into bombs by the holy light.

"In the Purified Land, to use any other power within my domain is blasphemy against the Holy Light. Offer your necks for slaughter, witches! That way you will all be left with nothing but ashes."

Spellcasters who use other powers within the domain become living bombs. The Firebringer obtained the effect of sealing magic in this way, but the effect is not obvious on higher-level ability users. Most higher-level spellcasters can suppress this power. The problem is, how many beings above the sixth rank exist in the outside world?

“You have failed, witches. By the rules of the Guardians, I sentence you to be burned at the stake.”

Just as Frey said, all resistance seemed futile. The witch mother's arms hung limply, as if she had resigned herself to destruction.

“Your talent is not invincible…” The shadow on the witch mother was rising. “Your domain only targets abnormal energy, magic, spells, and even the potions that act on our bodies. However, it does not include our own talent, because that is not abnormal.”

Has it been exposed?

"So what? You think you can defeat us in our full form with your limited talents?"

"No, but escaping is enough. Vengeful witches, use the Shadow Beast's talent." The witches transformed into swift shadows, carrying their fellow witches away like birds and beasts. Swift as lightning, the short-legged guardians disappeared from their sight before they had even taken ten steps.

"The cooked duck has flown away." Frey said irritably, pulling the spreading flames back to his body. "Why doesn't the domain have the ability to imprison space? Now they've escaped, and we can't even catch up with them."

The Firebringer beside him comforted him, “Our duty is not to hunt. We are protectors, not judges. Hunting witches is the job of heretics’ judges. Locarrot is safe now.”

"Commander Frey, shall we still go up? The greatest threat has not yet been eliminated." The Guardian pointed to the black pillar of light on the mountaintop.

“We’re not going. We’re going back to defend Locarrot.” Frey looked at the sky, where a dazzling ray of light streaked across the sky, leaving a trail of stars in its wake. “His Majesty Raphael has passed by. The crisis is over.”

Frey was covered in armor again, and as the flames on his head solidified into a dragon fruit-shaped helmet, he turned to look at the assembled Guardians.

"If you want to organize a mountain climbing activity, you can ask me for leave. After all, there shouldn't be anything else going on in the Holy City. Also, please remind Lord Raphael at the top of the mountain so he won't be late for the evening's ceremony."

Lyle's situation reached a stalemate. As Veraliz began whispering at the altar, Lyle felt something in the shadows pulling at him, initially with a stinging pain. The shadows were digesting him, and Nia immediately covered her body to resist their encroachment. Unable to break free, Nia was also unable to activate the Andrei Emblem. Perhaps stung by the insect-like shadows, the ever-unyielding Nia decided to bite back. She discovered that the shadows tasted surprisingly good.

And so, Lyle lay helplessly in the shadows, his mind receiving the chewing sounds transmitted by Nia—the girl had already begun to eat. Unable to move, his other powers would be instantly devoured by the shadows; he could only remain under Nia's protection, utterly powerless to save himself.

"Who goes there!" Vera Liz suddenly roared. She stopped casting her spell and looked at the figure that had suddenly appeared inside the shadow barrier. The shadow's detection had not detected his presence at all until he entered her territory and triggered her beast senses.

Veraliz's anger turned to confusion, and finally to surprise. She stared in disbelief at the man in the greyish-white suit before her. "Avenritter, it's Avenritter, isn't it?" Veraliz looked at this long-lost kindred spirit with joy, who, like her, had chosen to gain power by relying on another.

“It’s me, Veraliz.”

However, the witch matriarch was not the only one shocked. Lyle shouted with all her might for her savior.

"Gentleman!"

The gentleman flicked his wrist, easily taking control of the shadow, which spit out Lyle and the reluctant Nia. "It's me, Plague Doctor, I've come to save you. This is a misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding?!" Veraliz looked at her companion who had suddenly rescued her sacrifice. "You actually interrupted my revenge ritual for a human." The anger of being betrayed shattered the joy of the reunion.