Academic gathering with Lich colleagues

He walked toward the priest's office, easily pried open the lock with a wire, and quickly slipped inside. He then gently closed and locked the door, only then feeling a little relieved.

Because of the holy light, there was no need for candles; this small space was bright enough. There was a poplar wood desk, a collapsed bookshelf, a window with tightly drawn curtains, and a palm-sized angel statue. The statue's features were indistinct, and one could only vaguely make out that it was male. The gesture of praying with hands clasped together carried a sense of solemnity and gentleness.

There wasn't just a priest there; a little girl, about five or six years old, was lying peacefully asleep on the desk. She wore delicate little leather boots, her floral dress stained, and her pretty braids were slightly disheveled from neglect. Her eyes and brows were beautiful, and her naturally rosy cheeks seemed to radiate a vibrant energy.

The priest lowered his breathing, searched for a while, and then poked at the stain on her clothes with his finger.

"Lucy, dinner's ready." The priest carefully removed the uneven bits of dough and placed the "complete" loaf on the table, placing a book underneath. He accidentally knocked over the angel statue while reaching for his water bottle, but the little girl quickly picked it up. Lucy sat up, staring blankly at the priest. His rhythmic finger movements led her to the Holy Communion in the book.

"Joseph, this is huge!" The priest was a little proud of himself. He subconsciously moved his fingers, letting them slide like waves, and said, "It's not that big. It's not enough to fill the stomach of a hardworking and honest adult, but it's just right for a little child like you."

Lucy smiled sweetly, knelt quietly on the table, and began her pre-dinner prayer. Joseph wanted to join her, but he had long forgotten the content of his prayer; his gain represented someone else's loss, and Joseph felt this was not something to tell the Holy Light. He still remembered what his mother had told him when he was a child, "Do you see these cows and sheep, Joseph? They're served on the table because they didn't pray to the Holy Light before eating grass." His mother had successfully frightened him, not in the sense of needing to follow doctrine, but in the sense that wrongdoing must never be discovered.

Lucy's eating time was almost as long as her prayer time; she was probably starving. The last time she ate was just a day earlier, before Joseph shaved his beard to impersonate a priest. The old knight, perhaps due to his failing eyesight, didn't notice. The panicked crowd just wanted some reassurance, and Joseph didn't want Lucy crammed into the chapel with the others. Although the process had been somewhat nerve-wracking, things were alright now.

Joseph felt a tap on his chest. He looked down and saw Lucy's little fist on his chest. He asked, "What's wrong, Lucy?"

The girl turned to look at the blocked window. Outside, there was a darkness that terrified humanity, and despair. Everyone here knew exactly what that was, including Joseph and Lucy.

Are we going to die?

"Yes, Lucy."

Lucy laughed, jumped off the table, pulled back a corner of the curtain, sat down next to Joseph, and said cheerfully, “That’s wonderful! We’ll see Mom and Dad soon, and Aunt Edna too. Mom and Dad will definitely prepare a big loaf of soft bread and a big jug of milk for us, and Aunt Edna will bring out her secret-recipe smoked meat. We’ll be very happy in heaven, Joseph. Don’t be afraid, I’ll introduce you to Mom and Dad if Aunt Edna forgets to introduce you.”

Joseph forced a smile, looked up at the patch of darkness peeking out the window, closed his eyes, and shut the fear inside.

"Thank you, Lucy."

Chapter 823 Rescue

Children seem to have boundless energy; they always want to grab onto something. If their little cherry-like mouths aren't munching on something, they'll at least make a sound to express their opinions. From the moment we begin communicating with them, the purpose of talking to children is never for the sake of exchange, because of the difference in status and understanding. Those innocent voices often sound comical and adorable.

Those two short legs were perhaps the spring switch for Lucy's vocal cords; she always seemed to talk as she walked, and her legs would sway subtly as she spoke. She was a good girl, much better than Joseph himself.

"Aren't you going out?"

“Yes,” Joseph thought. That flatbread was their last meal; the cellar supplies weren’t as plentiful as the old knight had described. The refugees must be starving by now, and most would blame him for their hunger. Joseph felt their pain deeply; his vision blurred, his body felt hot, he broke out in a cold sweat, and he felt an urge to bite the calluses on his fingernails, or even more. He quickly gulped down some water and focused his attention on Lucy’s words.

“Let’s pray, Joseph.” The little girl took the man’s hand, and Joseph’s trembling hand seemed weak in her small one.

"But you've only prayed once."

“We must not slacken our prayers for the Holy Light!” Lucy puffed out her cheeks and pulled Joseph’s hands together. “You have to greet your neighbors again and again to make them your friends, and so do the gods.”

Joseph smiled wryly and went along with her, putting his hands together in a gesture of feigned seriousness to annoy the child.

“I have no home, and no neighbors. I haven’t prayed to the Holy Light in a long time, so Lucy, you have to take me with you.” Joseph actually felt a sense of ritual in the thought of praying for so long at the end of his life. Now that he had nothing else to do, he might as well let Lucy have some fun.

“Yes, yes, I’ll take good care of you, Joseph.” She nodded vigorously, placed the little angel statue between them, and put a candle on each side. Facing each other, Lucy slowly recited the same prayer, one sentence at a time. She recited a sentence, and Joseph repeated it, the only sound in the room being their voices.

Lucy quickly entered a state of self-forgetfulness; devout prayer can lead to a state of self-forgetfulness, and this unwavering faith can infect those around her. Joseph's mutterings, however, soon ceased. He was restless and had little desire for the Holy Light; he was merely closing his eyes, striking a pose, and going through the motions.

Joseph's dismissive attitude made him hear something unusual.

The sound of the door lock opening mechanism, and footsteps.

Tap...tap...tap...

A gust of wind blew past behind him, and Joseph tensed up. He heard heavy breathing, felt the liquid flowing down the floorboards to his feet, and smelled that terrifying scent—blood.

Joseph felt a chill run down his spine, his legs trembled, and he even considered closing his eyes tightly, pretending nothing had happened. But Lucy's prayers continued, and the sound brought Joseph back to his senses. He wasn't alone; Lucy was asking for the help of the Holy Light. Wouldn't the Holy Light help them? Joseph was an adult; he had his own set of rules. He didn't choose to pray, but instead grabbed the most convenient thing nearby—the statue of the little cherub receiving worship—and rushed towards it.

Joseph slammed into the armor, the blood-soaked armor tilting slightly backward in this desperate counterattack. It was the old knight's armor; the still-skilled paladin wouldn't easily remove it. The old knight gripped his sword in his right hand, his left arm armor having fallen off in the impact of Joseph, revealing fleshy tentacles beneath.

"For... the Holy Light..." the voice growled intermittently as the sword tip turned and thrust towards Joseph, who was standing close by, not caring that it would pierce through himself as well.

When Joseph saw the exposed foreign object, he panicked. He was too terrified to speak or think, as if he had surrendered everything to his instincts.

"Step back!" Joseph slammed his fist on the desk, but strangely, the old knight was also sent flying. He didn't let this golden opportunity slip by; dropping a handful of stone dust, he grabbed Lucy and fled. As they passed the chapel, Joseph covered Lucy's eyes. He wasn't sure if Lucy had finished praying. What he saw fueled Joseph's rage, and he felt a renewed strength to continue running, rushing into the lightless darkness.

With his feet firmly planted on the black mud, far from the collapsed, dark chapel, Joseph, holding Lucy in his arms, ran straight in one direction like a tireless mule.

No one knows how long Joseph ran. He felt like his lungs were about to dry out, and his breath was hot. All around him was endless darkness. He was somewhat numb and just kept running in one direction.

A black knight riding a black horse stood at the edge of the horizon. He looked this way, paused, and waited. The horse's breath was thick, dark purple mist, and its hooves were a fiery white, steaming hot as they trod on the black mud. Joseph and Lucy quickly approached the knight.

The black knight pulled on the rope, turning to face them.

"priest."

"Please...save her...take her away." Joseph gasped for breath, stretching out his arms to push the girl out of his arms.

The black knight was gentler than he appeared. He picked up the somewhat bewildered little girl, placed her on his horse, and then asked, "Who is she?"

“Lucy, her parents are dead, and fate brought her to me. I think she is my daughter now, Lucy Ashburn, Aberceon is the name I just gave her.”

The Black Knight nodded and extended his hand to Joseph.

"And you, Pastor?"

Joseph smiled, glanced at the little girl sitting on horseback, and, taking advantage of Lucy's blind spot, revealed what was under his robe. The black knight lowered his hand, his fingers resting on the hilt of his sword.

"Do you need help, priest?"

“No, not in front of her…” With a weak voice, Joseph moved a few steps to Lucy and looked up at the little girl.

"Lucy."

"Joseph."

Goodbye, Lucy.

Goodbye, Joseph.

After saying goodbye, Joseph bent down and sat directly on the muddy ground. He turned to his side and lay down to rest.

"I've been running for too long, I need to get a good night's sleep."

The black knight pulled on the reins, urging the horse to carry Lucy away. They ran swiftly through the deep tide, so fast that even the night couldn't catch them.

A short while later, a soft tapping sound came from the black knight's breastplate. The knight lowered his head and looked at the cute little girl.

Is Joseph going to die?

The knight hesitated for a moment, then said, "Why do you say that?"

“We never say 'goodbye'.”

"..."

Lucy leaned back against the Black Knight's armor and said, "Great, Joseph's gone to heaven too. He was terrible at making beds; he can learn from Mom while we're still alive. I don't want to keep them waiting too long. Are we... going to die soon too?"

The knight gripped the reins tightly, took a deep breath, and answered in an exceptionally deep, mature, and confident voice: "No, Lucy, you will experience famine, becoming emaciated and skin and bones; you will encounter war, displacement, and uncertainty; you will lose your hair and become weak from the plague, but you will not die so soon. You will grow up, become more beautiful than any flower, find a decent man to start a family, have a few children who will grow up to be annoying, raise a few sheep, do housework for decades, until the day you lose all your teeth and vomit even when you drink water, only then will I allow you to die of old age."

She pounded her small fist on the breastplate even harder, and the sound showed that she was really putting in a lot of force.

"Bad guy!"

"Hum hum."

"...You bad guy, my name is Lucy."

“Lucy Abersheen, call me Algernon Ferre.”

Chapter 824 On the Brink of Collapse

"Where are we going?" Lucy asked from her arms.

"The Primordial Vatican, the world's largest orphanage." Algernon added his personal interpretation to the introduction, as usual.

"Ah!" Lucy cried out, tilting her head back to rest it against the paladin's armor, looking up. "Lucy isn't an orphan. Lucy has a mom and dad, Aunt Edna, and Joseph." The little girl emphasized, her long life on the run making her both optimistic and delicate in some ways.

“…I’m an orphan, alright? I’m going to take you home to visit my family.” Expressing his apology, Algernon continued on his way in silence. But the silence didn’t last long; a fire rose in the distance, and Algernon drew his sword, covering Lucy under his cloak.

Clang! The light spear collided with the sweeping sword. Algernon parried the attack, swung the sword, and shadows wrapped around it. The shadowy warhorse advanced unhurriedly. The Judge Knight remained silent, facing the fire giant at the end of his line of sight. In the giant's cracked palm, lava solidified into another spear.

Clang! The javelin attack appeared before Algernon as if teleported, colliding with the sword and sparks flying, unable to advance an inch. The deflected spear embedded itself in the mud behind him, but the paladin didn't even glance at it, continuing to lead his horse toward the giant's towering figure, facing the barrage of spears head-on.

The fire giant's knees were sunk deep into the black mud, and its head, like a molten furnace with a hole in it, dripped molten blood and emitted a blinding flame in the darkness. Its massive body was embedded with fragments of broken armor, which were currently holding its shattered body in place. Despite its ferocious appearance, the fire giant was wielding the power of holy light.

"The one who rose from the ashes, Frey? Or someone else?" His former comrade blocked his way, and Algernon walked up indifferently, turning his horse to avoid the massive arm that came crashing down in front of him, calmly dodging the splashing water and flames.

"For...the Holy Light..." the fiery giant howled, its attacks becoming even more frenzied.

"Since you were all alone, unable to even speak properly..." Rising from his horse, the summoned creature groaned under Algernon's heavy stomp. He turned, drew his sword, and sliced ​​through the severed arm with an upward arc. A little girl still clutched in his arms, black wings propelling Algernon into the air. His sword pointed at the wailing giant, the Judgement Legion Commander dismissive.

"I've long since stopped taking you guardians seriously."

Raising his sword high, Algernon unleashed a higher power, and a dark rift opened in the air.

"Judgment has arrived." Two black-winged judges, stained with blood and completely black, appeared beside Algernon.

"Commander!" "Commander!"

"Kill him, and I'll take this brat back." Algernon flapped his wings and flew away, while the two Judgement Knights looked at the reattached giant with strange expressions.

"I never thought that one day it would be two against one of the Firebringers."

"Who says otherwise? Every time a Firebringer is accompanied by a dozen or twenty guards, turning a friendly spar into a legion battle, the legion commander has given us a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

The Judge Knights chuckled as they dodged the giant's attack, drawing two sharp blades that sparked as they drew them together in the air, as if the colossal monster below were already at their mercy. They spoke mad words, even more abnormal than their fallen brethren.

"Don't blame me, brother. You know, those who fall will be punished. Blame your incompetent angel leader, Raphael." Selectively forgetting the fact that even the Fire Angel had fallen, the Judge began his destructive strike against the Corrupted Fireborn.

His companions were still debating, "Should we kill him, or sanctify him?"

"What's the difference!" The judge, wielding two swords, had already carved a deep furrow into the giant's spine.

"The difference lies in whether or not to add him to my list of confessions later."

"Of course not! We are the true justice!" cried the Dark Ones of Holy Light, their bodies burning with the fury of vengeance, igniting their power.

……

This is a windowless room, adorned with tapestries and murals, its ceiling embellished with vibrant patterns. The cylindrical space is seamless, like a perfect new world. Statues peek out from the walls, emitting countless points of light with unidentified sounds, perhaps a word, perhaps a wisp of invigorating spiritual energy. Here, one feels no loneliness, for humans often lose themselves in the face of powerful spiritual influence.

The girl, her hair disheveled, knelt in the center of the room, her eyes closed, her clasped hands able to feel her own breath. She was praying softly amidst countless sacred chants. Her slender body, wrapped in a thin robe, did not feel cold. Her brows were furrowed, and the statue's dozen or so outstretched hands seemed to intend to caress her, offering any comfort they could.

An aged figure appeared behind the girl, carrying a golden staff. His white, wrinkled hand touched the back of her neck, moving along the curve to the top of her head. When he spoke, his voice was like a warm sun, making even the air seem a little warmer.