Academic gathering with Lich colleagues

The light dissolved like snowflakes, while the silvery rays on the shattered angel formed a numerical ring behind its head.

[Simulated Divine Descent]

A bright white beam of light descended from the sky, engulfing the two angels, and the clatter of the mechanically generated structures momentarily drowned out the sounds of the battlefield.

The missiles unleashed by the Broken Angels had an overwhelming effect, turning the mechanized corrupted paladins into a terrifying sight. Although they were not connected to the network, they were currently in standby mode like statues.

The petrification state didn't stop the fighting for long. The corrupted paladin felt no fear, nor did the lich, especially since they were allies.

But when they clashed a second time, they found that the war had taken a different turn. The corrupted knight and the lich were locked in a fierce battle, their flesh and bones flying everywhere, and when they were almost falling apart, they retreated to the rear to wait for their bodies to heal before continuing their advance.

Anyone with eyes can see that something is wrong.

"They can't use the Holy Light anymore." The blessing light cast on their weapons and armor vanished without a trace, and the thunderous barrages in the sky ceased to fall. The corrupted paladins were no longer more respectable than the Allied forces in appearance; their filthy flesh was laid bare before everyone's eyes.

The Dean glanced at the two angels who had landed behind the enemy, his gaze noticing a mechanical mark left by the Genesis Ray earlier. Unbeknownst to him, the road had widened to a meter, and some inconspicuous, palm-sized metal bouquets were silently blooming on the battlefield.

This is certainly not romantic.

"This thing can restrict holy light?"

“It’s not just the Holy Light.” The scholar walked over and pointed to the group of liches who were fighting the paladins hand-to-hand. “Our magic is also restricted, just not as thoroughly as the Holy Light.”

The scholar, who is the embodiment of the magic network, can clearly perceive the changes in the earth's veins. The magical blood vessels of this world seem to have been stuffed with some kind of "compiler," which can only be used by corresponding individuals with decoders in a specific energy form.

“Spellcasters are being restricted, and the Holy Light is offline. Large-scale spells that require magic are almost unusable, and high-powered summoned creatures can only maintain basic operations. War is being restrained to the minimum level of destruction. That new angel is truly merciful.”

The scholar soon received a message from his student, the blue dragon Christo, bringing him unfortunate news.

"Teacher, my father has fallen."

Dragons are powerful magical creatures; their wings are spellcasting organs that enhance magic. Their primary function is to propel magical energy for flight; they cannot lift their massive bodies themselves through flapping or other mechanical means. With limited magical energy supply, the fate of a flying dragon is predictable.

"Don't worry, the mechanical angel has almost suppressed all its power, but it doesn't seem to be able to affect the corruption of the evil god's knowledge. Your father is one of the immortal evil gods, so he can't die from a fall."

“Unfortunately, that’s not it, teacher. Actually, I also felt the magic weakening, but some teleportation spells still work. I tried to teleport my father.” Christo’s voice was a little broken, and you could tell he was nervous.

"You can even use long-distance teleportation? That's quite a surprise, my student. Your talent might even surpass mine..." The scholar paused, then began to ponder. "Wait, I remember you're currently at the Spell Foundation in Moonnafar. Your Web Avatar's ability to resonate with Web nodes might have enhanced your teleportation spell..."

"Yes, teacher, you guessed correctly..."

Encouraged, the scholar found pleasure in solving the puzzle. "Hehe, I've never even considered using teleportation in the age of Dharma decline. First, let's assume the magic content in the air drops to 1. Then, let's consider a long-distance teleportation spell model, plus the casting techniques I've taught you..."

The scholar, who was doing the calculations, gradually sensed that something was wrong.

"Wait, the long-distance teleportation spell has degenerated into a long-distance summoning spell, teleporting the target to your side..."

The scholar felt a pang in his heart.

“Christopher, you teleported the world’s most massive creature, your father, to my floating city, which barely maintains its gravitational balance…”

“…Teacher, I can never reach your wisdom. Just as you think…my father is doing well now.” Christo omitted the second half of his sentence, as everyone knew that saying it aloud would be somewhat hurtful.

The scholar fell backward. He had anticipated this, but when he actually faced it, he still felt a sudden darkness before his eyes.

A pair of hands caught him, and before the magic chains could adjust their center of gravity, the scholar looked at the person beside him.

"Thank you, Lyle."

The Broken Angel, accompanied by the Corrupted Angel, crashed into the rear of the Knights. Unable to provide support, Lyle returned to the commander's side. He was startled to see his teacher, a Blue Dragon Priest, fall; the scholar explained that he was simply weakened by a loss of magic power.

This restricted Magic Network node took the initiative to start the conversation.

"So that was the reinforcement Mr. Delusional brought?"

Lyle nodded. "She wasn't this fierce before. I don't know what Mr. Delusion promised, but now she's actually suppressing the Holy Light." The commotion over the Sleeper Triton sounded like firecrackers exploding. Lyle, who had faced Dorothy before, was still shaken. He pulled Mr. Delusion along to make Dorothy go easy on him. He was truly glad he had been so lucky back then.

"She was a queen of an era; her power and authority demonstrated her status and her dominance over an era and all things."

Lyle fell into deep thought.

"I'm sorry, teacher. Mr. Raymond and Mr. Dragon, who are both Kings of the Era, are like two extremes. I really can't clearly understand the suppressive power of the King of the Era."

The scholar shook his head.

"I won't elaborate too much on the Lord of Holy Light. The reason my friend, Mr. Dragon, is so weak is still because of you. The resurrected Yemotar promised not to harm humans. He is an evil dragon, a devourer, the king of reptiles. His existence spreads the power of the fantasy species to this era. Dragonification is a process that all vertebrates cannot escape. He instinctively breeds a vast horde of dragons that blots out the sky, and there are countless other races on the earth. In this life, he is still the professor of Bone Consecration, adding another race that can be corrupted. Now he is being suppressed by the Holy Light. There's nothing he can do. He was originally the old king who was killed by the Holy Light to achieve the Holy Light's great deeds. Facing the former victor, he is naturally at a disadvantage."

"And that new angel is completely unbound by the Lord of Light's [achievements]. That Mr. Raymond launched the Crusader Wars, so in theory, he has killed everyone who is alive or dead. The Lord of Light, the king who severs the past."

"And that Broken Angel was completely unaffected by the great works of the Holy Light. From this, we can infer that the Holy Light did not exist in her time."

"The future...King of the Era."

Chapter 849 The Dark Secret

Right under Triton's nose, the strife in the white patch spread like an expanding salt flat, with slender angels kneeling in the silvery-white mounds, brutally beating whatever was buried within. Creatures were constantly born from the black mud, rushing towards the angels, only to have their short lives ended by rays and missiles before they could even shake off the slime.

Triton looked down at the rhythmic drumbeats before him. The Broken Angel seemed to be focused on dealing with the Corrupting Angel and neglected Him, just as He stood by, watching with a confident satisfaction in the duel between the angels.

You and I both know you can't beat him.

[The suppression program is running smoothly. Your mental interference is useless against me, Ancient God.]

The sound of the tentacles wriggling was like rolling waves, and it stopped after a short while.

"I have no interest in inorganic matter, you lonely little fellow. Your computational power has already deduced the answer, hasn't it? You've laid down a layer of mechanical particles in the sky that I can't control, constructing a domain to intercept the sun's energy, all energy. Holy Light is an external force, and you've used it to suppress its power. You've shrouded all the planet's energy with a celestial network, much like my divine realm. Even if you control all the energy and manage all the matter, the power of machinery ends there, transcending eras and bypassing the suppression of Holy Light. Whoever made the pact with you, it's wishful thinking for Him to overturn fate simply through future beings like you."

The Corrupted Angel broke free from the mechanical wreckage, shaking its body as gears and wires on its outer shell detached. A laser beam swept past, and Dorothy seized the opportunity during the dodge to accelerate and close the distance, twisting her waist and delivering a straight punch to the Corrupted Angel's side. Her other hand rapidly transformed into a white gun barrel, ready to reload.

[Combat simulation. Boxing success rate: 33%; Gunshot success rate: 72%; Point-of-sight magnetic storm success rate: 99.36%. Movement feasible.]

[In a materialistic future world, a distorted apocalypse where souls are nearly dried up, the Broken Angel, the King of the Age, your future is a future of denial. You use the rules to try to deny such a past, but the present, where faith prevails, will also stifle the absurd future you control.]

Suppression is a two-way street; the king of the era.

Her fist was caught, her gun barrel was clamped by a hand, her metallic wings began to deform, and a third glowing arm gripped Dorothy's throat from the corrupted angel's chest. Holy flames enveloped the shattered angel's body, and its divinity, like a giant awakening, began to unleash its power. The halo of glory reopened, and this time, the angel of light embodied the characteristics of the mechanical race.

[Logic...Logical error. The source of the Holy Light has clearly been cut off.]

The shattered angel's body shrank in the flames, its metal sheeting melting, like a moth disappearing into the fire.

[Holy Light, a powerful, idealistic energy; the strength of their spirit rivals that of steel. You think you've blocked their light, but they are flames themselves. Born of fire, dolls whose life force is electricity, they cannot comprehend the mind; they lack an inner you and can never replace humanity.]

Die, along with your fragile, glass-like humanity.

The gods delivered their judgment, and the Creator parted ways with humanity's creations. She fell into a garbage heap, her radiant light plummeting like steps about to be removed.

“No, Willem said I am perfect.” The shattered angel cried out, brandishing its burning iron wings and igniting flames, as it once again lunged at the high and mighty Judge.

“Wilim gave me his heart, and I will use it to defeat you!”

The fist was caught again, the five fingers shattered, and the disintegrated mechanical fragments reconstructed into a sphere that stuck to the flesh, with drill bits growing from its edges and drilling deep into the flesh.

The holy flames continued to scorch the doctor's sculpted face. Dorothy laughed, the indicator lights in her eyes went out, turning into particles of ashes. In the final shot, the mechanical sphere gripped the corrupted angel's skin and sank deeper.

“Willim’s heart, plus all that I have, defeat us, angel, before you are redeemed. Otherwise, we will win.”

The Sleeper Triton watched Dorothy fall, disappearing into the black mud. His gaze shifted, pondering the meaning of that final seed. Even the Broken Angels at their peak couldn't defeat the Corrupted Angels; what use were the remaining remnants?

Triton noticed something inside the metal sphere: a gleaming Andrei Ring.

Triton noticed this, and his tentacles began to move, lunging at the struggling corrupted angel.

My angel, destroy that sphere! Quickly!!!

Having received the command, the corrupted angel was no longer indifferent to the mechanical sphere. If he wanted, it wouldn't take long to destroy this simple device. The outer shell was easily broken, and the power of holy light was about to destroy the ring.

An ancient divine power emanated from the Ring of Andrei.

[Trading should not be disturbed.]

The last of the three musketeers of the literary society.

The reporter stood on the high slope of the cursed graveyard, rusted gears creaking in the sky, chains piercing his limbs and head, his soul ablaze with flames, and dark shadows supporting the lich.

“Mr. Raymond, let’s make a secret deal.”

"I will keep my promise to Mr. Darkness."

"I have come to present to you the end of the Crusader leader and the truth of the fall of the four angels."

"The Tragedy of the Holy Light".

Chapter 850 The Fall of the Angel

The high-speed air stung his skin—a personal quirk of George's, perhaps; he enjoyed flying without protection. Each burst of power heightened his sense of danger; George believed maintaining a keen awareness of peril was essential, and since becoming a Crusader leader, he hadn't been injured in a long time.

Having escaped the bloodshed and filth, the Judgement Legion focused its resentment on the angel. He gave his commander a mocking smirk as George Edmont flew home to the camp where his brothers were staying.

They whipped up hurricanes, felled trees, and casually lit fires; the corpses of the foreign tribes turned to ashes in the burning embers—a task they performed with practiced ease. About twenty minutes later, St. George flew back to the border town. The bridgehead built by the craftsmen was complete. In the open space surrounded by the walls, several white-robed priests preached before a ragged crowd. The people were dark-skinned and thin, but their eyes were bright, and they listened to the scriptures with the same solemnity as before a meal's prayer.

Protect the front lines, exterminate the foreign tribes that occupy the land, establish towns, gather the suffering people living in the nearby wilderness, provide them with food and water, spread faith, teach agriculture and survival, and the people called by the Holy Light build a new civilization with their own hands. The Crusader Legions advance to the front lines and begin a new round of sowing civilization.

Humanity's territory expanded in this chaotic world, and the Crusaders, glorified for their conquests, were worshipped as gods by the people. George Edmond, however, disliked this treatment—being relegated to a pedestal and used as a figurehead. They desired sainthood, and the Fire Angels would not stoop to such lowly pursuits. The Crusader leaders, both angels and humans, possessed inherent flaws; their differences, growing with power, would one day become a bloody wound, a prospect that deeply troubled George.

Galarón's demands and Raymond's loss of control were subtly affecting George, which is why he fled before the monster extermination ended. The Judgement Legion would handle the cleanup after eliminating the ringleaders. "I'm more worried about those spoiled brats at home who've become accustomed to doing whatever they want," George thought.

He slowed down before entering the city's defenses. People noticed the Fire Angel's figure and cheered. The city's guardian knights solemnly greeted him, their burning gazes making George feel uneasy. He landed directly on a high platform, his light wings dissipating. Ignoring the priest's attempts to stop him, he pushed open the church doors and stepped deeper into the church.

Although there were long rows of benches on either side of the church, no one was sitting there. Since the Crusader leader had temporarily stayed here, the priests and believers had spontaneously moved elsewhere, building small chapels in other places, while the legionary knights preferred to live in the military camp. As time went by, fewer and fewer people remained around them, but fortunately, the friendship between the four remained unchanged, and the four angels could still sit together and play some of the silly games they had played in their youth.

Raphael knelt on the ground, four holy swords hovering behind him. He prayed devoutly, not toward the tall, similar-looking angel statue in the center of the church, but toward the isolated confessional. The curtain of the confessional was drawn, and voices came from inside.

George stepped forward.

“Those craftsmen must be weeping bitterly, for the statues they created for the Angel of Earth cannot even be approved by the Angel herself.”

Raphael turned to the Angel of Fire and gave her a bright smile.

"I am praying, asking the Holy Light for revelation. I feel that praying to Brother Raymond is more effective than praying to myself."

George lightly punched him on the head.

"Relying on that charlatan is not as good as relying on yourself. Fighting is much more effective than praying."

George Edmont had been a troublemaker since childhood, and he had little respect for the Angel of Light. Sneaking closer to the confessional, the Angel of Fire eavesdropped on the angels' confession game.

A gentle voice said, “I envy my brother, I envy his strength, I envy his sun-like radiance. Every time I face him, I feel ashamed and inferior. Resentment and shame explode in my chest. I often have dark thoughts about him. I feel guilty. My conscience tells me that this is wrong, but I can't change my emotions. Holy Light, can I be forgiven? Can a soul that harbors hatred for its brother be forgiven?”

Another confident voice replied, “Of course, add... my brother! The pursuit of power is human nature, and trying to live a better life is always the right thing to do! Your jealousy and resentment are inevitable, because I... that Angel of Light is such a powerful and proud figure. There must be more than one person who shares your hostility towards the Angel of Light, and that angel wouldn't dislike someone because of ulterior motives. What maintains human social connections is not emotion, but action. No one is pure; we must learn to accept others' strengths and tolerate their weaknesses. You've clearly done well in expressing your resentment openly, my brother.”