They are all characters I control.

However, no matter how familiar these villagers and heretics were with Eleanor, the person most familiar with her at this moment was Sister Martha.

In Eleanor's memory, Sister Martha was always perfect and gentle.

If it weren't for seeing it with her own eyes, and the fact that Sister Martha was still standing there coldly watching her, with that gaze as if she were a stranger or an object, Eleanor's heart would have been broken.

The person she trusted most was watching her being attacked and even ordering others to attack her.

For Eleanor, who had always regarded Mother Martha as her own mother, this was indeed more painful than killing her.

The mother wanted to kill him; all the previous upbringing had been for her death.

Those smiles, those tender and beautiful memories, have all been cruelly torn to shreds at this moment.

Even the Knights of the Holy Lance Church, the very order of knights she had always considered her life's goal, were after her.

At this moment, Eleanor felt as if the whole world was rejecting her.

No matter where she escaped, she would always be hunted down, and no one was willing to take her in.

Utter despair—that was Eleanor's state of mind at that moment.

At this point, not only was Eleanor severely injured, but Claire's situation was also not optimistic.

Just as he was about to plunge his sword into Sister Martha's body, the villagers, the heretics, stopped him.

Faced with the villagers' entanglement by the heretics, Claire had no choice but to retreat back to the basement.

“You, Eleanor, give me a sword, and I can fight too,” William, who had been protecting him from behind, said.

Although Eleanor was not the product of love, she was still born from a part of William's body.

At this moment, William also wanted to contribute his own strength.

"Here you go." Claire casually tossed the rusty, broken sword hanging on her body to William.

William instinctively caught the broken sword, and instantly, the broken sword emitted a dazzling light.

Chapter 66 How to Use the Divine Artifact

The moment the broken sword shone brightly in William's hand, Claire felt as if she were seeing a phantom from over a hundred years ago.

The young church knight, clad in silver armor, charged toward him shouting "bonds" and "friendship."

At that time, William was undoubtedly at the peak of his life.

His strength was such, and so was his will.

When facing himself, William's face, full of faith, was still vivid in his mind.

At this moment, William, who was also holding his own weapon, was very old, so old that he could barely stand. But when he gripped the sword...

What remained unchanged was that the light from the sword illuminated his withered face, his sunken eye sockets, and his chapped lips.

The 'Light of Faith' primordial weapon shone brightly in William's hands.

This was originally his, and regardless of his age or physical condition, the weapon that had no effect in Claire's hands displayed its most perfect form in William's hands.

A divine light burst forth from the blade of the 'Light of Faith'.

Like a sun rising in a dungeon.

The berserk villagers and heretics were engulfed by the light. Before they could even scream, they were blasted away, crashing into the wall and falling to the ground, foaming at the mouth.

The dark red veins hissed in the holy light, like insects being burned, one by one fading, withering, and turning to ashes.

It's not about killing, it's about purification.

That sword, the original weapon 'Light of Faith', was dispelling the corrosive effects of the potion and saving those bewitched souls.

Compared to Eleanor, who had deep feelings for these villagers, William acted quite decisively at this moment, just like Claire.

However, William's attack was truly too powerful.

The dungeon where everyone was located was shaking, and cracks spread across the stone walls like a spider web.

The chains rattled, the wooden bed creaked and swayed, and the candlestick on the wall fell to the ground, its flame extinguished.

They watched as pebbles fell from above.

"Let's go!" Claire shouted, grabbing William's arm and rushing outside.

Grace followed closely behind. Although she was also affected by the potion, she couldn't care less about that when she was escaping for her life.

Megan followed behind, carrying the dead cat, her steps light as if she hadn't been locked up for who knows how long.

Sister Martha, Mel, and the remaining infidels did not stop; they all ran outside.

The three people rushed up the stone steps, climbed out of the coffin, and jumped onto the ground.

The dungeon behind them had also collapsed more than halfway. A huge collapse occurred less than a meter behind Claire's heels, burying trees and stones into the basement and even changing the surrounding landscape.

The survivors, having escaped the ordeal, didn't care about anything else at the moment. Moonlight shone on them, and Claire gasped for breath.

When I pulled it out, it had ingested a lot of dust; its eyes, nose, and throat were also full of dust.

Grace slumped to the ground, while Megan leaned against the tombstone, clutching the dead cat, her grey eyes fixed on the dungeon entrance.

William knelt on the ground, his hands supporting him. The Light of Faith was still in his hand, but it had turned back into a broken sword, rusty and with jagged edges, like a piece of scrap iron.

“You…” Claire looked at the broken sword, then at William. “How did you do that?”

When it was in his own hands, this 'Light of Faith' primordial weapon was nothing more than a broken sword and scrap metal.

When it came into William's hands, it immediately started to shine?

That attack, though not extremely powerful, was still quite considerable.

William looked up, the moonlight illuminating his ashen face and making the wrinkles appear even more pronounced. He glanced at the broken sword in his hand, then at Claire.

"This sword needs light."

"What light?" It shouldn't be any kind of holy magic; Claire had already tried it.

“Trust. Gratitude. Bonds.” William’s voice was soft, like the wind blowing through withered leaves. “The trust others have in you, the gratitude others have for you, the bonds that others are willing to entrust their lives to you.”

It was a bit abstract, and Claire paused for a moment. "So you used to shout 'Bonds' on the battlefield, not because you were stupid?"

I used to think William was just having a teenage angst, but now it seems that's not the case.

William smiled. "It's because I need the light."

Claire didn't speak. He finally understood.

Why does this sword unleash such power in the hands of Knight Commander Will, yet become nothing more than scrap metal in his own hands? Why can William activate it, but he cannot?

Sir Will trusted Eleanor, and that's why his sword shone; William lived for over a hundred years, and those he saved, protected, and guarded left their trust and gratitude in his sword, accumulating over a hundred years.

No one trusted him, no one was grateful to him, and no one was willing to entrust their lives to him. He was merely a shadowy, evil emperor who controlled other people's bodies.

Therefore, the control switch for the primal weapon 'Light of Faith' is in its name.

“I can’t use it anymore.” William’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “That was all the power I had left. Perhaps it was because of you that I was able to use the power of ‘Light of Faith’.”

"Next time, I won't be able to use that power."

"So, do we know each other? You know me? And we're quite familiar with each other?"

Although it was somewhat late, William couldn't help but look curiously at 'Eleanor' beside him.

Naturally, he had already realized that the 'Eleanor' in front of him was not the real person.

She was a vessel created by herself and Sister Martha, but now someone else is controlling Eleanor's body, and this person can even help him activate the power of the 'Light of Faith'?

“It doesn’t matter anymore, does it?” Claire stood up and took the broken sword from William’s hand.

Since William can't use it, I'll just keep it to myself to avoid losing this treasure.

Claire cannot use it at the moment, but once the empire is recovered, she will naturally have enough followers, and then she will be able to use it.

William did not refute, he smiled, closed his eyes, and his chest heaved violently.

Although he didn't say anything, that sword strike had taken a lot of his energy.

"Sister Eleanor, you always manage to surprise people."

Mel's voice came from not far away.

Claire looked up.

Mel stood on the hillside, the moonlight shining on her hair, casting half of her youthful face in light and half in shadow. Behind her stood Mother Martha.

Mother Martha looked terrible; her hair was disheveled, her clothes were torn, and the candlestick in her hand was nowhere to be found.

“But you can’t escape.” Mel tilted his head. “Even if you escape from the dungeon, you can’t escape this village.”

She clapped her hands.

Down the hillside, in the darkness, torches were lit one by one.

Not just a few, but dozens. The torchlight stretched out in a continuous line, illuminating the entire hillside as if it were daytime.

Armed figures surged in from all directions, surrounding Claire and her companions. These were no longer villagers; they were true infidels, clad in leather armor, wielding sophisticated weapons, their eyes cold and focused.

Mother Martha stood at the back of the crowd, looking at Claire.

Chapter 67 Teammates, it's up to you!

If the basement and William were bait, then naturally they wouldn't let Claire and the others escape so easily.

Those villagers and heretics were just the simplest and most low-level cannon fodder; the faces reflected under the torches that appeared before us at this moment were the real main force.

There weren't just a few, but dozens; the torches stretched out in a continuous line, illuminating the entire hillside as if it were daytime.

Armed figures surged in from all directions, surrounding Claire and her companions. These were no longer villagers; they were true infidels, clad in leather armor, wielding sophisticated weapons, their eyes cold and focused.

Such a scene might seem a bit exaggerated to others.

But both Sister Martha and Claire knew very well how powerful William had once been, but his weakness was also quite obvious: he was prone to trusting others.

Having once been a member of the Church of Goddess, Sister Martha, who possessed little magic or combat power, was able to easily capture and control him.

Now that William has been released, it is understandable that Sister Martha has prepared so many heretics.

Although the attack just now was terrifying enough, even shocking Claire, William is now completely exhausted and poses no threat.

Naturally, there was no way to help Claire anymore.

Looking at Claire (Eleanor), Grace, and Megan, who were now surrounded,

Sister Martha stood at the back of the crowd, looking at the group. "Eleanor and William, you two father and daughter are not getting away."

Claire didn't answer such a pointless question; he looked around and estimated the number of people.

The enemy numbered about thirty or forty, well-equipped, and positioned in a hierarchical manner, with shields in the front, archers and crossbowmen in the back, and swordsmen and axemen on both sides.

This is not a rabble, but a well-trained armed force.

Or rather, these all seem to be professionally trained knights?

Given his current weakened power from the potion, coupled with William's exhausted strength, it's clear they can't win.

[Eleanor: ...He's my father?]

Her thoughts surfaced in her mind, accompanied by a suppressed tremor.

As Sister Martha just said, Eleanor finds it hard to believe, but it's what Sister Martha herself said.

[Claire: That's what Martha said, and William didn't deny it. Are you asking a stupid question?]

Eleanor: But...

Claire could guess her doubts without her saying it directly.

[Claire: William is indeed very old, and it's impossible for him to have any children. So, whatever method you used to create this child, Mother Martha is not your biological mother.]

Eleanor fell silent, and Claire could feel the wind in her mind.

For this female knight, her faith was crumbling, her family ties were tearing apart, and her self-identity was wavering.

A person discovers that he has lived for more than twenty years, that his adoptive mother is a fraud, his father is a stranger, and that his body is an artificially created "container".

While Claire might not care about such things, this kind of blow would not be so easy for Eleanor, the Holy Mother Knight, to bear.

[Eleanor: Why...why did he do that? Why did he get involved in creating me?]