Chapter 480: It's You!

Chapter 480: It Is You!

The grand chamber of the magic circle.

Bound tightly by several pythons, Taufman's skin had grown progressively slack, and a few age spots had surfaced across his flesh; clearly, his vitality was nearly depleted.

Yet, Karen still believed that this former commander would never willingly allow himself to be drained alive, and even Neo had once praised him as a splendid opponent; since he had made a "gesture" earlier, action was inevitable.

The hunchbacked youth's strength was evident from his ability to forcibly lock onto coordinates from a shattered teleportation array, swiftly overthrow Taufman, and manifest all manner of bizarre, mysterious phenomena.

In fact, looking at the hunchbacked youth, Karen felt a sense of familiarity, as if seeing his former self—likewise burdened with an excess of "things," akin to running a curiosity shop.

Under normal circumstances, such an opponent was not someone Karen would choose to engage.

Although Karen's current realm remained that of an Inquisitor, his true strength had long surpassed it; within the Church of Order, official titles and realms shared the same names, which could engender a rather "chaotic" impression.

Take Mr. Eisen, a Reciter, for instance: he possessed the realm and office, yet his strength manifested in arrays, while in pure combat, he could only defend against Philomena, and both he and his wife had been saved by Karen.

In terms of sheer combat capability, Karen felt that he could now contend with Ziche, the Reciter who had debuted from the Whip of Order—the one who had once forged the Lax bronze coin, Loya.

In other words, Karen's self-assessed combat power was equivalent to that of a Reciter truly adept at fighting.

Of course, this was still a broad comparison, because one could not isolate each individual's advantages and traits to calculate a specific numerical value, ultimately tallying a total score to rank their strength.

If such an absolutely impartial third-party institution truly existed, the world would be genuinely at peace; whenever clerics went out, they could simply display their values, and the lower one would just concede.

But the problem lay in the fact that, unless absolute strength reached a level of complete suppression, anyone within this broad range could "have a go"; though probabilities varied, victory and defeat were ultimately 0 and 1.

Furthermore, out of habit, whenever his strength increased, Karen liked to find Neo to practice and break things in, choosing a combat style that allowed his current condition to exert the maximum combat effect;

Then, after everything was fully integrated, Karen would still tend to select opponents who, at a glance, were clearly no match for him.

Caution, as a character trait, was truly something etched into his very bones.

To express it another way, he managed his affairs diligently and advanced steadily step by step for the sole purpose of securing a stable victory when needed; he liked to master this orderly rhythm.

Thus, Karen and Neo shared a similar aesthetic, yet possessed entirely different personalities;

For someone like Neo enjoyed the thrill between life and death, loving to play a high-stakes game against opponents stronger than him, and winning brought a tragic yet immense sense of achievement;

But someone like Karen would never suddenly lose disastrously one day and end up alone on a rooftop in bleak despair.

But right now, the strength of this hunchbacked youth had clearly exceeded the range of "having a go," because Taufman was an excellent yardstick.

Yes, Karen was very fond of using combat power metrics; the earliest was Alfred, followed by Philomena—this was no joke, but a genuine practical need.

If he were entirely alone, Karen could still utilize his identity as a "Believer of Light" to blend in with this crowd and bide his time; to put it coldly, if Taufman fell, so be it.

He would avenge Taufman, but not now.

But right now, there was a group of team members behind him; once the situation stabilized, it would be difficult for such a large group to remain hidden, especially since everyone was currently inside the hall, right under the youth's nose.

That left only a desperate struggle!

Hopefully, Taufman could bring him a surprise.

Karen lightly patted Purr's backside, and Purr understood instantly;

Leaping down from Karen's embrace with supreme agility, it immediately climbed onto Aisli's shoulder, well aware that it must not hinder the melee fighters, and staying behind allowed it to protect the priest and summoner.

Kevin, however, did not retreat like Purr; instead, he gave a couple of gentle tugs, and though Alfred did not understand, he released the leash holding Kevin.

Subsequently, Kevin took a few steps forward, halting half a step behind Karen's flank, sticking out his tongue and flashing a simple, honest smile.

He had a premonition that if everyone managed to leave this place alive, it would be quite unreasonable if Karen did not undo another layer of his seal.

Furthermore, standing in this position allowed him to witness the battle ahead while also viewing Karen's back, which gave him an exceptionally grounded sense of reassurance.

Especially when Blazet appeared, his long-buried memories resurfaced, much like the year he stood behind the God of Order, watching Him step into the God Burial Ground alone.

Even if only for the sake of a good omen, Kevin felt he ought to station himself here.

Karen slightly lowered his center of gravity, and the Sword of Alius upon his back began to vibrate gently, which was not only preparation for himself but also a warning to the subordinates behind him.

First, the fight is about to start!

Second, fight to the death!

Everyone understood:

Muri silently closed his eyes and began to regulate his breathing, his body's muscles rapidly relaxing while the soul power within began to condense, particularly within his conscious space, where the short blade and shield had grown immensely heavy.

Beneath Bart's skin, faint ripples appeared; these were bone spikes brewing within, like bamboo shoots in spring, ready to burst forth at any moment.

Ventura kept taking deep breaths, the muscles on his body already starting to granulate patch by patch, ready to transform into a petrified giant at a moment's notice.

Aisli had already pressed her fingers onto the Storm Wolf, Mombas, resting on her shoulder, intending from the very beginning to summon the strongest demonic beast currently at her disposal.

Blanche held a glass marble in each hand, which felt icy and cold; these were gifts from her mentor.

Memphis reached out and took Mars's hand; Mars was slightly bewildered but offered no resistance, trusting the man's attainments in magic arrays and thus willingly cooperating with him.

Alfred gently rubbed his eyes;

Philomena made no move whatsoever.

Yet everyone was well aware that when the clash began against a formidable foe, there must be a primary and secondary division of labor; the others would handle pick-and-rolls and cover, while the ones truly responsible for the fatal blow were the Captain and Philomena.

This girl, who had once been the most solitary and unadaptable, had won her place in the squad through sheer strength.

...

The ghost-faced Blazet spoke: "Once it completely destroys this island, the malevolent aura will fully control its mind, and we can take it away to hide. You can make preparations now."

"What about those two houses..."

"The Abyss and that pirate family? Heh, once I make my move, they will be nothing but a joke."

The hunchbacked youth nodded, indicating that he understood.

Just then, Blazet suddenly spoke again: "Do you know the reason why you feel repulsed and uncomfortable?"

The hunchbacked youth shook his head; he knew, but he did not wish to say.

Blazet smiled: "You must firmly believe that what you are doing is right."

"I do."

"Good then. Go make your preparations quickly. Didn't a traitor emerge? Then the originally established nautical chart will definitely need to be replanned, and my appearance will inevitably attract the attention of the orthodox churches.

The gods have not yet returned, and the orthodox churches will never allow the existence of the God Burial Ground to return first, heh."

"Very well."

The hunchbacked youth's figure returned to the hall once more, and addressing both Karen's side and the Believers of Light, he spoke: "I need a detailed chart of the surrounding waters. If you have one, give it to me now; if not, chart it out for me this instant."

The people among the Believers of Light looked at one another, none offering a response; originally, they had not believed Taufman's claim that this elder who was supposed to be teleported here was a "spy," but now, the elder's behavior left them utterly bewildered.

It could only be said that those who still adhered to the faith of Light in this era generally possessed a higher caliber; by comparison, the proportion of those who feared death or fawned over power was somewhat lower.

However, they were not entirely absent, for one appeared very quickly.

"Reporting to the Elder, I have a nautical chart here, and it is one I surveyed and mapped personally."

The one who raised his hand was Karen, as he stepped forward.

"Bring it here."

The hunchbacked youth extended his open hand.

"Yes, My Lord."

Cullen continued forward.

Right then, flames ignited within Tuffman's eyes; though his vitality was nearly drained to the point of exhaustion, at this very moment, he set his own power of Light ablaze.

This was not for destruction, but rather a selfless and unreserved initiative to pass it into the pythons coiled around him, which then naturally channeled this dense power of Light into the body of the hunchbacked youth.

The hunchbacked youth, suddenly infused with a massive surge of Light, showed no expression of enjoyment; instead, his facial muscles began to twitch violently, and his limbs grew rigid.

He glared furiously at Tuffman, for while he had guarded against any possible sudden retaliation from the man, he had truly never expected Tuffman to choose such a method to strike back.

Tuffman parted his cracked lips and smiled:

You wanted to absorb my vitality, did you... Very well, I shall give you every last drop of the Light within me too!

What kind of believer of Light are you, that the entry of Light's power actually causes your body to reject it, hah!

The opportunity had arrived!

"Elder, what is wrong?"

Cullen walked forward, his face a mask of feigned concern.

By now, the hunchbacked youth had instinctively looked toward Cullen, harboring a premonition that things on Cullen's end would not be simple.

Yet with his resolve preceding him, Cullen drew the Sword of Alius from his back even as he advanced at speed, still seizing an opportunity that could barely be considered a sneak attack.

The power of the Dark Moon circulated throughout his entire body as Cullen pushed his speed to its absolute limit, thrusting the greatsword in his hands toward the youth's chest without reservation.

"Hum!"

A green flower suddenly blossomed upon the chest of the hunchbacked youth, its petals directly swallowing the tip of Cullen's blade, before a wave of toxic corruption spread along the length of the sword toward Cullen.

Cullen did not discard his weapon; instead, he continued to press forward with force, allowing the green corruption to spread all the way up his hands and arms.

"Pfft!"

The youth's chest was pierced, and he unleashed a sharp, piercing shriek; the flesh of his back split wide open, and a grey skeletal appendage resembling a mantis's claw reared up, pinning down toward Cullen from above.

The speed was blinding, the momentum ferocious; faintly, the surrounding space itself seemed to warp beneath the force of it.

Cullen knew full well that the Armor of the Sea God could never block this strike, nor was the body granted by the Divine Bones sufficient to let him take a lacerating wound of this caliber raw.

Just then, Muri's silhouette appeared diagonally above Cullen; raising his round shield, he blocked the claw, the shield shattering instantly upon impact, yet Muri still managed to trap the claw using his short blade.

Upon landing, the tip of the claw gouged deep into Muri's shoulder, but he had successfully deflected the strike away from Cullen, and with a swift twist of his short blade, he used his own body as an axis to lock the claw inside himself, effectively pinning the hunchbacked youth in place.

As the vice-captain, he was bound to bear the greatest harm and make the ultimate sacrifice at the critical juncture.

"Hah, you court death!"

A green curtain of light manifested beneath the youth's feet, and the ground in this area churned with bubbling green froth as if melted, releasing a cascade of thorny vines that swept toward Cullen, carrying a heart-stopping aura of corruptive erosion.

"Thud!"

The giant-formed Ventura leaped straight over, unhesitatingly flinging his arms wide to make his massive frame an unavoidable barrier for the vines, allowing himself to be enveloped by them.

Bart appeared diagonally ahead of Cullen, white bone spikes erupting all across his body; transforming himself into a hedgehog, he spun rapidly, drawing the remaining vines entirely onto himself.

This was a style of fighting that disregarded all personal corruption, purely to clear a path for the captain.

For everyone knew the opponent was formidable, and they had to go all out from the very beginning.

By now, Ventura's body began to suffer severe erosion, pits appearing one after another upon the stones of his form, while the bone spikes on Bart began to melt even as they were corroded, yet neither of them let go.

Blanche crushed two glass spheres in her hands, the shards exploding and sinking into her palms, allowing her to gain the ability to cast spells instantly at the cost of self-inflicted harm; blessings cascaded one after another upon her teammates ahead, lowering their susceptibility to corruption.

The hunchbacked youth crossed his hands, his ten fingers intertwining instantly as a blazing fireball manifested, illuminating the surroundings in a sudden crimson glow, making everyone feel as though they were plunged beneath a sea of magma.

"Awoo!"

A wolf's howl echoed out.

Pu'er placed her paw upon Aisly's arm, transferring her soul power at this crucial moment to help Aisly swiftly summon Mombas, the Storm Wolf.

The moment Mombas appeared, he recognized the gravity of the situation; furthermore, having experienced their previous encounter in the research institute, although this Storm Wolf still harbored a trace of defiance in its bones, it had at least reached a form of recognition—after all, the only thing it looked down upon was Aisly, the low-tier summoner.

Thus, Mombas truly risked his life this time, flinging himself directly toward that terrifying fireball clad in the power of the storm; in an instant, fire sparked in all directions as a massive amount of scorching heat dispersed into the surroundings;

And Mombas's figure dissolved into nothingness in the blink of an eye, completing a tribute to Cyndi.

Philomena's figure materialized behind the youth at this moment; raising the dagger in her hand, she stabbed straight down into the back of his neck.

"Pfft!"

The dagger plunged in, slicing diagonally with the momentum; the youth's head was severed, yet the place where his head detached from his neck actually resembled a block of cheese being pulled apart, trailing thick, sticky strands.

The youth's head spun through the air, his teeth clacking rapidly as he launched a dreadful mental assault against Philomena.

But Philomena simply closed her eyes... and went to sleep.

All her subsequent actions were performed in a state of sleepwalking.

Philomena hurled the dagger in her hand straight toward that head, striking it with unerring accuracy.

"Bang!"

The youth's head was pinned to the wall, dissolving into a thick, foul pus, like a ruptured abscess.

Meanwhile, several mental roars of different "timbres" echoed from within the headless torso; clearly, under such a predicament, the entities inside the youth's body perceived a "collective affront."

The skin on the back of the headless body split completely open; inside lay not flesh and blood, but a block of freezing ice, carved with the silhouette of a woman who now seemed to come alive, extending a hand to point directly at Philomena.

Philomena felt as though she had crashed into an iceberg; frostbite and cracks began to mar her skin, and her body sustained a heavy impact.

Yet she still managed to pull out another dagger in stride, and before her body was sent flying backward, she flung the dagger, infused with the spell [Blade of Judgment], toward the back.

"Crack!"

"Bang!"

The ice flaked away rapidly, and the woman carved upon it revealed a countenance of both agony and fury.

Ahead,

A protrusion suddenly swelled at the youth's abdomen, extending into the face of a man who began to chant an obscure and difficult incantation, causing distinct spatial fluctuations to ripple through the air.

Faced with Cullen, who continued to press forward aggressively with his sword, the intent was clearly to teleport the youth's headless body a short distance away first, at least to escape the hall of the magic circle.

Right then, Memphis, who had slashed his own palm to let a large amount of blood drip onto the ground, shouted:

"Triple Defensive Array!"

Marse understood immediately and began utilizing Memphis's blood to lay down the formation; before setting foot on the Altar Island, Memphis could never have achieved this step, but on the island, for the sake of saving Cullen, he had achieved a breakthrough.

This was a method of array-crafting that consumed vitality and might even overdraw his future potential, but to aid Cullen, he cared nothing for it.

To the current Memphis, if his son Richard and Cullen were to fall into the water at the same time, he would step on Richard's body to pull Cullen out.

The Triple Defensive Array was swiftly deployed; however, instead of shielding their own side, the effect of the formation was cast directly over the hunchbacked youth, instantly suppressing the short-range spatial displacement.

Cullen let out a low shout, pushing the Sword of Alius further inward until more than half the blade was plunged into the youth's chest, preparing to ignite him at the deepest level with the twin flames of Order and Light;

From above, Blaizet, the ghostly face that had been controlling Gillagon all this time, let out a cold snort, finally casting a sliver of his gaze downward.

"I was waiting for you!"

Alfred instantly materialized before Cullen, casting his gaze upward as the Eye of the Succubus was unleashed; though he knew full well that with his current Eye of the Succubus, he stood almost no chance against an ancestral-level bewitching aberration, he could still buy precious time for his young master!

But right at this moment, a golden silhouette leaped into the air, drawing a beautiful arc across the sky to intercept Alfred, intercepting the mesmerizing gaze of the aberrant demon on his behalf.

"Woof!"

In that split second,

the canine eyes locked onto the sinister visage hovering above.

The arrogant, sullen expression on Blaizet's face instantly froze, and a long-forgotten chest of memories, buried beneath generations of succession, violently burst open.

"It's you!"

...

The God of Order had departed.

Into the divine cemetery, now reduced to a silent wasteland of ruins, stepped another deity clad in a primitive garment of fish skin that left one arm bare, his gaze gloomy yet his lips curled into a smirk, the smooth expanse of his bald head reflecting the luster of the spiritual fire.

He first admired the fresh vestiges of battle left behind, letting out a succession of clicks and tongue-clucks.

Then, his eyes fell upon the shattered remains of his own skull, of which only a broken half lay upon the ground.

Thereupon, he spread his legs wide,

untied the cord around his waist,

and out poured a splash, a patter, a steady trickling drip.

He thrust forward and back, swaying slightly up and down, making a squelching splash.

"Ah...

The coordinates are complete."