Chapter 61

"Young black dragon, could you tell me why you’ve come here? I don’t recall offending anyone or being involved in any incident."

"Rather than worrying about that, pay attention to your knights—they’re nearly all dead."

"You found this place, which means you’ve prepared thoroughly. They were never going to survive today. As loyal guardians of Nolodo, dying while defending the church is their inevitable fate."

"Don’t rush—the next one is you, honorable elder!" With that, the domain instantly enveloped the entire church; even the candlelight dimmed. The awe-inspiring holy light gradually turned gray and feeble, as if all things related to light were being repelled by this domain.

"A fine necromantic spell—is this your own creation? I’ve never seen an array like this. No wonder you dared come here to kill and burn. But this level isn’t enough."

The old bishop slowly rose, placing his hands before his chest, and began chanting a holy hymn passed down since the Elven era. As the song continued, the entire church trembled violently, as if giant hands sought to uproot it. The surrounding realm of the dead began to crack.

How could Sakavi allow him to succeed? Cracks suddenly appeared on the ground; gray, life-dead energy strands, like venomous snakes, lashed toward the bishop. Where they passed, the floor darkened as if aged decades in an instant. They swiftly coiled around the bishop, frantically draining his life essence.

The bishop seemed unconcerned. He cried out sharply: "Protection!" A diamond-shaped shield of pure holy light instantly materialized, firmly blocking the gray energy strands that had already climbed to his waist. The two forces clashed violently, emitting a grating "hiss." The life energy was continuously purified and dissipated by the holy light.

Immediately, Sakavi clenched his claws and unleashed "Soul's Wail." It was not a physical attack, but a shriek that struck directly at the soul. A nearly transparent gray skull phantom emerged from his claws, its sonic waves carrying endless despair, sweeping toward the bishop in a fan shape, seeking to shatter his spirit and faith.

Ignatius’s face grew grim. He raised his staff across his chest and cried aloud: "Holy Light, protect your faithful believer! Dispel all confusion and suffering!"

Then, an even brighter light surged from his body, forming a circular "Divine Shockwave" that collided with the soul-targeting sound waves. At the moment the holy light touched the invisible waves, the agonized cries seemed momentarily purified and calmed, growing quiet before vanishing into the air.

Realizing conventional spells could not secure a quick victory, Sakavi’s true draconic power emerged. He drew a deep breath, his chest swelling—but instead of dragonfire, he exhaled "Nether Breathe," a force of utter decay and corruption. A gray, conical breath engulfed Ignatius. Where it passed, sturdy pews turned to dust as if weathered for centuries; marble floor tiles lost their luster and cracked.

"In the name of Holy Light, evil, retreat!" Ignatius, fearless, channeled all his holy power into his staff and swung it forward with force. The luminous stone atop the staff erupted with the brilliance of a miniature sun, unleashing a solid "Ray of Holy Light" that pierced straight through the black dragon’s heart.

Without any defense, his body rapidly withered under the Nether Breathe. "Holy Light! Grant your faithful believer strength to dispel this ill omen!" Ignatius’s body erupted with pure holy light, instantly scattering the Nether Breathe into nothing but ash on the ground.

When Sakavi rose from the ground, Ignatius had already reshaped his hunched form within the holy light. "You’re a troublesome fellow, Bishop. I admit your strength exceeds my expectations—but today, you will not win this battle."

With that, Sakavi shot forward like a black lightning bolt toward Ignatius. Just before reaching him, he rolled sideways—a pure holy energy beam struck the spot he had just occupied. Still unsteady, the black dragon activated "Spatial Swap," instantly appearing behind Ignatius, and slashed forward with his foreclaws, wrapped in lethal negative energy.

Ignatius reacted swiftly. As he sidestepped, he swung his staff with his left hand directly at the dragon behind him. The staff transformed into a "Hammer of Holy Light," striking the dragon squarely on the chest. Sakavi flew backward like a cannonball, crashing heavily to the ground.

After several breaths, the dragon staggered to his feet, spitting blood continuously. "Bishop, you will pay for this today!" With that, he pulled out and crushed a purple, crystal-ball-like object. His sunken chest instantly healed.

Aware of each other’s strength, both grew cautious, avoiding direct exchanges of wounds. During a close-range clash, Sakavi feigned an opening, deliberately taking Ignatius’s Holy Burn. His scales blackened, yet he successfully seized the bishop’s shadow.

"Shadow Bind! Soul Agony!"

Ignatius’s movements froze. His shadow felt like a heavy shackle, while a searing pain from deep within his soul surged forth, making it nearly impossible to concentrate. In that instant of stillness, Sakavi’s claws clamped around his throat, and powerful dark energy surged in, sealing his ability to channel holy light.

"Your light can never illuminate all shadows, Bishop," Sakavi’s low voice carried a mocking triumph.

Though restrained, Ignatius’s gaze remained steadfast. He gasped in reply: "Darkness... will fade. Holy Light... endures."

At the very moment Sakavi, utterly dismissive, turned his back to the ruined altar, his guard lowered—Ignatius, whom he held captive, suddenly focused his scattered eyes into piercing, unprecedented brilliance! He had not truly lost all power—he had been enduring, compressing, waiting for the perfect moment!

"Evil black dragon! You imprison life, desecrate souls—but have you ever truly understood... the meaning of sacrifice?" The bishop’s voice no longer weakened; it rang through the church like a great bell, solemn and resolute.

He had no need to break free from the binding, for his final, true killing technique did not come from himself—but from the land beneath his feet, sanctified by holy light for millennia, and from the ultimate holy art he had prepared in advance, using himself as the catalyst!

"With my body as the guide, with my soul as the pledge! Ancestors who sleep here, heed my call! Faith gathered here, become the blade!"

Simultaneously, the faded holy statues along the church walls suddenly glowed with soft yet unwavering light. Countless thin streams of pure faith energy converged from all directions—not toward the bishop, but wildly pouring into the altar area where he had just stood.

The ground erupted with a massive, intricate holy array. Its core was not the altar—but the very spot where Sakavi now stood! Ignatius had been fighting and retreating step by step, luring the black dragon toward this hidden array he had secretly activated—but which lacked a powerful enough evil source to fully trigger the immensely potent "Holy Judgment" purification array!

"No—" Sakavi realized he’d been tricked and roared in fury, struggling to break free—but it was too late. The holy array, fueled by a thousand years of the church’s faith and guided by the soul of a legendary-tier warrior, unleashed devastating power.

Several pure white light pillars, each meters in diameter, wreathed in countless golden divine runes, shot skyward like judgmental spears, completely engulfing the black dragon. Even his modified "Doppelgänger Puppet" could not withstand such force.

From within the pillar came the dragon’s agonized roar—not mere holy burning, but direct "purification" and "disintegration" of his evil essence. His dark protective energy melted like snow; his hardened scales shattered inch by inch under the ultimate light; his purple soul-fire flickered violently, as if about to be extinguished.

His massive body was slammed violently against the church ceiling, shattering the stained-glass windows, then fell like a broken kite, crashing to the ground in a cloud of dust.

As the dust settled, Sakavi’s figure reappeared—horrifically mangled. Half his body’s scales had peeled away, revealing charred flesh and even visible dragonbone. His wings were torn to shreds; his soul-fire dimmed by more than half. He barely held himself upright, each breath bringing forth bloody froth.

"Black dragon, your resilience exceeds my expectations. But even so, I must kill you here—you cannot be allowed to bring ruin elsewhere!" Ignatius, having exhausted all his strength to break the seal, knelt weakly on one knee, face as pale as paper—but his gaze remained fixed, unwavering, on the dust.

"Clausuna, get your ass over here right now!!! If I die, I swear you won’t set foot in Tiamat’s temple—don’t pretend you’re dead."

"Oh my, what’s this? Roasted whole dragon? Even starved down to skin and bone!" The newly arrived dragon tilted her head, her pale golden slit pupils scanning Sakavi’s pitiful state—charred flesh, peeled scales, torn wings, and his trembling, ragged stance.

She let out an exaggerated, mock-inhaling gasp—though no one could mistake the lack of sympathy. "Look who it is? Could this be our great Duke Sakavi?" She took two languid steps forward, her tail brushing the ground without stirring a speck of dust. "How long has it been? How did you end up... with such a striking 'Decay Art' new look?"

Her gaze lingered deliberately on Sakavi’s exposed, charred wounds, her tone brimming with "sincere" admiration: "The layered scale loss, the irregular beauty of your torn wings... exquisite. Did you come here to this holy land specifically for a unique 'body modification'?"

Sakavi let out a low, pained, furious growl from his throat, his purple soul-fire flaring violently—he was furious. "Clausuna... shut your mouth! This guy... is treacherous!"

"Treacherous?" Clausuna laughed lightly, as if hearing something amusing. "Oh, my dear Duke, to force a Holy Bishop into sacrificing himself to set up such a massive sealing trap... you must have pushed him awfully hard."

She circled Sakavi slowly, like admiring a failed artwork. "I recall a certain dragon boasting before departure: 'A mere bishop? One dragon is enough.' And now?" She paused deliberately, letting the silence fester. "Looks like 'enough' resulted in nearly being roasted into a giant, negative-energy-spewing... hmm... 'charred dragon chop'?"

Sakavi jerked his head up to retort—but the motion tore his wounds, triggering violent coughing. Another jet of dark-tinged blood spewed out, followed by a pained groan, making him look even more wretched.

"Alright, alright, I’ll stop teasing you." Clausuna, sensing it was time, softened slightly—though the mockery remained. "You look too weak to even fight a goblin. The rest..." She turned toward Ignatius, who, though weakened, remained alert, her interest now sharpened with amusement. "I’ll have a proper talk with this cunning, stubborn bishop."

"Bishop, is this your staff? Looks broken." At that moment, everyone turned—only to see a new figure standing beside the main altar, appearing out of nowhere.

He had the typical lean, muscular humanoid form, covered in yellow-brown fur, with a protruding snout, alert pointed ears, and amber eyes gleaming with cunning and greed.

Yet his most striking feature was not his jackal-man race traits—but his wildly incongruous, almost comical attire: atop his head sat a slightly worn velvet tricorn hat, its brim adorned with a colorful feather from an unknown bird.

He wore a too-tight, crimson human noble’s vest, embroidered with intricate but distorted gold thread. The buttons strained as if ready to pop from his powerful chest muscles, stained with what looked like blood. Below, he wore ill-fitting beige silk breeches, speckled with mud, and on his feet, a pair of leather boots clearly several sizes too large—but polished to a brilliant shine.

This haphazardly assembled "glorious" outfit, worn on his furry jackal-man frame, created an absurd effect. Yet he seemed utterly unaware, even proud of his appearance.

Now, he used his clawed, furry hands to deftly heft the Holy Staff Ignatius had dropped. The luminous stone atop the staff seemed dimmer, as if repelled by the non-human hand.

The jackal-man ranger grinned, his mouth full of sharp teeth, displaying a smug, boastful smile as he waved the staff at the grim-faced bishop. "Old man, this 'big stick' of yours looks valuable? Mind if I borrow it? Don’t worry—I, Gisk, never return what I borrow! Hahaha!"

He laughed loudly, even mimicking a noble’s bow, using his free hand to awkwardly adjust his tricorn hat as he performed a ridiculous bow toward the bishop.