Chapter 612: Rebirth

Faced with the infant's cry that was gradually weakening him, Lumian immediately prepared to "Teleport" beside Father Montserrat, launch a full assault, and interrupt the influence.

But at that moment, he saw the "Armor of Pride," upon hearing the infant's cry, freeze in place, then suddenly crouch down and jam its "Sword of Dawn" into the ground overgrown with dark weeds.

Fuck! Use "Storm of Light" directly? Lumian's scalp prickled; he didn't bother confirming anything and instantly changed the destination of his "Teleport," vanishing from the darkness where the illusory oak trees stood, reappearing on the ship's deck.

—He had long realized that the wasteland of weeds created by Father Montserrat was clearly inferior to the "Lady"s' Otherworld, unable to sever the deep connection between inside and outside, thus failing to prevent others from "Teleporting" away—only blocking the transmission of sounds and battle ripples, much like the "Vessel of Fiction," even worse than it. Of course, this wasteland, overgrown with dark weeds and crowned with illusory oak trees, possessed other peculiarities and additional abilities.

The moment Lumian's figure faded into the dark wasteland, the "Sword of Dawn" plunged into the ground split open.

It shattered into countless shards of light, transforming into a terrifying storm that engulfed the entire area.

The weeds, heavy with full ears of grain, were sliced into fragments; the earth was laid bare.

Father Montserrat, standing atop the oak's branches, had no time to dodge—only managing to make his body take on a wooden texture—before being swallowed whole by the "Storm of Light."

The illusory, hollow infant's cry ceased abruptly.

When the "Storm of Light" subsided, Father Montserrat stood frozen, utterly motionless.

The next second, his body, encased in brown bark and forged like wood, violently cracked open, revealing deep, jagged fissures.

Pop, pop, pop—chunks of Father Montserrat's body fell one by one to the base of the oak, their cuts clean, blood oozing out.

These flesh and blood fragments were instantly absorbed by the illusory oak's roots, leaving not a single residue.

At the oak's midsection, its bark split open, and out writhed large, moist, fleshy lobes, expanding into a cavity.

A human head appeared there, being squeezed and expelled outward.

In the blink of an eye, the naked human was "born" by the illusory oak—clearly Father Montserrat himself.

He remained in his adult form, his body slick with moisture, parts of it covered in dirty, semi-transparent white membranes.

Rebirth!

Father Montserrat, through this dark wasteland of weeds, through the illusory oak, through the invisible infant, had achieved rebirth!

His features grew younger; grotesque, bat-like wings wrapped in dark membranes sprouted from his back, soaring from the oak's midsection toward the silvery full-body armor.

The "Armor of Pride" rose to its feet, condensing light into a sharp, long spear.

It hurled the long lance with force, driving it through the air and piercing between Father Montserrat's chest and abdomen.

Father Montserrat's bat-like wings snapped shut instantly; his entire body split into dozens of black bats, each the size of a palm.

The bats swarmed the air, some circling behind the "Armor of Pride," then reassembling into Father Montserrat, still draped in dirty membranes.

Father Montserrat's body swelled, becoming bear-sized, his palms sprouting sharp claws etched with mysterious patterns and symbols.

He slashed downward, carving five deep gashes into the "Armor of Pride's" back, exposing hollow interiors.

The "Armor of Pride" froze again, as if even the surrounding air had solidified.

Just as Father Montserrat prepared to strike again, he suddenly noticed the silvery full-body armor had turned around—without warning, without delay.

It conjured one weapon after another from light—massive hammers, axes, flails—and hurled them at Father Montserrat in a frenzy.

Father Montserrat crouched low, sinking into the ground where the weeds had been cleared, teleporting closer to the illusory oak.

Where he had stood, the earth was crushed into depressions and split by fissures.

At this moment, assuming the "Storm of Light" had ended, Lumian "Teleported" back into the darkness.

He blinked in mild surprise—Father Montserrat was still intact, though he no longer wore his brown clerical robes.

Lumian didn't hesitate; he drew the "Chant of Hatred" bone flute from his "Traveler's Satchel."

He intended to play, while the "Armor of Pride" distracted Father Montserrat and the sounds couldn't escape this place, a melody he'd learned during various festivals in Sangtagang—a piece composed by a saint of the "Earth Mother" Church for bountiful harvests.

As was his usual habit, Lumian should have first donned the "Torture" gauntlets, "Teleported" close, punched Father Montserrat to trigger some desire or emotion, then retreated to blow the "Chant of Hatred" and ignite the gauntlets' aftereffects—but this time, Lumian abandoned this mature combat tactic.

Because the battlefield bore a strange, illusory giant oak, and Father Montserrat had previously cradled an invisible infant suspected to be a divine child; if Lumian put on the "Torture" gauntlets, he couldn't imagine what kind of gaze or crisis might be drawn.

If the "Great Mother" saw it and caused the divine child to briefly cross the barrier between illusion and reality to strike him, the problem would be severe!

Moreover, Lumian had always believed that a heretic like Father Montserrat must have obvious psychological issues and an unstable mental state; directly playing the "Chant of Hatred" could very well trigger his weakness—just as he himself and Mr. K would never enjoy hearing the "Chant of Hatred" played.

But Lumian still didn't know which weakness would ignite or what changes would occur—he could only adapt on the spot.

Just as he brought the "Chant of Hatred" to his lips, Lumian suddenly felt a chilling cold at the nape of his neck.

"Wah!"

The illusory infant's cry echoed again beside his ears, impossibly close.

"Gaga, gaga."

The infant's cry swiftly turned to laughter, as if playing a game with Lumian.

Lumian stiffened inexplicably, momentarily unable to move.

A cold, chilling breath seeped into his body, slowly creeping toward his abdomen.

Lumian grew colder; his life began to drain away, drawn by the cold breath toward some point within him.

The infant's cry and laughter alternated in his ears—sometimes shrill, sometimes joyful.

Without hesitation, Lumian sank his awareness into his right hand, slightly activating the residual imprint of the "Blood Emperor" Arista Tudo.

A torrent of violent, mad, terrifying energy erupted from Lumian's body, making him appear vastly larger even without using "Compression," his bloodlust as tangible as flesh.

The infant's cries and laughter vanished again; the cold intrusion into Lumian's body was melted by churning heat; the entire dark wasteland trembled, pierced by streaks of faint light.

Lumian ceased his controlled activation and blew into the black bone flute with crimson holes.

A melody heavy with festive overtones resonated outward; Father Montserrat, still fighting the "Armor of Pride," froze.

His expression twisted into an indescribable agony.

Seeing the silvery armor swing a light-conjured staff at him, Father Montserrat instinctively pointed at its feet.

Vines, weeds, and branches erupted rapidly, swarming the "Armor of Pride," immobilizing it.

Amid the sounds of branches snapping and vines tearing, the "Armor of Pride" struggled forward, inching slowly.

Father Montserrat turned to Lumian, his face contorted in pain, shouting:

"Run!"

"The divine child cannot be killed!"

Run? This… Lumian realized Father Montserrat seemed much more normal now—his previously warm, homely expression replaced entirely by agony and struggle.

"Run!"

"Repent to the Earth Mother for me!"

Father Montserrat screamed hysterically.

His naked body underwent grotesque transformation: beneath the semi-transparent, filthy white membranes, organs representing birth and incubation sprouted, tangled and horrifying.

Repent to the Earth Mother? Lumian vaguely grasped Father Montserrat's current state:

His fall was incomplete—he still retained a part devoted to the "Earth Mother," causing a split personality, with the normal self suppressed by the corrupted self.

The "Chant of Hatred" had triggered this flaw, allowing Father Montserrat's normal self to briefly seize control? Lumian felt a pang of awe, but it didn't stop him from conjuring one crimson-white fireball after another, sending them flying toward the mutated Father Montserrat.

Father Montserrat's expression flickered between coldness and agony; his body alternated between dodging and being pulled back.

He screamed with all his strength:

"The divine child cannot be killed—only driven away!"

No sooner had Father Montserrat finished speaking than the crimson-white fireballs struck him, and the silvery "Armor of Pride" broke through the vines and branches, rushing to his side and swinging its light-conjured staff.

Boom!

As the fireballs exploded, the corrupted Father Montserrat reclaimed control of his body and tried to sink into the ground.

At that moment, Lumian's figure appeared behind him, raising the black bone flute.

Lumian had "Teleported" directly into the epicenter of the explosion, never once considering he might be crushed by the blast!

The fireballs were merely a decoy—his true lethal strike was the "Chant of Hatred!"

Plop!

Lumian plunged the black bone flute with crimson holes into the neck of the sinking Father Montserrat.

Boom!

The swelling firewave engulfed both of them.

(End of Chapter)