Chapter 450: I am the Spokesman of Light on Earth, the Interpreter of Divine Oracles, the Chanter of Sacred Voices

Focusing his gaze, Monica realized the figure before her was the little angel, and she panicked: "Oh kid, what are you doing here? Go, go, get out of here—you've just awakened Holy Light, you're no match for these high-level undead."

No sooner had she spoken than another person appeared beside her; turning her head, she saw Ang, and now she was even more frantic: "Mr. Ang, hurry, you both get out of here—uh…"

Instantly, the little angel's back unfurled two pure white wings, and from the wing roots slowly extended four more radiant light wings; the little angel reached forward and slowly drew forth a Archangel's Staff.

Monica was utterly stunned by the little angel's transformation: "Six… six-winged Archangel?"

The little angel she'd always thought was just a newly awakened Holy Light user—was actually a six-winged Archangel? Good heavens, then her father must be…

Suddenly, she whirled around and saw Ang beside her also spreading open a pair of wings, extending four pairs of light wings.

The… the second six-winged Archangel.

Monica's face flushed crimson, her entire body burning with shame; she wanted to find a crack in the ground and crawl into it. Good heavens, two six-winged Archangels—and she'd been stupid enough to mistake them for a newly awakened Holy Light candidate!

But weren't they exactly Holy Light candidates? They were angels of the Holy Light body, and six-winged ones at that.

All this time, I've been giving them money and food—do six-winged Archangels even need such things? They probably just laughed at me.

A deep voice suddenly sounded from behind: "This is the grace of the Holy Spirit—your kindness has been recognized by the Holy Spirit; you possess a pure heart."

Monica turned to see a stranger, a middle-aged handsome man; she'd never met him before—Anthony had only delivered food once, and she didn't recognize him—but his words instantly erased her shame, replacing it with supreme honor.

Of course—it was the Holy Spirit's recognition! How could they laugh? Everyone would envy her—the Holy Spirit had acknowledged her, and even risked coming to save her.

One sentence transformed Monica from "wanting to crawl into a crack in the ground" to "feeling envied by all"—even Negril couldn't help but marvel: this was the art of language.

"Who are you?" Monica asked.

Anthony slowly drew forth his Papal Staff, slammed it hard into the ground, and holy light erupted from his body, coalescing into the robes and crown of the Pope.

As the holy light flowed, Anthony's voice rang out solemnly: "I am the spokesman of Light upon Earth, the interpreter of divine oracles, the chanter of sacred voices, the wielder of the Sword of Punishment—the Pope, Saint Anthony."

Anthony revealed his true name, because Monica and the earthly Church of Light were not part of the same system—like Aguli, who didn't know there were churches and Grand Hierarchs on the Sorcerer's Ladder.

Monica probably didn't know either whether the Pope of the earthly Church of Light was named Anthony.

But even if she did, it didn't matter—Anthony now represented the Main Plane's Church of Light; the Scale God was the one true deity, all others were heretics.

Announce the title first—who dares object? Then let them prepare for holy war!

"P… Pope!" The title of Pope was no less impressive than a six-winged Archangel—in fact, it was even more shocking, for he was the divine spokesman on Earth, a kind of avatar of the god himself.

Good heavens—was she truly favored? The Pope himself had come to her side, interpreting the Holy Grace?

Ang and the little angel spread their wings and rose into the air.

But the lich dragon that had been diving down had already halted, hovering in midair, astonished: "Holy Light dogs? Two fighting birds? Who are you?"

Anthony shouted back: "Pope, Saint Anthony—who are you?"

"New Pope? I'm Nosaroth of the Undead Council—we're troubling the sorcerers, why are you crawling out of the sewers?" the lich dragon Nosaroth sneered.

Anthony rarely argued, but when he did, he wasn't any worse than Lightning; he laughed: "We've come to light your way, so you don't go blind and can't see clearly—this is a Holy Light cleric!"

Nosaroth knew perfectly well they were Holy Light clerics, but compared to sorcerers, he hated these superstitious followers of Light even more—he'd rather abandon a flying vehicle than let a glowing creature live.

But that was only true if the opponent was easy prey—two six-winged Archangels plus a Pope? No way were they easy prey.

His mission was to harass the Sorcerer's Ladder, not to provoke new enemies; already retreating, Nosaroth still refused to back down verbally: "Your holy lanterns aren't very bright—next time, shine a little harder…"

Before he finished speaking, Ang swept his hand forward and dozens of Holy Light missiles erupted; he swept his hand again and another dozen appeared.

On the Main Plane, Ang had extensive experience impersonating a humble monk—he would never mistake a necromantic spell for a Holy Light one while pretending to be a Church member.

As Ang drew out the third row of Holy Light missiles, Nosaroth finally paled, watching the glowing orbs before Ang with caution; his leathery wings didn't move, but his body slowly rose without changing position.

These Holy Light missiles were all low-tier, but there were far too many—row after row appearing like this made Nosaroth's scalp tingle.

No one blocked him; let him retreat beyond range. After all, these undead were still Your Majesty's subjects—scaring them off was best.

The five lich dragons in the sky conferred, then redirected some of their attention toward Ang and the others.

Unika drove the flying car over, trembling as she stared at Ang and the little angel, completely stunned, unsure how to react.

Monica glared at her.

"Prepare yourselves—the lich dragons don't want conflict with us, so let's leave first. Get out of the car, come close to me—I'm preparing a teleportation."

Suddenly, Ang sprinted toward the corpse of the fallen lich dragon, reached it, opened his divine domain, dragged the corpse inside, then ran back.

The five lich dragons overhead immediately turned and dove furiously—were they trying to steal their companion's corpse? This was an insult! A provocation!

Anthony sighed helplessly, slammed his Papal Staff into the ground again, and concentric rings of runes spread outward, forming a teleportation array.

Ang ran back and stepped into the array; a brilliant flash of light swept over them, and everyone on the ground vanished in the teleportation glow.

The lich dragons who arrived too late spat a stream of death essence at the ground in fury, carving a deep trench, then roared: "What kind of space is that? How could it fit such a massive body?!"

After a pause, the lich dragon growled: "Inform the Council Head—we've encountered the Pope and two six-winged Archangels. This location is likely a Church of Light outpost. Send the Nightmare Witches to investigate."