Catherine, who had been walking in front, suddenly came to a halt.
It wasn’t because an enemy had appeared — yet the sudden stop made the accompanying priests glance at her in confusion.
She stared ahead and muttered,
“Salesin, that insidious bastard. Not only did he use brainwashing, but he pulled a stunt like this too?”
Even from a considerable distance, Catherine could sense what was happening to the Nightcrawler Knights.
As a Saint, she could immediately detect the activation of a foreign form of divine power.
She had known that many people had been brainwashed — but she hadn’t expected such an elaborate trick behind it.
Yet Catherine didn’t have the authority to stop it.
It wasn’t that she blindly obeyed the Holy Sovereign, but in reality, she couldn’t openly defy him either.
More than that, if she intervened now, it would only delay her own side’s advance.
Perhaps that was exactly what Salesin was hoping for — that she would step in.
“I guess all I can do is hope the Demon King’s army holds out.”
A Saint, hoping for the Demon King’s army to endure.
How ironic.
A soft, bitter laugh escaped her lips — but it wasn’t entirely absurd.
After all, this world was overflowing with irony.
“Sister?”
“Hmm? Ah, sorry. I was just thinking for a moment.”
Catherine spoke lightly, gazing at the air for a while, then curled her lips faintly.
“There are more crows here than I thought.”
In her sight, a crow that had been staring in her direction moments ago took flight and disappeared into the distance.
* * *
KWA-AAAH!
Hans, in the form of a wolf knight, swung his greatsword fiercely.
Though it looked wild and uncontrolled, the beast’s instincts guided every strike along a lethal trajectory.
An ordinary person would have been far too busy dodging or fleeing, but Hans’s opponent was far beyond ordinary.
Holy Knight Commander Tarian met every one of Hans’s blows head-on.
Despite their immense difference in physique, Tarian blocked or deflected every strike with sheer divine power, enhanced physique, and honed technique.
It was an intense clash, neither side yielding an inch.
But the one growing impatient was Hans.
He was supposed to be spawning and deploying Cryptids in waves — getting bogged down fighting Tarian was far from ideal.
His role wasn’t to duel individual elites like this, but to hold off massive enemy forces.
Cryptids were still pouring out of the shadow wells he had created earlier, but their numbers had noticeably dwindled.
It was fortunate he had already sent ahead the hybrid Cryptids created from the Wolf Lord and Stag Lord’s essences.
‘But even that won’t hold forever.’
Hans could sense it — the fusion Cryptid born from combining the two Lords’ essences was fading fast.
For a creature capable of crushing entire armies to fall so soon meant that powerful enemies had appeared on the other side.
Through his beasts, Hans could observe the battlefield in real time — and he knew the Saint and the priests had joined the fray.
Yet what truly made him uneasy were the troops supporting Tarian from behind.
The mages, priests, and holy knights weren’t mere “fodder,” but they couldn’t directly interfere in a duel of this level.
Still, their energy had suddenly shifted a moment ago — and that was the problem.
The priests and knights were fine.
But the mages... something was wrong with them.
Their eyes lost focus, and above their heads appeared bright white halos.
The moment Hans saw that, the fur beneath his armor stood on end.
A primal warning — danger.
If those things were left unchecked, he would lose this fight.
Hans didn’t ignore his instincts.
They had never failed him before.
Then, one of the mages stepped forward.
Unlike the others, whose faces were blank beneath their halos, this one wore an expression — calm and cold.
“My, Commander Tarian. You seem to be struggling quite a bit against heretics.”
It was as though another person had taken over his body.
No one around him stopped him — not even Tarian.
“Cardinal Sartolome, is it? To arrive without word... you could have given notice.”
“I’m giving it now, aren’t I?”
Cardinal?!
Hans’s eyes widened.
In the ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ Holy Theocracy of Bretus, the Saint ranked directly below the Holy Sovereign — but in truth, it was the Cardinals who wielded the most power.
‘Cardinal Sartolome Bielantino... I’ve heard of him. One of the few high bishops among the Cardinals.’
Hans had heard the man was dispatched to the continent under the Holy Sovereign’s orders — but he hadn’t expected him to appear like this, possessing another’s body.
It seemed he was controlling the mage remotely to speak through him.
Even so, he couldn’t be taken lightly.
A Cardinal’s presence, even partially restrained, was enough to change the course of a battle.
“The battle’s dragging on longer than expected. By now, the fortress should have fallen. His Holiness will be disappointed.”
“The Demon King’s army is putting up more resistance than I anticipated,” Tarian replied.
“Hmm. So it seems.”
“Did you come just to tell me that?”
“Of course not. I came to help. If the battle drags on, who knows what the Demon King might do.”
“Is that so. Very well — let’s end this quickly, then.”
Hearing that exchange, Hans moved first.
Just as he expected them to.
He leapt past Tarian, aiming straight for the possessed mage — for Sartolome himself.
He intended to eliminate the most dangerous threat first.
But Tarian immediately intercepted.
“Looking away during our fight?”
A golden spear flashed toward Hans’s back.
It was too powerful to simply tank, even with his sturdy body — Hans twisted aside, narrowly avoiding it.
While Tarian pinned him down, Cardinal Sartolome began casting.
“Sanctuary Designation.”
Golden currents rippled outward from Sartolome, spreading in concentric circles like raindrops on a still pond.
Where they passed, the ground glowed softly yellow, washing away Hans’s shadows.
Kiinng! Kaang!
Cryptids emerging from the black wells screamed as they were swept into the holy current, turning to ash.
Hans, too, felt the effects immediately.
‘My body... heavy!’
A moment ago, he could move faster than the wind — now it felt as though a mountain pressed down on him.
Even standing still made his skin sting and his eyes burn.
‘Damn it... what the hell is this?!’
While Hans reeled, the holy knights and priests stared in disbelief.
“Impossible. Even if the power’s suppressed, to stand unharmed inside the Sanctuary?”
“Any ordinary Cryptid would’ve disintegrated! As expected of the Demon King’s army’s creation.”
Normally, everything within the Sanctuary’s radius would be annihilated.
But Hans was only human — albeit one wielding monstrous power.
He was taking the full brunt of it, yet still standing.
Sartolome himself seemed unconcerned.
He hadn’t expected the Sanctuary alone to finish Hans anyway — and the technique’s purpose went far beyond that.
“Hmm.”
Tarian let out a pleased hum as divine energy surged through him.
The holy power radiating from his weapon grew visibly stronger.
The strength he had spent was quickly replenished, layers of blessings stacking upon his body.
High-tier Sacred Art — [Sanctuary Designation].
By covering an area with divine energy, it inflicted endless pain and debuffs upon enemies, while granting blessings to allies.
That alone could overturn a battle.
Especially against Hans, whose power was rooted in the monstrous essence of the Abyss — divine power was his natural bane.
He had only been able to face Tarian thanks to the ancient cursed greatsword gifted by Krabat.
But now that a Cardinal had intervened, the tide had turned again.
‘This is bad. I’ll have to fall back and regroup elsewhere—’
“Trying to run?”
Tarian had read his intent and lunged.
Hans retreated swiftly, but Tarian pursued relentlessly, faster now under the Sanctuary’s blessing.
Realizing he’d be caught, Hans leapt into the air—
Taat!
Kicking off nothing but air as if it were solid ground.
Waiting above him was Sartolome, who now dominated the skies.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
The Cardinal formed a sphere of light in his palm and tossed it casually.
The sphere pulsed violently, releasing countless beams of light that swept across the area.
Hans was forced to dodge midair, limiting his movement — and in that instant, Tarian, wings of light spread wide, charged up from below.
“You’re not getting away.”
Tarian swung his flaming golden sword down like a woodcutter splitting logs.
Hans hastily raised his greatsword to block, but couldn’t stop his body from crashing into the ground.
As soon as he landed, he tried to retreat — but a golden wall surged up before him, blocking his path.
All around him, golden barriers rose, sealing him in.
They were Sartolome’s doing, of course.
‘I can’t escape.’
Hans understood.
He couldn’t run. This would be settled here.
And that ending would be his defeat.
No matter how much he struggled, he couldn’t guarantee victory.
Willpower and resolve meant nothing when faced with such overwhelming power — and such a terrible matchup.
‘Ha... haha. So this is where I die.’
He had always known it might come to this.
The moment he chose to fight, he had accepted that risk.
He’d been warned enough times — but he had gone ahead anyway.
‘Fine. If I’m going down, I’ll take at least one of them with me.’
Perhaps reading that resolve, Tarian spoke grimly.
“They say a cornered beast is the most dangerous — looks like that’s true.”
The aura pouring from Hans was unlike before.
Earlier it had been wild, uncontrolled savagery — now it was sharpened, focused resolve.
No longer a blind, thrashing blade — but a refined edge honed for the kill.
One mistake, and Tarian’s head could easily fall.
“I can’t afford to be careless, even now.”
Tarian pressed forward to finish it — to push Hans completely into a corner before ending the fight.
Once Hans had exhausted every last card, the moment Tarian deemed it safe would be his death.
“Well then, shall we end this?”
Hovering above, Sartolome conjured another orb of divine light.
He tossed it again.
Hans’s body stiffened.
That technique again — the high-tier Sacred Art that rained destruction from above.
The sphere trembled violently.
It was the prelude to a rain of annihilation.
But that annihilation fell only toward Hans.
Just as it was about to explode—
A black arrow shot through the air, piercing the orb’s center.
The arrow spread darkness through the light sphere, the two forces canceling each other before vanishing into nothing.
“What—?”
Cardinal Sartolome’s eyes widened.
A high-tier Sacred Art, [Rain of Blessing], neutralized so easily?
And worse — by a curse of black magic.
“Who dares?”
His voice dropped coldly.
Even speaking through a borrowed body, his outrage was palpable.
“The Church’s gone soft, I see. Two-on-one — how shameless.”
The voice came from a black-robed warlock who had appeared behind Hans, unfurling dark raven wings.
A goat-skull mask hid his face beneath the hood.
But Hans recognized him instantly.
Krabat — warlock of the Ancient Curse School.
He had stepped onto the field himself, siding against the Church to aid Hans.
“A warlock? You dare, filth, to oppose me?”
Sartolome’s voice quaked with fury at the very idea.
Krabat ignored him, first checking on Hans.
“Looks like I made it in time.”
[You all right?]
Hans spoke — in human words.
The priests and holy knights blinked in disbelief.
They had thought him a mindless beast, incapable of speech.
Tarian alone showed no surprise; he had suspected as much.
Instead, his wary gaze locked on Krabat.
Even weakened, this warlock had just shattered a Cardinal’s sacred art — clearly no ordinary man.
[You realize, by joining this battle, you’ve chosen a path you can’t turn back from.]
“I couldn’t turn back anyway.”
[You could’ve just offered light support and withdrawn. Why come yourself?]
“Because.”
Krabat’s eyes, hidden behind the goat mask, fixed calmly on Sartolome.
“Seeing cowards gang up two-on-one... pisses me off.”
