The very instant that cultist twisted and mutated into a horrific Flesh Monster, an indescribable, icy, and malicious “gaze” descended abruptly, pressing down on the hearts of every survivor in the underground chamber.
It was as if countless invisible eyes—filled with blasphemy and greed—were peering through the veil of reality, watching this bloody “performance” with great amusement.
At the same time, Hugo and Marianne clearly felt the Engraved Emblem Power within their bodies surge to an unusual level of activity, as if some supreme being was forcefully activating it and pouring in extra strength.
“My power is boiling?!”
Hugo stared in shock at his hands, which radiated an intense golden light.
At this moment, he felt stronger than ever before, the power of the Sun Emblem raging endlessly, seemingly inexhaustible.
However, what came next was a seductive and maddening evil whisper that resounded deep in his mind.
“Could this be the Blessing Allen mentioned?!” Hugo’s face instantly darkened.
“So this really is the Trap they’ve meticulously prepared?!”
Allen’s heart also sank. He’d known that the Thieves’ Guild Purge Plan couldn’t possibly go so smoothly!
The Flesh Monster before him, now utterly inhuman and driven by pure destructive instinct, radiated a sense of oppression far beyond anything he had imagined.
Even if Livia, that Feng Aotian, were here, she’d probably be in for a bitter fight!
Ordinary bolts shot by the squad’s crossbowmen struck the monster with dull thuds, as if scratching an itch.
The monster completely ignored such physical attacks.
Its enormous body suddenly charged straight ahead, slamming into the Heavy Shield Knight who stood before it with his tower shield—sending both knight and shield flying!
The heavy metal shield let out a teeth-grinding, twisted screech. The knight didn’t even have time to grunt before crashing into the distant stone wall—his fate unknown.
Immediately after, the monster’s writhing tentacles lashed out, whipping a Swordsman attempting to flank it and sending him flying like a rag doll.
The Swordsman’s chestplate visibly caved in, and a spurt of blood drew a tragic arc through the air.
“Anna! Sophia! Suppress it!” Allen shouted.
Anna and Sophia the Nun fought side by side, trying to purify the monster with attacks infused with Faith Power—but the effect was negligible.
This monster had received the direct Blessing of the Evil God, and the Divine Power fields of the Combat Nuns were greatly weakened against it.
Anna’s petite figure darted in close, her fist wrapped in Faith Power slamming hard into one of the monster’s proliferated limbs!
“Hiss—!”
A chilling corrosive sound rang out; the struck spot immediately steamed, but the monster seemed utterly unfazed.
Instead, it suddenly spat a foul, sticky black liquid from a twisted mouth.
Anna couldn’t dodge in time; the hem of her battle nun’s robe was splashed by the Corrosive Slime.
The specially crafted, somewhat magic-resistant fabric began to corrode and melt at a speed visible to the naked eye!
“Anna!”
Sophia the Nun cried out, rushing forward without hesitation, yanking off the corroded section of Anna’s clothes and quickly checking her wounds.
Thankfully, Anna’s body was far stronger than that of a normal person; the slime only corroded the cloth and didn’t cause serious harm to her skin.
But now, Anna was left nearly half-naked—clearly unable to continue fighting.
Sophia immediately took off her own outer robe and draped it over Anna, shielding her as they retreated for now.
The others weren’t so lucky.
The monster began a mad, indiscriminate massacre. Those Thieves’ Guild members and gang thugs who’d survived the previous battle became its first targets to vent its rage.
The Corrosive Slime splattered like strong acid; anyone hit by it screamed in agony, their flesh and skin dissolving at a visible rate, exposing pale bone—a horrifying sight!
“Damn it! Hugo! Your Engraved Emblem Power isn’t doing much to it!” Allen shouted as he struggled to dodge the lashing tentacles.
“It works! Allen! Look—I burned off a chunk of its flesh!” Hugo’s blade, enchanted by the Sun Emblem, did hurt the monster—the scent of charred meat filled the air. “But its recovery is too fast! I just burn it, and it immediately grows back!”
Allen and Hugo kept destroying the monster’s limbs, hacking off tentacles and scorching hunks of flesh—but it was all futile!
New flesh writhed and healed at the wounds almost instantly, growing back even thicker and more grotesque.
Allen spat out a stream of curses, exasperated: “Damn that old hag, how the hell do we fight this thing?! At this rate, even my underwear’s gonna get blown off! Damn Evil God, playing dirty tricks on me!”
His exclusive weapon, the Black Sword, hadn’t arrived yet. With just an ordinary longsword, he couldn’t inflict effective damage on such a supernatural regenerative body.
“Bang!”
A muffled crash—Hugo made a mistake and was struck hard in the chest by a tentacle that whipped out from a bizarre angle.
He flew back like a kite with a broken string, crashing through a brick wall and getting buried in rubble.
“Hugo!” Allen’s heart clenched.
“Cough… cough cough…” Hugo’s weak voice came from the rubble. He struggled to raise a hand and gave a thumbs up. “Not… not dead… just… think… a few bones are broken…”
“Hang in there!”
The accompanying Field Medic finished injecting the other teammates, saw Hugo—one of their pillars of strength—go down, and immediately dashed over at great risk.
He pulled an Emergency Medical Injector from his kit—a church-provided potion, far beyond this era’s technology—and swiftly injected Hugo.
The medicine could rapidly accelerate healing, but it consumed the user’s energy reserves at a frightening rate, leaving them extremely weak afterward.
“Hiss—!”
While the rescue was underway, a crossbowman switched to Sanctified Silver Arrowheads designed for evil creatures, and successfully struck the monster. The arrowhead exploded in a burst of holy light, searing the monster’s skin and letting out a sizzle.
This tiny wound, however, utterly enraged the monster. It roared deafeningly, its massive body whirling around and charging madly at the crossbowman!
“Run!”
Allen shouted desperately, dashing forward and hacking at the monster’s flank to try to draw its attention.
The crossbowman tumbled and scrambled away, narrowly avoiding a fatal charge. But his crossbow was destroyed by the monster’s slime in the process.
In just a few short minutes, only Allen remained able to barely keep fighting and restrain the monster!
If he went down or lost control, everyone present would be slaughtered by this raging beast!
Allen’s figure darted around the monstrous, tentacle-lashing abomination at high speed.
His Future Sight ability was pushed to its absolute limit in this moment.
His brain felt as if it was about to ignite. Countless possible scenes of carnage flashed before his eyes like a revolving lantern with every next second.
Every dodge was hair’s breadth from disaster, every block jarred his hands to the bone.
The monster’s attacks were chaotic and wild, driven entirely by instinct and brute force—making its moves all the harder to predict.
He was dancing on a blade’s edge, weaving through a storm of death.
Sharp bone spikes grazed his mask; sticky corrosive droplets splattered at his feet, eating small holes into the flagstone floor.
A huge deformed claw slammed down with a rush of foul wind—he rolled just in time, and the spot where he’d stood caved in with a crash.
His stamina was burning away rapidly. The strain of high-speed Future Sight was starting to sting and exhaust his mind.
But Allen couldn’t stop! He couldn’t even relax for a moment!
“Retreat, brother! We can’t win this! Don’t worry about us!” Hugo, supported by the medic, was watching Allen’s desperate struggle—his voice trembling with tears.
His good brother was risking his life to buy them time!
Allen’s lone, fierce duel with the monstrous abomination stunned not only his own companions, but even the remaining Thieves’ Guild members left alive.
What insane courage and strength was this?!
The Lily Guard and Dawn’s Children members, fired up by their leader’s heroics, refused to fall back.
“Damn it! Obey orders!!” Even Worner couldn’t help but curse. “You idiots think you can take that thing? You’ll only distract the leader and waste all his effort! What’s the point of dying? Fall back!!”
Crude, but true! Tearfully, the squad members finally gritted their teeth, herding the captives and petrified noble clients, and began an orderly retreat.
Yet beneath his mask, Allen’s expression at that moment was not the nervousness, despair, or pain the others imagined—but a nearly mad sense of ease and exhilaration.
Yes, ease and exhilaration!
A thrill and ecstasy that transcended all human limits, ten thousand times stronger than any worldly pleasure, surged through him like electricity.
It was intoxicating. Exciting. He wanted to burst out laughing!
The Evil God was influencing him! Using the purest, most direct pleasure of combat and slaughter to corrupt him!
Allen was keenly aware of this. Yet the Evil God seemed “generous” enough to grant him additional “enhancements” even as it corrupted him.
His reaction speed had reached superhuman levels; his body moved even faster than his thoughts.
Every strike Allen made landed precisely on the monster’s newly formed vulnerable spots or along the trajectory of its attacks!
One slash, then another—that was Allen’s eternity.
Even the mindless monster let out howls tinged with pain and a strange, perverse excitement as Allen’s increasingly frenzied, precise, and relentless assault rained down.
Its nervous system, apparently altered by the Evil God, became extraordinarily sensitive—pain was magnified, then twisted into another form of stimulation.
Allen was dancing.
His swordplay blended the elegant techniques of an old nemesis with the deadly efficiency honed over countless brushes with death—combining death and artistry into a breathtakingly beautiful, lethal dance!
All who could see the battle couldn’t help but be drawn in by the dance of death, watching, dumbstruck.
Allen’s performance, it seemed, greatly pleased the watching presence in the dark. His depleted stamina was repeatedly and invisibly replenished.
His state of mind, under the Evil God’s influence, was swiftly aligning with that of the “Abyss Walker” he’d once played in a past life with the Crimson Spiral Cult.
He knew he was falling.
So this “Ascension Ritual”… its true target was him!
Allen sensed that if this continued, he really would go from being the “Observer’s” chosen (as he fancied himself) to the Evil God’s plaything!
“Young master!”
At this crucial moment, Marianne arrived.
Seeing Allen’s nearly maniacal fighting state, her heart leapt in alarm.
Ignoring any need to conceal her power or the fact that there were outsiders present, several jet-black shadow tentacles burst from her shadow, tightly binding several of the monster’s main limbs—temporarily restricting its movement.
“Marianne?” Allen’s sword dance paused abruptly, a bit of reason returning. “Why are you here?”
“I heard their whispers! I knew something big was happening here!” Marianne cried, struggling to maintain the Shadow Bind.
“Their target is me!” Allen despaired. “Marianne, you’re no match for them. Take everyone and go, now!”
“Young master!” Marianne called urgently, her crimson eyes flashing with the light of steadfast faith. “You are the messenger of the gods! Pray devoutly to the Lord! The Lord will surely Bless you and grant you strength!”
Allen was momentarily speechless.
He really wasn’t some divine messenger! He was just an ordinary guy with a little bit of transmigrator know-how.
Oh well, desperate times, desperate measures!
Pray it is! Faith against faith—it’s all he’s got!