Taking advantage of the brief respite that Marianne fought desperately to win, Allen drew a deep breath, his mind plunging instantly into a pure land constructed of countless beautiful memories.
In a flash, one breathtaking scene after another rapidly flickered through his mind:
It was the thrill of two girls’ fingertips about to touch beneath the setting sun; the determination of a pink-haired figure on the battlefield, severing the cycle of fate to protect her dearest friend; the silent yet thunderous confession delivered through musical notes in the music room between two people.
And finally, the moment that froze—an iconic scene that could be written into the annals of yuri history—a girl’s ankle gently held, while another, on the verge of tears, uttered heavy, uneasy words:
“You promised you’d witness my dreams, that you’d always stay by my side, didn’t you…? I just want to spin up courage relying on one person, so, could you be my one and only support, just for me?”
Quack——! This is exactly what I wanted to see!
These scenes, brimming with the purest emotions, were forcibly compressed, refined, and transformed by Allen’s will!
Allen’s consciousness roared. He hurled his strongest resolve at the persistent, entangling whispers:
“Damn it! Transform this resolve to protect what’s beautiful… into a million horsepower!”
“Magnetic field, rotate! One million horsepower—Yuri Break Punch!!”
Boom——!
A wild shockwave formed purely of emotion erupted violently from Allen’s consciousness.
That boiling fighting spirit and the Evil God’s whispers, under this unreasonable psychic strike, shattered like glass smashed by an iron fist, scattering into dust, disappearing without a trace!
These damnable donkey Evil Gods! How could you possibly defeat my true love for yuri!
With the Evil God’s influence driven away, Allen seized the moment, gripping his longsword with both hands and holding it upright before him, as if wielding a Holy Relic. He closed his eyes and began to pray softly.
He intended to recite a standard prayer from the Holy Book, but what spilled from his lips was a passage unfamiliar and ancient, yet as if imprinted deep within his soul:
“O light of the stars not of this world, please heed the prayer of your lost child…”
“We are born of dust, yet long to embrace the stars…”
“That boundless dark vacuum is not the end of life, but the starting point of a new journey.”
“Please grant me the strength to break free from gravity, to press ever forward.”
“Please bestow me with courage to face the terrors of the unknown.”
“Please guide my way, so that even if the road ahead is eternally shrouded in darkness, I will never lose my path home.”
“In the name of the Stellar Oath, may Civilization’s Flame burn eternal!”
The prayer finished, and Allen himself was stunned. Where had these prayers come from?
Yet, in the very instant the prayer ended, Allen suddenly sensed that he’d established a faint yet utterly real connection with some vast, warm, unimaginably familiar yet infinitely distant Great Existence!
A formless but immense sacred power began to spread gently and resolutely from Allen as the center, golden radiance sweeping across the battlefield like a warm tide.
Those who were badly wounded on the ground saw their wounds heal and scab over at a speed visible to the naked eye.
The relentless evil whispers entangled in their minds vanished instantly, like shadows dispelled by sunlight, and the foul, evil aura that lingered in the air was purified completely.
The members of the Heretic Inquisition Squad, feeling this pure and sacred power, were instantly moved to tears.
“A miracle! This is the Lord’s miracle!” Sophia the Nun murmured.
An indescribable, warm yet dignified “divinity” flowed naturally from Allen.
Nearly everyone who witnessed this scene couldn’t help but lower their heads in heartfelt prayer toward Allen.
Only Hugo and Marianne managed to maintain a modicum of composure.
Hugo’s mouth hung wide enough to fit an egg, and he was utterly dumbfounded: “What the heck… my bro… could he really be some insanely awesome being? Crap! If he’s the Angel’s brother… does that make me… the Heavenly Brother?!”
Marianne’s eyes, meanwhile, brimmed with genuine faith and comfort. She was Allen’s Apostle, after all; she’d always believed Allen possessed hidden divine power. Look! Hasn’t it just manifested?!
Only Allen himself, feeling the surging and sacred power within, as well as that inherent “divinity” gazing down upon all, was thrown into a state of lucid pain and rejection.
He didn’t believe it.
He didn’t believe he was any sort of God’s Messenger!
To be blessed by a god and gain mighty power ought to be a good thing.
But in this universe, Evil Gods existed!
This power’s origins were unknown—who could say if this wasn’t some more sophisticated trick of the Evil Gods?
Take the cultist before him—he’d received the “Blessing” he dreamed of, and what became of him?
He’d turned into a mindless monster!
Who exactly had Allen’s prayer connected with? And for what purpose had this being blessed Allen?
This power didn’t belong to the Observer; the Observer had nothing sacred about it, more a byproduct of the material universe, existing eternally without the need for faith.
Nor did this power belong to the Evil Gods; it had directly blocked the Evil Gods’ “gaze”, seized control of the entire underground chamber, and swept away every last trace of Evil God energy.
Even if this mysterious power had solved the immediate crisis. But Gul’dan, what would be the cost?
Damn it, that’s why I hate forced transactions!
If you told me I had to give up a quarter of my life for this power, I wouldn’t even complain!
In any case, I’m not a god, nor any sort of God’s Messenger.
I’m the Heir of the Villain who’s died 999 times, a villain determined to save humanity, an ordinary human—Allen de Laval!!
Relying on astonishing willpower, Allen forcibly suppressed the “divinity” within, compelling himself back to his “normal” self.
But he knew, some things had changed forever.
Deep in his gaze, his jet-black pupils ignited, transforming into never-extinguishing Golden Eyes, burning with a faint golden flame.
An essential power awakened within Allen, and he realized clearly that he now possessed the ability to completely purify the divine creation before him.
He tried to channel this warm yet awe-inspiring power into the longsword in his hands.
“Vmm——!”
The sword gave a low hum, and at once, pure, blazing golden flames erupted, sheathing the entire blade.
This flame radiated comforting light and warmth, instantly dispelling the evil aura lingering nearby, invigorating everyone’s spirits.
Allen stared complexly at the burning sword in his hands. No matter where this power came from, he had to use it now.
No wonder the stars claim even the Evil Gods can’t see through him. He couldn’t even see through himself right now.
Just now, what exactly did he connect with? Was it the Creator that the Church worshiped, or something else entirely?
He didn’t understand.
Could it be that I’m not even a normal person? Is my transmigrator’s soul actually the side account of some big shot?
The truth was unknowable. At that moment, the Flesh Monster burst its way free of Marianne’s Shadow Bind with a violent roar, charging at Allen once more!
“Marianne…” Allen suddenly murmured, “I think I understand you a bit now. I feel like I’m not clean anymore either. I even feel like dying.”
“Young Master, what nonsense are you talking about!” Marianne shot back. “The Lord Himself has revealed a miracle and blessed you! You’re still pretending to be an ordinary person?”
“I really am just an ordinary person!”
Allen muttered aggrievedly under his breath, but then he took a deep breath, a complicated yet supremely determined smile lighting up his face.
“I’ll fight against destiny, and I’ll win—just you wait and see! Now, behold—my transformation.”
“something for nothing, Fusion 100% (12x Amplification)!”
Allen uttered this incomprehensible phrase, eyes fierce as an enraged lion.
He stepped forward, alone, standing between Marianne and the monstrous beast, leaving behind a back that was impossibly resolute and reassuring.
That figure was deeply etched in the eyes of everyone present, stirring an inexpressible thrill and reverence in their hearts.
Especially Hugo.
“Holy…,” Hugo muttered, “Is this… is this what a real Masked Rider looks like?”
Allen gripped the longsword burning with Saint Flame and took his stance.
If Livia were here, she’d be astonished—Allen was using the very sword technique she excelled at, a gorgeous style that fused Court Swordsmanship and combat prowess!
In the next instant, Allen moved.
His figure turned into a golden stream of light, actively meeting the massive monster head-on.
This time, everything was different!
The longsword ablaze with divine flames was no longer “ineffective.” Each slash sank deep into the monster’s flesh, like a hot knife through butter.
Golden fire raged on the monster’s wounds, hissing and searing, completely suppressing its rapid regeneration!
“RAAAAAAAHHH——!”
Tormented by holy, purifying pain, the monster howled in agony.
It thrashed wildly, launching a storm of counterattacks, but Allen dodged or parried every blow with exquisite footwork and uncanny prediction!
Allen was like a master surgeon, using the burning blade to “dissect” the evil creation piece by piece. Each cut struck where it was weakest, every strike ablaze with holy fire.
He ceaselessly wore down the monster’s “health” with sacred flames. At last, the creature, born of the Evil God’s Blessing, felt fear for the first time—fear of death!
Its hulking body began to shrink back, attempting to turn and flee.
“Hmph! Trying to run?” Allen’s Golden Eyes blazed, and he instinctively shouted: “Lightning Cyclone Slash!!”
He exploded forward like a released arrow, instantly closing the gap, the burning golden sword tracing a perfect arc—
“Slash!”
The blade flashed! The monster’s bulbous, barely recognizable “head” was cleanly lopped off!
Its huge body went rigid, then, as if all support had been removed, collapsed with a crash.
With the Evil God’s power lost, its flesh began to rapidly crumble and wither, turning into clouds of foul-smelling black ash, scattering and vanishing…
The battle was over.
The Evil God’s aura receded like the tide, disappearing utterly. Allen had claimed the final victory in the Thieves’ Guild operation.
However…
Panting, Allen glanced at his reflection in a polished metal plate nearby.
Golden Eyes, burning with faint golden flames, even shining with a subtle light through the mask’s eyeholes, lent him a mysterious, awe-inspiring appearance.
“Don’t shine so bright, damn it! It’s blinding!” he couldn’t help but grumble.
With his thought, the golden glow in his eyes quickly faded, no longer emitting light, though his pupils remained forever a pale gold.
He took off his mask, studying his reflection in the metal.
Those pale golden pupils made it clear: some things had changed forever.
Allen had finally gotten the powerful cheat he’d long dreamed of, yet he had no idea if it was a blessing or a curse. He couldn’t feel happy at all.
“Sigh… Whatever, for now I’ll just treat it as the Lord’s Blessing.” He heaved a sigh, donned his mask again, and muttered in a nearly give-up-on-life tone, “Merciful Lord, thank You for Your care and love for Your servant… though this process feels a bit off…”
Turning, he found that aside from Hugo and Marianne, everyone else was staring at him with eyes filled with almost divine awe, some even dropping to their knees to pray again.
Hugo, limping over with the help of a medic.
Perhaps because his crest’s bloodline was linked to the Evil Gods, that holy power hadn’t healed Hugo’s wounds.
Though weak, Hugo’s eyes were bright as he inspected Allen, pounding him excitedly on the shoulder (only to pull at his own injury and grimace in pain):
“Damn! Bro, you’re amazing! Seriously, fess up! Are you the legendary God’s Messenger or something? And that swordplay just now was sick! Can you teach me?”
“If I really were a God’s Messenger, shouldn’t you show a little respect?” Allen replied, half amused, half exasperated.
He had to admit, Livia’s sword technique really was as beautiful as it was practical, elegant and deadly, just like her.
Allen had secretly practiced, but never dared use it, mostly out of fear that Livia would notice and things would get awkward… After all, the two were supposed to be arch-enemies!
Being arch-enemies and secretly copying her sword style—how could that look?!
If people started thinking he had feelings for Livia, he’d rather be killed on the spot.
“Young Master, congratulations on your victory.”
Marianne stepped forward with a smile, solemnly handing Allen the key intelligence records, spy list, commission archives, and—most importantly—the account books she’d seized from the Thieves’ Guild.
Allen quickly skimmed these priceless items, easily enough to shake the Capital to its core. For a moment, he forgot all his worries about his own “little changes.”
“Nice work! Marianne!” Allen clapped excitedly. “This time, we’ve won an absolute, crushing victory!”
But as he glanced at Victor Solen leading a large force of Judgement Court reinforcements, then at the others who were practically worshipping him as a god, his joy was mixed with a bit of exasperation.
“From here on, we’re going to be seriously busy.”