Chapter 96: The Price of the Saintess

After the Ice Maiden’s death, the entire battlefield fell into a deathly silence.

For the first time, the smile on the Unicorn Man’s face froze, and the Strongman’s molten body solidified for an instant.

The Oracle Maiden of the Oracle Hall—wasn’t she also a Demigod? Not only that, she was even injured. How could she kill another Demigod so quickly?!

Weren’t their strengths supposed to be on par?!

“Damn it!!” The Strongman let out a furious roar. He didn’t bother to think further, but swung his massive molten fist straight at Isavel, smashing it down. “Die for me!”

Isavel finally looked at him. That gaze was filled with indifference, as if she were merely observing an ant attempting to challenge her.

She didn’t even bother to defend or dodge. As the molten fist, hot enough to evaporate mountains, was about to strike her, it simply passed through her body.

It was as if she existed in another dimension. Isavel’s figure became ethereal, and none of the Strongman’s attacks could touch her true body.

“Phase Magic?!” General Barton couldn’t help but cry out.

He hailed from the Capital of the Ost Empire and had systematically studied magic, so he knew the status of Phase Magic—it was a forbidden spell that only existed in legends, the highest form of spatial magic pursued by countless mages.

Now, seeing such a legendary spell before his very eyes, it felt almost unreal.

“Coward! Come out and fight me!”

The Strongman frantically channeled his magic, trying to force Isavel out of her state with pure destructive power, but in theory, that was simply impossible.

As time passed, Isavel seemed to grow tired of such brutish, artless strength. At last, she moved.

She simply stepped forward—a step that appeared slow, yet in an instant crossed space, and she appeared right in front of the Strongman’s massive molten head.

Then, facing that head ablaze with Divine Fire, she swung her pitch-black long blade down.

As before, there was no sound. The Strongman’s supposedly indestructible molten head was eerily split in two.

Molten rock and Divine Fire spilled from the cut, burning an empty swath across the battlefield like a fiery waterfall.

His headless, massive body stood frozen for a moment, then crashed down, turning into a heap of rapidly cooling black rock.

Again—a single strike!

In the blink of an eye, two of the three Demigods had fallen.

The only one left, the Unicorn Man, had long lost his smile to fear.

He simply couldn’t understand it—weren’t they all Demigods? Why were they so helpless before her?!

Could it be that the Oracle Hall secretly harbored power left behind by the Goddess?!

“Saintess, I—I think this must be a misunderstanding.”

The Unicorn Man took a step back. The fear on his face was gradually replaced by an apologetic smile. After seeing two Demigods fall, he no longer believed he could challenge this Saintess.

“Misunderstanding? What misunderstanding?”

Isavel tilted her head slightly, as if showing a faint interest in his words.

“All this is a scheme of the Abyss, isn’t it? They pit us against each other only to reduce the number of Demigods in the human world, so their plan to rule mankind will succeed!”

“So, Saintess, to fight the Abyss, we should join forces. This is also the Goddess’s will, isn’t it?”

The Unicorn Man forced a laugh, trying to awaken Isavel’s sense of duty as the Oracle Maiden, but unfortunately, Isavel scorned such an alliance.

“If I were to join hands with you, wouldn’t that only get me killed?”

As she spoke, she raised her pitch-black long blade once more, swinging it at the Unicorn Man. Magic instantly transformed into a slash of all-devouring darkness, surging toward him with a force of destruction.

Seeing that she had no intention of sparing him, the Unicorn Man utterly gave up hope of survival.

He frantically summoned all his magic, tearing open space and conjuring an Ultimate Thunderstorm capable of destroying half an empire, wrapping himself layer after layer in a last, desperate struggle.

“Even if you kill me, you can’t stop the Demons from destroying the world!”

His curse had just fallen when the blade of darkness clashed with the thunderstorm.

In that instant, the wind ceased, thunder vanished, clouds dissipated. The entire sky was left utterly silent and black.

The Unicorn Man’s pride—the storm and thunder—seemed fundamentally denied. He staggered back two steps, then, like a puppet with its strings cut, plummeted straight down from the sky.

With a crash, he struck the ground, life utterly gone.

The battle was over.

From beginning to the fall of three Demigods, barely ten breaths had passed.

Now, in the sky, only Isavel remained. She gazed down upon the numb battle below and let out a cold laugh.

On the Norwich Empire’s side, most of the commanders were gripped by terror.

Their faces were twisted with bone-deep fear and confusion; their soldiers had long ago dropped their weapons.

Especially Gustav—he had slipped among the soldiers, desperately trying to flee the battlefield, to escape Isavel’s gaze. Yet terror held his legs frozen.

General Barton stared at Isavel, his body trembling—not out of fear, but with near-fanatical reverence and ardor. He could not imagine what kind of existence he truly worshipped.

To kill three Demigods in ten breaths—this Oracle Maiden was surely second only to the gods themselves!

Isavel paid their shock no mind. She stepped forward as if ascending invisible stairs.

With each step she took, countless elite soldiers of Norwich, unable to withstand the pressure, fell half-kneeling to the battlefield.

Their armor and weapons, too, were crushed by invisible force.

Soon, her gaze fell upon Gustav, cowering among the soldiers.

“Noisy insect.”

She didn’t even raise a hand, merely glanced at him. The space around Gustav suddenly twisted visibly.

The once-arrogant general’s face twisted in terror, and he let out a scream.

But his voice was swallowed by the distorted space. He was compressed into a struggling, howling black sphere, which, under the wind, scattered like dust.

“The Emperor of Norwich Empire colluded with the Abyss and betrayed humanity. So this war is not your fault. Therefore, I offer you three choices.”

Looking down at the trembling Norwich soldiers, Isavel seemed like the Goddess herself, granting them a sliver of hope.

“First, join the Aos Empire’s Imperial Army. Become soldiers, fight for humanity. After the Emperor of Norwich is overthrown, you may return home.”

“Second, return to the Norwich Empire and form a Resistance Army. Join forces with the Aos Empire to resist the Emperor of Norwich. Third, return to the Norwich Empire, hide your names, and live out your days.”

As soon as these three choices were spoken, many Norwich soldiers’ faces showed delight, while some commanders exchanged glances, as if weighing something in their minds.

To them, these three choices were laughable.

As long as they could return to the Norwich Empire, they would surely serve the Emperor again. As for all that about the Emperor colluding with the Abyss…

How could they not know? They just didn’t care.

Just like Gustav, they had known all along the Emperor was in league with the Abyss. This war was only for profit, not for mankind.

But they still came.

Why?

Because, compared to mankind, they valued their own interests more.

Abyssal Seal shattered? Abyssal Dragon ending the world?

Oh… even the Emperor of Norwich wasn’t worried. Why should these nobles and commanders be? Why waste time on that, when they could grasp the profits before them?

As for those foolish soldiers… they certainly didn’t think the men would obey Saintess Isavel. After all, their families were in the Empire’s grasp.

If they really dared to rebel, the Empire could do whatever it wanted with them.

Thinking this, the commanders all showed faint, bitter smiles.

But the next moment, the space around them twisted. Pain made them scream, but like Gustav, they were quickly turned into black spheres and scattered on the wind.

“If you return to the Norwich Empire and continue serving the Emperor, their fate will be yours. Don’t think the Oracle Hall cannot find you. The Goddess knows all.”

The villainous Saintess, of course, must act the villain.

This act alone made countless Norwich soldiers who had harbored selfish thoughts break out in cold sweat.

At first, many truly did plan to keep serving the Emperor, but now, that thought was utterly extinguished.

The Saintess’s display reminded them once again of the terror of the divine.

After this, the surviving Norwich soldiers began to disperse in an orderly fashion. Some hurried back to the Norwich Empire; others joined the Aos Empire.

Isavel slowly descended from the sky, arriving at the main city gate tower and standing before the shell-shocked General Barton.

Barton gazed at the black-clad Saintess before him.

Her eyes were as cold as ever, yet her body was spotless, wholly out of place with the hellish landscape around her.

Isavel drew from her bosom a delicate Crystal Vial filled with a Green Elixir brimming with vitality, tossing it casually to Barton.

“Clean up the battlefield, begin reconstruction, and prepare a quiet room for me. Don’t let anyone disturb me unless it’s urgent.”

Her tone was still flat, revealing no emotion.

After she spoke, the soldiers, at Barton’s signal, stepped forward to escort her away from the main gate tower.

Only after she’d gone did Barton turn to look at the battlefield, as if waking from a dream.

He gripped the warm vial tightly, looked at the defending troops below—now caught up in wild celebration—and toward where Isavel had vanished, then knelt down on one knee, incomparably solemn.

He bowed his head and, with a trembling yet devout voice, shouted:

“Saintess! Bliss Fortress… will forever remember your sacrifice!”

Behind him, the surviving defenders, wounded or not, also dropped to their knees en masse, their voices echoing thunderously.

……

Only, inside an empty room of the fortress, after dismissing the soldiers, Isavel suddenly coughed—a streak of dark red blood trickled from the corner of her lips.

She raised her right hand and pulled off her glove. The Abyssal mark on the back of her hand glowed like red-hot iron, radiating eerie heat, the black lines seeming to spread a little further.

At the same time, the whispers in her mind became clearer again, thick with venomous mockery.

The magic levels of these three Demigods were only those of newly-ascended Demigods. On any normal day, killing all three would take her no more than two or three moves. But things were different now.

She was injured. To deal with them as before would come at a terrible price.

Yet this was something she had to do.

She had to send a message to those plotting in the shadows: even injured, she remained the unmatched Oracle Maiden—no matter how many stronger Demigods they sent, the outcome would not change.

……

As time passed, the room fell into utter silence, broken only by the occasional crackle from the fireplace. Golden firelight cast restless, twisting shadows on the walls.

Isavel curled up beneath thick bedding. At this moment, she was no longer the peerless Saintess, but a child trapped in a nightmare.

Drenched in cold sweat, her black nightgown clung to her skin, outlining a faintly trembling form.

The constant whispers at her ear made her furrow her brows, her mind teetering on the edge of chaos.

“Mm…”

She bit her lip, trying to stifle the painful groans threatening to spill from her throat.

Her fingers clutched the bedding so tightly they turned white.

She had already expected a ferocious backlash from the Abyssal corruption after unleashing her full power, but she hadn’t anticipated it would be this severe—it was like countless ants gnawing wildly at the defenses of her will.

Just then, the door to the room was silently pushed open.

Nora stood at the threshold, not lighting the magic lamp, but gazing at the fragile figure in the chair by the glow of the fireplace.

Her face showed no surprise—only the calm of someone who understood all, and a deep, palpable compassion.

Clearly, this was not the first time she had seen such a scene, nor the first time she’d known Isavel.

After all, Isavel was Selise—the Saintess whose gentleness always led her to sacrifice herself, in hopes of a better tomorrow for all.

Isavel jerked her head up. Seeing who it was, a flash of panic and humiliation at her own helplessness crossed her eyes, quickly covered by a mask of icy cold.

“You—why are you here? And who let you in… Get out.”

Her voice was hoarse, lacking the usual clear tone, feigning a sternness that failed to convince.

Nora ignored the paper tiger’s rebuke. She closed the door gently behind her, walked steadily closer, until she stood before Isavel.

She bent down, her gaze falling directly on the back of Isavel’s right hand, where the Abyssal mark spread.

“This is what you call ‘it hasn’t affected me yet’?” Nora’s voice was soft, not reproachful—only laden with heavy concern.

Isavel instinctively tried to pull her hand back, but Nora grasped her wrist faster, and her powerless struggles only made her look even more pitiable.