“You,” Ayla pointed at Irene, her tone unreadable, “stay here.”
Irene’s heart leapt into her throat. She could only stand stiffly in place, struggling to play the part of a terrified tomb guardian.
Ayla looked a little weary as she walked over to a stone couch draped in black velvet and lay on her side. Her wide sleeves slipped down, revealing a pale, almost translucent wrist. She seemed to sink into a brief rest.
The room was deathly silent except for the faint flickering of blue magical torches on the walls.
Irene’s nerves were stretched taut. Time ticked by slowly; Ayla appeared to be in a deep sleep.
At that moment, Irene’s gaze was drawn to something on a small obsidian table beside the couch—
A thin, inconspicuous booklet bound in some kind of black leather!
Strong curiosity and an inexplicable premonition compelled her. Holding her breath, she silently slipped over like a cat and, glancing back at the apparently oblivious Ayla, tremblingly reached out and carefully opened the black booklet.
After only a few glances, Irene’s pupils shrank sharply! She nearly stopped breathing!
This was no diary! It was an extremely detailed internal deployment document! It clearly outlined the tomb’s troop placements, and even listed abilities of some demons and cultists!
This was practically a strategy guide! A master plan that would let their team destroy this demon nest with minimal cost!
Irene’s heart soared. She almost laughed aloud! What kind of idiot Grand Archbishop leaves something like this casually on the table?
She suppressed her excitement and, relying on her eidetic memory, scanned and memorized each page’s key information with lightning speed! Especially the weaknesses of Shadowfang, the Four Heavenly Kings-level demon wolf!
Just as she noted down the last secret passage and prepared to put the booklet back, a faint noise came from the couch.
Irene’s heart nearly leapt from her chest. She snapped the booklet shut, returned it to its place, and hurriedly retreated, bowing her head low as if never having moved.
Ayla slowly sat up, her expression hidden beneath the hood. She seemed unaware of any disturbance and said lightly, “Follow me.”
Irene exhaled quietly and hurried to catch up. Ayla led her again toward the central altar.
On the altar plaza, Shadowfang’s massive form stood sentinel beside the Holy Sword’s pedestal, seemingly inspecting something. Seeing Ayla approach, he bowed slightly. “Grand Archbishop.”
Ayla nodded, her gaze sweeping over the Holy Sword Barumuk before glancing at Irene, who kept her head lowered. Her ethereal voice echoed, “Shadowfang, strengthen the defenses one more layer. There have already been adventurers wandering the valley bottom recently.”
“As you command!” Shadowfang responded in a deep voice.
Having given her orders, Ayla turned and left the altar area, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on her lips.
Shadowfang prepared to carry out the command.
He shouted to Irene, “You, short one, stand guard over there!”
“Yes, my lord.”
Irene replied meekly. However, after only a few steps, blocked by the hood’s shadow, she accidentally kicked a protruding rock and immediately fell flat on the ground.
Perhaps the pose was somewhat adorably awkward.
The hood slipped off, revealing her signature silver-white hair flowing like moonlight under the altar’s glow, and the delicate contours of her face, half-covered by the mask but still visible!
“?!” Shadowfang’s scarlet wolf eyes immediately locked onto Irene. “You’re not a tomb guardian! Who are you?!”
Tomb guardians have dark skin; her complexion was all wrong!
Damn! Her identity was exposed!
Cold sweat trickled down Irene’s forehead as she stared at Shadowfang, overwhelmed with black thoughts.
The terrifying pressure radiating from Shadowfang was like a mountain crushing down. She felt as if even breathing had become difficult!
“Th-that, actually, tomb guardians do like to wear masks sometimes…”
“Seize her!” Shadowfang ignored her explanation. His massive wolf claw, tearing through the air with a piercing shriek, lunged at Irene! The speed was beyond imagination!
At the critical moment—
Irene’s golden eyes flickered, and the trap card “Miracle Weaver” activated!
Her body seemed to break free from gravity’s grasp, twisting and shifting in an almost impossible, near-instant teleportation-like manner, narrowly dodging the deadly wolf claw! The wind from the strike scraped painfully across her cheek!
“What?!” Shadowfang’s strike missed, a trace of astonishment flashing in his eyes.
This seemingly powerless woman had actually dodged his attack?
Irene had no time to think. Her survival instinct drove her. She was only a few steps from the altar’s Holy Sword!
That softly glowing longsword seemed to call to her! Ever since she saw the sword, a strange feeling had been spreading in her heart.
As if grasping the Holy Sword would be to grasp hope itself!
Shadowfang’s surprise lasted only a moment before even more furious attacks came crashing down! Claws, magic fireballs, and shadowy tendrils that sealed space!
Irene repeatedly triggered the “Miracle Weaver” magic card’s effect to nullify attacks!
She was like a leaf tossed in a storm, or a sprite dancing on a knife’s edge—each dodge was perilously close, her body contorting and shifting in incredible ways to narrowly evade fatal strikes!
Her graceful, bizarre dodges looked nothing like a weakling!
“This… how is this possible?!” The demons and cultists nearby were stunned! None had ever seen anyone move so deftly under Shadowfang’s assault!
“This woman might actually be strong!” the demons whispered in awe. “A human adventurer this terrifying? Let Shadowfang handle her; if we join in, we might get wiped out by the aftershock.”
Watching Shadowfang’s attack effects, they cheered silently for their leader, giving him spiritual support!
As Shadowfang grew increasingly irritated by Irene’s strange dodges, his assault faltered just slightly.
Irene’s eyes gleamed sharply!
The ring of the Magic Lord on her finger burst into blazing flames, erupting with a ‘boom’ onto Shadowfang. Though it didn’t cause much damage, the engulfing fire obscured his vision, and the backlash of the magic lifted Irene, dropping her toward the altar!
Her target was unmistakably the Holy Sword Barumuk!
“What are you planning to do?” Shadowfang looked puzzled, his wolf head tilting, a question mark appearing above.
It was true she aimed for the sword, but no one—not even the chosen ones—could pull it free! Demons had tried many times, cultists even more, yet it remained immovable. What was she thinking?
However, to everyone’s disbelief, her pale hand firmly grasped the Holy Sword’s hilt!
Buzz—!!!
The moment she gripped the handle, the dormant sword burst into dazzling golden light! A vast, warm, majestic divine power flooded into Irene’s body like a torrent!
Instinctively, she pulled hard!
Clang—!!!
A clear, triumphant sword cry echoed through the altar plaza! The Holy Sword Barumuk, sealed away for centuries, had been effortlessly drawn by this seemingly powerless, masked silver-haired woman!
Golden holy light blossomed like the sun in her hand, illuminating her cold mask and those golden eyes that shone even more brilliantly in the sacred glow!
She stood firm, sword tip angled toward the ground, the divine radiance swirling around her, exuding an indescribable aura of authority that quietly suppressed even Shadowfang’s ferocious demonic energy!
The entire plaza fell silent! All demons and cultists froze as if under a spell, staring dumbfounded at the figure bathed in holy light on the altar!
Shadowfang’s eyes widened like a husky’s.
“The Holy… the Holy Sword has been drawn?”
“She… she pulled it out?! How is this possible?”
“Could it be—” a cultist’s voice trembled.
“This is beyond expectation,” Shadowfang’s wolf face showed doubt and deep apprehension for the first time.
His crimson pupils locked tightly on Irene, sensing the pure divine aura from the sword that he hated and instinctively feared!
What frightened him more was Irene’s posture—though he still detected no strong magical fluctuations, her calm, abyss-like presence, as if controlling everything, and those previously impossible dodges, all indicated—this woman was hiding power!
She was far from the simple appearance she projected!
She might be the secret true hero the church cultivated! A despicable human, feigning weakness to wait for his flaw and then strike to kill him quickly, right?
Cold sweat dripped from Shadowfang’s brow, and his huge wolf claw trembled slightly, hesitating to advance.
With the Holy Sword in hand, her identity was unclear, and her strength unfathomable. If she really was a hero, the battle’s outcome was unpredictable.
Shadowfang pondered his next move.
Irene held the Holy Sword, feeling the hilt’s smooth warmth, but inwardly she was suffering!
She knew her limits. The seemingly effortless dodges just now had actually drained most of her magic!
With combat power barely at 5, evading a Four Heavenly Kings-level expert’s attacks rewrote fate with terrifying magical consumption!
Now, she was relying solely on the sword’s light effects, dangerously testing the edge of death!
If Shadowfang charged recklessly, she could only dodge two or three more times before exhausting her magic, revealing her true self and being destroyed by battle damage inside the tomb—right here in the King’s Valley, dead beyond recovery!
She forced herself to hold on, maintaining that inscrutable, domineering aura. Her cold golden eyes scanned the anxious demons and cultists below like a goddess looking down on ants.
Inside, she screamed silently: ‘Don’t come near! Lillisa, Serena, come save me!’
*****
At an air vent entrance to the tomb—
“Why hasn’t Sister Irene returned yet?! It’s way past the time!” Rita whispered anxiously, her eyes full of worry.
Helga murmured, “Something’s wrong. If we’d known, we shouldn’t have let them take her even if it cost our lives…
Miracle Weaver is powerful, but Irene herself has no real combat strength. Without backup, if the demons attacked her, it would be a dead end!”
Serena looked toward Aya, the tomb assassin. “Aya, take us inside the tomb. Looks like the plan’s changed—”
Aya nodded. “Follow me. I know the tomb’s layout.”
Serena followed Aya closely. After a few steps, she frowned.
What was that priest’s name who called out to that captain earlier?
Irene??