Chapter 117: Sloth
Ross acted with instantaneous precision, releasing his sword hilt and using the momentum of his spin to launch a whip-like roundhouse kick at the shadow's head. The wind of the strike whistled through the air, but it connected with nothing.
Landing back on the pavement, his boots clicked against the stone as he skidded back several meters. His gaze remained fixed on the mass of darkness slowly detaching itself from the ground.
"A Shadow Demon!"
Skele-Sloth watched the human, his voice carrying a note of playful mockery. "Correct. Sadly... there are no prizes for this quiz."
Ross didn't waste another syllable on banter. He barked a command to the Templars behind him. "Form up! [Sacred Relic Aegis]!"
The eight Tier 3 Templars moved with practiced speed, forming a perfect circular battle array with Ross at its center. Sanctified light erupted from their armor, weaving together to form a shimmering, translucent dome.
Sloth watched the display, making no move to intercept. "Just as a heads-up: I'm actually quite strong. You should probably run while you still have legs. I'm too lazy to chase you."
Ross ignored the provocation. He raised both hands toward the heavens, his voice turning solemn and resonant.
"O Holy Light! Shield Your humble servants once more!"
"I offer up these unworthy souls in exchange for the power to purge the filth of this world!"
The eight Templars dropped to one knee simultaneously, driving their swords into the ground. The Holy Light radiating from them began to hemorrhage at a visible rate, flowing like liquid mercury into Ross's body.
On the other side of the plaza, Scarlett had just finished jamming a healing potion into Anchi's mouth. Seeing the ritual, she screamed toward Sloth:
"Hey! Stop them! That's a [Life-Link Sacrifice]!"
Ross caught the scream and allowed a cruel smirk to cross his face. "Now you wish to intervene? Too late! Repent for your arrogance, heretic!"
Sloth let out a long yawn, appearing entirely bored by the spectacular light show. "It'll probably be fine. You're actually remarkably weak, after all."
The words reached every ear in the plaza. It was the spark that ignited Ross's fury.
The next second, the light surrounding the eight Templars flickered and died. They collapsed into the dirt, their bodies looking like desiccated husks as if the very marrow of their lives had been siphoned away.
In contrast, Ross's body exploded with a radiance like a second sun. The sheer pressure of the Holy Mana distorted the air around him, and the stone tiles beneath his boots cracked and buckled under the weight of his presence.
Temporary Tier 5.
At the cost of eight lives, he had attained power capable of leveling a provincial capital.
"A mere creature of the dark dares to mock the glory of the Spirits!" Ross roared. He could feel the god-like power coursing through his veins—a dangerous delusion of omnipotence. "RECEIVE PURIFICATION!"
Ross vanished.
A micro-second later, he was in Sloth's face. A blade woven from pure, condensed Holy Light descended in a vertical cleave.
Sloth simply took one slow, deliberate step to the left.
BOOM!
The massive blade of light struck empty air, carving a bottomless trench into the plaza floor, the scorched edges hissing with green smoke.
"Too slow," Sloth's voice whispered directly into Ross's ear.
Ross spun with a backhand sweep, the light-blade tracing a wide arc of death. Sloth leaned back, his body bending at an impossible angle to let the strike pass an inch from his ribs.
Ross didn't stop. He became a white whirlwind, a blurred cyclone of countless strikes that completely enveloped Sloth. Every swing was infused with Battle Aura and Holy Light, capable of shattering mountains.
Ting! Ting! Clang! Clang!
The sharp, rapid staccato of impacts echoed through the square. Using only his hands—flicking with a finger, tapping with a palm, or clamping the blade between two finger bones—Sloth neutralized every single drop of the storm.
From the sidelines, Anchi and Cecilia watched with dropped jaws. Cecilia looked at the battle, then down at her own newly healed arm. She realized her previous "fight" had been nothing more than children playing in a sandbox.
Anchi looked at Danica, then at the smug, proud face of Scarlett. "Wait... if you had this kind of backing, why didn't you mention it earlier?!"
Danica offered no answer, her eyes wide with shock as she stared at her sisters. Are these truly the same succubi I knew?
Scarlett crossed her arms, wearing a "just as planned" expression as she boasted to Kula and Mona. "See? I told you hiring the Shadow Guard was the right move! If we'd gone with human mercenaries, our ashes would be blowing in the wind by now!"
Kula nodded vigorously, her mind elsewhere. "I suppose this means we can keep eating that delicious roasted chicken..."
In the center of the field, Ross was beginning to panic.
Every strike he threw was countered with effortless ease. The look in the shadow's sockets wasn't one of malice—it was the look one gave a dancing monkey.
Contempt. Pure, absolute contempt.
To a Paladin of the Church, the sensation was more agonizing than a lethal wound.
"Since you're putting in so much effort," Sloth remarked, "I suppose I should show you a fraction of what a General of the Master can do."
He extended a single finger bone toward the charging Ross and gave a light tap.
Ross felt an irresistible, gargantuan force transfer through the tip of his blade. The light-sword shattered instantly into a million glittering motes. Sloth blurred forward, his boot connecting squarely with Ross's midsection.
The Paladin was sent hurtling backward, spinning through the air. He forced his body to stabilize, throwing out a massive, crescent-shaped blade of light before he even hit the ground.
The projectile whistled through the air, aimed for Sloth's head. Sloth gave a casual wave of his hand. The wave of light—strong enough to slice a city wall in half—burst like a soap bubble, vanishing without a sound.
For the first time since the fight began, Ross felt like a toddler trying to challenge a giant. Every attack was a joke. Every move was a mistake.
Exhausted and battered, Ross stood before Sloth. The Holy Light surrounding him had grown dim; the borrowed power was hemorrhaging. The shame of being mocked, the humiliation of being toys, and the terror of being utterly outclassed merged into a singular, frantic scream.
"You are now an enemy of the entire Holy Empire of Gusteko!" Ross shrieked like a beaten cur. "There is nowhere on this continent for you to hide! You have nowhere left to run!"
Sloth heard the words and threw his head back, letting out a burst of exaggerated, manic laughter.
"Hahahaha! Hahahaha!"
"Run? Who said anything about running?"
"Where would we even go?"
"And why would we ever need to flee?!"
The laughter died. The expression on Sloth's face—if a shadow could be said to have one—turned into a mask of absolute, icy indifference.
"The game is over."
The next instant—
The sky above the town of Orlando turned into a void of pure, unadulterated darkness. No light. No sound. No wind. Time and space felt as though they had solidified into a single point.
Ross found himself standing in a vacuum. He could see no one. He could feel nothing. A primal, cosmic terror seized his heart.
"Where are you?! SHOW YOURSELF!"
He discharged the last of his Holy Mana in a frantic burst, desperate to illuminate the void. But the light was like a pebble dropped into a bottomless ocean; it was swallowed by the dark without leaving a ripple. He screamed the names of his battle arts, trying to use the sound to anchor his sanity.
"O LIGHT! PROTECT ME!"
Just then, he felt it. Ross looked up.
High above the dome of the endless darkness, a pair of eyes slowly opened.
They were eyes that defied description—gargantuan, hollow, and devoid of any human emotion. It was as if a God were staring down at an ant. Under that gaze, Ross's courage and his faith disintegrated.
He wanted to run. The thought had barely formed when his consciousness suddenly felt light—weightless.
He looked down and saw a headless body clad in familiar silver-white armor, still standing in a combat pose.
Ah...
So... that was my body.
That was his final thought.
The sky snapped back to its natural color. The warm morning sun spilled over the plaza once more.
Anchi, Cecilia, and the succubi stared in frozen silence at the center of the square. Ross's headless corpse stood for several seconds before collapsing heavily into the dirt.
Blood painted the stone red.
From darkness back to light, only seconds had passed. What had occurred in that span of time? No one could say.
Sloth let out a massive, jaw-cracking yawn and stretched his limbs.
"Ugh... I'm dead tired. I can finally go back and pull the gacha now."
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