"BOOM!!!" It felt as if something had exploded inside my body.
A continuous stream of energy, like a river bursting its banks, rushed through Gil's entire body in an instant.
All pain, fatigue, and weakness were expelled and healed by this force at that moment.
Gil suddenly opened his eyes, his dull pupils filled with pure golden light.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CRACK! CRACK! A series of sharp, piercing metallic clashes sounded almost simultaneously with the sounds of breaking.
The weapons with which they were striking and wounding him made contact with the suddenly hardened golden light barrier on his body.
It was like hitting a city wall; not only could they not advance an inch, but they also shattered and flew apart from the backlash.
Halberd fragments and sword shrapnel scattered in all directions. The attacking soldiers received cuts and bruises on their hands, their arms went numb, frightened expressions froze on their faces, and they involuntarily staggered backward.
"Magic-blocking gold! Quickly get the magic-blocking gold!" an officer shouted hoarsely.
They tried to deal with this unknown situation using the usual methods for countering sorcerers, but it was too late.
Gil slowly straightened up. He looked at his chest and saw that the fatal wound had disappeared, leaving not even a scar.
He raised his hand, gripped the already dulled steel sword, and his mind moved slightly.
WHOOSH! Instantly, blazing golden flame engulfed the cold blade of the sword.
The flames leaped up and radiated scorching heat, yet did not damage the sword at all.
He looked up, his cold gaze sweeping over the frightened Nilfgaardian soldiers before him.
He did not roar or make any declaration; he simply swung his sword forward.
A compressed, crescent-shaped beam of sword light, blazing with golden flame, detached from the blade and shot away at lightning speed.
THUD! THUD! There was no loud clash, only the dull sound of a sharp object plunging into flesh and severing bone.
Wherever the sword light penetrated, it struck both knights in heavy plate armor and light infantry.
Their weapons and armor, along with their gear, were instantly cut in half like butter sliced by a hot knife.
The intense heat instantly cauterized the wound, not a drop of blood spurting out.
A dozen soldiers collapsed simultaneously like straw, their bodies cleanly mutilated.
Dead silence, a brief silence, enveloped the area.
Whether it was the surviving Nilfgaardian soldiers or the other people nearby,
or perhaps Menno and the bishop watching from afar, they were all struck dumb as if by lightning?
Ignoring their terror, Gil, following the god's command, thrust the steel sword blazing with golden flame into the ground.
Then he spread his arms to the sky, and an even more dazzling golden light burst from his palms.
The light, like the rising sun, instantly turned into a pure halo, rapidly spreading and illuminating the entire blood-soaked battlefield from his center.
Wherever the halo passed, miracles occurred, and those believers who were dying in pools of blood and originally destined to die were saved.
Their pale faces quickly regained color, and their weak breathing became strong and steady.
And those believers with broken limbs and terrible wounds, after the golden light adhered to their wounds,
flesh and blood writhed and grew at a speed visible to the naked eye, and new limbs grew back completely intact in an instant.
After a brief moment of bewilderment and shock, a deafening roar of jubilation and shouts erupted.
One, two, ten, a hundred... More and more believers who were "dead" or seriously injured struggled to their feet.
He casually picked up the weapon lying nearby, his eyes burning with an even brighter and more determined flame than before.
They looked at Gil, at the center of this light, and let out a roar that shook heaven and earth, a roar from the depths of their hearts.
"Hail the Sun!!!"
"My God!!!"
The roar drowned out the sounds of battle on the field and the terror of the Nilfgaardians.
Karl watched all this through Gil's eyes, seeing the believers saved from certain death.
Feeling their rapidly growing, almost tangible faith, filling my heart, I felt immense satisfaction.
These beliefs, which persisted even in the deepest despair and found resonance, are truly pure.
However, when his gaze swept over the edge of the battlefield, he saw those who had completely lost their lives.
When the souls of the believers, dazed, separated from their mutilated bodies, the feeling of relief instantly gave way to overwhelming rage.
Under Karl's guidance, Gil focused his attention on the space behind him, which had previously been bathed in light.
The golden light suddenly became denser and harder, then quickly differentiated and took on a specific form.
Countless thin, pure golden energy streams intertwined and layered, instantly converging into shimmering, clearly textured energy feathers.
These glowing feathers were arranged in an orderly fashion and grew rapidly, almost instantaneously.
Behind him materialized two magnificent and majestic wings, composed entirely of golden light.
Their wingspan was several meters, and a sun-like halo trailed along their edges. With a light flap of the wings, they stir up air and create gusts of wind.
Gil instinctively tried to control the pair of newly formed light wings, which seemed like an extension of his body.
With a slight thought, he suddenly flapped the wings downward.
WHOOSH!! A storm ten times stronger than before rose from the ground, lifting dust and gravel in all directions.
Under the influence of this powerful force, Gil's body shot upwards like an arrow, instantly rising from the ground and turning into a golden meteor racing straight into the night sky.
He hovered in the air at a height of dozens of meters, his light wings gently flapping behind him, helping him maintain balance.
The night wind rustled his bloodstained clothes, cleansed by divine power.
He looked down at the Nilfgaardian army, which seemed smaller in number and now, due to his ascent, had plunged into even greater chaos and terror.
In the firelight, he could see the expressions of disbelief, fear, and even despair on the faces of the Nilfgaardian soldiers.
Countless trembling fingers pointed at him, and cries of terror rose and fell: "Monster! He's a monster!"
"No, a sorcerer! He's a sorcerer?! He can fly!"
"Fire arrows! Fire arrows now! Shoot him down!"
"Crossbowmen! Aim!"
After a brief period of panic, the Nilfgaardian army's rigorous training prompted some officers and soldiers to counterattack.
The sounds of vibrating bowstrings and crossbow triggers sounded one after another.
In an instant, a dark rain of arrows descended, many of their tips gleaming with a strange, dull luster.
Furthermore, a hail of heavy crossbow bolts, soaked in magic-blocking gold, fell upon Gil's suspended figure, accompanied by piercing whistles.
The arrows flew in an incredibly large number, practically covering all possible escape routes.
Under the hail of arrows, capable of turning a person into a pincushion, Gil showed neither fear nor icy fury.
He roared fiercely, addressing the blasphemers and murderers below.
Empowered by the force of faith, his voice, like thunder, boomed across the blood-soaked battlefield: "Heretics! Feel the divine punishment of our gods!!"