Chapter 365: Chapter 365

“Impossible!” Franklin cried as he and the Saintess arrived before the place where the Sanctum was. It should have been a moment of relief and joy but all hopes were dashed when all they saw was an empty space where a building should have been. “I-it’s not here… P-perhaps I have forgotten the place?”

“You did not, Franklin,” said the Saintess. Though her face did not show as much despair as the paladin's, it was still grim and dark. She hadn’t plunged into despair but she wasn’t optimistic either. “The Sanctum just isn’t here… But how can it not be here?”

“No, I don’t believe this. This must be an illusion.” Saying so, Franklin strode up to the empty and reached out his hand. He expected to feel something. He expected to bump into something solid. He expected the building to be simply camouflaged to hide from plain sight. However, all he felt was the air and wind. “I-it can’t be… There’s truly nothing here… How?”

“...This cannot be. Is our order compromised?” the Saintess muttered to herself.

“Compromised? A traitor in our midst? Blasphemy!”

“How else do you explain all of this? They knew where to find me. They knew when I would be alone. They knew which path I would take to escape. These are all knowledge privy to our inner circle. I don’t want to believe it either but there is no other explanation. The order is compromised and we are now paying for our negligence and hubris. This is what Azaela had warned us about…”

“Enough about all that, Saintess. We must get you to safety first. Where else can we go?”

“...I do not know, Franklin.”

“The other Sanctums. We can still go to the other Sanctums.”

“We can but how? They aren’t close. And those Sanctums are in the direction where our enemies are coming from.”

“But we can’t just stay here, Saintess.”

“The boy’s right, little lady,” said a voice.

A voice of a stranger that came abruptly out of nowhere. Both the Saintess and the paladin jumped in shock. They turned to the voice sharply.

“There’s no way out now,” said the stranger, who was an old man but his physique was an antithesis to his age. His hair and thick was ashen-gray but that did nothing to diminish the intimidating aura he was exuding. He was sitting on a piece of debris that was broken off from the dilapidated building behind him.

“Who are you?!” Franklin snarled, stepping in front of the Saintess with his sword drawn.

“Someone who just wants the girl. Surrender her to me and you shall not be harmed.”

“I can be dead for all I care but you are not getting the Saintess.”

“What is your name, Sir?” asked the Saintess.

“I am no sir, little lady. As for my name, it is Rogan.”

“I have not heard of you before.”

“But your level… no one has gone this high a level without making themselves widely known.”

“Lass, there are a lot of things that you do not know. But if you are curious, you could come with me.”

“Not a chance,” Franklin baulked.

“What would you do to me?” the Saintess asked with seemingly all the patience in the world. “What are your intentions with me?”

“That’s up to the discretion of my employer. I’m just here to take you to him. Now, you can come quietly with me or you can have me drag you there. Which one will you choose?”

Franklin took a step forward and assumed a combat-ready stance.

The old man sighed. “Is this about honour or duty? Or both?”

“It’s about doing what’s right. You are not taking the Saintess.”

“Your conviction is admirable, kid. Sadly, I am not lenient towards the honourable and the dutiful.” The old man swung his arm and spikes of dirt shot out from the ground towards Franklin.

The paladin responded with a wide cut that shattered most of the spikes but the few that got through were enough to make him stumble and fall on his knees. Two deep gashes on his right leg and a graze under his left arm. The wounds weren’t fatal but they had brought him to a fatal state of affairs.

“You are done. It is a shame that your combat prowess does not match your conviction.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Franklin growled. “You will not have her!” he roared and lunged at the old man with all the strength he could muster. His blade began to glow and lights were spilling from his armour.

With a snap of the old man’s fingers, the ground shook and shifted. A beastly face appeared on the ground. The ground, the face’s mouth, tore open and threatened to swallow the paladin whole.

Franklin leapt over the widening crevice just seconds before it could swallow him. As he landed on the other side, the old man was there to greet him with a fist swinging at him. Franklin raised his sword in response but it was not enough. The fist crashed through his blade and buried into his face, which sent him sprawling across the ground. Before he could scramble to his feet, the ground rose and held him under its grasp.

“Damn you!” Franklin shouted.

“That’s your last word, I see.”

A chill ran down Franklin’s spine. “Last word?”

The old man did not even look at him as he gave the wordless order and the risen ground sunk back into the dirt, taking the paladin along.

“FRANKLIN!!” the Saintess shouted in absolute horror and despair as the paladin had his entire body twisted, bent, and rearranged from being pressed and pulled into solid ground.

Rogan began walking towards the Saintess. “Now, come with me, or do I have to break your legs?”

“Stay back!” the Saintess pulled out a dagger from underneath her clothes.

“Lass, a blade means only as much as the wielder. You can wield a blade ten times the size of that dagger and it would not make a single difference.”

“Really?” the Saintess challenged and brought the dagger to her neck. “How about now?”

Rogan stopped in his tracks. “...You wouldn’t dare.”

“You don’t believe that. If you did, you wouldn’t have stopped working.”

Rogan clicked his tongue as quietly as possible.

“I do not know what you want me for but I would rather die than be used for evil. Come any closer and I will end myself.”

Rogan took a step forward.

And the Saintess pressed the dagger deeper into her neck until blood was drawn.

Rogan retracted the step he just took. “Crazy lass…” he grunted.

“I knew the risk when I became the Saintess. Know that I am more than prepared to sacrifice myself if it means stopping an evil.”

Rogan sighed. “So, it has come to this. I honestly don’t like hurting girls or women.”

The Saintess frowned.

Without another word, Rogan flicked his fingers.

The Saintess felt shivers all over her body and in the next second, she felt her body become slightly lighter. A strange sensation followed. It was a numbing sensation that was accompanied by an eerie and chilly feeling. Then, she realised she no longer felt the blade on her neck. She no longer felt her right arm and hand. She looked down. Her eyes turned wide. Her right arm was gone from the shoulder. Her arm was on the ground along with the dagger she was holding with that arm. Then, she screamed at the top of her lungs. Her legs went weak and she dropped to her knees on the ground.

“You forced my hand. Things didn’t need to be so bloody if you had just—” Rogan stopped his words suddenly and spun around. He raised a wall of earth in front of him as an arrow nearly struck his head. The wall was struck instead. It crumbled into dust after it had achieved its purpose. “What have we here?”

“Leave the girl alone,” said Lyra from atop a building that looked like it could crumble down at any moment.

And crumbled down the building did, but at the hands of the old man.

Fortunately, the building wasn’t too tall and Lyra was quick on her feet. She leapt off the building and shot a few arrows before touching the ground.

Rogan easily and effortlessly swatted away the arrows like a mere bunch of pesky flies. “Stupid girl. You should know that there’s more than thirty-level differences between you and I. Do you really want this fight?”

“I don’t. Then again, it’s not me you’ll be fighting.”

Rogan narrowed his gaze. For a moment, confusion took hold of him. His instincts spoke to him. He spun around. To his shock and amazement, a Fox-kin with seven tails was kneeling beside the Saintess, treating the latter’s wound with Spirit Magic, Spirit Mend. He knew this spell. It wasn’t as effective as the conventional Healing spell but it would at least stop the bleeding, the infection, and the pain. “Erynthea,” Rogan muttered.

“Seems like everyone knows me nowadays.”

“I don’t speak for everyone but in the underworld, you are practically a symbol.”

“A symbol in the underworld?” Erin stood up after making sure the bleeding had stopped and the pain was alleviated. “Can’t say I am proud about that.”

“You don’t need to. You’re more of an omen than a symbol, I should say. Anyway, I don’t like hurting girls, but a man’s gotta do what he has to do to feed himself.”

“Oh?” Erin muttered and lunged at Rogan in the next second.

Rogan was surprised at her abrupt offence and also at her speed. She should not be this fast, not without enhancement spells or skills and he could tell she wasn’t using any of them. To his knowledge, the Fox-kin in front of him should not be anywhere near his level. Yet… as her sword clashed with his hardened body, he couldn’t believe the strength and force behind her blow. He felt his feet leaving the ground but he stood firm against her assault.

“You have some tricks,” Erin mused. “Most people would have lost their arms.” Find the newest release on novel★fire.net

“Lass. I will advise you to not treat me as you would others. Unlike the posh fools, I get my levels through sheer effort and commitment.”

Erin smirked. “So did I.” She pulled back a little and went back in with a heavy blow.

Rogan countered with a stone spike that erupted from the ground. The stone spike did not block Erin’s blade but it was slowed considerably. Rogan seized this chance and went straight for Erin herself. He reached out his arms, intending to grab her, but was met with an acrobatic evasion.

Erin leapt and flipped over him. She thrust her sword when she was directly above him. Her blade glowed a radiant yet pale violet hue.

Rogan felt a sharp chill embracing him. He lurched to the side and the thrust impaled the air. He would have died if he hadn’t dodged, that was what his instincts told him.

Erin landed on two feet and stared at the old man coldly.

“Death, or at it least it would have been.”

Rogan was about to retort but something in the corner of his view seized his attention. It was the Saintess in the arms of the archer girl, Lyra. “You’re not going anywhere!”

The ground shook and the earth rose around the area, trapping them all in a ring of high earthen walls on all sides.

Erin sprang towards the nearest wall and lopped an entire section down. “Now!” she yelled.

Lyra sprinted for the opening with the Saintess in her arms.

Rogan grunted and chased after Lyra. He flicked his hands. The ground shook.

Erin charged at him, swinging her sword at his neck.

He stopped and dodged the blade. The ground ceased to shake. “Damn you, Fox!” he growled.

Erin shrugged and lunged. She flourished her swordsmanship, raining down slashes like a downpour of blades on Rogan.