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*****
"Heretic! How dare you blaspheme God—prepare to die!"
As the pillar of light descended from the heavens, Right-Hand of Fire's face changed once more. His third hand emerged again, gripping the forty-kilometer-long orange sword, and thrust it forward.
The phantom of the orange-red blade clashed with the divine pillar, and within seconds, cracks spread from the tip down to the hilt before it shattered completely.
"How is this possible?"
Even if his Right Hand of God could not display its full power, it was still not something a mere mortal could resist.
The old Pope, who could channel the faith of two billion believers, had been left on the brink of death after taking one of his strikes. Yet now, this unknown sorcerer's spell had broken through it.
"Never thought I'd live to see this bastard brought low!"
In the shadows of the ruined cathedral stood Front-Wind, dressed in a yellow nun's robe, a spiritual cross-shaped tongue ring at her lips.
Seeing Right-Hand of Fire's sword shatter, she was both stunned and secretly gloating.
Though she was also a member of God's Right Seat and despised the scientific side—especially Academy City—she never agreed with Right-Hand of Fire's ideals, nor did she follow his orders.
She could not defeat him herself, but seeing him stumble brought her a certain satisfaction.
She never imagined there was someone in this world who could face Right-Hand of Fire head-on—and suppress him.
"Front-Wind, assist him!"
Coughing blood, the gravely wounded Pope sat slumped in the shadows, calling out to her.
Though he had been nearly slain by Right-Hand of Fire, though he disapproved of his schemes, though that man sought to steal authority over the Roman Orthodox Church—
Right-Hand of Fire was still part of God's Right Seat, and had not defected.
The stranger before them, however, was an unidentified heretic of unknown allegiance.
If Right-Hand of Fire fell here, and the Pope remained gravely injured, the Roman Orthodox Church itself might be destroyed today.
"Old man, don't you dare order me!"
Front-Wind frowned. Her creed was simple: never obey anyone's commands—not even the Pope's.
"This isn't an order. It's a request—for the sake of the Church."
The Pope knew her character well. His voice softened, coaxing.
Front-Wind tilted her chin after a pause.
"Fine. Since it's for the Church, I'll reluctantly save this bastard."
Though she said so, in her heart she had already planned—once she helped him defeat the intruder, she would strike at Right-Hand of Fire while he was weakened.
"I'll hold the line!"
With his orange sword destroyed, Right-Hand of Fire spread the fingers of his third hand wide.
After all, this was the fabled hand of legend—capable of breaking seals of time, space, or magic.
After a desperate struggle, he managed to block George's ultimate sorcery, Brilliance of the Fairy.
"Then let's add a little more weight."
George wanted to test the limits of that third hand. Maintaining the brilliance, he raised another glowing circle.
"Celestial Collapse!"
It was the greatest magic of Aileen, the Empire's Twin Walls—the fusion of supreme astral magic and supreme augmentation magic.
A spell powerful enough to summon a meteor from the heavens to crush his foe.
With sufficient strength, one could even drag down the moon itself to annihilate the world.
George did not go that far. He summoned only a meteor a few kilometers across.
But even that was enough to become the final straw.
Already pushed to the limit by Brilliance of the Fairy, Right-Hand of Fire vomited blood and dropped to his knees as the meteor struck, his third hand retracting back into his body from exhaustion.
Just as George prepared to draw him into his private world for study, a massive spiritual war hammer appeared behind his head.
"Die, heretic!"
"So you've finally made your move."
George wasn't surprised by the ambush. With his spiritual senses, he had long detected the injured Pope and the approaching Front-Wind.
"Hmph! Haa!"
Whipping his head around, George exhaled forcefully.
Front-Wind froze midair as her soul was blasted from her body.
But at the same time, George's own consciousness began to blur.
"So strong—the Divine Punishment Ritual nearly caught me too."
By channeling his soul into this body from both his main world and his other incarnations, his spiritual power surged, forcibly resisting the spell's effects.
From Backstream's memories, he knew that besides controlling wind through her Angelic Ritual, Front-Wind also possessed a forbidden technique—the Divine Punishment Ritual.
Its power was overwhelming, but it had one weakness: it could not be activated voluntarily.
It required sensing malice, and once triggered, it forcibly stripped the opponent of consciousness until she released it.
He had assumed his current spiritual strength could resist it. Yet even he had nearly fallen victim.
That alone proved its unique potency—and research value.
"You… you're unharmed?"
Dragged back into her body by her angelic spellwork, Front-Wind stared in disbelief.
Her eyes widened when George, after a mere eye-roll, shrugged off her ritual as if nothing happened.
Never before had anyone neutralized her Divine Punishment with sheer mental force.
Just how terrifying was this man's spirit?
Yes, her technique had failed before—but always due to extraordinary exceptions.
Like that Academy City boy with Imagine Breaker, who nullified all magic.
Or Right-Hand of Fire, whose third hand could dispel special effects.
But brute-forcing it through spiritual might? Not once in the entire history of Front-Winds.
"Qi Body Source Flow!"
White light burst from George's eyes, and his body was wrapped in pure qi. He moved like lightning, seizing Front-Wind by the throat and pulling her into his arms.
Her ritual was nullified instantly.
Qi Body Source Flow possessed abilities akin to divine spirits—able to unravel any spell.
Now, he could strike her without triggering Divine Punishment.
"Sleep, little one."
Whispering a lullaby in her ear, George lulled Front-Wind into unconsciousness.
"What a pity the Left-Hand of Earth is gone—then the set would be complete."
He tossed Front-Wind into his private world with a sigh.
Now he held three members of God's Right Seat, with the chance to study their angelic and unique rituals. The Left-Hand of Earth had already been slain by Backstream for harming innocents.
"No matter—there's still the old Pope."
George stroked his chin and turned, grinning wickedly at the Pope, whose face had gone pale with fear.
(End of Chapter)