Fortunately, the hezrou had no more strength left to muster.
"ROAR—"
The monster tried to lash out again, but already grievously wounded, it could no longer resist the force of purification.
Its massive body was swiftly dissolved into black mist, then swept up and purified by white light, vanishing without a trace. Only the poisoned blood that burst from its ruptured boils remained on the ground as evidence it ever existed.
"Whew…"
Letting out a long breath, Charles didn't have time to check how many Purification Points he gained from this round. He turned, eyes finding the next formidable adversary.
At this moment, the second hezrou had crossed the magical bramble field, streaking the earth with demon blood. Anno was locked in combat with it, but unlike before, she no longer flared Divine Smite power about as if it were free.
Instead, she relied on her shield and the defense of her plate armor to block the creature's claws, counterattacking carefully with her longsword.
The demon's talons, sharp as steel knives, raked again and again across Anno's shield, helmet, and armor, ringing with metallic clangs and leaving white gouges. Yet, save for a bone-jarring impact, the beast could hardly harm Anno at all!
At this point, Charles suddenly realized the plate armor she wore was no ordinary ware—it was also imbued with magical power.
So even if her shield missed a blow and the hezrou struck directly, the thick iron left only a white scrape without harming the knight beneath.
Suddenly aware of this, Charles felt a chill of awe.
Anno was truly wealthy!
A standard set of plate armor alone cost fifteen hundred gold. To enchant such a massive suit with protective magic would be another astronomical sum: exaggerating only slightly, Anno's armor probably cost well over ten thousand gold!
As expected of a noble-born paladin, when it came to her own protection, Anno spared no expense!
Of course, mere unbreakable defense was not alone enough to avoid being overwhelmed one-on-one with a hezrou. Offensively, her prowess remained formidable.
Though her sword was mundane, all paladins could learn "Magic Weapon," a 2nd-level spell to imbue ordinary arms with magical power.
Although that spell's might was less than the 3rd-level "Elemental Weapon" Charles had mastered, it was enough to cut through demonhide.
And as an Oath of Vengeance paladin, she could also learn "Hunter's Mark," usually a ranger's 1st-level spell, to mark a foe's weakness—making Anno a practiced demon-hunter, her blade always striking true.
With all this, even without Divine Smite, she could battle a hezrou alone and not falter!
Paladins were indeed powerful.
A wealthy paladin—without doubt—even more so!
Reflecting thus, Charles wasted no more time. He drew his sword, strode forward, and flanked the hezrou from behind. Working with Anno, they attacked from front and rear. Regrettably, his purification could be triggered only by his own hand; otherwise, he'd never willingly engage such a foul demon in melee combat.
Still, even a nearly three-meter giant, a hezrou had no eyes at its back. Hemmed in on both sides, it grew ever more frenzied, and Anno's burden lessened considerably.
While the two closed in, others were busy too. Nidalee cast another incantation, carpeting the cave mouth with brambles. The Dretch, being short, were soon slashed on legs and feet as they emerged, left limping, then promptly cut down by half-orc axes with barely a moment's resistance.
Hattie, meanwhile, was casting spells—but seemingly at random, lazily launching cantrip ice bolts and otherwise edging away from the chaotic battlefield. Her eyes narrowed in realization. Glancing back, she called to Theresa, "Aren't you casting anymore?"
Theresa, who'd been doing nothing for some time, replied with a small smile, "Letting the demons kill a few more half-orcs isn't the worst outcome, is it?"
Hattie shook her head, thinking farther ahead. "At least pretend. Not long ago we had the upper hand, and Master insisted on helping defeat the demons. Clearly he wants to work with these half-orcs."
"We should at least cast a couple of spells. Even if it's just for Master's sake, it's better than doing nothing, right?"
Theresa tilted her head, pondered, then nodded. "You make sense. Besides, I've got spell slots to spare…"
So she lifted her hand and cast a 5th-level Color Spray, flooding the third hezrou—the one Charles lured across the brambles—with dazzling light.
The demon was instantly blinded, its threat greatly diminished. On the other side, as Charles's sword flashed with purifying white light and he cleansed the second hezrou, the pair advanced on the newly blinded third hezrou.
Before long, that creature too fell to their combined assault.
Meanwhile, through the combined effort of the half-orcs and satyrs, the last hezrou was finally slain.
They lacked magical weapons, so even with great might, their greataxes merely scraped the demon's hide; lacking heavy magic plate armor, they had to dodge constantly while attacking, badly hampering their effectiveness.
Most of the satyrs were low-level spellcasters, able only to use 1st-level "Entangle" to summon vines and cantrip Fire Bolt to harass the hezrou. They knew demon skin was resistant to fire, but they had little else in their arsenal.
Fortunately, resistance was not immunity, and a slow trickle of damage could still be fatal in the end.
At last, the battle was done.
With the third hezrou purified, Charles and Anno quickly withdrew, regrouping with Hattie and the others, only then relaxing and bringing up his system panel to tally the gains.
Seeing the numbers, his brows shot up and delight lit his face.
Nineteen hundred!
Not a mere total of nineteen hundred points, but each single hezrou had yielded a massive 1,900 Purification Points!
Altogether, that came to 5,700, and counting his earlier rewards, his Purification Points surpassed 6,000!
Just three more hezrou and he could level up again—or raise the monastery to tier three!
He had not expected these fiends to grant so many Purification Points—even more than his first purifications of Ruth and Sephera. Joy swept away his former gloom.
Anno, meanwhile, began a silent prayer, guiding Divine Power to restore spent spell slots. As they hurriedly recovered and checked their spoils, their adversaries were also regrouping.
The satyrs chanted healing nature magic to tend to the gravely wounded half-orc warriors and chimera. Their mana was weak, but it was enough to rescue comrades from death and get them up to fighting with mere minor wounds, ready for another round if needed.
The less-wounded, axes in hand, stood by warily, eyeing Charles and his group, prepared for any renewed conflict.
Danche was no different. With the demons destroyed and his people safe, he had fulfilled his duties as the tribe's heir. But with his beloved chimera dead, his anger surged back, and he glared at Charles.
But to his surprise, suddenly a sweet fragrance passed his nose, and he saw satyr matriarch Willo Green Vines hurry forward, rushing up to Charles and Anno.
"My lords paladin, and mages—please, help us!"
Urgent as she was, the satyr matriarch had still not forgotten to make herself presentable before beginning negotiations, hoping to leave a good impression. Of course, the battlefield was no place for elaborate grooming, but with a quick Druidcraft, she cleaned away dirt and corruption, appeared refreshed and tidy, and then hurried straight to Charles.
During the recent battle, she had witnessed with her own eyes this man of Sein take the lead, propose an alliance, and use his spells to attract the hezrou's attention, saving two chimeras and at least four or five half-orc warriors in the process.
Thus, she judged he was a paladin with a spirit of justice, keen insight, and adaptable methods—and from the way the others changed their tactics at his word, he appeared to be the team's true leader.
For this reason, Willo firmly believed that if she negotiated directly with him, they could form an alliance and resolve the demon pollution at minimal cost.
After this, she hurried to add a brief self-introduction: "I am Willo Green Vines, the current matriarch of the Green Vines tribe. We've joined with our allies, the Chimera tribe, to destroy the sources of pollution laid by demon-worshipping cultists in these mountains."
Finishing her simple introduction, she dived straight to the urgent matter: "There are traps and magical mechanisms the cultists planted in this cave. Now the portal to the Infinite Layers of the Abyss has been opened, and an endless stream of demons and pollution is pouring into the material world…"
Her emotions mounting, she brusquely bowed to Charles. "I beseech you both—please help us!"
Here we go again, mistaken for a paladin.
Charles put away his system dialogue, gazing at Willo with complex feelings. After so many such encounters, he didn't even bother explaining anymore; he simply examined the satyr matriarch before him.
Her appearance suggested a woman of about thirty, yet she possessed the elegant polish of a noblewoman, strikingly beautiful and with ivory skin like cloud-pure silk.
As a satyr, she had a mane of snowy, curly short hair—not that silvery-white of Charles, but closer to actual sheep's wool. As a female, she lacked horns, and two soft, sheep-like ears hung at the sides of her head—almost enticing to the touch.
She wore a robe woven from autumn-yellow leaves. In the rush of battle, it had clearly suffered some damage, and now, as she leaned down to bow, her full bosom and deep cleavage—unrestrained by undergarments—were briefly laid bare to Charles's view…
He realized these mountain folk women did not wear anything like a corset. Instantly, Charles felt his blood pressure spike.
Beside him, Anno had no such distractions. Seeing the satyr's earnest attitude, she exhaled and raised her visor to show her face, offering, "There's no need for that formality, Green Vines madam. I am Anno Amcastra, this is Nigel Charles. We are sent from Blackstaff Tower specifically to investigate and resolve the demon pollution."
"We need your help and support as well—after all, fiends are the enemies of every creature in the material world."
Her attitude was positive, and Charles, frowning slightly, continued, "An alliance is natural, but before that, we need a foundation of mutual trust."
He glanced toward Danche, his meaning clear.
In the distance, Danche gritted his teeth, his heart smoldering. His beloved chimera Barbary had just met its end at the hands of these people—how could he be calm?
Yet when Willo Green Vines turned her gentle, questioning eyes on him, and he recalled his responsibilities as heir, he clenched his teeth and felt his heart bleed. "The Chimera tribe came for the same purpose. Of course, we are willing to unite with anyone fighting to end this demon pollution. As for before…please forgive us."
In this moment, responsibility overpowered personal emotion. Finished, he let out a sigh and seemed suddenly spent, his whole posture wilting.
The Green Vines tribe was probably the only group amid the mountains composed entirely of spellcasters, with prized healing magics among them—making them invaluable allies for any tribe, especially small, elite ones like his own.
So, to maintain Willo Green Vines's goodwill, he would have to endure.
Patience, Danche, go along with them—for a half-orc, vengeance may wait ten months and not be forgotten! First, eliminate the demons… then settle accounts with these outsiders!
So he silently vowed. Beside him, Willo, seeing him so reasonable, breathed a quiet sigh and turned back to Charles with a warm smile. "Rest assured, Mr. Charles, Lady Anno, when it comes to fighting demons, we are unwavering allies."
Charles blinked in confusion, and Anno's cheeks flushed red: "Uh… you're mistaken, I'm not his wife…"
She immediately realized she sounded awkward and shot Charles a pleading look, hoping he would offer some explanation.
Charles, too tired to bother, just caught Anno's shyness and gave a small laugh, replying, "You misunderstand, Matriarch."
Willo looked surprised. "Ah? You aren't married? Pardon my assumption… I just thought—you make such a fine pair…"
Anno hung her head, beet red, both embarrassed and a little pleased; her opinion of the satyr matriarch shot up several notches.
Behind, Hattie and Theresa stifled giggles, and the latter kept sneaking looks at Nidalee.
Nidalee, biting her lip, felt a pang of discomfort. After a moment, she strode forward, wrapped her arm around Charles's, and announced, "That's right—I'm his fiancée."
Anno was stunned, but Nidalee wasn't finished. Clinging to Charles's arm, she turned to Willo: "A pleasure, Matriarch Green Vines. I am Nidalee, daughter of Archdruid Ilarode of the Mountaineer tribe. I've heard so much of you—what an honor to finally meet!"
Willo gaped anew and shook her hand. "Nidalee? But your father said you were off on another mission…"
Nidalee nodded, lying without hesitation. "Yes, and with it, I brought Mr. Charles and Lady Anno, two powerful paladins, as well as Miss Hattie and Miss Theresa, both formidable mages."
She released Willo's hand, resting her head on Charles's shoulder. "And I found the love of my life as well—a most fruitful journey in every way."
Nearby, jaws clenched. Willo sensed something was odd, but as a fundamentally ingenuous satyr, she could only nod in bemused fashion. "Congratulations, Miss Nidalee."
Nidalee's satisfied smile deepened as she watched Anno's reaction, her own spirits soaring.
Charles surreptitiously squeezed Anno's hand for reassurance, then hurriedly changed the subject. "I suspect all the demons from the cave are out now—that portal was unstable and seems to have closed."
As a seasoned adventurer, he knew how these makeshift demon portals behaved: they started small (letting only a handful of Dretch through), then rapidly expanded (allowing larger demons like hezrou), before quickly collapsing after reaching maximum size—at the end, several more Dretch would tumble out.
What had just unfolded fit this pattern exactly, and so most likely, the portal was now sealed and they were safe.
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