Chapter 89: Sky-Winged: "I Have Returned!"
"It's alright, I'm just trying. Besides, the faith of just one person shouldn't be too dangerous..." Rhodes's own voice was filled with uncertainty. But the god was too powerful. He had to resort to unconventional methods to have any chance of victory. If a human body could not withstand the power of faith, then he would transfer that power to the holy swords. Then, both the 'Light of Ersten' and Org would become true god-slaying weapons.
Serie bit her lip. "It's too risky. What if..."
"But we have no choice," he said, his voice firm. "This is the only way I can see even a sliver of a chance of slaying a god."
Before he had come face to face with the goddess, he had thought that if he just kept creating more and more powerful spells, he would one day be able to create a magic that could harm her. But now, he understood. Human power had its limits. Ordinary magic could not harm a god.
Finally, Serie slowly nodded. "...Alright. Do what you have to do. I'll be by your side, no matter what."
"Spoken like a true genius mage," he said with a smile.
"Shut up," she said, turning her head away. "We'll start the experiment tomorrow morning. Now, let's all get some rest."
And with that, they all got up and left. But Rhodes remained, still looking at the fragments of the 'Light of Ersten'.
Serie walked a few steps, then turned back.
"What other dangerous ideas are you thinking about now?" she asked, sitting down beside him.
"I was just thinking," he said softly, "what if I hadn't been able to draw Org? What would have happened then?"
The arrival of the Sky-Winged, and the goddess, had been too sudden. They had been completely unprepared. Serie might talk a big game about slaying a god, but for now, it was just talk. As was he. And by drawing Org, he had hastened that day's arrival. Had he done the right thing? Perhaps he shouldn't have been in such a hurry.
Serie was silent for a moment, then she reached out and patted his head, just as he always did to her. "You idiot. There are no 'what ifs'."
"You're right. You're right."
While Rhodes's party was still resting in the elven village, an unexpected event was unfolding on the front lines of the Great Elven Forest.
With the sudden departure of the Sky-Winged army, the front lines had become a desperate struggle against the demons. But they were still holding on. For some reason, the demons' attacks had also weakened considerably. No one thought too much about it. Both the Dwarven King and the Elven King were waiting. Once the Sky-Winged return, they thought, everything will be fine.
Their alliance had been forged under the witness of the Goddess herself. The Sky-Winged, her most faithful servants, would never betray their pact. They didn't know the real reason for their departure, but as long as the pact held, as long as they had not left the alliance, they would surely return. They believed this with all their hearts.
And, as it turned out, they were right.
In the distance, an army of Sky-Winged appeared on the horizon. They were too far away to make out their faces, but an army that could fly... it had to be them.
At the front lines, the Dwarven King stood in his makeshift command post, his eyes fixed on the white dots that were growing ever larger in the distance.
"I knew it! The chosen of the Goddess would never abandon an oath sworn in her name!" His voice was filled with a barely concealed excitement. With the return of the Sky-Winged, the pressure on the front lines would be greatly reduced. They might even be able to win this war, a war that would decide the fate of the entire continent. And then, his people would return to their ancestral home, and he would be a king in truth, as well as in name. The hope of a second coronation shone in his eyes.
The Elven King stood beside him, a look of relief on his handsome face. "The time for a counter-attack is upon us."
He was already planning his move. With the return of the Sky-Winged, victory was once again within their grasp.
"They're here! The warriors of the Sky-Winged have returned!" a soldier's hoarse cry broke the grim silence of the camp, like a stone tossed into a stagnant pond, sending ripples of excitement through the troops. The soldiers all came out of their tents and looked up at the sky.
When they saw the sacred white wings, shining in the sunlight, they all began to cheer. Even though they had abandoned the front lines for nearly a month, as long as they had not fled, as long as they had returned to the battlefield, they could be forgiven.
"Thank the Goddess! I knew the great warriors of the Sky-Winged would not flee in the face of the enemy!" an elven archer shouted, raising his bow in a triumphant salute, completely forgetting that he had been cursing them just a short while ago.
But on the edge of the cheering crowd, one figure remained silent, a deep frown on his face.
Kraft did not cheer with the others. He watched the approaching Sky-Winged army, a strong sense of unease growing in his heart.
"Something's not right... something's very wrong..."
He had seen the Sky-Winged army many times before. Of all the elves, he was the most familiar with their formations. The massive flying formation in the sky looked magnificent, but it was... disorganized. The Sky-Winged were known for their strict discipline, their impeccable formations. They always flew in perfect unison, their wings beating with a synchronized rhythm, ready to launch a Divine Strike at a moment's notice. But the army before him... their flight paths were erratic, the distances between them uneven. There were even a few unnatural clumps, as if a group of amateurs in fancy costumes were trying to imitate a parade. And their wings... they didn't look real. They looked like something made of magic, a new suit of clothes worn casually. The pure white wings of the Sky-Winged had never given him such a feeling.
Kraft took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, and pushed his mana sense to its absolute limit.
The moment his senses touched the Sky-Winged army, they were repelled by a powerful magical force. They clearly had an anti-scrying spell in place. But in that brief moment of contact, he had detected a faint, yet undeniable, aura of darkness.
It was the chaotic aura of the demons.
Though it had been cleverly disguised under a veneer of holy magic, to a seasoned veteran like himself, who had fought for his life against the demons countless times, the aura of darkness was as clear as a drop of ink on a white page.
"It's a fake! It's the demons!"
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