But the anticipated final showdown never materialized.
One man approached the female warrior and pressed her sword hilt.
"Everyone, retreat." His voice was low yet clear and forceful. Aelisha recognized him as one of the remaining orderly ranks, his armors bearing the captain's insignia. "God's punishment has arrived." She turned her head, and not far away, a group of towering warriors emerged in single file from the north gate. Their translucent full-body armor gleamed silver under the rain, draped in crimson cloaks, each wielding a different weapon—some with shielded swords, others with sickles or iron axes. After crossing the drawbridge, they dispersed rather than regrouping, charging straight at the approaching demonic beasts.
What kind of tactic is this? This is sheer recklessness! Against hybrid evil beasts whose strength and speed far surpass humans, victory can only be achieved by maintaining formation and pooling collective strength. With their current posture, are they trying to fight alone? And God, are you just letting the army fight alone while you stay on the sidelines?
"We must go and support them!" "No need," the man shook his head with a grim expression. "Just watch from the sidelines. Rushing in would only drag them down." Drag them down? Airexia glared at him in fury. Had she misjudged him? Was this man merely a coward? She gripped her sword tightly, ready to circle around and join the fray—though uncertain about the future of the New Holy City, she knew now that facing the enemy meant certain death.
The female warrior had not yet taken two steps when she witnessed an unbelievable scene.
A flying alien descended from the sky, its form as terrifying as a hellish messenger, with massive wings covered in gray feathers that could span twelve feet when fully extended. Its head resembled a bird's, but it bore a pair of horns, and the barbed claws on its paws were capable of piercing through a warrior's breastplate.
Vertical plowing from great heights is their signature attack method—stealthy and nearly impossible to defend against. Even those wielding heavy shields with both hands would be knocked down by the force, as the impact would shatter their arm bones and flatten their chests, leaving them with little chance of survival. The only way to escape this deadly strike is to roll outward just as the alien plows toward the ground.
But God Punishment did not flinch. A silver-armored warrior stood ready to confront the monster head-on. As the creature lunged at him, he thrust out his hands and met the beast's claw pads with his palms. The impact was so forceful that it produced a thunderous roar, like a snowball explosion. A cloud of mist rose from both warrior and monster, while their armor creaked and twisted under the force.
His right foot was bent, his left extended, his body stretched into a straight line pointing skyward—yet the alien couldn't bring him down. Another warrior hurled a short javelin at the immobilized flying creature. The speed was so swift that Aelisha only glimpsed a silver flash before the javelin pierced the monster's skull with pinpoint accuracy, shattering it into pieces.
The armored warrior hurled the convulsing alien corpse to the ground, his arm twisted in an unnatural manner, clearly bearing the scars of a previous assault that had shattered the bone. Yet he drew the axe from his waist with apparent nonchalance and charged at the other demonic beasts.
Confronting the monstrous horde alone, Airexia could hardly believe her eyes. Hundreds of God Punishment warriors surged into the advancing swarm of evil beasts, their crimson cloaks forming a blood-red torrent that effectively halted the enemy's advance. She now understood the commander's term 'dragging' —these warriors possessed the ability to fight ten enemies alone. Each warrior's strength, agility, and reflexes rivaled those of hybrid evil beasts—or even surpassed them. Ordinary evil beasts stood utterly defenseless before them.
"What a remarkable feat!" Aelisha felt a genuine surge of joy. With these valiant warriors, the Cathedral of Hermes would never fall. "Oh, by the way, I haven't asked for your name yet. I'm Aelisha Quinn, the captain of the Inquisition Army. You seem to know about God's Punishment Army's combat prowess?" The man glanced at her, his eyes cold as ice rain. Without introducing himself, he said in a grave tone: "My brother is a God's Punishment Army member."
"Looks like we've won," Bishop Maine declared from the cathedral's summit, his binoculars scanning the landscape. The vantage point over the New Holy City offered panoramic views of the battlefields below. "Stop the catapults. God's punishment is imminent—the enemy's assault is at its peak." "Wasn't victory expected?" another voice chimed in. Dressed in the golden Bishop robes like Maine, his voice carried a seasoned authority. "The real game-changer? The Four Kingdoms' armies are completely crippled." "Exactly," the youngest of the trio—just over thirty and the only woman among the three Bishops—added. "Their border defenses would be rendered useless. Even replenishing their five thousand elite troops and nearly a thousand Knights would take four to five years. Hmm..." She let out a groan, smacking her lips. "What a brilliant suicide mission." "But we've lost the Inquisition Army in the process," Maine sighed. "They're the Church's backbone. If this wasn't the quickest way to achieve our goal, I wouldn't have thrown them into this hellfire." The elder stroked his beard. "We have no alternative. The Beast of the Waste has appeared, as the Holy Books prophesied. Time is running out. If we fail to unite the continent and pool our strength, destruction awaits us." "Destroying isn't inherently evil," the woman said with a sly smile. "Humans are greedy, vicious, and profit-driven—using the banner of righteousness to commit atrocities worse than those of demons. Perhaps even the Devil in hell is kinder than us." "Heather!" The old man's beard quivered with rage. "Your words are blasphemous! Do you intend to defy God's will?" "You needn' t worry about that, Lord Tavren," Heather shrugged, her face betraying utter disdain. "I'm the one who presides over the tribunal, not you. Besides, has God commanded us to survive? How do you know He wouldn't favor the Devil more?" "You..." "Enough! Tavren, Heather!" Mein snapped. "This is the end of today. I'll report to the Pope later. You two go finish your business."
After the two departed, Maine stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing northward. Behind the fractured ridges of the Desolate Mountains lay an eternal winterland blanketed in ice and snow. Further west stretched the untamed wilderness—the very beginning of all things.
He knew Tavren Bishop was absolutely right. God's punishment of the warriors was exceedingly rare, requiring individuals who were not only utterly loyal to the Church but also possessed unyielding willpower to undergo transformation. After nearly a century of accumulation, the Church had only managed to gather a force of fewer than a thousand. To combat the evil forces, their numbers were still far from sufficient.
Yet the entire northern realm could only provide so many God Punished Warriors. To obtain more warriors, the only option was to unify the continent.
Of course, Heather Bishop is absolutely right. As the Church's arbitrator, she has adjudicated tens of thousands of villains and witches. Whether they were villains or witches, the most brutal ones were far fewer than the deliberate, staged victories we see today.
The higher one's standing in the Church, the more clearly one perceives that God is neither good nor evil, nor right nor wrong.
"How could you know the old man wouldn't care more for Devil?" At Heather's words, Mayn couldn't help but laugh—only she could make Lord Tavren speechless. He thought, though God neither protects the world nor cares for Devil.
It is always in favor of the winning side.