Chapter 59: Red-haired Woman

The slap didn't seem to carry any aura of dominance or power. The hand was delicate, with slender, well-proportioned fingers, and except for slightly prominent knuckles, it could even be described as beautiful. Yet, with this seemingly gentle, half-formed slap, the head of the minotaur guard commander—a head that could withstand the blow of a warhammer—shattered like a biscuit under a heavy fist.

The owner of this hand was a red-haired woman. Just as Stog was roaring and swinging his massive axe, she had silently emerged from a crevice in the rocks nearby. While slapping the minotaur commander into a headless state, she also kicked another minotaur warrior in the chest. The minotaur let out a strange grunt, his chest caving in as he was sent flying, crashing into two other warriors behind him.

The entire cavern shook violently. The three minotaurs slammed into the rock wall, creating a massive dent, and it was impossible to tell that they had once been three minotaurs.

The woman appeared to be in her thirties, with fiery red hair and a tight black leather outfit. Her features were sharp and striking, like a face sculpted by an impressionist artist to convey intense personality. However, her yellow eyes had narrow, lizard-like pupils.

Such a fierce, intense woman, with her overwhelming sharpness and ferocity, seemed utterly disconnected from any notion of weakness or fatigue. Especially when minotaurs twice her size crumpled like paper dolls under her hands and feet. Yet, this woman was panting. After effortlessly killing four of the most elite minotaur warriors, she bent over slightly, taking heavy breaths.

Roars and screams erupted from the minotaurs as over forty of them surged toward this strange woman like a tidal wave. Though they didn't know who she was, it was clear she was an enemy—a terrifyingly powerful one.

The moment Lancelote saw this woman, his pupils contracted sharply.

He knew that the slap or the kick could have been aimed at him or the other temple knights. It was only because he and the other knights were standing too far away, separated by so many minotaurs, that the woman had targeted the strongest and closest target—the minotaur guard commander.

There was no aura of combat energy in her movements, just simple, direct actions. But Lancelote could tell that if he had been in Stog's position, the result wouldn't have been much better. The minotaur commander was dead; he himself would have been seriously injured. This woman had completely concealed her presence and movements, not even emitting a hint of killing intent, as if she were a butterfly emerging from a crack in the rocks. It wasn't just her speed—it was the fact that her appearance didn't trigger any immediate sense of alarm or caution.

All the temple knights had seen the woman, and their faces showed the same uncontrollable surprise. But like Lancelote, they didn't move, remaining at the entrance of the cave.

The woman continued to pant, appearing exhausted and weary. This expression of weakness seemed out of place on her intensely striking face. She bent over, breathing heavily, as the wave of minotaur warriors closed in.

Under the chants of the minotaur priests, magical auras flickered over the warriors. Their eyes, already bloodshot from the killing intent, seemed to drip with blood, and a stone-like armor rapidly formed on their skin. These priests had been specially selected for this battle, and their mastery of bloodlust, haste, and stone skin spells was unparalleled.

Lancelote still didn't move, but he glanced at the other temple knights and gave a subtle nod.

The temple knights simultaneously knelt on one knee and began to chant: "By the grace of the Lord, in His name, bestow upon these brave warriors the light of the Lord… In His name, grant them your blessings…"

A dazzling white light erupted above the dozens of minotaur warriors, showering down like crystalline rain onto their bodies. This white magic was not unfamiliar to the minotaurs—they had encountered it many times in battles against the church and Alrasia. But they had never expected to be on the receiving end of these divine blessings.

The temple knights were not solely focused on martial skills. The two white magic spells they cast were nearly on par with those of bishops.

As the white light enveloped the minotaurs, an even more intense and radiant light burst forth from the temple knights themselves.

The divine armor worn by the temple knights activated the top-tier white magic spell, Blessing of the Heavens. The entire cavern was filled with the brilliance and resonance of white magic, transforming the dragon's lair into a place as holy and bright as a cathedral. Even faint hymns seemed to echo in the air.

Not human. That was Lancelote's first thought upon seeing the woman.

Though she appeared to have a human body, face, and movements—even seeming like a strong but currently weak woman—Lancelote knew she was anything but human.

No human could be that powerful, and no human could kill without emitting the slightest hint of killing intent. Lancelote was certain that even he, or someone like Grutt who had nearly perfected martial arts, couldn't kill without revealing some trace of killing intent. Even Sir Tamik, who treated killing as casually as eating or drinking, couldn't avoid a flicker of killing intent at the moment of death. It was instinctive, unavoidable.

Only when humans killed things they subconsciously didn't consider significant—like ants or insects—could they avoid emitting killing intent.

This woman had shown no killing intent when she struck. To her, these elite minotaur warriors were nothing more than ants or caterpillars.

Even a behemoth facing these minotaurs couldn't have such a mindset. The only being on this continent capable of such presence and power was not a person, but a singular entity.

Five radiant pillars of Blessing of the Heavens enveloped the five temple knights. Amid the overwhelming surge of white magic, the figures of two knights who hadn't emitted any white magic flickered like disturbed reflections on water and then vanished.

There weren't seven temple knights who had come with the minotaurs—only five.

The two figures that had appeared indistinguishable from real people were the result of a top-tier water magic spell, Mirror Image. Though the illusions couldn't attack, they were visually indistinguishable and could even produce corresponding sounds. Since the temple knights didn't speak, the minotaurs had no way of telling the difference.

Slaying the dragon was important, but there were other, even more critical matters to attend to. Those two temple knights had gone to handle those more important tasks.

The remaining temple knights didn't rush to act. Instead, Welleskay raised his massive golden war bow, nocking a steel anti-magic arrow. The glow of combat energy and white magic shifted entirely from his body to the bow, aiming directly at the woman.

The woman was still panting, facing the oncoming wave of minotaur warriors with a frail, almost collapsing demeanor. She swayed and fell into the flurry of axes swung by the frontmost minotaurs. Instantly, blood and flesh flew.

But it wasn't the woman's blood and flesh—it was the minotaurs'. The red-haired woman's figure swayed like a small boat in a storm amidst the torrent of over a dozen massive axes, seemingly on the verge of being torn apart at any moment. Yet that moment never came. Instead, her seemingly weak hands and feet continuously struck, slapped, touched, and brushed against the minotaur warriors' bodies, causing these muscular, statue-like warriors to collapse like waterlogged bread.

The minotaur priests chanted curses unique to the Satyr sect, but they seemed to have no effect on the woman. Then they summoned spikes of earth to erupt from the ground, but the earthen magic crumbled upon touching her body, utterly useless.

The priests began to panic. A few seemed to realize something and shouted in the minotaur language, but their words were drowned out by the roars and screams of the warriors filling the cavern.

With a thud, a minotaur's axe finally struck the red-haired woman's body.

Before this, it wasn't that the minotaurs had been completely unable to hit her. These were dozens of carefully selected warriors, enhanced not only by the minotaur priests' bloodlust spells but also by the temple knights' blessings and prayers. This was arguably the strongest state minotaurs had ever been in. Even if they were swatting a fly, the sheer speed and density of their axe swings would have shredded it. But the red-haired woman wasn't just dodging—she was also blocking. She casually grabbed two minotaur axes, each larger than her own body, and wielded them as if they were straws, spinning them into two blinding white arcs that weaved through the minotaur ranks.