Chapter 90： Unexpected

The defenses of Celeste's prison were not particularly strict. Situated in the heart of the church, where the finest swordsmen and white magicians roamed, it seemed unnecessary to implement further security measures. As a result, Asa and Ayime didn't have much trouble knocking out the guards and making their way inside.

Most of the adjacent cells were empty, except for the one at the far end, where someone was imprisoned. It was Lancelote's way of punishing his disciple—locking Talice up for solitary reflection.

When Asa and Ayime appeared before Talice, she didn't seem particularly surprised. She merely looked at Asa coldly and said, "You actually came? What do you want to do here?"

She no longer wore her usual imposing armor and martial attire. Instead, she was dressed in a simple white linen prison robe. Yet, somehow, it suited her well. The rigid armor that had concealed her feminine figure and presence was now gone, allowing a different side of her to show.

But now was not the time to dwell on appearances. Asa even found himself reluctant to meet her gaze directly. Reaching into his robes, he pulled out a teleportation scroll. "Of course I'm here to get you out."

" Don't be so self-righteous. I don't need you to save me." Talice' expression remained as cold as ice. Her gaze softened slightly when she looked at Ayime, as did her tone. "Sister, I'm really sorry. I haven't taken good care of you lately. But don't worry, Teacher has already promised me—once this matter blows over, he will allow you to enter the Holy Hall to train and become a part of Celeste..."

"Sister, what are you talking about? Let's all leave together." Ayime looked at Talice in confusion.

"I'm not leaving. Where could I go? Even if I wanted to, it's too late now." Talice shook her head and looked at Asa with a complicated expression. There was a hint of mockery in her eyes, mixed with something else—something indecipherable, something even stronger. She gave a similarly complex smile, shook her head again, and said with a touch of sorrow, "You shouldn't have come here. You've walked right into a trap. Even if I don't call for the guards right now, you won't be able to escape."

At the heart of the Glory Fortress, inside the Grand Glory Hall.

The vast hall, as spacious as a small plaza, was empty except for the Pope, who sat atop the grand throne at the far end, eyes closed in contemplation. Beside him stood Lancelote. Not far from them, on a stone pedestal, lay a pouch, inside which rested the hilt of the Black Star.

"As expected… he didn't come straight here." The Pope, seemingly in meditation, slightly opened his eyes, glanced at the pouch before him, and smiled. "Based on what we learned before, I thought he would go to any lengths to seize it by force."

"Is he alone, Your Holiness?"

"It seems Sandru and Agrenel, those old foxes, have no interest in accompanying him on such a reckless gamble… I'm not sure whether that means we're lucky, or if they are." The Pope slowly rose from his seat, idly toying with his fingers. "Since he has no intention of coming to us, it seems only fitting that we take the initiative to greet him instead."

"Use the teleportation scroll now! You go first." Asa suddenly whispered to Ayime inside the prison cell. Although everything seemed normal, his instincts told him something was off—something in Talice' attitude felt wrong.

"But…" Ayime hesitated. Asa had already handed her the prepared teleportation scroll, but she stubbornly insisted on waiting to rescue Talice so they could all leave together.

"Use it now!" Asa was nearly shouting.

Ayime unrolled the scroll in her hands, and the distinct blue glow of spatial magic flickered to life. But just as the light emerged, a surge of white magical energy erupted in the air around them. The teleportation spell was forcibly disrupted, twisted, and squeezed until it dissipated entirely.

Ayime remained standing exactly where she was—she hadn't been teleported at all.

"How can this be? Is this… a space lock?" Asa muttered in shock, scanning his surroundings. But even with his True Meditation perception, he couldn't detect anything unusual. Yet, even a space lock capable of preventing teleportation magic shouldn't be able to last indefinitely.

The sudden burst of white magic that had neutralized the teleportation spell had seemingly come from nowhere. It vanished into the air as soon as it disrupted the spell, as if it were simply an inherent property of the space itself.

"It's not a space lock. Celeste doesn't possess something that valuable," came a voice.

With those words, Lancelote's figure appeared at the entrance of the prison cell.

"You—" Asa was so shocked he nearly jumped.

It wasn't impossible for someone of Lancelote's caliber to track him silently, but it was absolutely impossible for him to have followed this closely without Asa noticing—until he suddenly appeared as if rising from the ground.

What was even more impossible was that there were others behind Lancelote. Many others.

"Did Agrenel never tell you not to come to the Glory Fortress?"

A voice, ancient yet steady and gentle, followed. The Pope stepped into the cell behind Lancelote.

"There is no space lock here," the Pope continued, "but there are people. Many people."

The Pope was not a tall man, yet the moment he entered and stood there, Asa had the illusion that this old man was towering above him, gazing down from a great height. Even Lancelote, who was much taller, suddenly seemed insignificant in comparison.

As the Pope spoke, numerous figures suddenly appeared in Asa's field of vision.

The surrounding walls shattered instantly—dozens of Holy Warriors dismantled the prison walls with swift, precise efficiency, reducing them to rubble in just a few breaths. Only the four corners remained, barely supporting the roof above.

"I've actually wanted to meet you for quite some time," the Pope said calmly, his gaze fixed on Asa. "But only now has the opportunity finally come. Surrender."

Asa had never seen this old man before, but the aura he exuded—the effortless composure, the serene authority—made it unmistakably clear. This white-haired elder could only be the current Pope, Gawain Magnus.

Asa remained silent. This wasn't the first time someone had told him to surrender. Normally, he would dismiss such words as meaningless nonsense. But in this situation, it no longer felt like mere talk.

Dozens of Holy Warriors, hundreds of high-ranking priests, and a tightly packed formation surrounded him. Among them were the three Temple Knights who stood alongside with Lancelote at Nigen, as well as Bishop Adra. This was an inescapable encirclement—surrender truly seemed like the only option.

Yet, an unplaceable surge of anger and defiance rose within him. Perhaps it was simply his nature—he wasn't someone who surrendered. More importantly, he still had the means to try something else.

Without even entertaining the thought of surrender, Asa focused on a far more practical idea.

Outside the Glory Fortress, not far away, the ground on a small hill suddenly cracked open. Two figures emerged from beneath the earth and, without hesitation, sprinted toward the castle at astonishing speed.

The swordsmen guarding the castle's perimeter immediately spotted the intruders. As they raised the alarm, they rushed forward to intercept them.

The two men were unarmed and barely clothed—one was towering and muscular, a fortress of raw strength, while the other was much smaller and leaner. Yet, against them, the elite swordsmen may as well have been made of paper.

Anyone who stood in their way was effortlessly grabbed, struck, or simply smashed aside with brute force. And yet, the two intruders didn't slaughter indiscriminately—they focused only on charging straight into the heart of the Glory Fortress.

These were Rodhart and Hilika, the Death Knights. Although a solid plan had been devised, Asa had brought them along as a precaution. Their overpowering necrotic aura, however, couldn't be concealed in the Glory Fortress, a place filled with priests, so they were buried outside the castle instead. Now, it was clear that this precaution had been necessary.

Not even a cheetah at full speed could rival the pace of these two Death Knights. The undead raced toward the castle at a velocity that surpassed any living creature. Anything in their path—be it people or buildings—was shattered without hesitation. As they tore through their route, buildings crumbled, bricks and limbs flying in every direction like debris tossed into the air by a mighty storm.

Magicians and priests tried to cast spells to halt them, but the two knights' nearly impossible speed left them unable to target them properly. The knights moved so fast that they were nearly invisible to the naked eye.

"This is the reason you refuse to surrender?" The Pope coldly smiled as he watched the two Death Knights charge toward him, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. "There's no need to stop them. Let them come here." His voice wasn't loud, but it reverberated throughout the entire Glory Fortress.

In the blink of an eye, Hilika and Rodhart reached the prison with momentum and killing intent like a storm, slammed toward their target. They didn't slow down—they barreled straight toward the Pope. The sound of their footsteps was deafening, like a hundred drums being struck at once.

Around the Pope, the Holy Warriors had already formed a protective circle, swords drawn, shields raised. The priests began chanting prayers, their voices rising in unison, preparing for the inevitable clash.

At that moment, the Pope extended his hand and calmly pointed at the two Death Knights charging toward him, about to crash into the wall of soldiers in front of him.

"Stop."

It was as if time itself had frozen. The two unstoppable monsters, whose momentum had been like a tidal wave smashing through everything in their path, suddenly came to an immediate halt. At the Pope's command, they froze in place, and then, as if they were mere statues, they collapsed to the ground like lifeless clay figures.