Chapter 95: A Single Swing

Asa did not actually kneel down. In the face of the Archangel's immense majesty and aura, he only paused for a moment in a daze before swiftly turning and running again.

His body was fleeing, but his thoughts were not purely focused on escape. Despite being an ancient divine bird, the Fire Phoenix was still his summoned creature, and under his command, it seized the opportunity created by the Archangel's brief moment of distraction. The phoenix swooped down through the sky, trailing a sea of flames, and crashed into the Archangel, its claws sinking deeply into the angel's shoulder. The angel's massive form tilted, and with its enormous sword still planted in the ground, it was sent flying sideways.

In the battle that had raged above, both the angel and the phoenix had been evenly matched, neither gaining the upper hand. But this sudden shift allowed the phoenix to gain a decisive advantage. The two enormous creatures collided with the ground, shaking the entire Celeste. Their massive bodies crushed several buildings in their fall.

The Fire Phoenix did not relent. The inferno surrounding its body had already engulfed the upper half of the Archangel, a pure elemental hellfire so dense that fire spirits could be born from it. The phoenix opened its beak once more, unleashing an even more intense breath of flames directly onto the Archangel's head.

Fire spread outward from the angel's form, consuming everything in its wake. Structures melted and crumbled, even the stone bricks dissolving into ash under the sheer intensity of the flames. The overwhelming concentration of fire elements had long surpassed the mere concept of flames—it was an extreme, devastating heat that not even dragon scales or the strongest fire resistance could withstand.

The very ground beneath them turned into a boiling lake of molten lava, transforming the hundred-meter radius around them into what seemed like the legendary Fire Elemental Plane. Even if the Archangel's head had been cast from solid gold, the full force of the Phoenix's breath would have been enough to reduce it to a shimmering golden mist.

The hymns of praise turned into screams of terror. The clergy, who had been kneeling and prostrating in reverence, all rose to their feet in shock. But before their cries of alarm could fully erupt, they transformed into cheers.

The downpour of white light had not weakened in the slightest, and the sacred song—originating from nowhere yet audible to all—continued to echo faintly in everyone's ears.

With a mere push of its shield and a swing of its sword, the Archangel sent the Fire Phoenix screeching back into the sky, crimson feathers scattering like embers in the wind.

The Archangel rose to its feet, still clad in its radiant golden armor. Its face, framed by golden whiskers, remained expressionless yet exuded an unshakable majesty. Behind it, its white wings remained spotless and pure, untouched by the flames that should have been capable of melting even the strongest dragon scales.

Spreading its massive wings once more, the Archangel ascended, soaring after the Fire Phoenix to continue their battle in the skies.

All the priests were cheering—everyone except the Pope, who remained motionless atop the Glory Hall, his expression unreadable. No one could see the thin trails of blood seeping from the corners of his mouth, nose, and eyes, slowly trickling down the face of the old man.

Lancelote still did not see it, but he seemed to sense something. He turned his head toward the Pope on the high platform of the cathedral, his gaze sharpening. Then, without hesitation, he suddenly turned away, ignoring Asa entirely, and shouted toward the temple knights, "Help him, now!"

Without waiting for a response, Lancelote bent down, grabbed a stone slab from the ground, and hurled it into the air. The moment it reached its peak, he leaped upward.

In midair, his foot landed precisely on the airborne stone, shattering it with a muffled crack, sending shards flying in all directions. But he himself continued his ascent, propelled higher. A brilliant surge of fight spirit erupted around him, instantly condensing into a massive cross-shaped sword of pure energy.

With a fierce whistle of slicing wind, Lancelote swung the glowing sword, slashing directly toward the Phoenix.

This strike, though hastily executed, was unimaginably fierce and sharp. The enormous cross-shaped sword of holy energy, though seemingly small compared to the massive body of the Phoenix, radiated a force that distorted the very air around it. Before the blade even made contact, the flames surrounding the Phoenix were already being pushed back and scattered. Several fire elementals, newly formed from the inferno, were instantly obliterated under the pressure of its sword aura.

This was Lancelote's full-powered strike—the same devastating blow he had once nearly used to slay Moriel in the underground world of Nigon.

But unlike Moriel, who had been immobilized and at the end of her strength, the Fire Phoenix was far from powerless. Sensing the deadly force of the incoming strike, it twisted and rolled in midair with incredible agility.

Yet the Holy Light Cross Sword shifted—its trajectory subtly adjusting mid-flight, veering at an angle that perfectly followed the Phoenix's movement, cutting straight toward its massive form.

With a muffled whoosh, the Holy Light Cross Sword slashed across the Phoenix's body at an angle. Though the wound was not deep, and the Phoenix's immense vitality and regenerative abilities would allow it to heal in no time, Lancelote had never intended to slay the ancient beast outright. His goal was to create an opportunity.

At that moment, on the ground below, Welleskay had already drawn his bow—not with an arrow, but with the hands of Grand Mage Caitlyn.

Caitlyn, a mage in her forties, had a slightly plump round face now drenched in sweat. Her trembling hands pressed against the fully drawn bowstring, conjuring an arrow-shaped mass of pale blue light that exuded an icy chill.

This was the Frost God's Arrow, a spell forged from every ounce of her magical power. Any ordinary water-based magic would be utterly useless against the blazing inferno surrounding the Fire Phoenix. Thus, she resorted to the simplest yet most desperate method—pouring everything into a single, all-or-nothing shot.

The Holy Light Cross Sword had dimmed the Phoenix's flames for just a fraction of a second, but that brief moment was enough.

The Frost God's Arrow, carrying every last drop of Grand Mage Caitlyn's magic, pierced through the sea of fire and struck the Phoenix directly.

If judged purely by spellcraft and magical knowledge, Caitlyn might not be the most formidable mage in Celeste, but when it came to sheer magical power, she was unrivaled. And this wasn't just any spell—it was the most effective weapon against a being like the Fire Phoenix, a creature wholly composed of fire and elemental essence.

The moment the icy arrow struck, the Phoenix's body stiffened, its movements halting for the briefest but most crucial instant. Even its very color changed.

Until now, the Fire Phoenix had always been cloaked in raging flames, each feather wreathed in pure fire. But the instant the Frost God's Arrow hit, the elemental forces around it collapsed—its flames utterly neutralized.

The sea of fire still raged around it, but its body—the Phoenix itself—was suddenly bare for the first time.

And in that instant, its true form was revealed. Beneath the vanished flames, it shone with a radiance even more blinding than the sun.

From its fully unfurled wings to its long, flowing tail feathers, the Phoenix gleamed like a divine bird sculpted entirely from pure gold.

However, Lancelote was not creating an opportunity for them—he was creating it for the angel.

The angel soared upward, wings spread wide, raising the executioner's greatsword high.

The white rain of light that had filled the sky was now gone, yet the brilliance illuminating the Glory Fortress had not dimmed in the slightest. This was because all of that divine radiance had converged upon the executioner's sword in the angel's hands.

In that moment, the holy light of white magic utterly overpowered the fiery glow.

Lancelote's Holy Light Cross Sword, which had once shone with divine might, now seemed like nothing more than a child's toy dagger in comparison to the angel's blade.

Then, a single swing. A curtain of pure white light cleaved the night sky in two.

Across every corner of the continent, even in the most remote lands, anyone who gazed upon the heavens at this moment would see a colossal, world-rending radiance streak across the sky.

Night remained night. The fabric of the world had not truly changed. But for that single, fleeting instant, it was as if the heavens themselves had been torn apart.