Reinforcements were well and good, but the trouble directly in front of him still had to be handled by his own hands.
Lynn took a deep breath and gently set down Haruhime, who was still trembling slightly, letting her lean against the stone pillar behind him.
"Don't be afraid. It will be over soon."
He offered the reassurance without looking back. His voice wasn't loud, but it was exceptionally steady, carrying a strange magic that caused Haruhime's racing heart to settle slightly.
"Seize him!" Ishtar's screech echoed piercingly through the chaotic night wind.
She no longer cared about the ritual. This man, who had appeared out of nowhere and was clearly connected to the Freya Familia, was her only remaining bargaining chip to turn the tables!
"Gah-ha-ha... Since the Goddess has spoken..." Phryne split her mouth into a grin wide enough to make a child stop crying, letting out a series of skin-crawling laughs.
She turned around, her small eyes gleaming with a cruel and greedy light as she locked onto Lynn.
She reached out a hand as large as a cattail leaf toward a subordinate nearby. The Amazon warrior understood immediately and handed over a massive, double-bladed battle axe.
The handle was as thick as a man's arm, and the twin blades reflected a sickening chill under the moonlight. Its weight alone was enough to intimidate an ordinary warrior.
Phryne took the axe with one hand, casually twirling it to kick up a whistling gale. The terrifying pressure of a Level 5 powerhouse descended upon Lynn like a physical mountain.
"Come on, little brat! Let me see what other tricks you've got!"
Behind her, the remaining eight elite Amazon warriors fanned out into a formation. Gripping scimitars and spears, they sealed off all of Lynn's escape routes from every angle.
Lynn's gaze sharpened. He gripped the empty air with his right hand, and the Bloodhound's Fang returned to his grasp. Facing Phryne's mountain-collapsing momentum, he did not retreat. Instead, he lunged forward, his body turning into a blurred black shadow as he initiated the clash.
Ding—!
Blade met axe, sending out a long trail of blinding sparks!
An unimaginable force surged from the axe blade. Lynn felt his entire right arm sear as if branded by a red-hot iron. The web of his thumb split instantly, blood soaking the sword's hilt. The sheer brute force sent him staggering back seven or eight steps before he could barely steady himself.
What incredible strength! This woman's power is in an entirely different league!
"Gah! Is that all you've got?"
Phryne leered. Gripping the battle axe with both hands, she delivered a simple, brutal overhead chop, swinging with enough force to split stone and rend mountains!
Lynn's pupils shrank. The Bloodhound's Fang vanished instantly, replaced by the lighter and swifter Godskin Stitcher.
He didn't try to trade blows with Phryne. With a deft shift of his footwork, he narrowly avoided the thunderous axe strike.
Boom!
The massive blade slammed into the altar, gouging a deep crater into the hard stone slabs as if they were made of tofu.
Now!
Lynn seized the moment when her momentum was spent. The heavy thrusting sword transformed into countless silver lightning bolts, stabbing continuously at Phryne's vital points: her wrists, shoulders, and joints.
Pst-pst-pst-pst!
A rapid succession of impacts rang out. However, the result made Lynn's heart sink.
The Godskin Stitcher's indestructible tip struck Phryne's bronze skin, only to leave behind shallow red dots. It hadn't even broken the surface!
The skin of a Level 5 adventurer was already as tough as the hide of a high-level monster.
"Are you trying to tickle me?!"
Phryne felt the stinging on her wrists. Though she wasn't injured, the sensation of being bitten by an insect infuriated her. She yanked the axe back, pivoting into a powerful horizontal sweep!
Lynn's reaction was lightning-fast. His left hand instantly summoned the Carian Knight's Shield, holding it across his body.
Bang!
With a thunderous crash, Lynn was hit as if by a battering ram. He was sent flying several meters, slamming hard against the guardrail at the edge of the altar.
Looking down, he saw that the fine shield, capable of deflecting magic, was already covered in spiderweb-like cracks!
"I'm not done yet!" Phryne gave Lynn no room to breathe. Roaring, her massive body moved with an agility that defied her size as she launched a torrential barrage of attacks.
The giant axe seemed weightless in her hands, flying up and down, weaving into a silver cyclone of death!
Lynn pushed his Bloodhound's Step to the limit. He became a series of hard-to-track afterimages, weaving through the dense wall of axe shadows. Every evasion was a brush with death; the blade passed by his ears, the sharp wind even leaving white scratches on his light armor. A few strands of black hair were shorn off, drifting into the air.
Meanwhile, the eight elites acted like experienced hunters, providing constant support. Their scimitars and spears appeared at the most awkward angles, forcing Lynn's evasion space to shrink smaller and smaller.
"Die!" Phryne caught a flaw and swung her axe down in a rage!
Lynn rolled clumsily across the ground, barely dodging.
Rumble!
The axe blade grazed his back and slammed into the floor. Rubble and shockwaves flew in all directions. A sharp stone shard sliced his cheek, leaving a trail of blood.
Before Lynn could stand, Phryne's massive boot came kicking through the foul wind.
Thud!
The kick landed squarely on Lynn's chest. He felt his sternum groan as if it were about to crack; his internal organs churned. He was sent flying again, crashing hard against a thick stone pillar. A sweet taste rose in his throat as a trail of blood leaked from the corner of his mouth.
"Lord Lynn!" Haruhime let out a shrill scream, tears once again bursting from her eyes.
Beneath the tower, Bell, who had just finished creating chaos, heard the massive commotion and Haruhime's scream from above. He was as anxious as an ant on a hot pan, wishing he could sprout wings and fly up there.
Phryne dragged her axe, walking step by step toward the fallen Lynn. The heavy blade plowed a deep trench into the stone, making a piercing screeching sound.
"Gah-ha-ha... A Level 2 is just a Level 2. No matter how many tricks you have, in the face of absolute power, you're just a toy that lasts a bit longer." She looked down at Lynn, her face full of a victor's cruelty. "That scrap metal sword that changes shape can't save you."
Lynn struggled, using the Bloodhound's Fang to prop himself up as he slowly stood.
Bloodhound's Fang, Godskin Stitcher, Serpent-Hunter... he quickly cycled through his mind. These weapons he relied on were unable to deal effective damage to this Level 5 monster.
The gap in Levels was like an insurmountable chasm.
I guess I have to use that...
He took a deep breath, the last trace of hesitation in his eyes replaced by resolve.
He flipped his hands at his sides. The Bloodhound's Fang supporting him, along with all his other weapons, vanished into a glimmer of light.
Just as Phryne thought he was giving up and prepared to savor his expression of despair—
In the next second, a hideous, macabre greatsword radiating an ominous dark red aura appeared in Lynn's hand without warning!
The blade of the sword seemed to be formed from countless writhing, agonized faces tangled together. The spine of the blade was covered in coiled serpent reliefs. Dark red flames pulsed and burned silently along the edge. The surrounding air began to warp under the influence of this unholy power, letting out a strained groan.
"This... what is this?!"
The sneer on Phryne's face froze. She instinctively stopped in her tracks, her raised axe hovering in mid-air.
A chill originating from the depths of her soul made even her bloated frame shudder.
"Cheap parlor tricks!"
Phryne forcibly suppressed the fear in her heart. Her pride as a Level 5 would not allow her to be suppressed by the aura of a Level 2.
She let out an earth-shattering roar, pouring all her strength into the battle axe, and swung it down at Lynn with everything she had!
Lynn didn't dodge. He gripped the sword with both hands and, with a standard upward swing, unleashed the Blasphemous Blade!
Sizzle—!
The moment sword met axe, the expected world-shaking metallic crash did not happen.
Instead, there was a dull, strange sound, like boiling oil being poured onto ice.
A torrent of dark red flames erupted from the Blasphemous Blade. Like a living serpent, it instantly coiled around Phryne's axe and climbed up the metal handle toward her arms with incredible speed!
"What is this hellish thing?!"
Phryne felt a wave of searing heat, followed immediately by an indescribable sense of weakness.
She felt the power within her body being forcibly drained away by those eerie dark red flames, like a floodgate being opened!
Her arms suddenly went limp, and the heavy axe nearly slipped from her grasp.
She staggered back two steps, looking down at her arms in horror. The dark red embers were burning stubbornly; wisps of flame were even burrowing out from the cracks in her skin, greedily devouring her strength and life force.
"Get away! Get away from me!"
Phryne let out a terrified scream. She shook her arms frantically, trying to extinguish the damned fire. But the flames were like maggots in her marrow; no matter what she did, she couldn't shake them. Instead, they burned even more vigorously because of her violent movements.
She could clearly feel her strength draining away rapidly. Her legs began to feel weak, and her vision started to swim.
Lynn gave her no room to breathe.
Dragging the Blasphemous Blade, which was almost as tall as he was, he approached step by step and delivered several consecutive slashes.
Each strike seemed slow, yet carried an irresistible weight. Every swing brought forth a massive wave of Taker's Flames.
Phryne instinctively raised her axe to parry, but each block only caused her to lose more stamina.
Her movements grew slower and slower. The axe became heavier in her hands—from effortless swings to struggling support, and finally...
Clang!
With a loud crash, the massive battle axe finally fell from her hands, hitting the floor heavily.
Phryne herself felt her knees give way. She collapsed to the ground, propping herself up with her hands, panting heavily. Sweat and saliva mixed together, dripping from her chin.
She was like a fish pulled out of water, drained of all moisture, left only with futile twitches.
Lynn walked slowly to her. The tip of the Blasphemous Blade, burning with dark red flames, was gently pressed against her throat.
The cold edge and the searing heat brought a double threat of death.
Phryne struggled to look up. Her toad-like face was now filled with terror, bewilderment, and disbelief.
"You... you aren't Level 2... you... you're a monster..." Her voice was raspy from exhaustion.
Lynn didn't answer. He simply stared at her with eyes reflecting the dark red flames, looking at her as if she were a dead object.
After several seconds of deathly silence, he slowly withdrew the sword.
The dark red flames on the Blasphemous Blade gradually died out, returning it to its ancient, hideous appearance.
Lynn stowed the weapon and, no longer looking at the woman on the ground who had completely lost her will to fight, walked straight toward the shivering Haruhime.
Seeing their captain defeated so bizarrely, the eight Amazon elites were already terrified beyond measure. They looked at each other, abandoned their weapons, and fled in all directions with piercing screams.
On the rooftop, in an instant, only the sound of the wind and Phryne's desperate gasps remained.
Ishtar stood at the other end of the altar, with only her last few trembling guards by her side.
She looked at the eerie dark red greatsword, and at Lynn as he walked toward Haruhime. Below the tower, her kingdom was being completely consumed by fire and the sounds of battle. Her exquisite face, usually known for its beauty and charm, was twisting and collapsing at an unprecedented rate.
Fury, malice, resentment—finally, all those complex emotions converged into primal terror.
She finally, and completely, understood.
It was over. Everything was over.
The meticulously planned ritual, the long-coveted "Level Boost Magic," the trump card meant to oppose Freya... everything had been smashed to pieces tonight by this Level 2 brat who had appeared out of nowhere.
No, he wasn't Level 2. He was a monster! A demon!
"Goddess... Lady Goddess..."
One of the guards trembled, her voice carrying a hint of tears.
Ishtar was jolted awake by the call. She shuddered violently, like a drowning person catching a last piece of driftwood.
Right, she hadn't lost yet! As long as she was still here, the Ishtar Familia could still rise again! Freya, and that man—she wouldn't let a single one of them go!
"Withdraw!"
Ishtar squeezed the word from her throat, her voice as sharp as a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
She spun around, sprinting ungracefully toward the other side of the rooftop, toward the secret passage leading to her bedchamber.
The few remaining guards followed, practically crawling in their haste.
Ishtar had never felt herself run so fast.
The night wind messed up her carefully pinned hair. The hem of her magnificent gauzy dress tripped her several times; she simply used both hands to rip the obstructing fabric to shreds with a loud tear.
The heavy gold ornaments on her head clattered to the floor along the way, but she didn't care at all.
Faster, just a little faster!
As long as she got into that secret passage, she could return to her room. There, she had various life-saving items and treasures hidden away—enough for her to flee Orario, go into hiding, and wait for the chance for revenge!
The inconspicuous stone door of the secret passage was right in front of her!
A flash of post-disaster joy crossed Ishtar's face. She nearly threw herself forward, reaching out with trembling hands to push open the door that represented her survival—
Creeeeeak—
The door opened on its own.
It didn't open inward; it opened outward.
Bright moonlight instantly poured in from outside. In the silhouette of the backlight, a slender and elegant figure stood there quietly.
Long silver hair flowed like moonlight in the night breeze. A luxurious purple gown trailed on the ground. A pair of eyes, also a mysterious purple, gazed at her calmly. That look was like watching a moth flying toward a candle, destined to turn to ash in the next second.
The Goddess, Freya.
She just stood there, perfectly centered, blocking Ishtar's only way out.
The joy on Ishtar's face froze instantly, then cracked inch by inch into gray despair. Her mind went blank. Her momentum caused her to stumble back, her backside slamming into one of her guards, frightening the poor Amazon warrior so much she nearly knelt on the spot.
"Freya... Y-You, why are you here..."
Ishtar's voice shook so badly she couldn't even form a complete word.
Freya smiled.
That smile was as breathtakingly beautiful as ever, and as bone-chillingly cold.
"You're the only one allowed to plot against me?" Her voice was very light and soft, yet it felt like countless ice picks stabbing deep into Ishtar's heart. "And I'm not allowed to take action?"
She took a small, gentle step forward.
Ishtar, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, instinctively jumped back a step.
Freya took another step; Ishtar retreated again.
Everyone present, including Lynn, who had just helped Haruhime up, watched this bizarre scene in silence.
The two goddesses, who wielded great power in Orario, were currently engaged in a silent game of chess in the most primitive way. One advancing, one retreating; one strolling leisurely, one losing her soul in terror.
Until a dull thud.
Ishtar's back slammed hard against the cold stone guardrail at the edge of the tower.
She had nowhere left to retreat.
The cold night wind rushed up from behind her, whipping her tattered dress into a frenzy.
She uncontrollably looked down—below was a drop of nearly a hundred meters, overlooking the battlefield that had already been completely leveled by the Freya Familia warriors.
"You..." Ishtar's voice had completely changed its tone. Terror made it almost impossible for her to breathe. "What do you want? You didn't even declare war! You can't do this to me..."
Freya didn't answer her.
The Goddess of Beauty simply walked slowly up to her, a hint of pity even showing in those purple eyes.
She raised her hand. Her slender, white fingertips gently and tenderly brushed across Ishtar's cheek, which was twisted with fear, as if she were admiring a piece of fine porcelain about to shatter.
"Do you know, Ishtar?" Freya's voice was ethereal, as if coming from a very distant place. "From the moment you set your sights on a soul I am interested in, the ending was already decided."
Her fingers stopped, her warm palm resting gently against Ishtar's jaw.
"I'm just here to..."
"—Send you on your way."
The moment the words fell, her palm gave a gentle push forward.
"No—!"
Ishtar's body tilted back violently. She went over the guardrail, falling straight down from the high tower like a butterfly with torn wings!
Extreme terror caused her to let out a scream so sharp it broke. The night wind rushed into her throat, tearing the shrill sound into pieces.
Just as she was about to be swallowed by the darkness, the instinct for survival overrode everything!
A pure and powerful surge of Divine Power erupted from within her, transforming into a soft golden radiance that enveloped her falling body, attempting to slow her descent. This was the final life-saving measure of a deity in the lower world, and also... an absolute taboo.
Almost at the exact same time the Divine Power emerged.
BOOM—!
A thick, emotionless pillar of golden light tore through the night sky. With the force of a thousand thunderclaps, it descended from the heavens, accurately and unerringly engulfing the struggling golden glow in mid-air.
"AAAAAAHHHHHHH—!"
Ishtar's scream became distorted and distant within the sacred pillar of light.
Under the illumination, her body rapidly became transparent, decomposing bit by bit into golden particles.
The screaming grew smaller and more distant until finally, along with the pillar of light that had pierced heaven and earth, it completely vanished into the silent night sky.
As if she had never existed.
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