Suddenly, flas erupted from the hand holding the staff. The staff disintegrated into dust while she scread before collapsing to her knees.
The surrounding soldiers quickly distanced themselves.
"Argh!" Naomi's shriek tore through the air as she scread at the top of her lungs while the flas engulfed her arm and then continued to spread downward, consuming her entire body but sparing her face.
"L… lord Winter…!" She stretched out her hand toward Lord Winter, desperation filling her voice. But Lord Winter stood motionless, watching as the flas consud her whole.
His pupils trembled.
"It's truly a pity." He sighed heavily.
The intense heat radiating from the fire was unbearable, affecting even those within a hundred-yard radius. It almost felt like their skins were lting off!
And yet, such flas kept burning Naomi. They could see her skin lt off only to regenerate at a terrifying speed.
She was trapped in an eternal state of regeneration and destruction while being consud by flas hotter than anything they'd ever seen or felt.
Lord Winter's body trembled.
Such cruelty!
Worms burrowed out of Naomi's charing flesh, the fire seed to have no effect on them as they feasted on the screaming woman.
Lord Winter faced the soldiers who were so frightened by the sight that they lost their strength. "Let not your hands grow weary of holding your weapons," he commanded, his voice unwavering. "She broke the covenant with I Am and took his blessings of life while thinking she had only fooled a man. But even when we are at the verge of our end, let this be a lesson… never incur the wrath of God. It would be better if you raise your weapons at ."
Naomi's screams rose to an unbearably high pitch, but the old man clenched his teeth and walked past her.
A part of him wanted to plead—for rcy, for her quick death, but he might take her place.
It would be better to slit his own throat than beg on Naomi's behalf, not only was her torture simply related to her flesh, her spirit was suffering too.
Her very spirit was being ground to dust, bit by bit.
There would be no afterlife for her. Only oblivion. A punishnt for the decades of her atrocities and sches.
"Go."
Lord Winter dropped his staff on the ground. As it struck, the white wood twisted and coiled, transforming into a snake—snow-white, with pitch black eyes.
This was a weapon blessed by I Am, thus it could transform into a divine relic. The staff didn't just have the ability to bless a selected few, in fact, it was the manifestation of a mythical beast!
The white snake!
As the snake slithered toward the hole, which was now filled with barbarians as the winter soldiers had fallen to their heavy blows in droves, especially without the morale of their commander, it grew bigger!
The snake grew as it moved.
By the ti it reached the wall, it had expanded to an impossible size—60 yards in length!
Hiss~
A white mist rolled out of its mouth, freezing everything in its path. The barbarians turned to ice, and the hole was sealed with it as well.
Then the serpent climbed over the wall, unleashing frost at the enemy ranks!
"What in Seir's na is that?!" Zilphah exclaid at the sight as the monstrous white snake caused disaster in the ranks of her n.
Their weapons bounced off its scales. With a single movent, the creature could either crush them, freeze them, or send them flying into the unknown with a re flick of its tail.
Isaac's expression turned cold when he took in the sight of the massive snake. He flew high, then turned his gaze toward the old man on the wall. Find your next adventure on My Virtual Library Empire
Lord Winter stood there, his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes fixed on the battlefield.
Could this be called a battlefield any longer?
Fighting out there was Isaac and the white snake against seven thousand Dothanites and the incoming twenty thousand Edomites!
Swoosh! Swoosh!
Black figures appeared on the wall, all of them cloaked in darkness, wrapped in black, silver masks which seed to be interwoven with darkness and the masks gleaming under the pale light.
About 300 of them stood on the wall.
Lord Winter had released the Angels of Death.
Isaac had spent months training them, torturing, traumatizing and reforging them, molding their minds and bodies into sothing new over the months.
Over a thousand had co for the training, but only 300 had survived.
And yet, Isaac was displeased at their appearance.
To him, they weren't ready. So weeds still needed to be plucked out, and for that to happen, they needed to undergo more brutal training.
But for now, they would serve their purpose.
"Angels, kill as much as you can."
Despite his discontent, he gave an order.
The angels ran so steps down the wall and leaped into the air. As they fell, barbarians charged toward the wall!
A few ters from the ground, the angels launched daggers attached to chains, embedding them into their foes. With a sharp pull, they yanked the chains backwards after striking their targets.
As the daggers ripped free, they ca out along with sprinkles of blood through the air and whipped it around, slitting the throats of at least three barbarians each!
Then, they landed.
While the angels of death slaughtered the barbarians attempting to climb the wall, the snake ravaged the main army. So far, it had killed six of the twelve fire breathers, and hundreds of barbarians lay in pieces!
"Argh!"
Zilphah scread as Isaac's speed increased, and he sliced through her exposed abdon.
He wasn't the sa as those lustful barbarians over whom she flaunted her superiority by exposing her abs.
To him, it was a weakness to exploit!
Three fire-breathing barbarians exhaled torrents of flas at him, but Isaac simply wrapped the flas in a wind sphere and dispersed it effortlessly.
"Enough!"
He left afterimages as he cut through them in a single motion before turning his full attention to Zilphah, who was now standing all alone.
Flas erupted from Zilphah's axe. "You're dead."
Isaac scowled. Without uttering a word, he lifted up his single-edged sword.
The number one rule he had lived by in his century-long life and the sa that he had drilled into the angels of death was:
You're only allowed to be angry. Transform your pain into rage. Your fear, your doubt, and everything else went into your rage because it was very well the driving force behind every strike.
Isaac had lost hope.
Asher was too late.
But… he would lessen the number of enemies Asher had to fight. Unbeknownst to the master assassin, he was fighting for Asher!
He closed the gap, deflected Zilphah's axe, and slashed her chest down to her abdon before pulling his other hand backwards—white air ca out of Zilphah's mouth.
Her eyes rolled back, and she slumped to the ground.
Isaac looked at the air, watching it dissipate.
His wings spread wide.
Then, he turned his head over his shoulder, searching for his next kill.
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