Chapter 304: The Age of Warmongers (8)
"You an your mother?"
The mont. The atmosphere in the room suddenly turned sour.
Nabokov smiled gently at the sowhat dazed Amdusias.
"Holholholhol – even demons are creatures of God after all. To dishonor a god is to dishonor your mother."
[Get lost, you dented woman].
Amdusias snorted, as if he were not worth the trouble.
Then he stretched out a huge hoof and slamd it down on Nabokov.
"No, Pope!"
Dolores leapt forward, but it was too late.
...bang! Ujikkeun!
Too late to stop Amdusias's front hoof from snapping off with a terrifying bang.
"...?"
[...?]
The result was so unexpected that it froze both Vikir and Amdusias in place.
Amazingly, Nabokov, standing there with a gentle smile on her face, broke Amdusias' front leg into an L-shape just by lightly extending her hand.
Originally, it was a direction that could not be broken.
"...holholhol. That's right. You are right, we Quovadis are descended from 'those who denied the gods three tis'."
The first patriarch of the Quovadis family and the first pope. The First Apostle.
He apparently betrayed the prophet Rune and denied God three tis before the first rooster crowed.
"... but there's a story behind it."
Nabokov said, her voice crisp and clear like never before.
The mont he betrayed the prophet for the third ti, the first rooster crowed and the apostle burst into tears.
He returned to his ho in the backwoods, where he worked as a stonemason with his eyes, ears, and mouth closed until Lun the Prophet was resurrected.
He carved a tower out of the bedrock at the base of the mountain.
Ti passed, and one day he was called by the resurrected Lun.
'Do you love ?'
'I love you.'
'Do you love ?'
'I love you.'
'Do you love ?'
'I love you.'
When the question was repeated three tis, the apostle shed tears of repentance and bowed his head.
Then, with a satisfied smile, the Prophet Lun turned and began to walk down the mountain.
The apostle followed him, barefoot and panting, and asked.
'Lord, Quo Vadis, Domine where are you going??'
The Prophet Lun replied, 'Back to the place where I died to be persecuted again,' and the apostle was deeply ashad of his pettiness for caring about his life.
"This is where our family na cos from, our surna."
Pope Nabokov Lun Quovadis I. The first saint to hold the position of Pope. ...To be exact, a monk among saints.
She slipped her hands into the pockets of her flounced skirt.
And soon enough, Nabokov's hand slipped out of her skirt again, holding a mace so terrifying that it gave you goosebumps just by looking at it.
Buuuung-
Nabokov swung the mace, the weight of which was unknown, as lightly as if he were handling a knitting needle.
Bam!
Amdusias's front foot bent in a strange direction again.
[Kuhugh!? You, you crazy old woman!?]
Amdusias jerked backwards and pulled the reins forward at the sa ti.
Then Winston, with bloodshot eyes, grabbed a sword that was rolling around and charged.
"Die, old man!"
The solid aura of the Swordmaster's characteristic shouted out.
But.
"Oh my gosh, it's so hard to carry sothing like this, how can I survive? I'm just thirsty for no reason-"
Nabokov easily dodged Winston's slash by simply pulling her chin back a few centiters.
At the sa ti, her normally gentle eyes flashed with the sharpness of a sword.
"Being a nun is not a profession that makes a living solely through divine power, young man."
At the sa ti, Nabokov caught Winston's sword with the back of her hand, flicked it diagonally away, and stuck her fist into the gap.
Pugh-Ujig!
The sound of the clavicle being forced to open a locked door.
Winston's eyes bulged as if they were going to explode.
Boom!
An iron ball flying at a trendous speed smashed into Winston's skull.
"Eih, eih, old man dies."
"Kuhugh!?"
While Nabokov was making a death sound, Winston was also making a dying sound.
"Kuhugh! Gurgle... gurgle!"
Blood and pieces of intestines are sticking out of the lips.
Amdusias hastily transford his black mane into flas, but they dried up in an instant upon contact with the brilliant white light emanating from Nabokov.
Even the mighty 5th Corpse Amdusias was unable to show his courage in front of Nabokov.
And watching all of this, Vikir looked slightly dazed.
'I can't believe it, is this who she is?'
When Vikir first saw Pope Nabokov, he thought she was just a dented old woman with a short ti left to live.
... But what about this?
The pressure felt by the small old woman in front of him is reminiscent of CaneCorso on the throne in the Grave of Swords.
[Ughh...How, how could this happen?]
Amdusias hadn't realized Nabokov's power was so great.
Around that ti.
"Hahahaha – here it is! The place where the most powerful aura is felt! The blood of the Great Knight boils!"
"...Don't let your guard down. I've already sent word to the imperial court for reinforcents, and I'm sure they'll be here soon. Until then, we'll hold them off."
Cervantes of the Don Quixote family and Roderick of the Usher family arrived.
House Leviathan and House Baskerville, as well as nurous other parents, erged from the ruins into the center of this place.
Professors and elite students had since been arriving one after another.
Among them was a transfer student from Morg with an excited expression on her face.
"Vi...Eup!"
Camus, who was about to call out Vikir's na, closed her mouth and waved her hand.
Almost simultaneously, Camus's brow furrowed as she recognized Dolores's face next to Vikir's.
"...what? wind? Are you going to conduct an on-site inspection?"
Vikir didn't bother to answer.
'Now it's the final chapter.'
Camus's inexplicable low-pressure was bothering him a bit, but the stage was set.
And now all that remained was Winston's choice.
"...."
Vikir stepped to the back of the crowd, quietly waiting for the ti.
Then.
"Night Hound, You too are under urgent arrest for treason!"
A hand clamped down on Vikir's back from behind.
Morg Banshee, a determined look on his face as he grabs Vikir's wrist behind his back and snaps it.
Behind him, Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca stood at their teacher's side, each holding a weapon with a determined look on their faces.
"Ni, Night Hound, you are under arrest! Receive the aura of the great Tudor!"
"Eh, ehem! ehem! We have to help the professor, don't let your guard down!"
"Uh...My legs are shaking!"
"I should take this opportunity to arrest this vicious criminal as well, won't I beco a total celebrity!"
In front of them is a huge demon and the worst villain in the Imperial Capital, Night Hound.
In the eyes of the public, they were both enemies of humanity, so it couldn't be helped.
Just then.
"...hmm?"
Professor Banshee noticed sothing strange.
It could only be seen by those who were close to Night Hound's back, holding his wrist.
A bracelet.
A bracelet that was only distributed to students of the Colosseo Academy.
'It is the key to passing the new magic wall. It's a bracelet type. I make them by hand whenever I have ti. I've already made enough for the students, I just need to distribute them. I'll make so for the professors when I can afford it.'
The bracelets, made of gray, sprouting and rooted grass seeds, are specially crafted artifacts for the Academy's students to use when entering and exiting the magic wall at the main entrance, and have been carefully crafted by Principal Winston.
...Why is it on Night Hound's wrist now?
"Are you kidding ?"
Professor Banshee looks up with a furious expression.
[...You will not get what you want, nothing].
Black energy began to surge ferociously from Amdusias's entire body.
At the sa ti, Vikir had a hunch.
'It's here.'
At last, the demon made its final move.
Each of the Ten Corpse that he have faced so far had their own unique abilities.
The 10th, Andromalius could turn water into blood.
The 9th, Dantalian, spreads disease and boils to spread.
The 8th, Seere, turns livestock and humans into corpses.
The 7th, Decarabia, sucks mana like a hungry grasshopper.
The 6th, Belial, sucks up wealth like a bloodsucker.
And now, Amdusias, the 5th Corpse, was also about to show a strange miracle.
Reviews
All reviews (0)