Chapter 62: Desperation

The hotel's wireless broadband was utterly useless—completely impossible to use.

This chapter is to make up for the one I owed on May 16th!

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The two blazing fireballs flew far faster than any human could run, nearly matching the speed of a fine steed. Sparks burst from the searing flames, the scorching heat forcing the Black Tiger Family’s enforcers to scatter to either side, unable to approach.

Having already claimed a victory with a single stroke, Baal sneered coldly. “Two mere divine spellcasters dare to wreak havoc here!”

With one effortless slash, Baal had shattered the protective spells surrounding Ya and Ling, allowing him to accurately gauge the women’s abilities. Just as knights were ranked by the ninefold, nine-colored heavens, so too were the spellcasters of the Church divided into nine tiers: those of the first to third order were called “Mortal Rank,” the fourth to sixth “Spirit Rank,” and the highest three “Exalted Rank.”

During the endless wars with the Five Island Alliance, a unified system had been established across the continent for recognizing professional ranks. Spellcasters, including divine and arcane practitioners, were marked by nine distinct colors corresponding to those of the knights. Whenever they acted, regardless of the spell’s type, a unique hue would manifest, betraying their tier.

When Baal’s scythe shattered the women’s protective barrier, a faint deep green glow flickered in the collapsing flames, proving the pair’s strength was merely equivalent to mid-tier Earth Knights—utterly insignificant before Baal, who had already ascended to the Sky Rank.

Seeing the women flee while his men dared not approach, Baal let out a chilling, guttural laugh. His steps were strange and ghostlike, gliding swiftly after them. The long scythe swung out once more, this time aiming for their waists.

“The young master decreed you must die, so die you shall!” Baal’s eyes gleamed blood-red with excitement. Twin beauties, and spellcasters of the Church to boot—what exquisite pleasure to claim such prey! Countless souls had fallen to his blade, including fearsome beings like the Frost Titan, but this was the first time he had encountered such lovely and captivating targets.

The long scythe whistled through the air, a soul-stealing shriek trailing its arc. A deep blue aura swirled along its razor edge—this was the true power of a lower Sky Rank warrior. Without such strength, how could Baal alone command the thousands of sailors, ruffians, scoundrels, cutthroats, and wanted criminals that haunted the docks of Dunerk Harbor?

Ya and Ling felt the chill of death closing in from behind. Baal, clad in black robes, his face ghastly pale like a demon, was nearly upon them—they could even feel his frigid breath. His exhalations were as biting as the winds of the Odin Glacier, more bone-chilling than any blizzard.

With a hiss, the women’s hastily conjured shield shattered once again. But before Baal’s scythe could strike, they simultaneously crushed a crimson scroll hidden in their sleeves, shouting in unison, “Blessing of the Fire God! Those who defy divine dignity shall face retribution!”

A torrent of golden-red fire, molten and glassy, erupted from their sleeves, swirling around them to form a sturdy shield. Baal’s scythe crashed against it with a thunderous impact—the blade trembled violently, the shield fissured with countless cracks, and then, with a resplendent flash and a long, draconic roar, the flames shaped themselves into a foot-long, winged fire dragon that shot straight for Baal’s chest.

His expression shifted instantly. Dropping his scythe, Baal summoned a cloud of pitch-black mist around his hands, the edges tinged with a sinister blood-red glow, and countless threads of deep blue entwined within. Like iron claws, his hands seized the fire dragon—pure divine fire in its most potent form.

“Vicious women! Do you mean to destroy this whole place with such a spell?” The flames seared Baal’s hands, sizzling his skin, but he gritted his teeth through the agony. Spinning rapidly, he hurled the fire dragon toward the harbor waters with all his might.

The dragon struck the sea with a deafening boom. A hundred meters of water erupted upward in a massive dome, a towering column rising dozens of meters high. The resulting waves rocked the nearby boats violently.

The explosion’s thunder roused not only the residents near the coastal avenue, but the entire city of Dunerk. Urgent alarm gongs sounded from every direction, shrill whistles blaring from the outposts encircling Dunerk. Though the century-long war with the archipelago had ended thirty years ago, Dunerk maintained wartime alertness—if at a slightly lower level. Now, this tremendous blast had awakened the whole city. Garrison troops, the Dunerk Constabulary in their copper helmets, and the city’s civilian defense squads all mobilized, countless torches converging on the docks.

By now, Lin Qi had arrived at the docks with several guards. He barked, “Finish them quickly! Crossbows—kill them!”

The grating whine of steel strings being drawn rang out, gears clicked menacingly in the darkness. Baal snorted and, ignoring the searing pain in his burnt hands, summoned his scythe back to him with a gesture. A fierce wind kicked up as he closed on the women once more, slashing at their backs.

Already riddled with cracks, the divine barrier shattered completely. The women cried out in alarm, their fingers twitching as they tried to crush another powerful protective talisman hidden in their sleeves.

But the Black Tiger Family’s well-trained enforcers gave them no chance. Thirty crossbowmen emerged from the shadows, leveling their weapons at the two women, whose bodies glowed brightly in the night, and fired.

A chorus of shrill cries cut through the darkness as thirty bolts, each two feet long and as thick as a thumb—forged of black steel and volcanic red-silver, crafted to slay even the thick-skinned rhino knights of the Five Island tribes—shot forth at a speed the eye could not follow, plunging into the women’s protective flames.

These “hunter’s bolts” could pierce the hides of rhino knights; their power was terrifying, far beyond any hand-thrown battleaxe. The women’s fire shield could withstand axes, but not these deadly bolts.

In the firelight, the thirty bolts streaked toward them. The women were paralyzed with fear, minds blank. Instinct alone compelled them to unleash all their divine power at once, conjuring a tornado of flames that whirled around them, carrying their bodies away in a desperate spin.

A pained scream rang out as they were hurled a dozen steps back, blood spraying. Both Ya and Ling had been struck by three to five bolts each—solid steel shafts punched through their bodies, tearing fist-sized holes in their shoulders and thighs. Most despairing of all, one bolt pierced Ya’s lower abdomen, blood spurting from the wound.

The two women let out cries of utter despair.