pjbooks Chapter 165 A Blasphemer...is crossing the sea of stars.
Chapter 165 A Blasphemer...is crossing the sea of stars.
The silhouette of the Gothic cathedral spires is shattered against the blood-red sky.
That wasn't dusk.
The massive, cross-shaped stargate resembles a hideous scar stretching across the sky above the European capital.
Thick, dark golden "blood" dripped from the edge of the crack, each drop enough to corrode several city blocks and everything within them into nothingness.
There was no explosion, no roar, only a deathly silence dissolving.
The once bustling Champs-Élysées is now reduced to black spots emitting white smoke on the ground, and the air is filled with an absurd smell of expensive perfumes, roasted meat, and burnt blood.
"Buzz..."
The low, eerie chanting continued to emanate from the star gate, enveloping the entire city.
The sound penetrated the bunker, ignored soundproofing, and resonated directly in everyone's minds.
Immediately afterwards, countless points of light descended from the stargate.
They have six pairs of wings shrouded in holy light, and their forms are holy, much like angels in mythological murals.
But as they approach, a stench of rot and sulfur assaults the senses.
They have no facial features, only rotating scarlet compound eyes.
A member of the Knights of the Round Table, codenamed "Gawain," raised his rune-engraved longsword and roared at a lone "angel": "For the glory of the Lord! Purify this heresy!"
The knights behind him responded in unison, forming a standard charging formation.
They are the pride of Europe, the chosen nobles walking the earth, their S-class suits shining brightly under the blessing of faith.
However, the "angel" simply raised her hand.
A slender beam of holy light shot out silently.
Gawain's prized "Divine Protection Barrier" shield couldn't even withstand a moment's damage, evaporating instantly like a snowflake touched by a branding iron. The fervor on his face froze.
The holy light pierced through his S-grade "Lionheart" breastplate, the armor that had withstood the full force of an S-grade dungeon lord's attack, now as thin as a cicada's wing.
His body, starting from his chest, was vaporized from the inside out by holy light, breaking down into the purest energy particles, which were then drawn back into the cross-shaped star gate in the sky.
He couldn't even let out a scream.
This bloody and bizarre scene threw the charging knights into disarray.
"What's going on? Gawain's Lionheart Armor..."
"Attack ineffective! Their attacks ignore defenses!"
Panic spread across the front lines.
Merlin, the acting Grand Master of the Knights of the Round Table, an elderly man with white hair, watched helplessly as his most prized disciple turned to ashes. His staff trembled in his hand.
After Arthur's death, he struggled to maintain order in the Knights, but the scene before him completely overturned his centuries-old understanding.
More "angels" descended.
Instead of pursuing the fleeing civilians, they clearly targeted the awakened ones with higher energy levels.
A massacre.
The knights' pride in their equipment, combat skills, and faith became a joke in the face of these "angels."
A knight's left shoulder was pierced by a spear of light, and he was pinned to the ruins of Notre Dame.
The "angel" that pinned him down descended slowly, its six compound eyes watching him indifferently.
A cold, emotionless thought resonated directly in the minds of all the knights.
"The coming of the Lord requires high-ranking flesh and blood as sacrifices."
"Your sacrifice is an honor."
glory?
The knight, nailed to the wall, coughed up blood mixed with fragments of internal organs. Looking at the faceless figure, he let out his final roar: "We... are the Lord's most devout followers..."
The thought of the "angel" resounded again, tinged with impatience.
"What right does a lamb have to speak with a shepherd?"
boom!
This intention is more lethal than any physical attack.
It shattered the very foundation of faith upon which all awakened beings in Europe depended for their livelihood.
They are not the Lord's warriors, nor God's agents on earth.
They were merely... sacrifices.
They are pigs that have been fattened up in the pigsty, waiting to be slaughtered.
"No...no!!"
Merlin broke down. He threw away his staff, clutched his white hair tightly with both hands, and roared like a madman.
He thought of Arthur, and of that ambitious man who had been possessed by the false god Poseidon.
So, it turns out that wasn't an isolated case, but rather the fate of all followers of Western gods...?
Their so-called "faith" is a complete and utter fraud from beginning to end!
"Retreat! Everyone, retreat!!" Merlin roared hoarsely, his eyes bloodshot.
But where could they retreat to? The entire city was shrouded in crimson holy light, and space was completely sealed off.
In despair, Merlin pulled out a badge stained with dark red blood from his pocket.
This was the Knights' last trump card, a sacrifice of blood to forcibly tear open a path to escape.
He glanced behind him at the knights who were still struggling, but whose eyes were filled with confusion and despair.
"In order to...continue."
Merlin closed his eyes and crushed the badge in one swift motion.
"In the name of the Round Table, let blood sacrifice be the starting point!"
In an instant, a blood-red magic circle spread outward from him. At the edge of the magic circle, dozens of outer knights didn't even have time to scream before their bodies rapidly withered, turning into pure life energy and being absorbed by the magic circle.
A burst of blood-red light shot into the sky, engulfing Merlin and the remaining dozen or so core members.
Space was forcibly torn apart.
In the moments before he vanished, Merlin opened his eyes and took one last look at the city that had become a living hell.
Europa's defenses have completely collapsed.
……
Deep underground, thousands of meters below the surface, in a secret bunker.
Marsley slumped on the cold floor, a huge monitor screen in front of him broadcasting everything that was happening on the ground.
Gothic spires crumbled in the holy light, elegant ladies turned to ashes amidst wails, and valiant knights were set ablaze as fuel.
He looked at his burning homeland, and at his compatriots who had been betrayed by their own beliefs.
He didn't cry.
He slowly knelt down.
Hands clasped together.
This time, he did not pray to his "Lord".
His lips moved, and he repeatedly murmured a name in Chinese that was almost delirious, filled with endless despair and longing.
"Lu Yan..."
"Please...come quickly..."
……
Above the ruins.
A high-ranking "angel" slowly withdrew the spear of light from the impaled knight, shaking off the flesh and blood on it.
It did not continue its slaughter, but suddenly stopped all its actions.
Six enormous compound eyes suddenly turned eastward.
At the edge of that blood-stained horizon, something seemed to be descending with unimaginable speed, traversing the sea of stars and continents.
It was a pure, undisguised killing intent, enough to make even the gods tremble...
For the first time, the high-ranking angel's mind wavered, filled with an unprecedented sense of horror.
"A blasphemer... is crossing the sea of stars!"