Chapter 494: The Holy Light Monster

Inside the centuries-old Lu’an Cathedral, roars and the clang of metal shattered the sanctuary’s usual calm. The acrid scent of magical flames burning the air filled every corridor and chamber. Volunteer mercenaries and civilians had stirred up a frenzy on the upper levels of the cathedral, relentlessly hunting down hiding priests and church knights, dragging them out into the courtyard. The terrifying commotion even penetrated the thick stone floors, spreading down into the cathedral’s underground crypts.

Leight led a dozen White Knights through the cathedral’s deep, shadowy catacombs. The heavy, hurried thuds of their iron boots echoed endlessly through the ancient stone corridors. From below, faint sounds of battle drifted up, distant and otherworldly.

Amber flitted through the shadows near the White Knights, keeping pace with Leight. Curiosity got the better of her. “Have you been here before? You seem awfully familiar with this place…”

“The underground layouts of large cathedrals are pretty similar,” Leight said in a low voice as they walked. “Beneath the main hall, there’s usually a rectangular crypt extending toward the Holy Spirit Tower, with one or two cross-shaped intersections. It’s a standard design. We need to be careful—there could be enemies hiding down here.”

“Yeah, well… we haven’t seen a soul so far,” Amber glanced around, the corridors and stone paths lit only by the faint glow of magic crystal lamps. “But this place… it feels kind of off.”

Leight said nothing, instead silently attuning himself to the Holy Light. A faint glow flickered in his eyes as the underground facility revealed a different shape to his vision:

Countless translucent spirits drifted through the long, shadowed corridors. Ancient, mottled walls shimmered with runes indecipherable to mortals. The stone floor was bathed in a subtle radiance, and a thin mist rose from the cracks between the slabs, slowly filling the entire passageway.

The other White Knights activated their tactical visors, alert for any abnormal energy signatures.

“The spirits in the sanctuary have been disturbed…” Leight’s footsteps slowed, his tone grave. “The energy field here is very active.”

Amber frowned, confused. “What does that mean?”

“Cathedrals gather the spiritual energy of countless souls. The older and larger the cathedral, the stronger this effect. Over centuries, devoted worshippers and clergy have prayed and lived here, and many rest here in death. Their souls create a powerful resonance in the crypts—not undead, but an unconscious echo. They’re harmless and even help calm the mind. That’s why people feel a subtle peace when entering an ancient cathedral—clergy call it a miracle of the Holy Light, but it’s really just a natural phenomenon that can be explained scientifically,” Leight explained, frowning. “But here, the echoes are restless… these spirits, which should be dormant underground, are agitated.”

A chill ran down Amber’s spine. Suddenly, Emily’s figure appeared beside Leight, the little girl’s wide eyes sparkling as she happily waved at the invisible spirits in the empty corridor.

Leight immediately ordered, “Emily, hide. This place is dangerous.”

Amber swallowed nervously, weighing the possibility of turning back. “What’s up ahead?”

“That should be the prayer chamber. The underground prayer room is reserved for the cathedral’s leaders,” Leight said, eyes fixed on the corridor’s end. “The Holy Light there is… unusually intense.”

The squad tightened their formation and pressed deeper into the crypt. Amber looked around but saw no chance to slip away, so she shook her head and steeled herself to follow.

The noise from above gradually faded, muffled as if wrapped in a heavy curtain, becoming a low, indistinct murmur. The corridor ended at a sturdy oak door, flanked by softly glowing magic crystal lamps. On the small clearing before the door knelt a figure in a black robe.

The White Knights gripped their warhammers tightly; Amber raised her poisoned dagger. Yet the kneeling figure didn’t move—not even a twitch. Unless he was deaf, he should have heard their heavy footsteps behind him.

Leight signaled for everyone to hold position and cautiously approached the figure, warhammer in hand.

The man had been dead for some time.

Leight gave the all-clear sign. When the others came closer, he nudged the black-robed body with the hammer’s handle. It collapsed silently.

The man was a disciplinarian monk, his scalp tattooed, a holy emblem hanging from his chest. But his face was unnervingly strange—

No pain, no grimace of death. Instead, a faint smile lingered on his lips, his expression peaceful and serene, as if in his final moments he had been immersed in boundless joy—and that tranquility had persisted beyond death.

Seeing the monk’s eerie death and recalling his kneeling posture, Amber broke out in a cold sweat. “Oh god… how did this guy die?”

“Hit by a mental attack spell while defenseless,” Leight said quietly, then looked up at the tightly shut oak door.

“The underground structures here are reinforced with magic… they should hold,” the newly appointed High Priest muttered to himself, then gestured to his men. “Prepare for clearance.”

The White Knights sprang into action. Some raised shields, forming a defensive line before the door, while others began pulling grenades from their belts and backs. Amber stared, stunned. “Wait, what? Clearance? What kind of clearance?”

No one answered. While Amber was still asking, several knights opened weapon crates and began assembling single-operator grenade launchers equipped with acceleration rails, scopes, and tripod mounts. Their practiced efficiency showed they’d been soldiers long before becoming White Knights.

Amber’s ears perked up sharply. “Hold on, aren’t those Steel Rangers’ weapons—”

“Borrowed from Solderin,” Leight said grimly, directing two men to set up a larger launcher aimed squarely at the door. “Don’t worry, we didn’t bring anything too powerful.”

The grenade launchers were quickly mounted. Heavy explosive grenades were loaded onto the acceleration rails. The Holy Light warriors quietly prayed as they worked: “Mercy of the Holy Light… Holy Light bless the acceleration rails… May the Holy Light bless this grenade and its fuse…”

Amber’s mind reeled. “Wait! You’re not following protocol! Normally, when you find a sealed chamber underground, you carefully disarm traps and then—”

Before she could finish her rant, Leight raised his mechanical warhammer high. With a roaring whoosh, the heavy weapon slammed into the prayer room door. “Divine Smite!”

With a thunderous crash, the wooden door splintered. For a brief moment, Amber thought she saw something inside flare brightly, trying to burst out. Then came a relentless barrage of explosions—heavy grenades, bombs, crystal charges, and continuous blasts of Holy Light slammed into the prayer chamber.

“Boom! Boom! Boom!”

The deafening explosions shook the entire underground structure. A normal building would have collapsed under such an assault, but as the headquarters of the Southern Diocese of the Holy Light Church, Lu’an Cathedral’s crypt was astonishingly sturdy—magically reinforced, it was even stronger than the outer city walls. The blasts echoed like giant bells ringing, reverberating for a minute and a half as the White Knights unleashed nearly a hundred grenades, bombs, and Holy Light blasts.

When the explosions finally ceased, Amber’s head still throbbed painfully despite covering her ears. Her elven heritage, which gave her exceptional hearing, was a curse in this moment.

Leight was the first to charge into the prayer chamber, warhammer raised. The others followed swiftly.

“Stay alert!” Leight shouted through the dust, scanning the large room.

The prayer chamber was a ruin. The Holy Light–infused floor, walls, and ceiling had suffered severe damage—cracks spiderwebbed everywhere, stone slabs and bricks teetered on the verge of collapse. Between the shattered walls and floor, faint golden light writhed slowly—residual protective spells struggling to hold the structure together and repair the damage.

As for the furnishings, they had all been reduced to dust in the explosions.

“Cough, cough…” Amber coughed as she trailed behind into the dust-filled room. “You can’t just do this! You’re supposed to be… cough… clergy, right?”

Leight raised a hand to silence her, his gaze fixed on the center of the wreckage. There, a writhing mass of flesh, crystal, and flowing light was rapidly coalescing before their eyes.

Amber gasped. “What the hell is that?!”

Leight’s eyes widened. Amid the writhing flesh and the eerie crystalline formations, he spotted a tattered piece of fabric—clearly part of some ornate clerical robe. “…It’s that bishop!!”

(End of chapter)