Chapter 495: The End of the Monster

That indescribable, deeply unsettling mass writhed before them. Even Amber, who frequently slipped between the real world and the Shadow Realm, and Light, a devout scholar of the Holy Light scriptures, had never heard of anything so horrifying. It was a grotesque fusion of twisted flesh and crystal-like fragments, with no discernible bones, muscles, or skin—just a chaotic, pulsating amalgam. This mass was submerged in a shimmering “pool” of light, but upon closer inspection, the pool wasn’t water at all. Its edges blurred and diffused, connecting seamlessly with the drifting motes of light in the air. As a righteous cleric, Light could confirm one thing: this was pure, unadulterated Holy Light.

Sacred and profane, beautiful and terrifying—these utterly contradictory elements converged in this rapidly regenerating abomination, sending chills down Amber’s spine.

A white knight gasped, “It’s regenerating!”

No one could fathom the nature of this creature, nor how Flamberon had come to this grotesque state. Of course, before the brave white knights had rained down a barrage of heavy explosive grenades into the room, the temporary bishop might not have looked like this. But everyone knew one thing for sure: this regenerating monstrosity was no force of good.

Light immediately raised his warhammer and shouted, “Prepare the hand cannons—”

The twisted mass, soaked in Holy Light, survived the fierce bombardment, though its battered state made it clear it wasn’t immortal. It could be harmed, weakened. The world’s supernaturals were no strangers to monsters with regenerative abilities. To them, an enemy’s strong vitality or regeneration wasn’t terrifying; as long as it could be wounded, it was just a matter of wearing it down.

In short, as long as the enemy had a health bar, it was just a matter of fighting through a few more rounds.

But just as the white knights raised their hand cannons to aim, something changed.

The writhing mass of flesh and crystal suddenly accelerated its movements. From the flowing, watery light around it came a series of indescribable roars—like the combined howls of a thousand beasts. The sound pierced the minds of everyone present, including Amber, who was closest. She widened her eyes, staring at the glowing mass, and shockingly, she felt that twisted fusion of flesh and crystal was somehow… holy.

Brilliant sacred music filled the air. The entire prayer chamber was bathed in light. Endless streams of Holy Light descended like curtains from the distant heavens, enveloping the space from all directions, transforming it into a magnificent, awe-inspiring sanctuary. Amber saw countless spirits emerging from the air, bowing reverently to the hazy figure at the center of the sanctuary. A low murmur whispered in her ear:

“Worship Him… Believe in Him… Trust Him… Obey Him… He will protect you, He will guide you…”

More curtains of light appeared, invisible winds stirred the chamber, lifting the gossamer veils. Behind each veil, countless eyes flickered and shifted, casting neither kindness nor malice. Numerous mouths opened and closed in the darkness, uttering meaningless, mindless whispers.

Instinctively, Amber took a step forward, drawn to embrace the sacred light. A strange clarity lingered in her mind—she knew she was about to cross an invisible boundary. Once she entered that realm, she would become a devout follower of the God of Holy Light. Yet, she felt no resistance at all. She took a first step, then a second…

But just as she was about to cross the threshold, a voice—familiar though rarely heard—suddenly pierced her mind: “…Why believe in that thing? You’d be better off learning to cook from me…”

All the illusions shattered like a dream—the Holy Light, the curtains, the whispers, the eyes and mouths behind the veils—all vanished. Amber found herself still standing in the wrecked prayer chamber, her feet unmoved. The writhing mass of flesh remained submerged in the watery Holy Light, its regeneration far from complete.

“Thank the goddess for the save…” Amber quickly (and without any reverence) thanked the Shadow Goddess she worshipped. Then she immediately checked on the others: Light stood frozen, eyes blazing with fury as he stared at the grotesque mass mere feet away. The other white knights tensed, muscles taut, their faces etched with the strain of resisting.

These white knights were more than just elite soldiers—they possessed iron wills and had been baptized in the new doctrine of the Holy Light. Even when faced with the overwhelming faith of the Holy Light God, they could resist far longer than Amber had.

Amber quickly considered what she could do next, but before she could act, a roar erupted nearby.

Light, relying on his extraordinary willpower, broke free from the strange mental influence. He raised his mechanized warhammer high, glowing with surging light. With a fierce shout, he brought it crashing down—

The half-formed twisted mass shattered into pieces, quickly vaporizing in the searing Holy Light.

Amber heard a piercing, hallucinatory shriek echo in her mind—filled with immense pain and hatred. She felt a tangible emotion ripple through the prayer chamber. Everyone present sensed it: beyond the hatred, there was regret and confusion. It was as if the entity behind this emotion couldn’t understand why its carefully laid trap had failed, why these intruders refused to play by the rules…

The shriek faded after half a second. The Holy Light that had filled the chamber dimmed sharply. All the turbulent energy settled into calm. Flamberon’s presence vanished completely.

The white knights gripped their warhammers and raised their hand cannons, remaining on guard for two minutes before confirming the enemy was truly destroyed.

“…It’s really over?” Amber patted her chest, still shaken by the ordeal. She feared some twisted flesh and crystal might suddenly reappear from nowhere.

“The spirits have calmed, and the noise in the Holy Light has ceased,” Light said, carefully sensing the light’s fluctuations in the space. He nodded slightly. “Looks like that was just Flamberon’s last-ditch counterattack in his dying moments.”

The white knights confirmed the area was secure through their tactical scopes. Only after ensuring no strange creatures would suddenly leap out to trick them into worship did Amber finally exhale in relief. Then, incredulously, she asked, “That was really Flamberon? How could he be so powerful?”

“Very abnormal…” Light frowned deeply, clearly puzzled. “The room was suffused with extremely pure Holy Light, nearly reaching a semi-divine state. But this was far beyond the power any mid- or even high-ranking cleric could wield. Even if he had drawn on the cathedral’s stored divine power, Flamberon’s twisted, mutated form remains inexplicable…”

“I vaguely saw a lot of illusions,” Amber scratched her head. “I saw light and pilgrims, and countless eyes hidden between the curtains. A voice urged me to believe in the Holy Light—it sounded like my own thoughts…”

“You were pulled that deep?!” Light was shocked, then quickly realized, “Makes sense, you were standing too close… Incredible you resisted that power with your own will.”

“Thank the Shadow Goddess,” Amber traced a circle over her chest. “I’m the Shadow’s chosen…”

“Oh,” Light replied casually, then pricked up his ears—the sounds from above had nearly ceased. “Looks like it’s almost over. Prepare to withdraw.”

Amber jumped up. “Hey, you react just like Gawain! I’m telling you, I really am the Shadow’s chosen! The goddess even talked to me, she taught me—”

Creak—

Amber suddenly felt like she’d stepped on something. She looked down, and her hopping froze.

It was a shimmering crystal shard—the same kind of crystal that had been mixed in with Flamberon’s flesh!

“Ahh!!” The embarrassed half-elf cried out. “There’s still more of these things!!”

Light was startled too. He hurried over, warhammer in hand. “Don’t panic—let me take a look.”

Amber practically bounced three meters away, watching Light crouch down to carefully examine the crystal shard. She asked cautiously, “What’s the situation… This thing won’t suddenly grow another Flamberon, will it?”

“…It doesn’t seem to be active anymore,” Light said after a thorough inspection and sensing the Holy Light within. “This should be the last remnant left after Flamberon’s death… a strange substance.”

Amber seemed oddly fixated on the idea of it “growing a person.” “Are you sure this thing won’t sprout a person?”

“I can’t be sure. This needs to be examined by scholars—Master Kamail or Master Pittman, for example,” Light admitted. “But at least for now, the tiny residual Holy Light inside is completely calm. It shouldn’t change anytime soon.”

“You just say Kamail, forget Pittman,” Amber sneered, then glanced warily at the shard in Light’s hand. “You keep it. Maybe Gawain… the Duke will be interested in this.”

Light shrugged indifferently and carefully placed the crystal shard into a portable container. Then he began directing the other white knights: “Search the surrounding area for any other similar remnants. Collect them all. Also, look for any leftover clothing fragments. Bring them out and inform everyone that Flamberon has been purified by the white knights.”

“Yes, High Patriarch!”

The White Knights sprang into action immediately, while Light furrowed his brow as he cast a glance at the prayer chamber, now ravaged and scarred. Amidst the shattered altar and the broken sacred runes, a clear, warm holy light still flowed gently, as if untouched by the desecration of that monstrous intruder.

“The holy light cannot be sullied… only the human heart can be stained…”

(End of chapter)