Chapter 352: The Variable (Part 16)

  Ethan led Aimee into the orc horde, quickly arriving at a clearing in the center. This area was tightly surrounded by orcs, with two Wyverns circling weakly overhead, making the scene completely invisible from the outside.

  Under the careful guard of several orc chieftains, Gru lay on the ground. His chest was bound with cloth strips, but the massive sword wound that had pierced his body was still seeping blood, staining his body and the surrounding ground red. However, his eyes were still slightly open. Though weak, they were indeed open, and he was not dead.

  "Lord Ethan has returned." A werewolf chieftain, covered in wounds, who had been anxiously crouching on the ground, immediately stood up upon seeing Ethan. He had no tail, but on his huge, clawed hands were several rings carved from Magical Jade. It was Luken. Beside him, a machete made from a Behemoth's fingernail was stuck in the ground, and in his hand, he carried a Golden Battle Bow.

  "It's good that you're still holding on." Ethan sighed in relief upon seeing Gru. Although he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, both Lancelot and the Pope had believed Gru was truly dead, and this was not blind confidence. Needless to say, there were no healers among the orcs. A wound caused by the full force of Lancelot's sword energy would be impossible to heal, even if the Pope himself were to use white magic. Moreover, the sword had pierced through his chest, an undoubtedly fatal wound.

  If Ethan hadn't arrived with the orcs at just the right moment, Gru would indeed have been dead. Only he, while using nature magic to restore his fading life force, simultaneously used Necromancy to control the part of his body that had been utterly killed by Lancelot's immense sword energy, preventing the energy from spreading and continuing to slaughter the life within his body. This was how he barely managed to pull him back from the brink of death.

  "I didn't think it would be my turn to owe you one." Gru propped himself up and spoke. Even though his body had weakened to such a state, his gaze and aura were not diminished in the slightest. He was still as sharp and strong as anyone, as if, as long as he was alive, concepts like "soft" and "weak" were completely foreign to him.

  "It's a bit too early to say that." Ethan gave a wry smile. He really didn't know how to explain Sedros's death. Gru would find out the truth sooner or later. And once he did, he would surely seek out Agrael, but Ethan would never let the two of them fight.

  "How did it go on your end? Did you get it?"

  "I suppose you could say so..." Ethan had just spoken halfway when he suddenly turned his head to look towards the Grand Hall of Light.

  In front of the great hall, several High Priests were slowly chanting incantations together. As the spells were completed, two Blazing Might Shots and two Thunderblast Bombs flew towards the orc position one after another.

  The orcs were already densely packed. If these four top-tier spells were to explode among them, casualties would surely exceed half. But just as the High Priests began their chants, the corpses on the surrounding ground also began to squirm. Then, just as the High Priests unleashed their magic, these corpses also leaped and flew out, densely overlapping to form a strange shield. All four spells slammed into this corpse shield. With a deafening roar, charred corpse fragments flew everywhere, and a stench of burning and rotting flesh spread in all directions.

  Amidst the flying corpse fragments, a gray shadow, with an incomparably shrill sound of breaking air, shot rapidly towards the priests in front of the Grand Hall of Light.

  This gray shadow came swiftly and fiercely, but the High Priests were unharmed. Lancelot was before them, and no attack could possibly break through the long sword in the Paladin's hand. Lancelot parried with his sword, and the gray shadow flew upwards diagonally, embedding itself in a massive stone pillar of the Grand Hall of Light. It was a large, gray machete. Its crude craftsmanship could not hide its sharpness and ferocity, and it was covered in bloodstains.

  Lancelot, who had deflected the blade, had an ugly expression on his face. He saw it. The machete had not been thrown. It had been shot by a werewolf using a Golden Battle Bow. The force behind the throw wasn't very strong; this werewolf wasn't very skilled with a bow, and the bow wasn't his to begin with. But with just a glance, Lancelot recognized it. He had known this bow for decades, just as he had known its owner.

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  After the battle had stabilized, Wilskey was nowhere to be seen. Lancelot had long had a faint premonition that he had met a terrible fate. In such a tragically fierce battle, he was not the only comrade to be lost. But it was not until he saw this Golden Battle Bow that the grief, indignation, and anger he had been suppressing in his heart burst forth like a mountain torrent. He threw his head back and let out a sorrowful roar, his voice rolling out and reaching the entire The Radiant Citadel.

  "Full army, attack! Leave not a single orc alive." Before his voice had faded, Lancelot had already transformed into a ribbon of white light and flew towards the orc horde. The swordsmen and priests who had already surrounded them shouted in unison. The light of white magic, various spells, and the gleam of swords surged towards the orcs in the center like a tide.

  Facing the Paladin glowing with white light, the orcs all retreated. None dared to block him, and none could. Lancelot, alone, was like a giant sword plunging straight into the heart of the orc formation.

  This was not a momentary impulse. His spirit of leading the charge and breaking through like a bamboo split not only terrified the orcs but also filled the surrounding swordsmen with soaring morale. From the Paladin's figure and aura, they could already sense victory. Following Lancelot as he flew into the fray, all the swordsmen swarmed towards the center.

  But this high morale and momentum lasted only for an instant. With a deafening roar, everyone saw Lancelot fly backwards with ten times the speed and force of before, like a meteor flying horizontally, crashing into a giant stone pillar of the Grand Hall of Light. Sand and stone flew in all directions, and the pillar, which would take several men to encircle, collapsed. Lancelot struggled to his feet from the rubble. The sword in his hand was shattered, and his body was covered in wounds. In the blink of an eye, the majestic, rainbow-like god of war from moments before was now covered in injuries and in a sorry state.

  In the center of the orc horde, Gru, who had just sent Lancelot flying with a single punch, stood proudly. The white Battle Qi glowing around him was dazzlingly bright. The shouts and howls on the battlefield did not diminish but grew louder. But this time, they no longer came from the mouths of Celeste's warriors, but from the hundreds of orcs. Their god of war had risen again.

  Everyone who saw him was stunned. Even the swordsmen who had originally swarmed forward couldn't help but stop in their tracks.

  "The last Leaf of the World Tree... that bastard..." Adela's lips were pale, and his voice trembled. Several High Priests and Cardinals beside him had already rushed to Lancelot's side, frantically casting healing spells, pouring them all onto the Paladin's body.

  "I owe you again, kid." Gru said, looking at Ethan.

  "Don't say that. I just didn't want to die. It's just... it's just you..." Ethan replied, but his gaze as he looked at Gru was somewhat uncertain and doubtful.

  This was truly a choice with no other option. No matter how important this Leaf of the World Tree was, using it on Gru now was the only viable way. Only if he recovered would there be hope of getting out of The Radiant Citadel alive.

  Even injuries that could not be healed by healing magic were instantly mended in the face of this ancient elven magical artifact. However, what surprised Ethan was that the effect this Leaf of the World Tree had on Gru seemed somewhat different from the previous two times.

  The one used on Sophia had only completely healed his injuries. After he used it, it merged with the divine power of the Sunwell and the Meditations on Truth, greatly enhancing his magical power and life force. But now, Gru, who had used this last Leaf of the World Tree, was completely different. Not only were his wounds healed, but he also seemed somewhat different from before.

  If his previous killing intent made people feel shocked, fearful, a kind of infectious aura among peers, then what everyone felt from him now was a top-down pressure and presence, completely different from the pure pressure from before. That kind of aura, felt deep within the soul, was something Ethan had only experienced from Moriel. It seemed to be an aura that could only be emitted by a life form far more advanced and powerful than a human.

  It seemed that the Leaf of the World Tree had brought some changes to his body, or perhaps there was something subtle and ineffable within his own body, which this near-death healing had stimulated. Everyone's attention was unconsciously completely drawn to him, captivated and awed.

  "Forget it, this isn't the time to talk about this... Let's go."

  One after the other, Gru and Ethan rushed straight towards the front of the Grand Hall of Light. This was, after all, The Radiant Citadel, with thousands of warriors and priests still around. The only way to achieve victory was to capture the king first.

  With a stomp of his foot, Gru rose and charged forward, his body turning into a faint shadow. Everyone felt their minds flicker for a moment. The orcs immediately erupted into even louder shouts and howls, swarming forward with him. The swordsmen and priests were stunned for a moment before realizing what they had to do. The battle, which had quieted for only a short time, reignited at this moment in a more violent and sudden manner.

  But this battle was destined not to last long. Before the surrounding swordsmen could even make a move, Ethan and Gru had already charged to the front of the Grand Hall of Light.

  Lancelot's injuries had not fully recovered. He was still covered in blood and wounds, but he let out a loud roar. The white Battle Qi instantly condensed around his body into a giant sword of light, which he swung down at Gru from midair. Mixed within the erupted Battle Qi were traces of blood. From the previous strike, Lancelot understood that this enemy was no longer one he could fight on equal terms. This was a strike with all his might.

  It wasn't just him attacking with all his might. The High Priests, Cardinals, including Adela, all used their full power to launch attacks at the charging Gru. Light arrows, fire walls, ice spikes, lightning, and Paralysis Spells were all hurled at that figure in a torrent.

  This was no longer an attack made after careful consideration, but an instinctive reaction. What supported them was no longer fighting spirit, but fear. When they saw the figure rushing towards them, they were dominated by the fear that gushed from the deepest depths of their hearts, like frogs seeing a giant snake pouncing on them.