In the cathedral district of North Tivian, a fierce battle was still underway in the grayish sky above. Throughout the earlier clash, Sky Render Sergeant Harold had remained in control, using his flight and ranged advantages to relentlessly suppress the Dread Devourer Direwolf Duval on the ground, leaving the latter with significant injuries—much of his flesh torn away by high winds and a considerable amount of his spirituality consumed. However, since Duval had come to Tivian to cause trouble, he wasn’t unprepared for an encounter with a Crimson-rank Wind Elementalist. In one ambush using his splitting ability, he successfully disrupted Harold.
Facing the two split direwolves now falling from the sky, Harold, floating in midair with a grim expression, quickly slapped a sigil onto himself and fired two consecutive wind blades, slicing both wolves cleanly in two. Each was halved, resulting in four pieces. But this meant little to Duval—since gaining a mutated vampire splitting ability, such cuts only created more duplicates.
“Cutting me apart…”
“Is meaningless.”
“This is a tactic…”
“Prepared specifically for you Sky Render Sergeants!”
As they plummeted, Duval’s four chunks of flesh rapidly twisted and mutated into four new direwolves. The original two wolf heads, along with the two newly grown ones, spoke different parts of the same taunting sentence, mocking Harold directly.
Among the offensive techniques of the Tide Path, high-speed slicing wind blades were its most iconic feature. Duval had deliberately chosen canned vampire flesh as his tactical reserve for this mission precisely to counter such slicing power—and clearly, it was working.
Watching the massive direwolf split into four and his cutting offensive nearly nullified, Harold showed no sign of frustration. His attention remained focused on the newly split wolves. As they neared the ground, he raised his hand from below with a sharp gesture.
“Rise…”
Instantly, a powerful updraft surged beneath them. The fierce wind blew upward, suspending the two direwolves midair and preventing them from touching the ground. With no foothold, the wolves thrashed wildly in vain, a look of astonishment appearing on each of their faces.
“What the—…”
The “Upwind Prison” was a binding technique used by Sky Render Sergeants, forming an upward wind field to suspend enemies midair—especially effective against foes lacking flight capabilities. Harold hadn’t used it earlier because Duval was too heavy. At over ten meters tall, the Dread Devourer Direwolf weighed around twenty to thirty tons. Without prior buildup, Harold couldn’t generate a wind field strong enough to lift that kind of mass.
But now, the situation had changed. Duval had split himself into four, and each new wolf, reduced to a quarter of the original's size and weight, had become light enough to be lifted.
So, spotting the four wolves in freefall, Harold did not hesitate. He instantly created a powerful localized updraft beneath them, suspending all four in the air so they could no longer land.
For a heavy ground-based combatant like the Dread Devourer Direwolf, being lifted into the air was equivalent to being rendered helpless. With no footing, they could only flail in futility.
Seeing his prey successfully bound, Harold finally let out a breath and launched his assault without mercy. With a swing of his stone sword, a swarm of fine wind blades burst forth and rained down on the direwolves.
These wind blades were only a few centimeters to just over ten centimeters wide—much smaller than the massive ten- to twenty-meter-long blades he had used earlier. Though tiny, they remained incredibly sharp, still capable of cutting through a werewolf’s skin. However, after embedding in flesh, they quickly dissipated.
Compared to the larger blades, these smaller ones were much more numerous. With each sword swing, Harold could release hundreds of them. The fine wind blades shot rapidly through the air, surging toward the trapped direwolves like a tidal wave and striking them like torrential rain, exploding into mist-like sprays of blood.
In an instant, countless tiny wounds were carved into the four wolves, and their blood misted outward like fog. The sheer density of small injuries left hardly an inch of intact skin on them. Each wolf suffered a drawn-out execution by a thousand cuts, writhing and howling in agony—yet unable to escape the cruel fate of the Upwind Prison.
Harold continued slashing with his stone sword relentlessly, producing hundreds—thousands—of wind blades that scraped across the wolves’ bodies, flaying their flesh into a fine red mist. These particles were too small to be used by Duval for creating new splits—they were simply too fine.
Thus, amidst this seemingly endless wind blade torment, the four wolves became increasingly drenched in blood. Their fur had long since been stripped away; the muscles beneath were being shredded, some parts even worn down to the bone. If this continued, Duval would eventually be shaved clean—every last scrap of flesh torn away in death by slow dismemberment.
But just then, something unexpected happened.
Harold, whose face had already looked unwell, suddenly grew even paler during the execution. As if unable to endure any longer, his brow furrowed deeply, and his attacking hand faltered. Trembling, he clutched his abdomen and vomited violently. His body wavered midair, nearly falling from the sky.
This… was a sign that the illness Harold had been suppressing had suddenly worsened.
Earlier, when Duval had used his splitting ability, one of the clones had successfully leapt close to Harold. Though Harold had narrowly evaded a direct hit by elementalizing his body, Duval’s clone had expelled a cloud of diseased miasma at close range. Some of this miasma was swept into Harold’s elementalized form.
In essence, Harold had inhaled the infected miasma directly. It had soon begun to affect his body. Realizing something was wrong, Harold immediately slapped a sigil onto himself to boost his constitution and suppress the disease, then refocused on dealing with his opponent, hoping to defeat Duval before the sickness took hold.
But the Dread Devourer Direwolf’s vitality exceeded all expectations. Even after suffering minutes of intense flaying—down to exposed bones—he hadn’t died and could still move. Harold had intended to persist, to peel every last strip of Duval’s flesh, but the disease within him had already worsened beyond his ability to suppress. Harold was not a Beyonder aligned with the Chalice path, and even with sigil support, his body couldn’t endure for long.
The worsening illness directly impacted Harold’s ability to release his powers. Not only did the wind blades cease, but the Upwind Prison also began to weaken. The strength of the updraft diminished drastically. The four blood-drenched wolves, stripped to the bone, immediately fell from midair and crashed heavily into the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Struggling, the bloody wolves—flayed raw from head to toe—fought to rise. By now, they were so weakened they could barely stay upright. The massive loss of flesh had drastically depleted each wolf’s spirituality, and for Beyonders of the Chalice Path, the less spirituality they possessed, the slower their recovery rate. Staying in a split state under such conditions was far too dangerous. Their most urgent priority was to reintegrate.
Dragging trails of blood behind them, the four flayed, injured, and partially skeletal wolves crawled together. Pressing tightly against one another, their torn flesh began to fuse rapidly. The four damaged bodies swiftly rejoined into a single towering wolf, black fur regrowing over its form.
Eventually, Duval returned to his original form—a two-headed direwolf. However, due to the extensive torment from the flaying wind blades, his body had shrunk slightly, now standing only seven to eight meters tall.
Panting heavily, the reformed wolf glared venomously at the unsteady figure in the sky, who was barely conscious and wracked with disease. From the ground, Duval picked up a handful of stones and hurled them straight upward. Traumatized by the earlier aerial battle, Duval no longer dared to leap into the air to fight Harold. For the first time, he felt a deep affection for the solid ground beneath his paws.
A barrage of stones shot toward Harold. Nearly unable to react, he tried to dodge, but was ultimately struck. His body plummeted from the sky and crashed into another area of the cathedral district, vanishing from Duval’s sight.
“Now... it's time to retreat…”
“No! That bastard must die! I must devour him!”
At this point, the wise choice for Duval would have been to take the opportunity to retreat. But the brutal torment he had just endured had stoked the fires of revenge and predatory instinct within him to the point where they could no longer be contained.
Duval thirsted to devour—devour the enemy who had subjected him to such agony. Even though this wasn’t necessary for his current mission, his boiling beast-blood craved vengeance. He still had reason, but that reason could no longer restrain the burning desire to exact revenge. Harold had tormented him too much.
“Devour him! Blood for blood!”
At last, Duval sprang back into action, chasing Harold’s scent. Harold, now so weakened he could no longer even suppress his presence, had become an easy target. All that remained was a one-sided feast.
Following the scent, Duval charged forward, smashing through walls in his path. After barreling through yet another barrier, he crashed into a grand chapel. Here, sunlight streamed through stained glass windows, bathing the spacious sanctuary in radiant color. The altar of the Trinity and the Radiant Savior shimmered with divine brilliance, and the dome above bore vast religious paintings, adorned with exquisite decorations.
Within this radiant place, Duval could sense Harold’s presence just beyond the next wall or two. One more charge and he would find his prey.
Yet at that very moment, another aura in the chapel drew Duval’s attention. Turning his head, he saw a white figure before the Radiance altar—a platinum-blonde nun dressed in a white habit, standing calmly with hands folded before her, gazing at the giant direwolf with serene eyes.
“Oh wicked glutton of injustice... Kneel before the Lord, surrender what you have stolen, and receive your deserved chastisement.”
Speaking with a tone of warning, Vania’s voice was calm yet lofty—an air that seemed to provoke the direwolf. Its right head suddenly opened its jaws and roared.
“Where the hell did this nun come from? Go die!”
Roaring in rage, the direwolf dropped to all fours and charged the nun at high speed. But Vania, having foreseen it through her inner sight, nimbly dodged aside. The wolf’s ferocious lunge smashed the altar behind her to pieces.
“ROAR!!”
Bellowing a fear-inducing howl, the wolf leapt again, baring fangs and claws. But at that moment, a black blur dropped from the chapel ceiling, slicing across the wolf’s body in a flash. In the next instant, the tendons in its hind legs snapped, spraying blood. With its rear legs disabled, the beast collapsed heavily to the ground. The dark blur came to a stop in the distance—revealed to be the Anecdotal Night Demon.
As the wolf fell, Vania quickly stepped back to gain distance. Then she assumed a stance, raised one hand skyward, and solemnly invoked.
“O Lord... grant me Your light!”
Suddenly, an overwhelming brilliance burst from Vania’s hand. In an instant, it stretched and expanded into a five- to six-meter-long spear of radiant light, glowing like a miniature sun. Drawing upon the immense faith and abundant spirituality stored within the Hymn Cathedral, Vania unleashed the Sunlight Spear—amplifying it to the absolute limit of her current rank and forming a massive divine weapon.
“Die!!”
As his legs rapidly healed, the demon wolf let out a furious roar and launched another attack. Despite Vania’s abnormal aura, its frenzy drove it forward without hesitation. It first spewed a cloud of diseased miasma at her, then lunged.
In response, Vania closed her eyes and held her breath. She channeled the sacred healing power granted by the cathedral into herself, directly counteracting the illness carried by the miasma.
When the massive wolf reached her, Vania’s Insight discerned its form and movements. At such close range, she didn’t throw the Sunlight Spear as she had in the past. Instead, she wielded it in melee, swinging it directly in a dual-handed strike.
On her first swing, the five-meter radiant spear slashed through the wolf’s forepaws, instantly vaporizing the flesh upon contact and severing its claws. Roaring in agony, the wolf lunged to bite her, but Vania stepped forward to meet it—her next swing vaporized over half of both its heads. Blinded and brain-damaged, the beast thrashed wildly. Vania dodged the flailing limbs, then seized the opportunity to thrust the spear through its chest, piercing and vaporizing its heart. She twisted the weapon, cutting through swathes of its body and burning away more flesh.
At last, the exhausted beast, consumed by its own rage, began to fade from life.
“Bear witness… to this dragon-hunting art…”