Chapter 112: Madness (Part 2)

  The Purification spell worked like water dousing fire against other magic. Aimee's Slow and Weakness spells on the werewolves were instantly washed away by the white magic's fluctuations. Yet it couldn't completely eradicate the magic driving the werewolves mad—only dispelling part of its effects. It was like using a bucket of water to fight a fire, failing to extinguish it.

  There was no other reason except to show the fire was simply too immense. If Elder Raelas's magic was a bucket of water, the energy of this fire, converted to water, would be at least a river.

  The merchants' and mercenaries' gazes were fixed on the young man mid-air. Seeing him act for the first time, they marveled at his skill. His proficient combat and magic were likely at the level of a Celeste Templar. The moment Elder Raelas shouted, Yabin froze mid-air. Those with sharp eyes could see colorful specks flicker around him. Then his gallant figure, like a block of wood, plummeted headfirst. His body maintained the posture of drawing his sword and leaping, expression unchanged, though his eyes still moved restlessly.

  The renewed roars of the three werewolves instantly plunged everyone back into fear and chaos. The white glow Elder Raelas had cast on the werewolves had vanished. Their howls were wilder than before, as if using all their strength to tear their own throats apart. One werewolf even bit off a piece of its own hand and half its tongue.

  "In the Lord's name, purify the bonds of evil." Elder Raelas pointed at Yabin, who had fallen to the ground. Purification this time cleanly and efficiently dispelled the magic affecting him. Yabin rolled on the ground and sprang up, dust-covered. A werewolf's mace narrowly missed him, smashing a crater where he'd just stood. He quickly sprinted back to Elder Raelas's side with agility matching his earlier leap.

  Though he had just saved his grandson's life, Elder Raelas felt no relief. He tasted bitterness in his mouth, his mind muddled and numb, even wondering if he was dreaming. Purification worked so effectively because its target was also white magic—the magic restraining Yabin was unmistakably the high-level white magic Paralysis Spell.

  He himself could barely cast this advanced spell, requiring focused prayer and loud chanting of scriptures. This hidden mage had cast it silently and instantaneously without a sound. What did this mean... Had an Erathia Cardinal personally come to rob this caravan? Or perhaps a high priest serving His Holiness the Pope from Celeste?

  Probably a magic scroll. Maybe some Cardinal had a momentary lapse of judgment and violated prohibitions by transcribing a Paralysis Spell for someone else... Grasping at straws, Elder Raelas focused his mind, knelt, and raised his hands to the sky: "In the Lord's name..."

  Colorful magical light suddenly flashed around Elder Raelas. He froze instantly in his kneeling prayer posture, even his tongue stiffening. The scripture he was chanting died halfway through.

  When the werewolves resumed their frenzied howling, Aimee needed no reminder. Weakness and Slow spells were immediately recast on the werewolves. Then, while the mercenaries barely held them off, she began pouring all her energy into preparing a freezing spell. But instantly, a Paralysis Spell descended upon her without warning.

  "In the Lord's name, grant me sacred shelter to block the enemy." As Elder Raelas stiffened, Yabin knew this battle held no further hope of resistance. Yet he didn't immediately turn and flee. Instead, he first cast the highest-level protective spell he could muster upon himself.

  As the magic shield flared to life around him, Yabin grabbed his now puppet-stiff sister and grandfather and ran toward the horses. But after only two steps, the same sensation as before returned—every sensation throughout his body vanished. He could only watch himself, maintaining a running posture, drag his grandfather and sister down like puppets.

  This shield, capable of withstanding even a Chain Lightning spell, proved utterly useless. There was only one reason: the caster's understanding of white magic had transcended normal boundaries.

  Chaos reigned in Elder Raelas's mind. He had no idea how to comprehend what was unfolding. His angle of fall still allowed him to see the entire scene. The one-sided battle between werewolves and mercenaries continued. No one fled; they held their ground desperately. They didn't understand the significance of the earlier spells, hadn't even noticed this magical duel. The trio's display had first thrilled them—the werewolves' movements suddenly slowed, then a flash of white light froze them in place. Yabin had leaped forward but was called back by Elder Raelas; surely they meant to combine their magic. With three mages supporting them, victory was certain. The mercenaries desperately delayed the werewolves, hoping to buy enough time for the trio to unleash more powerful and effective spells.

  The merchants understood even less. Only one quick-witted merchant paused, realized something was amiss, and came over to help the fallen trio, only to find their bodies completely rigid like clay sculptures, impossible to lift.

  At that moment, three flares of white magic light ignited on the three werewolves already slowed and weakened. This radiance was brilliant and sacred in the night, clearly revealing the profound depth of the white magic contained within, with faint hymns seemingly audible within the magical glow.

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  The mercenaries cheered loudly. This more majestic, clearly higher-level spell would surely instantly subdue the three werewolves.

  Amid the cheers, the mercenaries' vision blurred. The three werewolves didn't freeze but became three blurs of motion due to their incredible speed. Still celebrating, most mercenaries were shredded into dancing fragments of flesh and blood. Only the last managed to turn his cheer into half a scream before a "crunch" sound—his scream and entire head shattered like a crisp apple in the werewolf's mouth.

  "Divine Aegis of the Heavens." Elder Raelas, with his last shred of awareness, identified the spell. It was absolutely the highest-level magic only Archbishops could wield. And when this spell was cast upon werewolves, the effect was enough to let any werewolf tear an elephant apart with its bare hands.

  The three werewolves even slightly distorted under this astonishing magical effect. They didn't know they were the first beastfolk in the continent's history to enjoy such top-tier auxiliary magic. They only felt suddenly stronger, faster, more energetic, more bloodthirsty, more driven to kill. Cloaked in that sacred white glow and drenched in blood, the werewolves charged toward the merchants.

  "Everyone, scatter and flee!" The merchants screamed, mounting their horses and riding in different directions. But against the werewolves' speed, faster than cheetahs, most merchants were shredded along with their horses the moment they mounted. Only two merchants managed to escape into the distance.

  The werewolves didn't give chase. Not because they couldn't—to the enhanced werewolves, the horses' pace seemed little different from turtles'—but they simultaneously stopped in their tracks and turned back toward the camp.

  In the nearby darkness, a blue teleportation light flared. Only now did the behind-the-scenes mage reveal his position and traces. He had done what needed to be done and could leave safely. As for the aftermath, these three maddened werewolves would reduce every living thing here to shredded flesh—including themselves.

  The werewolves' fur was soaked through with blood, matting together. Panting heavily, even their green eyes radiated a boiling bloodlust, like three demons emerging from a hellish pool of blood. They scanned the corpse-strewn camp, searching for any sign of life. With a roar, two werewolves lunged toward the tethered horses and Kodo Beast, while the third fixed its gaze on the three rigid figures.

  Though the three lying motionless on the ground appeared completely corpse-like, the werewolf could still intuitively sense they were alive.

  Alive. Still with pulse, still with warm blood, still with writhing organs. To be torn apart, shredded, still able to hear screams. The werewolf's last shred of consciousness roared this final thought before completely extinguishing. Initially, the bloodthirsty frenzy had merely surged in their hearts, driving them to kill and tear. But now, soaked in blood and organs, as more and more bodies ripped apart between claws and teeth, this mad desire had swollen beyond consciousness, spreading directly into their bodies. Now these bodies existed solely to shred other bodies.

  It strode toward the three rigid figures. Perhaps impatient, the werewolf bit off one of its own hands, chewing vigorously in its mouth. The sound of its own hand bones grinding against its teeth was horrifying. Its originally dog-like face had completely contorted due to muscle distortion, becoming ferocious beyond recognition as a living creature. Blood and saliva dripped continuously from its mouth.

  Aimee's eyes remained wide open, her expression still fixed in the concentration of preparing magic, only tears now streaming down her face. Unable to scream, unable to tremble, let alone flee, she could only watch the nightmare-like monster draw near.

  Yabin, lying prone, couldn't see the werewolf. He only saw the hysterical despair and terror in his sister's eyes, heard the footsteps drawing closer, one by one. He felt his blood burning, his organs and mind in torment, yet he couldn't even blink.

  Elder Raelas also couldn't see the werewolf approaching. But he saw Aimee's tears flowing, saw Yabin's eyes wildly flooding with blood. A heart-wrenching pain shot from his waist. He could feel the werewolf's massive claw pierce his abdomen, crush his organs, even snap his spine, then seize the remains of his body and lift him up. Though his body was rigid, he felt every agonizing detail of this soul-rending pain.

  "Pfft!" A mouthful of blood gushed from Elder Raelas's mouth. His life force was severed. But as the werewolf lifted him, his hand suddenly moved. He grabbed the cross on Yabin's chest.

  Since earlier, he had been using his lifetime of white magic cultivation to assault the binding spell upon him. But the white magic of the Paralysis Spell caster—whether in depth, purity, or casting technique—was worlds apart from his. No matter how he struggled, it was useless. Now, this immense pain and the sudden severance of life finally stimulated his body enough to break through the Paralysis Spell's effect. At the moment of death.

  The cross shattered in Elder Raelas's hand, fragments scattering onto Yabin and Aimee on the ground. His body convulsed like a ragdoll being waved about as the werewolf frantically tore at him. But with all his remaining strength, amid the sound of his own bones breaking and muscles ripping, he screamed with all his might: "May the merciful Lord, with the life of this believer, bestow Your compassion..."

  The voice stopped abruptly—not because Elder Raelas could no longer scream from the pain, but because the werewolf ripped his lungs from his body.

  A sacred white light descended straight from the sky, splitting this bloody, cruel night in two. Even the three frenzied werewolves were momentarily stunned by this miraculous scene, pausing their actions.

  The white light enveloped the siblings on the ground, coalescing into a spherical shield. This was "The Divine Aegis of the Gods," a spell only the most devout believers could activate by burning their life force. While this magic was active, no attack could harm those under its protection.

  Perhaps provoked, the two werewolves that had just dismantled the massive Kodo Beast into fragments charged over with frenzied howls. They struck and lunged at the glowing shield, but no matter how they struggled, they couldn't breach this seemingly intangible orb of light. Then they shrieked and turned instead to pounce on Elder Raelas, still held in the other werewolf's grasp.

  Aimee and Yabin remained paralyzed, still unable to blink. They watched with horrifying clarity as Elder Raelas was torn into small, scattered pieces by the three werewolves—flesh and blood flying, yet not a single drop landing upon them.

  After reducing the last few horses to gory remains, the three werewolves, now covered in entrails and blood, their forms barely recognizable, began tearing and clawing at each other. Great chunks of skin and flesh flew off under their mutual assault. Even as limbs became mangled, the mad battle showed no sign of stopping. Finally, two nearly undead, mangled werewolves still attacked each other with every means available.

  At last, as one werewolf crushed its own heart, it simultaneously bit through the throat of its opponent. The head, connected by only a scrap of flesh, lolled sideways as the body collapsed. The heart, crushed into a withered husk, could no longer sustain the frenzied actions. The body, with little blood remaining, also thudded to the ground.

  Finally, the night fell silent. It was over. A faint light glimmered in the east beneath the morning star.

  A day later, Oufu's Wyvern discovered the scene before Erathia's forces.

  Even the scouting lizardmen and Half-Orcs were shocked by the expanse of wreckage and gore. Not a single corpse was intact. This forest seemed to have been put through a giant meat grinder. A Half-Orc vomited.

  Strangely, at the center of this tragic scene lay a perfect circle, completely free of blood—like a sacred ground within hell. Both lizardmen and Half-Orcs marveled at this miraculous circle, puzzled, then awed.