Silphiel couldn’t be bothered to fight a mind-controlled madwoman. This woman was already dead—fighting like a rabid dog bent on mutual destruction. Who’d want to spar with someone like that?
With the Knighthood’s hot-blooded youths and Rodrika here, Silphiel happily took it easy.
Better to chat with dear Instructor Shirley instead!
After giving orders, Silphiel dashed toward the other stairwell. She’d learned her lesson this time: two knight squads had descended, so she left one for Rodrika.
Silphiel wanted to leave, but how could Lelia just let her go?
Lelia recalled the past. If not for the Holy Maiden’s constant targeting, why would she end up like this?
It was all Silphiel’s fault!
Mad with rage, Lelia lunged like a rabid dog. But Silphiel didn’t even pause. Rodrika shouted sharply, sword drawn to block Lelia’s path.
“Miss Lelia, calm down! You’re noble-born. Confess properly, and His Holiness the Pope might show mercy!”
Rodrika’s plea backfired. Lelia snapped, “Do you believe that yourself? Gregory silences even his own people. Weren’t my parents killed by him?”
“Then why spare you?”
This made Lelia slightly lucid. Rodrika was different. Her father, Bishop Radel, was said killed instantly by supreme light magic—no trace left. Doubts lingered about his death.
Gregory kept Rodrika alive for his own reasons.
But Lelia had buried her parents’ bodies herself. Officially, Bishop Radel killed them, but Heretic channels revealed the truth: they were Gregory’s faction, silenced for witnessing something forbidden.
Why would the Pope spare her? Could there be another reason?
“…Rodrika, save me. I don’t want to die. The High Priest cast mind control and soul sacrifice on me. I’m doomed like this.”
Lelia’s mind cleared. For years, she’d sworn loyalty to the Shadow Sect. Its members were warm, caring—she’d thought she found home.
But the High Priest would do this to her? She’d done nothing wrong!
At the banquet, besides faking death, how could she save her exposed senior and master? Must she die with them? An accident killed them for real!
Plus, Silphiel caught every Heretic effortlessly—as if divinely guided. Lelia was branded a traitor.
No one listened to her.
Her mouth spoke, but her controlled body attacked. Several young Holy Knights—barely two and a half years in the Knighthood—yelped as Lelia’s shoulder tackle sent them flying.
Her fists, clad in arm guards, struck with desperate skill. The Knighthood’s youths staggered and fell instantly.
In a flash, Lelia stood before Rodrika. Azure soul fire coiled around her guards. A “Flame Fist” shot straight for Rodrika’s face.
Seeing Rodrika frozen, knights panicked. “Rodrika, dodge!”
Lelia sweated. Rodrika wanted to save her—if she killed her, the Knighthood would tear her apart.
“Rodrika!!”
She shouted the name. Rodrika smiled faintly. “Don’t fear. Strike me. I’ll take this hit.”
Take it?
Knights and Lelia both froze. In her soul-burning state, Lelia had level-77 power. This wasn’t something you just took!
As Lelia thought this, Rodrika exhaled softly, eyes closing slightly. She gave a low shout. A golden aura erupted—blinding as the sun in the dark underground.
The light dyed her eyes too. When they opened, their radiance made Lelia stare blankly.
Divine power dazzled everyone. Rodrika sidestepped the punch, grabbing Lelia’s arm. Her grip was unbreakable.
“Miss Lelia, hold on. The control isn’t absolute. Together, we’ll find a way!”
Lelia was dumbfounded. Was this Rodrika’s strength? This pure divine power surpassed even the Holy Maiden’s!
This “traitor’s daughter,” the Divine Court’s eternal librarian—when had she soared beyond Lelia’s reach?
No one believed Rodrika could stop Lelia, yet she did—effortlessly.
Seeing this, Lelia calmed. She steeled her mind against the control.
Meanwhile, Silphiel led a knight squad to the other entrance.
Moonlight spilled in. Silphiel murmured, “Is the other exit in the commoners’ district?”
Shadow Sect members were terrifying. Without traitor Lelia, the Divine Court would never have found these hideouts.
They’d secretly tunneled between commoners’ and nobles’ districts.
Silphiel scanned the area. Eerily quiet—no vagrants, no drunkards on the night streets. Clearly abnormal.
“Search the area. Don’t let the Heretics escape!”
“Yes, Holy Maiden!” Knights dispersed instantly.
Silphiel thought: the Holy Capital was locked down. Instructor Shirley couldn’t even leave the gates. Trapped like rats, she’d be cornered soon.
Soon, a knight reported, “Holy Maiden! Bodies nearby!”
Silphiel followed him. A Heretic Inquisitor lay dead—recently killed, one clean sword thrust to the throat. Only Shirley had such skill.
“In such a hurry she didn’t hide the bodies?” Silphiel murmured. She turned to the knights, tears glistening. “Our comrades’ sacrifice deserves remembrance. But now, we bring blasphemers to justice. Follow me—capture the Heretics!”
The simple youths were moved to tears. Look how kind the Holy Maiden was! She deserved their lives.
Silphiel led the chase. More fresh corpses lined the path. She sighed softly, “If only we’d arrived sooner—”
Her masterful acting stirred them again. They’d give their hearts for her.
After a brief pursuit, Silphiel caught up to Shirley.
But before her stood a figure in a black cloak, conversing quietly.
Silphiel suddenly recalled Gao Ying’s attire from her nightmare.
