Noah didn’t dodge.
He felt dodging was impossible anyway.
Still, he didn’t regret staying. Since a moment ago, an indescribable feeling had clung to his heart.
Put simply—he never found this Sacred Flame truly frightening.
From the instant it appeared, Noah felt zero fear toward it.
To him, these golden flames were less intimidating than the numbers on a guild bill.
Sure, you could blame it on “the newborn calf fears no tiger,” but Noah sensed it ran deeper.
He was the type who trusted his gut.
…
Light blazed brilliantly at the staff’s tip.
A massive eye hovered above it.
As its holy gaze settled on Noah, he met it head-on.
They locked eyes in silent stalemate.
Next second—a subtle heat prickled his mind, like light piercing thought.
The sensation wasn’t wondrous, nor comfortable. Instinctively, Noah wanted to reject it.
It reminded him of school: being called out by the teacher, the whole class staring while he became the joke.
Exactly this feeling.
So inwardly, he shot back:
“What’re you staring at?”
The eye gave no reply.
No arrogant “So what if I am?”—its pupil shrank violently, horror flooding its depths. Without warning, it shattered like broken glass, crumbling to dust.
The priest’s staff splintered into wood chips, instantly burned to ash by the Sacred Flame domain.
“You…”
The white-robed priest stared at Noah in terror, stumbling back five or six steps, face etched with disbelief.
The mental magic hadn’t just failed—it had been devoured.
He’d channeled the Sacred Flame, amplifying the assault dozens of times over.
Even Holy Order members with holy-light resistance couldn’t withstand this.
Yet Noah hadn’t even resisted—just a glance swallowed the magic whole.
Only a dark sect’s bishop could do that.
But no bishop’s descent had been reported.
Gritting his teeth, the priest refused to believe Noah was a bishop. Backing away, he yanked the Holy Codex from his robes, praying inwardly while demanding: “Who *are* you? What *are* you?”
“Good question. I’m not sure myself.”
Noah lifted his sword, courage rising slightly.
The magic hadn’t worked on him—just like the Sacred Flame devoured by that formless chaos earlier. Something was shielding him.
Maybe he could actually fight?
…
…
Memories surfaced. He pictured the indescribable chaos, wondering if he could summon it again.
It had devoured the Sacred Flame—and felt like *his* power.
If harnessed, he’d count himself in the fight.
Reality disagreed.
No chaos appeared. Only a battered, bloodstained sword remained in his hand.
Noah clicked his tongue. *Passive skill?*
Just then—
A spear forged of condensed Sacred Flame shot toward him.
The priest had summoned Kale’s phantom, concentrating flame at the tip before hurling it.
Air tore with a wail like a demon’s cry.
Startled, Noah instinctively raised his left hand.
Warmth bloomed in his palm. He caught the spear midair. His flesh-and-blood hand pressed against the Sacred Flame—unmelted.
Actually… cozy. Like a warm glove.
The priest’s face went ghost-white. He’d seen the flame-adorned spear caught effortlessly. The fire that should’ve corroded Noah now sat docile in his hand—like a tamed hound, all aggression gone.
*This power belongs to priests alone!*
“You’re from our church… No, impossible…”
He nearly mistook Noah for an ally, then snapped awake, snarling: “You heretic aren’t one of us! That’s *my* Sacred Flame—give it back!”
Noah didn’t get it. Truthfully, he was just as confused.
Flames that could reduce a griffin to ash now behaved like a docile child in his grip.
Had the flames weakened? Or did he have resistance?
Logically, no—he was undead. Sacred Flame should’ve burned *harder*.
He played with the flames: shaping dancing embers into an “S,” then a “B.”
Kind of fun.
The priest’s faith nearly shattered.
“No… NO! Return it! This is my Lord’s fire—you heathen dare not defile it!”
No wonder he raged.
Noah’s act was like committing adultery before the husband’s eyes—a textbook case of NTR.
As a devoted pure love warrior, Noah watched the flames dance on his hand, thought a beat, then stepped back twice.
“Fine. Catch.”
He jogged forward and tossed the spear back.
No strength, no technique—just a casual flick.
But the moment it left his hand, raw power surged behind it.
Noah saw clearly: the Sacred Flame itself propelled it, accelerating it past sound.
*Whoosh!*
It pierced the priest ten meters away straight through the chest.
*Thud.*
The priest collapsed to his knees, staring disbelievingly at the hollow cavity where his heart had been.
Strangely, he didn’t die—just frozen, kneeling.
Sword raised, Noah approached the “heartless” priest. After a pause, he stepped into the fading Sacred Flame domain.
The flames retreated.
Terror flooded the priest’s eyes; his whole body trembled.
He watched the Sacred Flame not only avoid Noah—but respectfully part a path with every step.
Noah narrowed his eyes.
Since entering this ancient battlefield, everything defied logic: history rewritten, Sacred Flame appearing, even *himself* changing.
Now he knew—something was protecting him.
Good or bad? Unknown.
Needed testing.
He stopped before the priest. “Your flames… seem afraid of me?”
“Impossible… This can’t be…”
Pale as his robes, the priest muttered: “The almighty Sacred Flame would never fear a human! You’re a dark sect bishop… you must be…”
“Sadly, if I were bishop, I’d expel a certain Undying One first thing.”
Noah leveled his sword, voice firm. “Last time: why are your flames afraid of me?”
He wanted answers.
The priest’s mind screamed: *How the hell should I know?!*
He looked up blankly—then an idea struck.
He gathered Sacred Flame around his eyes.
Bright fire cleared all shadows, granting supernatural sight.
*Now I’ll see what you truly are!*
Thud!
His mind shattered.
What he glimpsed became a mental hammer, crushing his consciousness.
As Noah waited, the priest’s face froze.
Then—his flesh twisted.
Fingers collapsed inward into a bloody lump. Spine snapped, performing Anna’s horrifying “backbend.”
Neck twisted with a *crack*; head lolled onto his shoulder. Face contorted in agony, blood streaming from every orifice, eyes rolling white.
Feet, legs, waist—all warped irregularly.
After nearly a minute of bone-crunching snaps… the priest became a lifeless meatball.
Honestly? Deeply unsettling.
Noah stepped back, lowered his sword, looked away. A sharp breath escaped him at the sanity-shattering sight.
“This is… utterly absurd.”
