Chapter 223: ·Chaos Within the Hall

Thud!

Bang!

Faced with the relentless assault, Nolan struck with precise control, targeting the back of each charging Wood Elf’s neck or joints. Every blow carried exactly enough force to disable them without causing permanent injury.

The moment one guard fell, another rushed in to replace them.

Ailindel’s movements, by contrast, were graceful and fluid. The techniques of the Heavenly Judgment Knight could be overwhelming and domineering, yet just as easily refined down to exquisite precision. Her spear thrust out again and again, each strike trailing a ring of cyan wind. The wind rings wrapped perfectly around the charging Wood Elves, binding them in place and rendering them unable to move.

For a time, the hall became a whirlwind of moving figures and muffled impacts.

Above them, Rosm watched the two weaving through the crowd while constantly holding back their strength, and his contempt deepened further.

“So this is what heroes are supposed to be?” he sneered mockingly. “Pathetic. Mercy toward your enemies is the greatest stupidity of all.” His voice dripped with ridicule. “Your precious convictions are the chains binding you! Look at yourselves, fighting with your hands tied. How could you possibly stand against the Cult like this?!”

A twisted chuckle escaped him, as though the sight genuinely delighted him.

“Oh, and outside?” Rosm grinned wider. “There’s still an entire city full of Wood Elves waiting for you. How many will you kill? How many can you save? Once they tear apart those subordinates guarding the outside, it’ll be your turn next!”

The Nihility Cult excelled not only at sowing chaos and conflict, but also at corrupting hearts and drawing others into their ranks. And among the Six Pillars, the Patriarch of Decay, Rosm, was especially obsessed with that craft. Watching a hero fall into despair brought him something close to physical pleasure.

“You’re strong, Lord Nolan. Perhaps you’ll survive this.” Seeing Nolan ignore him only encouraged him to continue his self-indulgent speech. “But tell me this. Can a ‘hero’ whose hands are stained with innocent blood still sleep peacefully at night? Can he still face his own conscience?”

The smile on Rosm’s rotten face twisted further.

“Honestly, I think you have potential, Lord Nolan. Someone as young as you possessing such strength is extraordinarily rare in that little kingdom of yours. I can tell we’re alike. Deep down, we’re both people with unwavering conviction. Abandon those laughable ideals of yours and walk the path of true greatness instead. Pledge yourself to the Formless God, and I can personally spare both you and your people.”

His voice rose with fanatic fervor.

“You’ll gain power beyond imagination. With your talent, the Six Pillars becoming Seven Pillars isn’t impossible. Together, we can bring true chaos and rebirth to this decaying world!”

His triumphant laughter echoed through the hall.

Nolan knocked aside a moon spear with his scabbard, grabbed another charging guard by the wrist, and slammed him unconscious onto the floor before finally looking up at the festering mass hanging from the ceiling.

“What a load of bullshit. You never stop talking, do you? Shut the hell up already. Don’t insult the word conviction. Don’t compare me to animals like you. Snotface.”

The smile on Rosm’s rotten face vanished instantly.

“Snotface” had been his childhood nickname.

The insult itself was insignificant, but it represented the period of his life he most desperately wished to forget. It was the beginning of all his humiliation, the source of the trauma that had shaped the first half of his miserable existence.

No one should have known that name.

Because every person who had ever called him that had long since been tortured to death after he received the “gift” of putrefaction. They had screamed as he reduced them to puddles of pus with unbearable cruelty.

The higher-ranking members of the Nihility Cult received their powers directly from the Tyrant, manifestations approaching the awakening of primordial authority itself. Only souls twisted beyond repair, yet desperately yearning for release, could survive such “blessings” without being destroyed on the spot.

Rosm believed himself to be one of those chosen souls.

The sole purpose of their power was to plunge this false world into complete chaos in the name of the Formless God, transforming it into an eternal paradise.

Nolan, meanwhile, cared absolutely nothing for Rosm’s psychological baggage. While knocking down Elder Ironwood charging with a blade and dodging the chained arrows fired by Finley, he continued firing insults without pause. “You think I don’t know what kind of garbage your Formless Glob is? Join you people? Anyone with even a shred of sanity would stay the hell away from your cult!”

“It is the Formless God, you ignorant cur!” Rosm shrieked in fury. Oddly enough, having his beloved god disrespected enraged him far more than having his own scars exposed.

“I’m not interested in memorizing freaks’ names.”

At the moment, Rosm needed both hands pressed against the tree structure to maintain the Blood Refinement Altar, leaving him unable to attack directly. All he could do was curse furiously in some incomprehensible stream of words.

Nolan had no idea what language it was. Probably some regional dialect from the Rus Empire.

Not that understanding it mattered. The battle inside the hall grew increasingly chaotic.

Ailindel stayed close to Nolan, the two standing back to back as they protected each other’s blind spots.

Hummm. Her spear gave a soft cry as cyan wind elements gathered around its tip.

She still refused to kill, instead controlling the power of wind with incredible precision. Several wind rings shot outward, wrapping around the fastest charging Stag Guards and binding them together in a tangled line.

Nolan blocked a moon blade with his scabbard and immediately chopped the attacker unconscious with the edge of his hand.

At that moment, a flash of cold light entered the corner of his vision.

Nolan tilted his head instinctively, then immediately reached out.

Smack!

He caught the incoming arrow firmly in his hand. 

If he had simply dodged on instinct, the arrow would have pierced straight into Ailindel behind him. Thankfully, his reaction had been fast enough.

Above them, Rosm finally completed the initial stage of assimilation. The Hall of Tree Shepherds was now under his control. With a shrill cry, he commanded the fleshy vines to surge downward toward the two below.

Ailindel swept her spear upward. “Nolan, leave the ceiling to me! Focus on subduing the Wood Elves!”

“Got it!” Nolan answered immediately, trusting her completely as he ignored the threat above.

Freed from restraint, Ailindel finally unleashed a glimpse of her true power. With a light step, she rose into the air like a drifting white feather. The champion of the Wind King Vanguard was finally revealing the edge of her brilliance.

Countless razor-sharp wind blades burst forth alongside the sweep of her spear, forming a massive cyan storm of death in midair. The disgusting flesh vines were continuously severed and shattered beneath the storm’s slicing currents. Thick crimson fluid sprayed everywhere like blood. Soon, the entire hall was drenched beneath a grotesque rain of gore.

Nolan no longer divided his attention and swiftly incapacitated several more guards in succession.

Then suddenly, sharp whistles split the air. A dense rain of arrows descended toward him.

The arrows came in rapid succession, leaving virtually no gaps between them, and each one approached from a different angle, completely sealing every route of evasion.

This time, Nolan didn’t have the luxury of catching them by hand.

The archer’s skill had reached near perfection. Even he could not cut them all down in time.

Nolan swung Mountain’s Resonance and targeted only the arrows that posed the greatest threat.

As for the rest, he left them to Immovable Bulwark.

Clang! Clang!

Crisp metallic impacts rang together in rapid succession as sparks exploded wildly across the barrier of light. Thanks to his extraordinary swordsmanship and eyesight, Nolan intercepted every lethal shot. The arrows that struck his armor failed to injure him. When standing his ground, the defensive capability of Immovable Bulwark was simply overwhelming.

But while the armor blocked the damage, it could not fully negate the immense force behind the arrows. Nolan was still forced a step backward.

The instant he regained his footing, before he could even catch his breath, a deadly sense of danger exploded from his right side.

Without hesitation, he twisted sharply and raised his sword horizontally beside him.

BOOM!

A thunderous impact erupted.

Visible ripples spread through the air.

Nolan’s blade had locked firmly against a massive, uniquely shaped bow.

The recurved limbs of the bow had been sharpened into deadly blades, their edges gleaming with lethal cold light. The tip hovered less than five centimeters from Nolan’s eye.

A Wood Elf with such flawless archery and terrifying close-quarters combat ability could only be one person in all of Forest Home.

Romina.

But her eyes were blood-red, tears streaming from their corners. She gripped the bow with all her strength, pressing downward desperately in an attempt to kill him.

“Die…” Romina cried through clenched teeth, tears running freely down her face. “Monster!”