Chapter 262: Holy Warrior

There’s a saying on Earth: “Acting cool comes as naturally as the wind.”

Punk certainly looked imposing right now. A giant energy hand shimmering with pale purple light firmly grasped the still-struggling Harpy. Combined with his stylish black mage robe and the pair of brilliant blue eyes beneath his hood, he appeared exceptionally dashing.

At least Punk himself felt quite pleased.

However, Earth also has another saying: “Getting humiliated falls like rain, drenching you completely.”

Just as Punk had caught the fleeing Harpy, intimidated the trembling adventurers, and was about to speak, a blade of light came slashing straight toward his head.

“Damned heretic! How dare you protect an evil creature? Prepare to die!”

When Punk captured the Harpy, the mage and stalker among the adventurers had already frozen in place obediently. But one person hadn’t reacted to Punk’s intimidating pressure… indeed, it was the holy warrior clad entirely in armor.

Under his companions’ horrified gazes, Punk’s surprised stare, and the Harpy’s gleeful shrieks, this holy warrior—radiating golden light with bloodshot eyes—actually launched a sacred battle aura blade directly at Punk.

The sharp battle aura blade effortlessly sliced through dried branches and leaves in its path, shooting straight toward Punk. The golden glow nearly illuminated the entire woodland, appearing as unstoppable as a divine weapon descending from heaven!

The outcome, however, was utterly predictable. That glittering golden battle aura was casually deflected by another of Punk’s instant-cast mage hands.

“Oh god, man, if you want to die don’t drag us down with you!”

This was what the mage and stalker were thinking.

“What the hell, is this guy trying to get himself killed?”

This was what Punk was thinking.

Watching the holy warrior charge toward him while shouting “For the light!”, Punk felt the world had suddenly become very strange. He knew those divine-serving holy practitioners could be somewhat fanatical and impulsive, but they weren’t supposed to be stupid. Had he actually believed a Harpy’s nonsense? Or was he simply tired of living? Why seek death? Isn’t living better?

Surprised as he was, Punk wouldn’t tolerate an ant’s provocation. He lightly swatted away the suicidal holy warrior, then watched as the barely-alive figure—with nearly every bone broken—struggled to stand up and prepare for another charge.

Punk carefully sensed the magical energy around the holy warrior, and then understood everything.

He paid no more attention to the nearly-dead holy warrior still futilely trying to slash at the mage hand, instead turning his amused gaze toward the apprentice-level mage who was shaking like a leaf.

“Apprentice-level mind spell—Bloody Rage? Quite the teammate who doesn’t value his companions’ lives.”

——————————————

Mig Doka was an apprentice-level mage, and currently he was trembling like a mole caught in an eagle’s talons. The only thing keeping him from collapsing entirely was the reasonably sturdy oak staff he was leaning on.The fundamental reason he was so terrified stemmed from two foolish mistakes he had made during this adventure, mistakes that made him regretful enough to want to stab himself with a knife.

The first was recruiting a Holy Warrior from the Church of Dawn to team up for a mission.

As everyone knows, holy practitioners are peculiar beings who combine the traits of both godly teammates and disastrous liabilities. They are the ones who turn the tide on the battlefield, yet they are also the ones who stir up trouble for no reason and drag their teammates down.

These individuals can sometimes be ideal companions because they never demand payment or loot when purging evil and “heresy.” In combat, they fearlessly charge ahead, never betraying their allies even in the face of immense gains, and they accept unfair tasks without complaint—often even willingly.

Free labor that endures hardship without protest and can be exploited at will—what more could one ask for in a teammate? Their reliability is perhaps only matched by that of alchemical golems.

But one must never forget the disastrously treacherous side of these “good teammates.” If luck is not on your side, they can utterly ruin you to the point where you won’t even have tears left to cry.

When confronting evil and “heresy,” they never consider trivial matters like “power disparities.” Even the weakest Holy Warrior would dare charge at an avatar of an evil deity and swing an axe. During fights, they have no concept of retreat or ambush, and they feel utterly restless if they don’t roar “For the Lord of the Dawn” in a voice loud enough to wake half a castle’s dead pigs before battle.

This disastrously reckless nature makes Holy Warriors both loved and hated by many adventurers. Generally, cautious adventurers would rather recruit an unreliable warrior than team up with an exceptionally unreliable Holy Warrior.

However, Mig, being a greedy mage, clearly did not fall into the category of “cautious adventurers.” Moreover, he had a “sufficient reason” to convince himself as an excuse:

“This is the last time. Next time, I’ll honestly find a warrior to join the team, even if it means sharing some Gold Coins. I swear with my boots that this is the last time I’ll team up with a Holy Warrior.”

Well, Mig had used this excuse many times before. It was strong and sufficient—at least convincing enough for himself.

And this was only the first absurd thing Mig had done. His second act was even more outrageous than this.

In an attempt to achieve the goal of “one warrior serving as two,” he deliberately and skillfully learned the “Bloody Rage” spell. Then, using the excuse of “sparing no cost to strike down evil,” he convinced the stubborn Holy Warrior to accept this spell, which burns away reason and vitality to unleash latent potential.

The outcome, naturally, was tragic. One or two adventures did indeed bring this greedy mage substantial gains, but… this time, he was finally about to face the consequences of his recklessness.

The foolish, self-righteous Holy Warrior, believing he was acting “for the Lord of the Dawn,” volunteered to be enchanted with “Bloody Rage” by Mig before engaging three Harpies.

Under the spell’s influence, the Holy Warrior’s already limited reason and wisdom were completely burned away. At this point, if someone pointed at a rock and declared, “That is heresy,” this maddened Holy Warrior would likely charge forward and hack at it wildly.Now that his enemy was loudly addressing a suddenly appeared figure as master, the Holy Warrior, whose mind was reduced to a chaotic frenzy, swung his sword without a second thought at his seemingly invincible foe.

“All for the Lord of the Dawn”!

Amid the Holy Warrior’s final roar of lost sanity, Punk’s “Kinetic Burst” blasted him into minced flesh.

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(End of Chapter)