The figure was very tall, even taller than Inquisitor Vanna. He was also very thin, as if the dark long windbreaker contained only a piece of dried flesh and blood. He was holding a large umbrella in the closed room, and the lowered umbrella shielded the face of the uninvited guest - but with just one glance, the old priest could see the blasphemous and twisted shadow on the other's body.

“The remnants of the black sun?” The old man looked at the figure in astonishment, and then roared, “How dare you step into this sacred library!”

The next second, a loud bang broke the silence in the archives. The old priest had already pulled out the large-caliber revolver from his waist, and the blessed bullet was wrapped in fire and roar. However, perhaps the old man's limbs were too slow, and the figure had already moved before the gunshot - two phantoms suddenly jumped out from the hem of his clothes, the first phantom directly blocked the bullet in mid-air, and the other phantom instantly crossed a distance of ten meters and hit the old priest on the shoulder.

There was a sharp sound of metal friction, and the old priest's body flew sideways and hit a nearby bookshelf. The huge bookshelf shook violently, and countless books and files fell down.

The strange black shadow holding the umbrella took a step forward and walked towards the direction where the old priest landed. A low and chaotic murmur came from its body, and the sound sounded like dirty flesh and blood churning in a boiling pot.

However, the next second, a roar suddenly came from the pile of collapsed books, and then the old priest jumped out from it - a sharp steel sword appeared in his hand. The steel sword made a sharp sound of cutting through the air and slashed fiercely at the figure who invaded the archives.

The invader suddenly stopped, and the black umbrella tilted slightly to block the fierce attack. A series of sparks burst out between the steel sword and the umbrella ribs. Then the old priest turned over and landed on the ground. The long sword turned in an arc without pause, and then tilted from another direction to slash at the invader's side!

The long sword swirled, metal clashed, and the old man's mechanical limbs let out a low and hoarse roar. The storm sword technique that he had honed for decades once again showed its power after many years of silence. The continuous swirling and circular slashes were like continuous waves splashing towards the blasphemous enemy, and between the arcs drawn by the long sword, you can vaguely see layers of illusory waves constantly taking shape - these illusory waves are becoming more and more real, more and more heavy, and finally gradually showing an impact and power like real waves!

The power of the Storm Goddess was filled in the continuous circular slashes. The heavy pressure of the waves was poured into the specially forged steel sword. Every slash of the sword brought with it the fishy and salty sea breeze, causing the surrounding air and ground to tremble slightly.

The black umbrella in the invader's hand was extremely hard, and it remained unshakable even after more than a dozen slashes. However, the figure itself was constantly retreating, and under the impact of the continuous and overlapping waves, it retreated little by little to the edge of a nearby bookshelf. Slightly irritable growls and murmurs came from its body, filled with bewitching power.

But the old priest had already blocked all unnecessary perceptions, and completely ignored the noise made by the invader - he knew that his attack must not stop, and what Storm Swordsmanship required was this continuous pressure, like waves that cannot stop halfway, and these "residues" split from the descendants of the sun all had a power that could not be underestimated. Once the suppression on his side was interrupted, the opponent would break away from the fight in the next second.

At the same time, the old priest was also filled with doubts - how did this blasphemous scum infiltrate this archive? This church filled with the power of the goddess, with countless protective mechanisms and more than a dozen layers of guards from inside to outside, would be blocked even if the Sun's descendants came, so how could they not discover the invasion of a "residue"?

Could it be that... this residue did not enter the church through the normal space-time structure?

At this moment, a sharp sound of breaking through the air suddenly sounded, and the old priest's muscles tensed instantly. This experienced warrior reacted immediately. The sword in his hand did not stop, but slightly adjusted the angle, preparing to meet the invader's sneak attack.

A sharp pain came from under my ribs.

The endless sword light stopped, and the old priest looked in astonishment at the tentacle that pierced his body, watching the blood gradually dripping from the edge of his tattered clothes, the brass prosthesis emitting scorching heat, and the severely worn and rusted gears making a last series of noises and creaking to a stop.

It took another second for the old priest to realize what had happened—he was old.

He and the gears in him are old.

With a disgusting sound, the ugly tentacles shrank back into the invader's clothes little by little. This inhuman creature slowly approached the old man who was using a long sword to support his body and struggling not to fall down. It put down the black umbrella in its hand, revealing a "head" that was constantly expanding and shrinking and deforming, like a blooming flower of flesh and blood. A hoarse voice came from its "stamens".

It was a barely legible common language:

"Go tell your God that this ugly era is over, and the sun will rise from history..."

“History…” The old priest’s body trembled. He hadn’t fallen down yet, but he was no longer able to raise his sword. Suddenly, he realized, “You have polluted history?!”

The invader seemed to smile, even though it was just a blooming flower of flesh and blood, and there seemed to be a hint of smile in its trembling "petals" and disordered teeth: "On the day the fire started, everyone's wishes were fulfilled."

The old priest slowly lowered his head, and the life force quickly faded from his aged body. He seemed to have finally given up his struggle in the world and began to calmly wait for the arrival of the final moment.

The intruder seemed quite bored with this result. It opened its umbrella again and prepared to leave.

However, in the next second, the roar of metal friction suddenly sounded, and the noise of gears turning and oil pump pressurization came again from the mechanical prosthesis that had completely stopped. The invader turned around in astonishment, only to see a sword light coming at him rapidly.

"Please bear witness!"

The old priest let out a roar and slashed at the invader's body with the steel sword without hesitation. This time, there was no black umbrella to block it and no tentacles to interfere with it. The sword blade, with all its strength, directly cut through the enemy's body like tearing a rag.

The invader was stunned and was split into two parts by the sword, and his two bodies fell to the ground.

However, the next second, the two severed bodies suddenly made disgusting sounds of flesh and blood squirming, and countless tiny fleshy tentacles spread out from the inside, and began to move closer to each other and reassemble.

The invader was reshaping itself bit by bit, and angry growls were emanating from its body.

The old priest had already lowered the tip of his sword, and his body slowly fell to the ground. With his cloudy eyes, he watched the invader stand up again little by little, and a relieved smile appeared on his face.

He knew that his last bit of strength could not kill this monster. Even its remnants were the remnants of the Sun's offspring, and it was far from something a dying and aging guardian could contend with with just a steel sword. But at least, he proved his loyalty to the goddess before he died.

The storm has been witnessed, it's time to end it.

The invader stood up again, and in anger, tentacles filled with polluting power spread out from its body, with sharp teeth on the edges of the tentacles.

In the old priest's sight, he saw a fire behind the invader, a fire in the archives, and the entire church was burning in fire.

The statue of the goddess collapsed in the distance.

A Pland that was completely burned by flames was emerging in his vision, and a historical branch of "the sun fragments successfully landed, and Pland's defenders were annihilated" appeared in his eyes.

The old man's consciousness gradually sank in this polluted branch of history, but suddenly, he saw something else out of the corner of his eye.

A cluster of dark green flames was spreading vaguely in the raging fire. Along the gaps between light and shadow, along the phantoms of the rising flames, the dark green flames split and flowed everywhere.

Behind a collapsed bookshelf nearby, a cluster of green flames seemed to suddenly "smell" something and rushed over suddenly, pouncing on the invader who was about to deliver the final blow like a hound discovering its prey.

The old priest watched all this in confusion, his consciousness was floating between reality and illusion, he could hardly tell whether what he saw was reality or illusion. He saw the invader suddenly enveloped by green flames, his body containing the power of the offspring of the sun melting quickly like wax. He heard the other's dying scream echoing throughout the archives, filled with unbelievable madness and terror.

Then everything became quiet.

The sea of ​​fire subsided, and the polluted history temporarily returned to the depths of the curtain. This archive located between two historical branches fell into silence, with no one visiting and no one coming.

Only an old man who died in battle with a sword was lying quietly on the ground, his half-open and half-closed eyes looking into the distance. In one eye, he reflected the safe and surviving Plande, and in the other eye, he reflected the historical branch of the sun's destruction of the world.

And he was no longer any of them—he had neither died in the fire nor survived it.

The gradually cooling blood flowed out from under the old priest's body. As if controlled by a powerful will, the blood quietly flowed on the ground, condensing into a string of footprints, slowly extending to the administrator's console not far away...