Chapter 145 Outbreak
The world of the dead should be quiet.
As his exploration deepened, Nova discovered that this vast underground labyrinth was estimated to be at least three hundred years old. It was likely originally an abandoned quarry, with many areas still showing signs of mine collapse—later used to store the remains of those who died from plague, war, and famine. He suspected that the oldest remains were those of civilians who died during the "Black Plague" that broke out during the reign of Cassius I.
The cemetery's tunnels are intricate, with countless rooms and secret chambers, making it easy to get lost without careful observation. Bones are piled high and deep within the walls, perhaps burying millions of dead. Those parts that have recently shown signs of human activity, according to the gods' favored ones, based on "information received on the wind," only account for one-tenth of the entire underground city.
Apart from the eerie, dirty and dark environment, it can really be considered a suitable hiding place.
After killing a group of Sons of Life, the professor saw the captured "sacrifices" - in the end they had to kill them quickly, after all, even the healing spell could not turn the pieces of meat back into humans.
"Are you okay?"
Someone was patting his back gently and continuously. The pale-faced, black-haired young man waved his hands slowly without even raising his head. He looked like he was trying to vomit out his stomach under the immense pressure that was almost mummifying him, but ultimately failed.
"I'm fine." Nova, a little tired, instinctively moved a little closer to the human body temperature beside him: "Don't worry about me, I'll get used to it soon."
"...You don't have to get used to this." Azuka was silent for a moment, and tightened his grip on the other's arm. "As long as you ask, I will take care of everything."
Although he understood the necessity of all this rationally, emotionally, he was still willing to share all the fatigue, pain and guilt in the world with him - but his collaborator was a cautious and suspicious to the point of neurotic monarch, who greedily took all the burdens on himself.
From his perspective, he could only see his old enemy's furrowed brow and slightly trembling eyelashes... He was still young and inexperienced, and even showed a fragile expression because of the overly tragic scene - but he still had a subtle overlap with the bloody tyrant standing on a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood deep in his memory.
"...No, it's only a matter of time." The man's voice returned to calm. The black-haired young man stood up straight and wiped the remaining liquid from his lips with his thumb, expressionless.
He raised his eyes, his smoky gray pupils reflecting everything around him coldly and clearly: "Azuka, this is war."
The war broke out on an ordinary night.
Outsiders were horrified to find that half of the sky in Baita Town was suddenly illuminated by a fire that was brighter and more magnificent than the sunset clouds. The dry winter air caused the fire to expand at an unmatched rate. The raging flames and thick smoke licked the sky, burning the old wooden church and making it groan miserably and tremblingly.
Several judges trapped in the church quickly kicked open the deformed wooden door and ran out, covering their mouths and noses - but they were greeted only by gunshot wounds.
The Judge at the front didn't even have time to don his armor. Blood splattered from his chest, and he collapsed, bewildered. Even a warlock couldn't stop the tiny iron ball hurtling out of the barrel at an average speed of 300 meters per second.
The other judges who reacted immediately tried to cast spells - but what followed was an earth-shaking explosion and an extremely dazzling flash of light. The ancient street bricks were blown everywhere, and the smell of gunpowder filled the air.
A bloody fight.
The townspeople who raided the church were all under thirty years old. Some of them faced the Judges, who were being utterly thwarted by the homemade explosives and flashbangs, and then, using their familiarity with the terrain, began to retreat deeper into the alleys. Others, armed with guns, hid in the homes near the church, occasionally firing back shots to protect their companions.
An enraged Judge aimed in the direction of the bullets. With a deafening roar and screams, half of the two-story building collapsed. When the smoke cleared a little, a bleeding, motionless body was revealed under the collapsed bricks and stones. However, the Judge was also shot through the thigh by a bullet from nowhere and was lying on the ground wailing.
A woman rushed over like a madman and chopped off the injured Judge's head with a kitchen knife, but she herself was blown to death by the Warlock's dying counterattack.
There weren't many judges left in the church; most of the ones who came to support were in the Inquisition. But news of the Church of Light's fall soon spread to the north of the town, and more and more judges rushed to the church where the riot had broken out.
The alarmed sheriffs were somewhat hesitant. The cruelty and inconsistency of the Holy See had also offended some of them. In addition, there were many locals among the sheriffs, and they were not too willing to point their guns at the townspeople they met every day or even had blood ties with for a group of foreigners in white robes.
However, they soon lost the capital to struggle. Several masked men in black quietly climbed up the wall of the Inquisition. Without any negotiation, they tied up the sheriff in charge and threw him in the corner. Guns and ammunition were also collected and piled up in the open space.
One of them squatted in front of the sheriff and patted his face with a smile: "Sir, I'm sorry, these artillery batteries have been requisitioned by us!"
"What are you doing?" the leading sheriff cursed incoherently, "Are you planning a rebellion?!"
He looked down from the towering city wall - the silent crowd and the flickering torches were like a silent, glittering river flowing from the ground.
"Don't talk nonsense." Daniga shrugged his shoulders. "We just want to rescue our compatriots who are imprisoned by the Church. Look, aren't you still alive and well?"
"...The key to the prison is in the locked drawer in the third room from the left on the second floor. It's kept by a judge named 'Castor.'"
A trembling voice sounded. Daniga blinked in surprise and looked up with the leading sheriff - the person who spoke was also a sheriff.
"-Are you fucking crazy?!" The leading sheriff was shocked and angry, and shouted at his colleagues.
"The Vatican arrested my daughter and my father," the pale young sheriff replied briefly. "None of them returned home."
No one spoke, and silence spread among the crowd.
After a long moment, the leading sheriff suddenly exhaled, closed his eyes dejectedly, and collapsed. "...These guns have been here since my first day working here. You youngsters don't know how to use these old things—let me go, put the gun to my forehead, so I'll 'have' to teach you how to use them."
The judges who rushed to the church for support quickly realized something was amiss. The winding, narrow streets were eerily silent. One of the people they were following behind suddenly vanished without a sound, and their body was found on the next street corner.
The judges became completely alert. With a low chant, a barrier with flashing runes appeared around them, trying to resist the unknown danger.
However, this failed to completely thwart the attacks from the shadows. Improvised explosives and Molotov cocktails dropped from above disrupted their formation. Although the attackers were quickly killed by the light chains, this seemed to be a signal for bullets to rain down from all directions. The attackers occupied the surrounding buildings, and the narrow streets greatly limited the use of spells. The Judges were forced to maintain their barriers while casting spells in retaliation—but spells would eventually run out.
"Still can't contact Bishop Miller?!" Amidst the continuous explosions, a judge and his colleagues asked loudly.
He had never felt so frustrated since becoming a warlock. If he could engage in direct combat, he was confident he could easily and instantly dispatch those despicable attackers, whether there were ten or fifty of them, no matter how many came—but until now, they couldn't even see where the attackers were or how many there were. The only thing they could do was attack the surrounding buildings, but the collapsing masonry would also disturb their companions trapped in the narrow streets.
If there were a Lord Prayer-class sorcerer here, they could easily break the impasse. The problem was that Master Dante Matthews had already left White Tower Town, and Master Pavaton Miller was also missing.
A fierce look flashed in the Judge's eyes. He calmed down, and as he chanted, a huge, blinding white beam shot straight into the sky. The resulting blast, centered around him, swept away everything within a fifty-meter radius.
Several attackers who were caught off guard showed up, but before they could escape, they were turned into dust with screams under the dazzling white light.
"Let's go back to the Inquisition." The Inquisitor coughed a few times, wiped the blood from the corner of his lip, and said with a very gloomy face, "The people who attacked us are townspeople. They must have wanted to take advantage of the chaos to rescue the prisoners in the Inquisition, so they deliberately set the fire to lure us to the Church of Light."
As soon as he finished speaking, a heavy punch landed on his face without warning.
The judge was caught off guard and flew out sideways, with anger and viciousness still on his face. He smashed a deep groove on the ground, and the part that touched the ground turned into minced meat. It twitched a few times and then became completely motionless.
Footsteps could be heard clearly, and a figure slowly emerged from the diffused smoke. The person flexed his wrist lazily, and the other wary judges' faces gradually revealed a look of astonishment.
"……woman?"
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