Chapter Twenty-Five: The Sacred Flame Anti-Demon Bazooka

In a small town within the Daina Territory, the atmosphere was electric with excitement; the whole settlement echoed with raucous laughter and boisterous shouts. No longer did stern knights guard the town gates, and on the streets, countless squat figures dashed and frolicked, tussling and gnawing at one another.

The shops lining the streets had been smashed to pieces, their wares scattered across the ground. Little green men stood upon stalls, rafters, and within the ruins of houses, gnawing on bloody chunks of flesh—arms, legs, ears—faces alight with intoxicated ecstasy.

Dark, crimson stains splattered every inch of the town—on floors, tables, pillars, walls, and dripping from the mouths of the green imps.

At the heart of the town square, upon blood-red flagstones, a ghastly tableau unfolded: a mountain of corpses, heaped together in a grotesque mound. Shredded meat and ruined limbs piled high, each piece bearing the unmistakable bite marks of some toothed creature. Dark blood seeped and flowed ceaselessly, as if the supply was endless.

Some corpses were more intact, arranged atop the ghastly heap; their faces twisted in agony, frozen in grotesque, maddening poses. Around this deranged hill swarmed the green imps, their exaggerated mouths split wide to reveal rows of sharp fangs. Their faces beamed with crazed delight, yellow, cavernous pupils blazing with fanaticism, and they muttered hoarse, grating incantations.

A cacophony of shrieks—high and low, harsh and guttural—rose together, like the whispers of false gods, saturating the entire town.

High above, in the bell tower at the town’s center, three figures huddled in a corner, peering down warily at the hellish spectacle below. Their faces were concealed by black cloths, and they wore leather armor with swords at their hips, unmistakably thieves by trade.

They had been dispatched by the Hunters’ Guild to investigate the green demon plague. But no sooner had they arrived than the horde descended, and the town fell in less than half an hour.

The green demons came in overwhelming numbers, flooding in from all directions. The ten-meter earthen wall was flattened beneath their corpses as wave after wave poured into the town, trampling their fallen kin.

The trio had no chance to escape, forced to take refuge in the clock tower.

Suddenly, a bright cry pierced the sky.

Instinctively, they looked up to see a massive blue eagle soaring overhead. “What’s that?”

The great eagle swooped down, carrying three figures: one astride its back, the other two clinging to its talons.

One was a hunter—an elf, fair and handsome, with long pointed ears, clad in leather. Another was a knight in black armor, a greatsword strapped to his back. Seated atop the eagle was a woman in a black mage’s robe and an enormous round hat.

“Wonderful, reinforcements have finally arrived!” The faces in the belfry flickered with hope.

“As I thought—demonic forces!”

When the trio beheld the mountain of flesh below, their faces paled. The black-armored knight’s eyes swept over the abomination and the surrounding green demons; he issued his orders at once: “Fushiu, drop me and Kael down. While the ritual is unfinished, we’ll slaughter those goblin priests!”

The blue eagle parted its beak and spoke: “No problem. I never missed when I tossed Snake-eye back in the day.”

Even before the words finished, the eagle had already plunged above the town. The elf hunter and knight let go, dropping down.

The elf somersaulted gracefully onto a rooftop; the knight crashed to earth like a cannonball, instantly smashing several green demons into pulp.

Sensing the arrival of enemies, the green tide surged forward, gnashing and clawing, an emerald wave of fury.

The knight’s sword danced, blazing arcs of steel spinning him like a tornado, flinging limbs and blood in every direction.

The archer leapt from roof to roof, loosing arrow after arrow—each shaft threading through goblin after goblin as if stringing gourds.

Riding the eagle, the mage raised her staff, conjuring the arcane architecture in her mind. Invisible forces gathered at the staff’s tip, and a fireball slowly took shape, swelling ever larger.

“Burn.”

With a gentle command, the massive fireball plummeted, blasting a gap in the green tide.

Seizing the chance, the black-armored knight launched forward, crossing dozens of meters in an instant and landing atop the grotesque mountain of flesh.

Gripping the hilt of his sword, he planted his stance and drew the massive blade behind him, pouring a peerless force into its edge.

“I’ve got it!” A flash of joy crossed the knight’s face. If he could sever those twisted corpses, the demon could not descend.

Crack!

Suddenly, the deranged hill quivered as though infused with life, emitting a sibilant, inarticulate hiss and the sound of snapping bones—it opened its eye!

Atop what passed for a head, a single eye dominated, occupying ninety percent of the face. The pupil, dwarfed by its monstrous socket, was not the black or blue of mortal eyes, but a cursed, evil white—the color of upturned fish belly or a corpse long soaked in water, radiating a putrid, wicked aura.

Every heart skipped a beat.

A low, buzzing chorus of false gods seemed to whisper at their ears.

Everyone froze for a moment—in that brief second, life and death hung in balance.

The black-armored knight blinked, wind howled, and a dark shadow engulfed his vision.

Bang!

A foul, pallid leg, reeking of corruption, slammed into his face, sending him flying like a ragdoll and plowing a furrow through the green sea.

He somersaulted, jamming his sword into the ground to halt his retreat.

Looking up, he saw the attackers: those twisted corpses, now risen as ghouls—undead monstrosities possessed by the demon, neither living nor dead.

Terror flooded every face; despair welled up in their eyes.

They were paralyzed.

The ghouls, like puppets seized by invisible strings, began to dance—mad, terrifying motions, a dance of evil itself. With each step, every heart pounded, threatening to burst.

Suddenly, the dance stopped, and the suffocating grip on everyone’s throat vanished.

Ratatatatata!

From the sky came a rising roar—chaotic, mechanical thunder. In a blur, massive black shapes swooped into the town from beyond the gates.

Gigantic spiral horns whipped up gales.

They were jet-black steel beasts, with something spinning at dizzying speed atop their heads.

The cacophony, the cold metallic bodies, and the gale from above made everyone—green demons included—hold their breath.

These were things none had ever seen before, far beyond their understanding. Though they radiated no menace, their presence was overwhelming.

Qin Le unlatched the cockpit, hefting a rocket launcher, aiming at the hideous mound of flesh. With a wry smile, he called out, “Know what this weapon is? The manual anti-demon holy flame—cleanses all manner of evil spirits!”

The rocket streaked away, trailing brilliant fire, and struck the mound.

Boom!

A deafening explosion shook the heavens. The blast engulfed the mountain, and the so-called holy flame for exorcism consumed the ghouls.