Chapter 53: The Abnormal Beginning

The once-crowded rooftop was now left with only the sound of wind, the distant clash of battle, and two figures locked in confrontation.

The thought burned like a brand in Faluhel’s mind.

He must not be allowed to escape!

She knew all too well the consequences of letting the tiger return to the mountain.

Everything done today—exposing the traitor, setting the trap, urgently mobilizing the troops—would be wasted.

Worse still, a Demon Apostle who understood the deployment of Arslan’s royal city and her way of thinking, if allowed to return, would bring a disaster the royal city could never withstand.

Faluhel took a deep breath.

The cold air stabbed into her lungs.

She gripped the fine steel longsword she’d taken from a city guard tightly in both hands.

Without the slightest hesitation, Faluhel moved.

Her figure left behind a faint afterimage of ice crystals, and in the next instant, she had closed the distance to Zeheriel.

No grand magic.

Just swordsmanship honed over years of battle, combined with the most refined magic.

“Clang!”

The fine steel longsword collided with Zeheriel’s hastily formed claw of dark magic, sparks flying.

Faluhel’s wrist flicked, the blade darting like a serpent’s tongue along the edge of the magic claw toward Zeheriel’s wrist.

Zeheriel gave a cold snort, drifting back like a wraith, narrowly avoiding the blade and the chill.

He admitted he had underestimated this woman, but underestimation was not the same as fear.

“Futile struggle.”

His voice was mocking, broken by the night wind.

“Divine Favored, do you really think a piece of scrap iron can bridge the absolute gap between us?”

“Your holy sword, Frostsnow Draw, is now deep within the Silent Root, being corroded day and night by the foul breath of the Earthvein. Soon, it will become a powerless relic—just like you.”

Faluhel paid him no heed.

Her gaze was as cold as the unmelting ice of the far northern sea.

Her attack had been avoided, but she felt no discouragement; instead, her offensive grew fiercer.

Each strike was faster than the last, sword light tracing snowy afterimages in the darkness.

She no longer sought a killing blow, but focused all her power and magic on suppression.

Every sword targeted the gaps where Zeheriel might dodge or cast, the faint holy magic on the blade not enough to wound deeply, but enough to disrupt the gathering of his dark magic.

Ice spikes, wind blades, light arrows…

Powerful spells once easily wielded were now broken down into the simplest, swiftest elemental forms, launched from cunning angles like throwing daggers woven into swordplay.

For a moment, the rooftop was a storm of sword aura and flying ice.

Zeheriel was forced to retreat under the unrelenting assault.

“You…!”

Zeheriel’s face twisted in fury.

This was a life-and-death style.

Faluhel cared nothing for her magic consumption, nor whether the fine steel sword would shatter from the strain; her only goal was to give Zeheriel no room to breathe.

“Clang! Clang! Clang!”

Amid the sharp metallic clashes, cracks began to appear in Zeheriel’s defense.

He was no close combat specialist.

Pressed by a master swordsman, his powerful summoning arts were useless.

He tried to retreat, but Faluhel shadowed him relentlessly, the longsword’s determined will forcing him back again and again.

“Enough!”

At last, Zeheriel was truly enraged.

A sharp roar burst from him as a wave of dark energy exploded outward.

The force tore Faluhel’s sword from its path and hurled her several meters back.

“You’ve succeeded in angering me, mortal!”

Beneath Zeheriel’s pale skin, dark veins writhed.

He slowly raised his right hand.

In his palm, a sphere of pure shadow began to form.

“I’ve changed my mind. I won’t just make you despair—I’ll make you watch as everything you guard is turned to hell before your eyes!”

It had reached the most dangerous stage.

Each breath sent sharp pain stabbing through Faluhel’s chest wound, as if an icy spike was slowly stirring her flesh.

“Look at you, Divine Favored.”

Zeheriel’s pale skin gleamed like porcelain under the moonlight.

“Without Frostsnow Draw, you’re a snake with its fangs torn out, left to useless struggle. The royal capital you cherish, the people you swore to protect—they’re now your weakest points.”

His words slithered into Faluhel’s ears like venom, each syllable hammering her taut nerves.

“Shut up.”

Faluhel’s voice was hoarse and cold.

She used the fine steel longsword taken from the guard to support herself, the trembling in her arm making the blade rasp faintly against the stone floor.

“Oh? Angry, are you?”

Zeheriel laughed softly.

“Your anger is meaningless. It will only hasten your defeat.”

“Soon, I’ll claim the Prophecy Stone, and then…I’ll make you witness the carnage as everything you once held dear becomes a blood-soaked revel.”

Zeheriel’s attention never wavered from Faluhel.

He knew the monsters he summoned could overwhelm all the magic girls—but as long as he dealt with the biggest threat before him…

Yet at that moment—

“Boom!”

A deep, heavy crash echoed from the foundations of a nearby building.

At once, the entire tax office and the ground around it began to tremble violently.

This wasn’t the shock of a magical explosion.

It was more like some unimaginable leviathan was marching beneath the earth.

“Boom! Boom! Boom!”

The tremors grew stronger and faster.

The triumphant smile froze on Zeheriel’s face.

He stared in disbelief toward the source—the direction of the Golden Iris Hotel.

This power was wild and chaotic, filled with primal rage—unlike any magic or creature he knew.

Before anyone could react to the sudden upheaval, a thunderous roar tore through the night sky of the royal capital.

The massive, reinforced doors of the Golden Iris Hotel’s underground vault, built to withstand siege weapons, burst outward as if struck by a giant cannon!

Fragments of stone and twisted metal became deadly shrapnel, scattering in every direction.

Then, before everyone’s stunned eyes, enormous bloated figures—each as large as a small siege tower—began to squeeze out of the dark opening one after another.

They were…

Lesser Dragons!