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Chapter 68:

The Prophet of the Red Flesh stood on tiptoes, her massive body supported in such a manner as she looked down on Isaac with an air of arrogance. Well, “looked” might not be the correct term since she had no eyes.

Only limbs that writhed and twisted were present.

“And this place shall become the new banquet hall.”

A tongue, seemingly impossible to belong to any mouth, slithered out, licking the surroundings.

Isaac let out a shallow groan at the sight of the angel, something he was actually seeing for the first time. The pressure was of a completely different dimension compared to the ancient gods that had dwindled in power. It was a stark reminder of the vast gulf between angels and humans, and this was just a fraction of her full power.

The cheers from below the rampart had by now died down, and the soldiers were engulfed in a heavy silence. They too were feeling the anomaly that had appeared before them with their entire being.

All the soldiers looking at the Prophet of the Red Flesh smelled blood. Some of them realized that blood was streaming down from their noses. Merely by revealing her form, the Prophet of the Red Flesh had shocked and misled the people.

It would be no trouble at all for the Prophet of the Red Flesh to turn them all into lumps of meat if she so desired.

However, the Prophet of the Red Flesh made no rash movements.

“What do you say, Grail Knight? The morning sun is not only a problem for me.”

Isaac’s strongest weapon was his tentacles. But as she said, in this morning sunlight, Isaac couldn’t use his tentacles in front of so many people. To reveal his tentacles would be to add another monster to this scene.

He didn’t want to reveal his true nature and then rush into a mutual destruction either.

As Isaac remained motionless, the Prophet of the Red Flesh let out a sinister laugh. Having already revealed her true form, she moved her body as if it didn’t matter to her.

With a bang, as if performing ballet, she flexibly swirled her leg, and with a loud noise, Isaac was pushed backward. Isaac noticed that the Sword of Judgment was furiously burning before gradually starting to dissolve. The miracle imbued in the Sword of Judgment couldn’t withstand the pressure and was being eroded away.

On the other hand, only a hairline wound appeared on the foot of the Prophet of the Red Flesh. Even that quickly healed. The Prophet of the Red Flesh seemed to hesitate in her attack towards Isaac as she noticed her red skin drying in the sunlight.

“It seems I can’t enjoy this too much…”

The Prophet of the Red Flesh internally clicked her tongue.

Revealing her true form carried risks. Just by exposing this form in reality, she was expending a tremendous amount of power, and if her body now took damage, it would directly affect her true form in the afterlife.

The Prophet of the Red Flesh thought it was time to switch bodies.

She already had a body prepared for the switch.

Tap, tap, tap.

Her footsteps were quiet yet elegant as she walked on her tiptoes. It was a very slight sound but clear enough to be heard by everyone in the vicinity.

Suddenly, the Prophet of the Red Flesh was standing next to Hesabel.

She was convinced that there was no one present who could stop her now. Unless there was a real priest or paladin capable of performing miracles, the faux paladin before her and the onlookers below were just scraps of meat.

Isaac, having lost even his only weapon, the Sword of Judgment, watched her without moving.

Convinced that it would be safe to switch into Hesabel’s body, the Prophet of the Red Flesh contorted her form, preparing to merge with Hesabel.

Certainly, the body of Hesabel, an heiress of the Ducal family of Gulmar, would accept her power far better than Raela, a mere servant.

[…?]

However, time passed and the possession did not occur.

The moment the Prophet of the Red Flesh felt perplexed, she realized what the problem was.

[You wretch!]

The Prophet of the Red Flesh forcibly grasped Hesabel’s face and pried her mouth open. Instantly, a piece of flesh, untouched and pristine as if never chewed, appeared from within.

Hesabel then spat out the piece of flesh.

***

Plop.

The flesh of the Prophet of the Red Flesh fell to the ground like trash.

For the Prophet of the Red Flesh, this was an inconceivable sight.

Since the inception of the Red Chalice, anyone who tasted the flesh had been unable to reject it. This was not something that could be done through sheer willpower alone.

Ironically, the prophet of the red flesh felt awe towards Hesabel.

As soon as Hesabel spat out the flesh, she drew a dagger and stabbed the prophet of the red flesh. Of course, an ordinary dagger could not harm her.

However, the dagger that stabbed Hesabel’s side was not an ordinary one.

The prophet of the red flesh froze, staring at the dagger lodged in her leg.

The very relic that Hesabel had sought to reclaim.

But it was the same relic that Isaac had handed over to her just before crossing the wall.

It was the Rite of Division.

[Aaaaah!]

For the first time, a scream that had never been heard before burst forth from the mouth of the prophet of the red flesh.

The Rite of Division killed Elil, a living god, and allowed her to be reborn as a true deity. This fact did not make the dagger significantly valuable in itself.

Had it been Raela’s body, which the prophet of the red flesh was merely borrowing, stabbed, it would not have suffered much damage.

But for a mythological being, especially an incarnation of faith itself like an angel, it was a different story.

The prophet of the red flesh suffered a more fatal blow than any attack she had faced before.

The prophet of the red flesh screamed in agony as her head felt as if it were on fire. She violently moved her body, flinging away the Rite of Division and Hesabel. However, she could not escape the gushing blood and burning pain.

Her body started to weaken rapidly.

‘I must escape.’

For the first time, the prophet of the red flesh felt a sense of crisis. The fear of death approached. Of course, even if she died here, her celestial essence would be safe, but if she did not escape quickly, the wounds from the Rite of Division would leave hard-to-heal scars.

However, Isaac had no intention of letting her go easily.

A sharp murderous intent.

The prophet of the red flesh noticed Isaac rushing towards her in just three steps.

In Isaac’s hand was the rusty Sword of Judgment.

[With just that thing!]

Clash! The prophet of the red flesh’s arm and Isaac’s sword collided. Surprisingly, the blade slightly penetrated her skin. The reason the Sword of Judgment had worked so well was because it had been imbued with miracles. But now, there were no miracles left in the sword. It was even worse than an ordinary sword with rust on it.

She might have considered it if it involved tentacles, but such a weapon was inadequate to slay an angel.

She expected Isaac to be flung away or shattered along with his sword.

But that did not happen.

Rumble!

A loud noise echoed as the sword gradually penetrated deeper into the prophet of the red flesh’s skin. With just one collision, in the blink of an eye, as if it had been struck by the sword tens, hundreds of times.

Her already weakened and cracking skin began to break and tear apart furiously as Isaac’s sword invaded. The prophet of the red flesh didn’t understand what was happening but realized it was dangerous and tried to retreat.

But the blade, as if gnawing, followed along with her arm.

‘So it works.’

Isaac smiled triumphantly at this sight.

When he killed the god of wealth, Golruwa, in Seor.

At that time, Isaac had to draw Golruwa deep into himself because he had no means to attack him. Isaac thought he needed to find an attack that would work even against a conceptual being. But for Isaac, who could not handle miracles, it was a difficult task.

Eventually, Isaac found a solution through swordsmanship.

Advanced swordsmanship physically manifests the form of one’s intent.

It was clear that Isaac’s advanced swordsmanship, ‘Isaac Swordsmanship,’ manifested in the form of tentacles.

He succeeded in opening the next stage of Isaac Swordsmanship by consuming the flesh of Owen and Baxter.

Isaac Swordsmanship: Blade Tearing.

Isaac’s sword vibrated fiercely. Inside the blade, invisible to the eye, tiny tentacles rotated, whipping down on the prophet of the red flesh’s body like a saw.

Numerous saw-like tentacles steadily tore and devoured her body.

Isaac had imagined a chainsaw.

A chainsaw made of tentacles and teeth.

It contained the nameless chaotic divine power that Isaac had gathered.

Although it was a faint power, when it attacked hundreds, thousands of times, it exerted tremendous strength.

Crash, Bang!

[Aaaaah!]

With the sound of breaking, the arm of the prophet of the red flesh was severed. Too late, the prophet of the red flesh tried to push Isaac away using her other limbs.

At that moment, Isaac activated the Lighthouse of the Watcher as if he had been waiting.

A radiant halo wrapped around Isaac’s head.

Even the dawn that had just risen paled under the halo above Isaac’s head.

The light emanating from the Lighthouse of the Watcher turned the thorn bushes wrapping the wall into ashes, breaking them down. The unclean and wrongful were expelled, and only the upright and righteous were established.

Isaac was at the center of it all.

The soldiers of Hendrake Fortress regained their senses as if their minds had been cleansed, and the soldiers of Reinhardt witnessed the birth of a new myth. Hesabel was horrified as she saw the approaching blade devouring her flesh.

“The Lighthouse of the Watcher? Why is there another one in this era…?”

She murmured, confused.

No matter the power of the Lighthouse of the Watcher, it cannot influence an angel itself.

For an angel made of faith itself, different rules apply. However, it made it impossible for the prophet of the red flesh to strengthen herself further.

Within the flash, Isaac’s sword, gaining momentum, cut her down more rapidly and powerfully.

Crack, snap, crunch.

It was closer to devouring than slashing. Like cutting down a tree, the limbs of the prophet of the red flesh were chopped off. Amidst the disturbing noise, the prophet of the red flesh lost five limbs in an instant before being flung away.

***

“What, this is, impossible…”

The fallen prophet of the red flesh gasped for breath. She struggled to breathe, like a fish out of water, her throat drying up beyond her skin.

She had revealed her true form for too long. If she couldn’t find a body to possess, she would dry up and d*e like a fish out of water.

Staggering, she belatedly sought her discarded flesh. If she could force anyone to consume it and change bodies now, she might have time to escape.

[Aaaaah!]

But what she saw then was Hesabel politely picking up the flesh and offering it to Isaac. The prophet of the red flesh, in a last desperate effort, charged at Isaac.

“No, no!”

But Isaac confidently grasped the flesh in front of her eyes. The tentacles in his left hand swiftly emerged, instantly crushing the flesh.

The scream of the prophet of the red flesh horrifically echoed over the walls.

After finishing his feast, Isaac slowly walked forward.

The prophet of the red flesh, with her few remaining limbs, tried to maintain her balance but began to collapse one by one. She had neither the will to fight nor the strength left.

She barely maintained her form with a shred of pride.

It was only a matter of time before she, unable to find a body to possess or flesh to use as a medium, vanished.

“You may think you have won.”

Even as she crumbled, the prophet of the red flesh whispered a curse.

Though she was fatally wounded, this was only a fraction of the power of an angel, and the essence would grind its teeth in the afterlife, vowing revenge.

Angels rarely reveal their true forms unless summoned or appearing as messengers of a deity. Therefore, most deaths end with the demise of an agent or a possessed individual. Especially for the prophet of the red flesh, who enjoyed conspiracies, this kind of death was a first.

“Do you… do you even understand what you have done? You will regret this day in the future.”

Her words were not mere bravado or a warning. An angel is an agent of God’s will. Powerful in itself, if damaged enough to harm the essence, there will surely be consequences.

Unless protected by a strong divine blessing, it could threaten one’s life.

But Isaac, with a smirk, looked at the prophet of the red flesh.

“Do you think all this happened by chance?”