Chapter 134: The Fall of the Sacred Ark
Letting a demon breach this place—this sanctum of power and relics—wasn't merely a tactical error. It was an unforgivable humiliation.
The moment the breach was confirmed, headquarters declared swift action: both the Ark and the Sacred Coffin would be extracted immediately.
"What? What do you mean take both?"
"Damn it! The Ark was bad enough—but the coffin too?"
"That's unacceptable!"
The factions stationed at the site bristled with fury. Hands reached instinctively for weapons. Sparks of divine essence sizzled in the air. Tension bloomed into near-violence.
But the commander-in-charge—a lone woman entrusted with the operation—refused to let chaos reign. Calmly, without a word, she unraveled the cloth around the long package she held.
The blade gleamed coldly.
"The Holy Sword…"
One by one, the church members present recoiled. Grim expressions shifted to reluctant silence. Even as their gazes flared with indignation, none dared challenge her authority further.
The relics were secured. Packed discreetly into an unmarked transport vehicle, designed to appear utterly mundane. Flashier means would only invite further attack. There were eyes in the dark that watched for glitter.
She climbed atop the vehicle, her hood drawn low, the Holy Sword resting across her lap.
That's when she felt it—the crawling itch of malevolence.
A chill rose in the midnight wind. Her eyes, sharp and metallic, pierced through the veil of night.
A whistling shriek—she spun and slashed.
A jagged obsidian spike was shattered midair.
Behind the crumbling projectile, a demon emerged. Charcoal-black. Nearly invisible against the sky. She didn't even spare it a word. She turned her back.
And the demon exploded like a ripe fruit.
Another glance to the side. Two more fled.
Let them run.
Her charge lay not in pursuit—but protection. She wouldn't let trivial beasts distract her from safeguarding the relics.
The journey fell silent.
Until the next rendezvous point.
"What? Air transport?"
Her brow creased.
Aerial relocation meant speed—but also fragility. If attacked mid-flight, they'd have nowhere to run. But land convoys were slower, easier to harass.
Orders were orders.
The Ark and the Coffin were transferred again—this time into a plane.
She performed the ritual once more, scanning for malevolent presences. All clear.
The aircraft ascended.
Only then did she allow herself a breath.
Then—the tremor.
Something was wrong.
She lunged forward, grabbing a fellow operative's wrist with terrifying force. Bone shattered. The man howled—then dropped a device into her hand.
A remote.
"What is this?" she demanded.
The man smiled darkly.
"A bomb trigger."
Her blood froze.
Detonate it? Risk instant explosion.
Smash it? Might activate it regardless.
Her lips parted to question—but the agent coughed blood and collapsed. A death sworn follower. He'd expected to die.
She turned.
A sound. Faint. Urgent.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
From beneath the Ark.
She slashed open the floor with supernatural precision. There—nestled inside a hollow—lay the bomb, ticking furiously toward oblivion.
Without waiting, she severed the bindings on both crates and hurled them from the aircraft.
Parachutes activated mid-descent. Reinforced mechanisms ensured soft landing. Or so they hoped.
"I'll follow the Ark. You handle the other!"
Her shout rang through the howling wind.
She dove.
Seconds later—
Boom.
The plane burst into flames above them, devoured in a bloom of fire.
Her gaze flicked mid-descent.
The other relic—the coffin—had been struck. Debris had shredded its parachute.
Damn it.
She gritted her teeth.
This would be a long night.
Chapter 135: My Name Is Solomon
The town was quiet—peaceful. A blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl, dressed in her nun's habit, lay curled on her modest bed near the outer edges of the holy city. Banished from one sacred place, she'd chosen another—seeking one last moment of divine proximity.
Tomorrow, she would kneel before the altar and pray for guidance.
"Good night," she whispered to herself.
Then—
Boom.
The explosion rocked the walls.
She gasped—leapt from bed, heart hammering.
What—what was that?
She remembered hearing rumors. Border tensions. Sometimes, artillery accidentally crossed over. Could that be it?
She threw on her robe, grabbed her crucifix, and rushed outside.
In the blood-red sky, two streaks of fire dropped toward the edge of town. Then more detonations—smaller. Distant. But the first one had landed close.
Too close.
"Miss Nun—this way! Evacuation center!" someone shouted.
"Yes—thank you…" she said, but her eyes wandered, scanning the horizon.
A few dozen meters ahead—ruined trees. Ash. Smoke. A crater.
She moved toward it. Others screamed at her to stop, to turn back. But curiosity burned brighter than caution.
At the crater's center—two collapsed boxes.
One twisted and blackened, barely holding its shape. Like a coffin. But warped. Scorched.
Was it dropped from the sky? Or buried and unearthed by the blast?
She stepped forward.
The shape moved.
Her breath hitched.
Was that a corpse?
No—a person. Rising.
What... what could possibly be in there?
She swallowed. Whispered a prayer.
Should she flee?
Or drive out the evil?
Hands trembling, she clutched her rosary and stared into the darkness.
The figure emerged fully—bloody, bruised, but human.
"Please don't move. I'll heal you," she called out, scrambling down the pit.
The man was barely conscious. Blood soaked his head and arms.
She rushed over—
And promptly crashed into him, sending both toppling back into the crater.
"I—I'm sorry! I didn't mean to—!" she stammered, tears welling.
She stumbled upright again—only to trip and land on her rear.
Her skirt fluttered.
She blushed furiously. "I'm sorry! Really—I'll heal you!"
The man groaned. "If you keep apologizing, I will die."
"Right! Sorry—I mean, yes, healing!"
She pressed her dirtied hands to her robes, wiped frantically, then reached out once more.
Her fingers met his chest—and a soft, emerald glow spread over his wounds.
He exhaled. "Better. Thank you."
She nodded, relieved.
Then explosions sounded again nearby.
She stiffened.
"We need to find shelter," she said urgently. "Are we... at war?"
The man blinked.
"War? Sort of," he murmured. "Though not the kind you expect."
Something told her this night—and this man—were no accident.
And so began the true unveiling of powers long buried.