I am the heroine's godfather!

Page 108

The Elf Forest is vast, the size of a country, and contains several cities. Therefore, the Church of the Evil God would never choose to openly break through to the gates of Tina City.

Traveling light and heading straight for the heart of the enemy—this is the only path they can choose. Otherwise, launching a full-scale war would definitely attract the attention of the Papacy, especially Messiah within the Holy City.

Once Messiah decides that this is an event requiring her personal intervention, then the Church of the Evil God's schemes will all fall apart.

The Church of the Evil God is actually quite powerful now, with an Abyss Pope at the peak of the eighth rank, and five other popes who, after awakening, fully accepted the favor of the Evil God and became seventh-rank popes.

Based solely on this data on paper, they could completely destroy a country.

Even so, despite such formidable power, the Church of the Evil God still dared not show its face.

This is the power of a demigod, this is the power of a god among men.

"This is the 'Seven Days of Decline and Flourishing'..."

Estia spoke softly beside him. Her long, emerald-green hair was lifted by the night breeze, revealing a pair of emerald eyes that never left the ancient tree.

Her fingers unconsciously rubbed the bowstring, a small gesture she made when she was nervous.

Loran glanced at her sideways. Estia rarely expressed her emotions directly, but the emotions she displayed on the night they arrived at the Elf Forest a few days ago had already surprised him enough.

It seems that Estia has changed a lot compared to the aloof elf princess he remembered from when the adventure first began.

"Three days after the start of the ceremony, the ancient tree of elves will wither completely and turn into the 'seed of withering and flourishing'."

Estia continued, "But the apostles of the Tree of Death will not wait until then—they will probably begin their attack on the very first day."

"Then, you reach the peak on the third day, right?"

Loran picked up the conversation, and Estia nodded.

As if to confirm her words, a sharp screech suddenly came from afar. Loran's pupils contracted—dark purple mist was seeping from the edge of the forest, cracking tree bark, rotting vines, and even turning glowing fireflies to ashes and falling in a flurry.

"Enemy attack!!!"

The shouts of the elven guards echoed from below the watchtower.

Estella instantly nocked an arrow and drew her bow, sending a hurricane-swirling arrow hurtling through the air and dispersing the initial mist. Loran, meanwhile, drew his "Sanctuary Judgment" sword from his waist, his fingers flying across the blade as he wrote something, the golden characters gleaming on its surface.

Holy Art: Dispel!

He raised his longsword high, and a soft holy light shot straight into the sky, then transformed into a rain of light that fell on every elven warrior, turning into a faint golden glow.

"Follow me!"

Estia leaped off the watchtower, her toes lightly touching the branches, and rushed towards the battlefield like a shooting star. Loran followed closely behind, but suddenly turned around in mid-air—a figure shrouded in black robes emerged from the mist, withered fingers aimed straight for his back!

"clang!"

The longsword clashed with the bone claws, sparks flying. Loran gasped at the face beneath the black-robed man's hood—it wasn't a human face at all, but a mask woven from countless writhing tree roots, dark green slime seeping from its gaps.

“Apostle Apostle…”

Loran narrowed his eyes. He had never met the followers of the Tree of Death directly before, but he recognized the man's scent at a glance.

The stench of decay was exactly the same as that of the elf named Amito whom he and Charlotte had encountered a year ago.

The man in black robes let out a hoarse roar: "Elves, die! Elves, die! Die, live on! Live on!!!"

Before he finished speaking, dozens of thorns suddenly burst open behind him, each covered with barbs and dripping corrosive venom from its tips.

They've completely lost their minds.

Just as Loran was about to finish him off, a blazing wall of fire suddenly rose from the ground, burning the thorns to charcoal.

A bold female voice rang out from the thick smoke: "What are you standing there for!"

With fiery red hair, Lestinger strode into the battlefield, carrying a greatsword stained with the black blood of the evil god's followers. The ruler of Satan's court grinned, revealing sharp fangs: "Elven wine is as bland as water, but it's certainly effective at cutting down cultists!"

"Heh, it's not good to hunt other people's prey indiscriminately."

Loran chuckled, a staff appearing in his left hand as he hurled it at Lestinger.

Lesteen did not flinch at all. The fireball passed over her and exploded behind her, turning the evil god's follower who intended to launch a sneak attack into a blood-red firework.

"Now it's a matter of tit for tat."

"How is that possible? One Apopted Apostle is worth at least ten followers of evil gods."

"Bullshit! A fourth-tier Apoptery Apostle, he's obviously cannon fodder!"

Lestinger cursed, then swung her greatsword, her cloak bursting into flames, her red hair billowing wildly in the night wind. The next moment, she charged into the crowd like a meat grinder.

"They really put in a lot of effort."

The phantom of the fallen angel slowly emerged, with a hint of helplessness: "It's as if I really sent her here to work for the elves."

"Why don't you switch to your original form too?"

As Loran casually cast spells, reaping the lives of the evil god's followers, he spoke.

Lucifer smiled and said, "No need. Even if I came, the elves would never trust me to go to the battlefield."

"After all, everyone knows that fallen angels are treacherous and cunning."

Loran drew his longsword, and Lucifer smiled faintly: "So, I'll have to put in a little more effort, Lord Loran."

"Don't use that disgusting tone."

Lorraine rolled her eyes: "This doesn't suit an old lady like you who's trying to act young."

"Oh dear, that really hurts people's feelings."

Ignoring Lucifer's antics, Loran drew his sword and charged into the battlefield.

With the addition of three saints, the elves naturally won a great victory, and the followers of the Tree of Death fled in panic.

Loran narrowed his eyes.

This first wave of attacks was far too weak; it looked like... a test?

Chapter 184 Victory Banquet and the Pope's Move

A bonfire blazed in the central square of Tinak City, the leaping flames casting a warm glow on the elves' pale faces. Estia leaned against a vine-covered railing, her fingertips tracing the rim of her wine glass, her gaze fixed on the dark edge of the distant forest. The night breeze carried a faint, pungent odor, clashing sharply with the aroma of roasted venison from the feast.

"You clearly won, so why are you still looking so serious?"

Lestinger swaggered over to her, wine jug in hand, his greatsword casually planted in the ground: "Come, try our demon race's specialty, 'Lava Liquor'—one sip will burn your throat!"

Estia glanced at the sulfurous white smoke billowing from the kettle, frowned, hesitated for a long time, and finally refused.

Lucifer's figure appeared from the side: "Only your Satanic court would like this kind of wine."

"Ugh, boring."

Lestinger tilted her head back and gulped down a large mouthful of liquor, which dripped down her chin and sizzled onto her armor: "If you ask me, to deal with those root-faced bastards, we should just storm their lair! Today's attack wasn't even a warm-up!"

Loran emerged from the shadows, tossing a dark purple crystal in his hand—a "corrupted heart stone" that had been peeled from the corpse of the Deathly Apostle.

"Heartstone?"

Estia narrowed her eyes: "It seems that today's attack was probably just a test."

"What are you talking about? What kind of riddle are you trying to solve?"

Lester was completely out of the loop. Lucifer explained, "The Corrupting Stone is a means by which the Church of Death controls apostles. Apostles implanted with the Corrupting Stone will lose their minds and no longer fear pain. It is an excellent consumable."

“意思每^日.发！书，群【6`5,0/5^0”2*3>3.8】是说，凋亡教会的家伙把这群人当炮灰了呗。”

Lesteen sneered, "No wonder you're so weak."

"However, the fact that the three of you made a move together today has probably already attracted the attention of the other side."

Lucifer pondered, "I'm afraid that next time, the other side's strongmen will also make a move, at least to stop you."

"Then let them come!"

Lesteen was naturally not afraid at all.

At the other end of the square, several elven children were singing ancient war songs around a campfire, their innocent voices seeming so out of place against the bloodstains on the distant city walls.

A verdant barrier opened—the elven city's protective barrier. However, without the elven queen and several elders to maintain it, it remained to be seen how long this great formation could last.

Estia gazed toward the sacred tree, her emerald pupils reflecting the illusory outline of the ancient tree. Then, she passed through the illusory array and appeared before her the withered and flourishing seed, suspended in mid-air, emanating a continuous aura of decay.

"The withering of the ancient elven tree..."

She conjured a yellowed leaf from her fingertip, which crumbled into dust before it even hit the ground: "I never imagined I would witness this scene with my own eyes."

"After all, even in the eyes of other races in the world, the ancient elven tree should be eternal."

Lucifer smiled and said, "Now that I know such a big secret, I'm afraid Her Majesty the Queen will prevent us from ever leaving the Elf Forest."

"Ah, a wise person knows what to say and what not to say."

Estia wasn't worried at all.

Loran was silent for a moment, then suddenly turned to look at the night sky. Thick clouds obscured the starlight, but a dark purple streak of light rushed from the north, exploding into a sky full of phosphorescent flames at the edge of the defensive barrier.

"here we go."

At dawn the next day, the tide of corruption returned.

The dark purple mist was several times denser than the previous night, condensing into viscous raindrops that corroded the barrier. The light arrows fired from the elven arrow towers lost their aim the moment they touched the misty rain, as if falling into a quagmire. Loran leaped onto the city wall, a golden six-pointed star blooming at the tip of his staff—Sacred Art: Purifying Rain!

Holy magic is far more effective than other forms of magic against followers of evil gods.

However, without using Messiah's magic, Loran is not very skilled in holy magic, only at a slightly weaker seventh-tier level.

But, this is enough.

Light and decay collided in mid-air, billowing up acrid gray smoke. Taking advantage of the moment, Estia drew her longbow, and seven arrows, wreathed in wind and thunder, shot out in a Big Dipper pattern, tearing a gap in the sea of ​​mist. Behind the gap, hundreds of withered knights clad in bark armor charged over the corpses of their comrades, their eyes not pupils, but crimson seeds of decay and life flickering within them.

"The battle situation has indeed escalated."

Lestinger laughed maniacally as she swung her greatsword, her fiery aura cleaving the front-line knights in two. However, the severed bodies did not fall; new thorns sprouted rapidly from the cuts, tearing nearby elven guards into a bloody mist!

"Shatter the core!"

Loran roared, his sword piercing precisely into a knight's chest, plucking out the pulsating seed. Estia's wind arrow followed closely, pinning the seed in mid-air and detonating it.

As the battle reached a stalemate, the sky suddenly darkened.

It wasn't dark clouds, but countless jet-black feathers. They drifted down gently, only to transform into sharp blades the moment they touched the ground. Dozens of elven warriors were sliced ​​to pieces before they could even scream, their blood soaking into the feathered blades and outlining a grotesque mask.

"This is?"

Lucifer's phantom looked somewhat confused: "Fallen angel magic?"

"Your fallen angel race has such a powerful expert hidden away?"

Loran made a joke, but Lucifer frowned: "No, that's not right. It doesn't seem like the magic of the fallen angels. This aura... why does it carry the aura of the Lord of the Fallen?"

The figure of a woman wearing a golden crown and a gorgeous dress adorned with various jewels slowly emerged, a cruel smile playing on her strangely made-up face:

"Insects, are you ready to face divine punishment?"

Before the words were even finished, the ground suddenly cracked open. Countless pale arms burst forth from the earth, grabbing the elven warrior's ankles and dragging him into the abyss. Rotting tree roots surged from the cracks, and atop the roots stood a middle-aged man clad in tattered holy armor. His left half was a withered human form, while his right half was entirely made of decaying wood, with a crown of thorns deeply embedded in his skull.

"This is?"

Estia frowned. The elves had fought the Apopters of Death so many times, yet they had never seen these two before.

Who are these people? When did the Church of the Evil God gain two more saints? And judging from the situation, these two saints are definitely not weak.

Loran frowned; the faces of these two people seemed vaguely familiar to him.

It seems like I've seen it somewhere before.

Loran had indeed met the two. In the Silver Dragon Secret Realm, although Loran mainly dealt with Adams, he had also met these two—the Gods' Favored Knight and the Unyielding Shield of the Nation's Guardian Knights—once.

However, compared to their counterparts in the Silver Dragon Secret Realm, they are now vastly different in both appearance and temperament, and Loran was able to recognize them immediately.

The withered Pope raised his barkless arm, and the corpses on the battlefield suddenly convulsed and rose to their feet, flesh peeling away like tree bark to reveal stark white bones. At the same time, the Fallen Pope's maniacal laughter echoed through the heavens: "Hahahaha! Is this tattered barrier enough for me to tear apart?"

As the two popes stood side by side, the earth suddenly trembled violently. The thorns of the dying pope pierced the earth, and the entire forest decayed at a visible speed; the fallen pope opened her arms, and the slain elven souls turned into black mist that flowed into the eerie gem on her chest.

The war has just begun.

Chapter 185 Fierce battle!

The decaying tree roots, like giant pythons, ravaged the city walls. The withered pope stood atop the thorn throne, his withered right arm waving lightly, causing the entire battlefield to churn violently. Countless skeletal arms burst from the earth, grabbing the ankles of elven warriors and dragging them into the abyss. Estia leaped into the air, unleashing a barrage of emerald arrows that pulverized the bones, but Lestinger had already transformed into a crimson meteor, hurtling towards the throne.

"Old ghost! Take this sword!"

The greatsword, imbued with molten battle aura, slashed down. The dying Pope's left eye flickered slightly, and a shield wall made of corrupted thorns instantly formed. The moment the axe blade collided with the thorns, the shield wall shattered with a deafening roar, while the flying splinters coiled around Lestinger's arm like venomous snakes.

"Reckless."