The majestic and dignified archangel now seemed like an incredibly fragile glass object that had been struck by a hammer, shattering into countless tiny fragments. These fragments then scattered into the air, breaking apart into countless white light spots, which rose and transformed into a fine light rain, slowly spreading throughout the entire Glory Fortress. The pure, peaceful white magic spread out.
This was similar to the white light rain the archangel summoned when battling the fire phoenix, but this time, the light rain created by the archangel himself was denser and stronger. The vibrant life force of the white magic surged through the space. If it weren't for the orcs' bloodthirsty howls and the fierce battle of flames, sword lights, and shadows around them, this sacred, peaceful, and life-filled atmosphere would have felt like heaven.
"Universal Salvation?" Stephen raised an eyebrow. "…Meteor Shower, Guardian Angel, the Dimensional Gate... I'm fortunate today to witness four legendary top-tier spells."
Inham said, "This is the opportunity I've been waiting for. Please, go ahead and make your move."
Stephen didn't respond immediately, only giving a slight smile as he watched the light rain fall from the sky. "Did you expect that Magnus would desperately use this white magic forbidden spell in the end? I truly admire you... I've never admired anyone like this before."
"Not really," Inham replied. "I never thought he would hold on long enough to completely block the Meteor Shower and then destroy the Dimensional Gate. That was beyond my expectations. I actually thought he would save some energy and just use Universal Salvation and be done with it." Inham's voice became a little anxious. "Please, Master Stephen, hurry up and take action. Magnus seems to be running out of energy, and this Universal Salvation won't last much longer. I'll go get the scepter for you right away."
"Don't worry, it'll be fine," Stephen said with a faint smile, then turned and walked toward the basement.
Inham gave a deep glance at Stephen's retreating back before turning and running in the opposite direction.
Soon, Stephen returned to the basement. Jarvis still lay motionless on the bed, while the two Death Knights remained piled up in the corner.
Even in the air of this underground room, the intense white magic from the Universal Salvation spell still lingered. This was a forbidden spell of white magic, far surpassing any healing spells a white mage could cast. Originally, this ultimate range healing spell would burn the caster's life force to use, but now it was being unleashed through the immense mental power and white magic of the Archangel as it dissipated, rivaling the magical power of dozens, even hundreds, of top-level mages like the Pope.
The Archangel was no longer present, and the Pope was unconscious. The magic no longer had a caster to control it, but the vast white magic still persisted in the space. The power would resonate with those skilled in white magic, automatically healing any wounds on their bodies. As long as they weren't dead, anyone in the presence of such a massive healing spell would recover.
In such an environment, the modification surgery for Jarvis was, of course, easily completed. All the life force within Jarvis's body had been severely disrupted by Sandru, to the point where even the Universal Salvation spell couldn't automatically heal him. However, with a necromancer skilled in the human body present, that was a different story.
But Stephen furrowed his brows as he looked at Jarvis, not immediately taking action. He was hesitating.
Although he had known Inham for only a few days, he had learned a lot about him. From the mouths of other necromancers, Stephen had heard about this young man, who had once served as the acting guild leader. One word summed him up: profound. And after witnessing everything that had happened in the square earlier, his impression had deepened even further: unfathomable.
It was clear that things that seemed impossible were, under Inham's meticulous planning, happening exactly as he wished. Yet, Inham had never once stepped into the limelight or sought attention. Moreover, his stance always seemed ambiguous—he didn't appear to have any strong desires or clear direction for others to latch onto. It seemed that, as long as the opportunity arose, he would do whatever was necessary.
"Someone who can do anything and everything is definitely not someone you can trust. As an ally, it's the same; right now, it's just a mutually beneficial alliance. But if they become your enemy later, it's even worse. If they want to deal with you, they'll make sure you never know. By the time you realize, it'll be too late for you to do anything about it.
And the son he wants to heal is no small matter either. If he heals him, their mutual exploitation ends right there. It's hard to say what might happen in the future.
He needs a solid plan to keep this father and son in check. Of course, it would be even better if he could turn the tables and control them. But where could he find such a plan or opportunity? The key is that he seems to have no choice but to heal this disabled son right now.
Stephen furrowed his brows, reached out, patted Jarvis's face, and sighed, saying, "Kid, you're lucky I didn't learn Shante's tricks. I really wanted you to be my subordinate... but unfortunately, there's no way to do that now…"
A voice suddenly echoed: "There is a way."
"Who's there?" Stephen jumped up suddenly, as if stabbed in the rear, his agility completely out of proportion to his age. A dark, swirling magical aura surrounded him.
On the square, the orcs had just snapped out of their stupor from the shock of the angel's blow. The god-like force of the strike had only stunned them momentarily, and they quickly regained their fury, spreading out in all directions to continue their assault.
Dong, Dong. In the rear hall of the Glory Hall, several priests began striking a giant crystal bell. It was a sound that had never been heard since the establishment of the Glory Fortress—this bell was meant for summoning aid.
No matter how loud the bell rang, it couldn't reach the far-off Celeste. But in cathedrals across the nations, including the Magic Academy, there was a bell tuned to resonate with this one. And at this moment, those bells began ringing in unison. Anyone who heard the sound knew it was the call to action—elite forces from all the faith-based nations would rush to Celeste at the fastest possible speed. That would be an army of over a hundred thousand soldiers.
However, even the fastest part of the hundred-thousand-strong army would only arrive half a day later. By that time, the Glory Fortress had already turned into a hellish battleground. Everywhere, there were screams, the roars of orcs, explosions, bodies, blood, and death, all blending together in a chaotic, boiling mess. Even the holy light rain of Universal Salvation, which had been maintained in the sky, could not diminish the slaughter and bloodshed that had engulfed the entire castle.
Though the dimensional gate had been forcibly interrupted by the archangel, a large number of orcs and minotaurs had already crossed through the portal and arrived at the square. Under Lord Borugan's meticulous planning and command, the troops made their way across with the fastest and most efficient means, and the first to enter were all the most elite and powerful orcs.
The weapons of the orcs were all incredibly powerful. Luken's sword, made from the claws of a Behemoth, was considered one of the thinner, more delicate weapons among them. A single swing, if the wielder's strength was enough and the weapon was solid and large enough, could often break through defenses, shattering weapons and sending enemies flying in a bloody mess. Other orcs wielded massive meteor hammers and chain maces, heavy weapons that no sword or blade could withstand. Usually, one strike would turn a victim into a mangled, bloodied heap.
Hundreds of ogres, fully encased in steel armor, were nothing less than moving fortresses. While their movement wasn't fast, they were unstoppable to the swordsmen and priests. The half-inch-thick armor could withstand all attacks, except those from the temple knights. These monsters' bloodthirsty and brutal instincts were fully unleashed. They howled, wielding massive war hammers and battle axes weighing hundreds of pounds with wild abandon. A single hit could tear a person apart, either reducing them to pieces or sending them flying in a completely deformed state.
Among them, two particularly tall ogres wore no heavy armor. They moved through the ranks, wielding strange staffs that emitted powerful support magic. These were ogre shamans, trained by Orford during this short period. With the assistance of these shamans' magic, the other heavily armored ogres became even more relentless, charging forward like a destructive force, unstoppable and crushing everything in their path.
Boom. A thunderous explosion struck one ogre's head, sending armor fragments and its head into the air like fireworks. The headless giant continued to charge forward, staggering two steps before collapsing to the ground, blood gushing from its neck. Only high-level magic could inflict effective damage on these heavily armored monsters.
However, the high-level mage who cast the advanced magic had exposed their position, and two werewolves and a lizardman charged straight at them. Finally, about ten swordsmen and priests had gathered around the mage, barely managing to hold their ground. The mage cast another thunderous explosive spell, causing one ogre to wail and fall to the ground.
Boom! Two giant bulls charged in from the side, trampling the group of swordsmen protecting the mage. The mage didn't even have time to cry out before being crushed into a bloody pulp under the bulls' hooves. The half-orcs riding the bulls pulled the reins, and with a spray from the bulls' mouths, corrosive yellow gas burst out. The two swordsmen who had rushed forward screamed in agony as smoke billowed from their bodies, rolling on the ground.
These giant two-meter-tall animals, though herbivores, were more than a match for even ogres, let alone humans. These tamed vicious beasts rampaged through the Glory Fortress, charging into large buildings, trampling the priests inside, and then smashing through the walls to continue their destruction.
Although the two Behemoths had not fully grown, each had reached a height of five to six meters, and their indestructible claws were enough to tear through any armor. Under the command of the half-orc beastmasters, they swung their massive claws, rampaging through the battlefield. Swordsmen and priests were torn apart like scrap paper, thrown aside with ease.
The plaza had completely become the domain of the orcs and beasts. Even though the healing light rain from the sky was mending the wounds, the swordsmen were in full retreat, scattered and defeated.
Suddenly, a brilliant light flashed across the scene. One of the Behemoths, along with its half-orc beastmaster, was instantly reduced to ash under a fiery explosion. In other directions, flashes of high-level magic continued to light up the sky. After the sudden chaos, those who had managed to regain their composure began organizing an effective counterattack and suppression. After all, this was the Glory Fortress, the foundation of the Church that had been built over centuries.