610 “New Life”
In the face of the infant’s cries, which gradually weakened him, Lumian teleported immediately to Father Montserrat’s side, launching a powerful attack to disrupt the impending impact.
Yet, in that very moment, he observed the Pride Armor freezing in place upon hearing the infant’s cry. Suddenly, it crouched down and plunged the Sword of Dawn into the ground covered in dark weeds.
Dammit! Directly employing Hurricane of Light? Lumian’s scalp tingled. Without bothering to confirm, he shifted the teleportation destination, vanishing into the darkness of the illusory oak tree, and reappeared on the ship’s deck.
He had long recognized that Father Montserrat’s weed wilderness was inferior to the Madames’ Paramita. It failed to sever the deep connection between the inside and outside, nor could it prevent teleportation. Its sole capability was restraining various sounds and the aftermath of battle, akin to the Bottle of Fiction, if not less. Nonetheless, this wilderness had unique abilities.
As Lumian’s figure faded into the dark wilderness, the Sword of Dawn embedded in the ground by the Pride Armor shattered, transforming into countless light fragments, creating a formidable storm that engulfed the area.
The plump wheat-filled weeds were sliced into pieces, leaving the ground barren.
Father Montserrat, perched on the oak branch, couldn’t dodge in time. He only managed to manifest his body into something resembling wood before being consumed by the Hurricane of Light.
The illusory, hollow cry of a baby abruptly ceased.
When the Hurricane of Light subsided, Father Montserrat stood frozen in place.
In the next moment, his wood-like body, covered in brown bark, split open, revealing deep crevices.
Pa, pa, pa. Father Montserrat’s body fell to the bottom of the oak tree, piece by piece. The incisions were smooth, and blood seeped out.
Flesh and blood were instantly absorbed by the illusory oak tree’s roots, leaving nothing behind.
In the middle section of the oak tree, the bark split open. Squirming, moist flesh grew out, expanding into a hole.
A human head appeared, squeezed and ejected.
In the blink of an eye, the naked human was “born” by the illusory oak tree. It was Father Montserrat.
He retained his adult form, his body wet and partially covered in a dirty, translucent white membrane.
New life!
With the aid of the weed-covered darkness, the illusionary oak tree, and the invisible baby, Father Montserrat found a new lease of life!
His brow smoothed, and his eyes regained a youthful gleam. Enormous bat-like wings, shrouded in dark skin, erupted from his back, propelling him from the heart of the colossal oak to his silver-white full-body armor.
The Pride Armor rose, summoning light into its hand, forging a sharp spear.
Launching the elongated lance with relentless force, it sliced through the air, embedding into Father Montserrat’s chest.
Father Montserrat’s bat-like wings enveloped him, and his form shattered into palm-sized black bats.
In a mesmerizing dance, the bats circled behind the Pride Armor, reforming into Father Montserrat, adorned with a grimy membrane.
Father Montserrat’s body expanded, morphing into a colossal bear. From his palms sprouted sharp claws etched with enigmatic patterns.
With a forceful swipe, he etched five deep gouges onto the Pride Armor’s back, unveiling its hollow interior.
The Pride Armor froze, and the air itself seemed to still.
Before Father Montserrat could launch another assault, he noticed the silver-white full-body armor pivoting without warning.
Condensing hammers, axes, and flails made of light, it slashed at Father Montserrat frenziedly.
Father Montserrat lowered himself, shrinking to the cleared ground, inching towards the illusionary oak tree.
The ground beneath him caved, forming a rift.
In that moment, Lumian, sensing the end of the Hurricane of Light, teleported back into the darkness.
To his surprise, Father Montserrat stood unscathed, devoid of the brown priest’s attire.
Undeterred, Lumian retrieved the Symphony of Hatred bone flute from his Traveler’s Bag.
Seizing the moment while the Pride Armor entangled Father Montserrat, preventing the transmission of sound to the outside world, Lumian aimed to play a melody learned from Port Santa’s various celebrations—composed by a Church of Earth Mother Saint for a bountiful harvest.
Typically, Lumian would don the Flog boxing gloves, “teleport” closer, stimulate some desire or emotion in Father Montserrat through a punch, and then play the Symphony of Hatred to trigger Flog’s aftereffects. However, Lumian abandoned this well-practiced routine.
The peculiar illusionary oak tree on the battlefield gave him pause. Father Montserrat had carried an invisible baby, possibly a Child of God. Wearing the Flog boxing gloves could attract attention and danger.
If the Great Mother perceived it and allowed the Child of God to breach the illusory-reality barrier to confront him, the consequences would be dire!
Moreover, Lumian suspected that heretics like Montserrat harbored evident psychological issues, making their mental states unpredictable. Playing the Symphony of Hatred directly could exploit this vulnerability, much like how he and Mr. K detested hearing others play the Symphony of Hatred.
Uncertain about which weakness might be triggered or the ensuing changes, Lumian planned to roll with the uncertainties.
Just as Lumian raised the Symphony of Hatred to his lips, an eerie chill crawled down his spine.
“Waaa!”
The spectral baby’s cries reverberated, mere inches from him.
“Hehe, hehe.”
The baby’s cries morphed into laughter, as if engaged in an intriguing game with Lumian.
An inexplicable stiffness gripped Lumian, freezing him momentarily.
A cold aura infiltrated his body, spreading gradually to his abdomen.
As his life began to ebb away, merging with the cold aura, the baby in his ear oscillated between mournful wails and gleeful laughter.
Without hesitation, Lumian plunged his consciousness into his right hand, activating Blood Emperor Alista Tudor’s residual brand.
A violent and frenzied aura erupted from Lumian, enlarging him without relying on his Compression strength. Tangible bloodlust filled the air.
The invisible baby’s cries and laughter abruptly ceased, and the coldness invading Lumian’s body dissipated under the searing sensation. The dark wilderness swayed, casting a faint glow.
Lumian, in control, terminated the activation and blew into the black bone flute with blood-colored holes.
A noticeably jubilant melody echoed, stunning Father Montserrat locked in battle with the Pride Armor.
His face twisted in indescribable agony.
Witnessing the silver armor wielding a staff of condensed light, Father Montserrat instinctively reached out, pointing at the adversary’s feet.
Countless vines, weeds, and tree branches sprouted rapidly, entwining the Pride Armor and impeding its movements.
Amidst the cacophony of crashing branches and tearing vines, the Pride Armor advanced laboriously, slowed by the entanglement.
Father Montserrat locked eyes with Lumian and, in a pained plea, shouted,
“Run!
“The Child of God can’t be killed!”
Run? Wh… Lumian realized Father Montserrat seemed more grounded than before. The warmth in his gaze, the familiarity of home, replaced by agony and conflict.
“Run!
“Repent to Mother Earth on my behalf!”
Father Montserrat screamed in hysteria.
His naked form underwent an abnormal transformation. Organs, symbolic of creation and incubation, sprouted under the translucent, filthy white membrane, intertwining in a horrific display.
Repent to Mother Earth? Lumian vaguely understood Father Montserrat’s current state.
His corruption appeared incomplete, retaining a side that clung to faith in Earth Mother, resulting in a split personality. Typically, the normal persona remained suppressed by the corrupted one.
Is this the problem that the Symphony of Hatred triggered, allowing Father Montserrat’s normal personality to temporarily gain an advantage and regain control of his body? Lumian sighed, but this didn’t prevent him from condensing crimson fireballs that were nearly white, launching them towards the mutated Father Montserrat.
Montserrat’s countenance shifted between frigidity and anguish. His body alternated between evasion and restraint.
With all his might, he exclaimed, “The Child of God cannot be killed, only banished!”
As Father Montserrat spoke, the crimson fireballs, nearly white, exploded upon him. The silver-white Pride Armor breached the obstruction of vines and branches, charging forward with a light-conjured staff.
Rumble!
Upon the fireball’s detonation, the fallen Father Montserrat wrested control of his body, attempting to retreat underground.
In that instant, Lumian materialized behind him, brandishing the black bone flute.
Lumian teleported into the explosion’s epicenter, unconcerned about the potentially severe injuries from the formidable shockwave!
The fireball was a decoy. The true lethal strike he primed was the Symphony of Hatred!
Pfft!
Lumian thrust the black bone flute with blood-colored holes into Father Montserrat’s diminishing neck.
Rumble!
The expanding flames engulfed them both.
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