Chapter 117 : Hey, Old Man

Thunder roared. Blinding lightning exploded on the judgment stand, completely engulfing the small figure.

In the deafening roar, everyone thought Milly would be turned to ash. Tifna watched the lightning strike, her face pale. That was the thunder of divine punishment. Even if she survived, she would be on the brink of death.

The Saintess had told her to watch quietly, that she had a plan. But now, Tifna saw no plan. She should have warned Milly to run.

When the lightning faded, the scene on the stand left Tifna stunned.

Not just her, but everyone, except for one person, stared in disbelief.

The air was filled with the smell of ozone. Small arcs of electricity still danced on the wet ground.

The massive cross had been carbonized and shattered, its black fragments scattered. The thick stone of the stand was split apart, a large, scorched crater in the center, its edges cracked like a spiderweb.

Rain fell into the crater, sending up plumes of white smoke. And in the center of it, Milly stood.

Her hair floated slightly from the static, small sparks of electricity dancing at the tips. Her prison clothes were in tatters, barely covering her body. But her exposed skin was as white as jade, without a single burn.

She looked down at herself. A faint glow emanated from her body, as if she had absorbed the entire destructive bolt.

“That was a close one.”

As she spoke, she paused. Her voice had a strange, electric quality. No, she wasn’t going to be an idol.

Her fingers touched the glowing thorn sigil on her collarbone. It was pulsing with a dangerous red light. It seemed she had absorbed too much, more than her body could handle. She had to release it, and fast. As for why she could still absorb electricity with her powers sealed, she had a guess.

Before confirming it, this was a rare opportunity. “You seemed to enjoy torturing me, old man.”

Her eyes locked on the Pope in the air. She opened her hand, and the stored electricity burst out, reaching him in an instant.

Oswell’s pupils shrank. He hadn’t expected this. He hastily raised a holy shield, but it shattered the moment it touched the current.

The next bolt was even faster. His paralyzed body couldn’t defend. He could only watch as the raging current pierced him.

With a piercing scream, he fell from the sky, landing heavily on the ground. His papal robes were scorched, emitting a foul, burnt smell.

The entire square fell silent.

The people stared, unable to believe what they were seeing. That was divine punishment, and the demon had not only survived, but was unharmed. And the Pope, who had just defeated the Fell God, had been defeated in a single blow.

“Monster!”

Someone screamed. In an instant, the crowded square was in chaos. People pushed and shoved, crying and screaming, trying to escape, as if afraid she would turn on them next.

But she wouldn’t.

She was just stronger than them. Not some weakling they could just beat up.

“Hey, old man, didn’t expect this, did you?”

A knight stood in front of her, but he was instantly torn to pieces by the lightning from her palm.

She remembered what he had said to her in the cell. She held a grudge. Now, it was time for revenge. The one they had called a whelp had shown her fangs. And the knights were like paper before her, torn to pieces by the current.

The remaining knights held their spears, but no one dared to approach. They could only watch as she approached the cathedral.

Oswell tried to push himself up. If he could just reach his scepter, he still had a chance. He would make this demon whelp wish she were dead.

Just then, Milly’s foot slammed down on his head, sending it crashing against the ground with a dull thud.

“Sounds like a bad head,” she said, tilting her head, a cruel smile on her lips. “Want me to smash it a few more times, just to be sure?”

But before that, a spark of lightning danced on her fingertips. “Hey, old man, tell me, who are the ones behind you?”

Pinned under her foot, Oswell looked toward Lillian. He still had one more card to play. If the bishops continued to channel their magic to him, he could still deal with this demon. But when he looked at the judgment stand, his pupils shrank.

There, the bishops’ bodies were twisting grotesquely, writhing flesh bulging under their skin. Crimson tentacles burst from their bodies, and they began to tear at each other.

No one had stopped her when she left. From the moment she was struck by lightning, the magic circle had been corrupted.

And Lillian, the Saintess, was standing in the middle of the carnage, her head in her hands, as if terrified. But no one noticed the smile on her lips.

“Old man, you’re out of options.”

The lightning on her fingertips grew stronger. She aimed at the Pope’s head. With a few roars, his body twitched in the electricity. When his screams faded and he looked like a piece of burnt wood, she finally stopped.

Phew… that felt a little better. But she had almost used up all her stored electricity. Was it always this weak?

She released the charred head. He should be dead now. Well, while she still had a little electricity left, and the knights were too scared to approach her, she should get out of the city.

As she turned to leave, she heard his hoarse voice from behind.

“Stop.”

“Tch… this old fool is hard to kill.”

She had a little left. She might as well use it all. No one would be able to tell anyway.

As she turned, the scepter that had been knocked away was back in his hand. And from the eye sockets of his charred head, a golden light flowed.

“You’re cheating again, aren’t you?”

Run!

Just then, a gust of wind rushed toward Oswell from behind. She heard a familiar voice.

“Silver Light Blade!”

A flash of sword light, and the charred head rolled to the ground.