Chapter 192: Chapter 196: Reckless Player Selection
Fenna didn’t actually recognize the figure that suddenly appeared in front of her at first, as it was entirely obscured by a long black trench coat and a large black umbrella, and her own consciousness was momentarily shocked by the sudden peek behind the curtain, causing her to lose her usual sharpness.
But as the monster spoke in a hoarse, low noise, as the filthy, blasphemous aura exuded, and as it revealed its corrupted, decaying outline with a lift of its hand, she recognized it.
It was a Sun Heretic.
That simplifies things—Fenna liked simple things.
The heavy alloy broadsword roared terrifyingly through the air, the holy lantern dispelled the impure air, and Fenna’s leap high into the sky resembled a massive wave. As she descended, her strike carried with it the force of a crashing wave—tons of seawater pressure concentrated in one sword strike. The umbrella-wielding Sun Heretic clearly hadn’t anticipated such a decisive attack, losing the opportunity to dodge and hastily lifting the black umbrella to block.
Then, like a small boat shattered by a giant wave, both the person and the umbrella were split in two.
The remnants of the Scion flew apart, foul and blasphemous flesh splattered along the way, and the tough alloy umbrella also broke in half, falling to the ground with the sound of clashing metal, the break site between its ribs and handle continuously sparking small blue flames, with scattered crystals cracking out from its frame, quickly losing their lustrous light.
Fenna crushed the fallen components underfoot, yet her gaze had already noticed that the severed flesh nearby had started to rapidly wriggle, regenerate, and consolidate. Not much later, the tall, slim figure in a long black coat reappeared amidst the fire, its grotesque true form clearly visible to Fenna without the obstruction of the black umbrella.
Its head bloomed like a flower of flesh, its body composed of countless twisted, entwined tentacles. At this moment, the flower of flesh emitted an angry and mournful howl, a sound potent enough to knock an ordinary person unconscious, but it brought a slight smile to Fenna’s face.
Regeneration Ability does not equate to invincibility; this thing was weakened, and without the protection of that bizarre black umbrella, it appeared to be in great pain.
The young Judge nonchalantly clipped her lantern to her waist, adjusted her sword stance, and took large strides toward the monster, but suddenly, from the corner of her eye, she noticed a momentary distortion in the flames beside a bookshelf.
Years of combat experience and sharp intuition made her abruptly stop and turn around, and the next second, a coiled tentacle emerged from the distorted flames, and a red-hot shard of steel, swept up by the tentacle like a cannonball, came whistling toward her!
At the same time, the Sun Heretic who had just completed regeneration suddenly turned into a dark shadow, launching a sneak attack from the side. His body, amidst a brief transformation of light and shadow, reached a few meters beside Fenna, lashing out with two bloody flesh whips from his hands, targeting Fenna’s neck and back.
Fenna clicked her tongue, twisted her body, and wielded her sword, unexpectedly using the huge sword like a spear and hurling it at the attacking Sun Heretic. With great momentum and force, the sword smashed the assailant and pinned him against a wall several meters away. Simultaneously, a scorching steel plate flew towards Fenna—she raised her hand to block it, and the red-hot steel stopped as though it had hit a mountain. Where her fingers gripped, the metal visibly twisted and curled from the heat between the steel and flesh, hissing.
“It seems that you are the ones causing trouble.” Fenna, seemingly without pain, casually tore the steel plate in two and tossed it aside, while beckoning behind her. The giant sword that had impaled her enemy was then drawn back to its master’s hand by an invisible force, bringing with it the still writhing and screaming remains of the Scions of the Sun.
Fenna flipped her right hand, casually dropping the nailed creature onto the ground, and walked forward without turning back, leaving behind only the words, “You regenerate here first; I’ll go purify your accomplices.”
The mass of flesh pierced by the sword screamed manically, emitting obscenities and furious curses from Subspace, yet Fenna, having calculated its regeneration speed, knew its recovery was greatly reduced after another critical hit and the loss of the Black Umbrella’s protection. She confidently strode towards a burning bookshelf nearby—another figure emerged from the flames, the second Sun Heretic.
The one who had thrown the steel plate was this guy.
Looking at the Judge confidently striding towards him, the tall, thin shadow issued a series of indistinct, deep murmurs. Amidst the disgusting, squelching sound of its limbs, numerous tentacles extended from its “coat.”
“Fear, anger, confusion… it seems you do have emotional responses and are not just mindless ‘fragments’ as many believe,” Fenna proceeded, being wary of more potential assailants while calmly speaking—she was not one to speak unnecessarily, but against these blasphemous murmurs from chaotic monsters, the reasoned words of a clergy were an effective weapon as well. “Scions of the Sun’s remnants… Since you’re here, it means there’s at least one main body of the Scions of the Sun lurking nearby… Where is it? Deep in the inferno? Outside the church? Or perhaps…”
The creature launched an attack, a shadow leaping from its side and viciously striking towards Fenna’s neck.
Fenna slightly sidestepped and casually caught the tough, barbed tentacle, quickly shaking her wrist.
“… in the great fire of 1889? In the small church from 1885?”
The tentacle in Fenna’s hand burst into a cloud of blood mist. The explosive blood mist quickly traveled along the tentacle towards the creature, until the entire tentacle, along with a third of the creature’s body, suddenly exploded. This shockwave was fully absorbed, and the next second, Fenna had charged to the back of the creature, her great sword raised high and then swung horizontally like a baseball bat at the creature’s waist.
With a loud bang, the screeching of the creature abruptly stopped as it flew like a dirty clump of meat, landing near the remains of the first Scions of the Sun.
The remnants of the first Scion were nearing the end of regeneration; within the wriggling flesh, one could vaguely make out the tall, thin shape and what seemed to be a mimicry of a protective shell—an “black coat.”
Fenna approached the two Assailants, looking down upon the monsters from her perch.
“Although I don’t know why Black Sun can be involved in the contamination of history, or what kind of surprises the ‘entity’ behind you has prepared for me,” she declared, “one thing is certain,
“I will fight here to the end, to see if you really are endless—either I will fight my way out of here, or… I will have proven my loyalty and orthodoxy to the goddess.”
The great sword was raised, followed by…
A series of meticulous slashes.
Fenna’s strategy was straightforward—the Scions of the Sun had powerful regeneration abilities, but even the strongest regeneration isn’t invincible. As long as their recovery required resources, it wasn’t an issue to deal with them.
A fine mince would do, and if that wasn’t enough… cut twice.
…
Sherry opened her eyes to see the unfamiliar ceiling and the sunlight streaming through the nearby window.
The bed she was in was very comfortable, the blanket had a fresh, dry scent—such dryness was rare in the slums, where the oldest pipes and clogged sewers converged, the air always damp with an odd smell, blankets air-dried for three days could only fully soak up the sewer’s stench into the fabric and batting.
Sherry lay there quietly, the touch too comfortable to even want to turn over, but eventually, she propped herself up and looked around.
Nina was no longer in the room, and judging by the sunlight coming through the window… it was probably close to noon now.
“Spot,” Sherry called softly, “how long have I slept?”
Spot’s voice immediately arose in her heart: “It’s at least 10:30 now, maybe 11:00—you fell asleep right after eating and bathing last night, you’ve been out cold for at least twelve hours… It’s normal after such exhaustion.”
Sherry was still a bit groggy, the events of the day before felt dreamlike, floating in her mind; it took her a long time to sort through her memories, confirming what had truly happened and what was part of the bizarre Dreamscape during her sleep.
Then she lifted her head and looked towards a corner of the room.
A shabby little box was quietly sitting there.
Ah, that was her entire past ten years… hers and Spot’s everything.
“We really… moved here, huh,” Sherry murmured to herself, “Spot, it’s like a dream.”
“Stop it, I’m freaking out right now, Mr. Duncan is cooking in the kitchen, I damn well can’t even think about what I’ll see on the dining table later…”
“Spot, why do you have such a big issue with the food here? You’ve brought it up more than once…”
“Darn, just don’t ask…”
Listening to Spot’s complaints, Sherry suddenly laughed.
The sunlight today was truly lovely.