The Paladin in the Abyss-Chapter 677 - 701

Chapter 677: 701

Although the Frostslash Technique was still fully activated, Lancelot felt a surge of surprise. The golden light was nothing other than the characteristic that appeared when Holy Warriors prepared to unleash their professional ability, Holy Slash—a sight he had seen countless times during his journey with Elothysia. However, only those Holy Warriors who still adhered to the oaths they had taken could use this ability; once a Holy Warrior betrayed their oath and became an Oathbreaker, they would lose all their Holy Warrior abilities. (Note)

Of course, the evil forces in the Multiverse that despised Holy Warriors would reward such fallen. The former Holy Warriors known as Dark Guardians, upon falling, would gain even more potent evil powers, like Enrique who once attempted to capture Elothysia. But why could this Hell Knight, who was clearly in league with demons, still summon the golden light of Holy Slash?

“Are you a Holy Warrior?” Lancelot squinted his eyes, “How is that possible?”

“Because the oath I took is one of conquest,” the Hell Knight, lifting the Rune Greatsword that dazzled with blinding golden light above his head, proclaimed, “Swords seize life, fear ends nations! I shall completely snuff out the enemy’s hope, shattering all wills that dare to resist!”

The Greatsword fell with an unstoppable force, and Lancelot found himself unable to dodge, only able to muster all his strength to forcibly block the strike.

“Boom!”

As a Cultivator at the mid-stage of Foundation Establishment, Lancelot certainly wasn’t so weak as to not be able to withstand a single strike from his enemy. Both figures in plate armor staggered backward simultaneously, almost at the same moment they steadied their stances, staring intently at one another.

Lancelot felt a sweetness in his throat but forcefully swallowed back the blood that had surged to his mouth. Although he had blocked his opponent’s weapon, his spirit felt as if it had been severely hammered by an invisible great mallet—not deadly, but far from bearable.

Under the Hell Knight’s heavy helmet, two groups of hot flames lit up as he continued to recite his oath in a frantic tone:

“The words I speak become the law, I tolerate no dissent! I shall conquer and rule with an iron fist, meting out the severest of punishments to those who resist!”

Another slash that sealed all his escape routes came hurtling towards him, Lancelot clenched his teeth and once again waved Frostslash to meet it. His opponent’s momentum was at its peak, but not yet enough to crush him; he believed that if he could survive this burst from the enemy, victory would ultimately be his.

However, the enemy once again displayed unexpected strength. At the moment their weapons were about to meet, some supernatural force caused his opponent’s Greatsword to deviate impossibly, bypassing Lancelot’s weapon at a bizarre angle and striking directly on his left shoulder.

The ear-piercing noise of metal being torn asunder rang out; even the Mithril armor was powerless against that formidable Rune Greatsword. Lancelot cried out in pain, his body flipping backward, heavily crashing into a wall dozens of feet away. A ghastly wound appeared on the left side of his body, as if sawed open, beneath the armor was torn flesh, and he could even faintly see bones glistening with a jade-like luster.

Just then, a surge of hopeful and vibrant energy suddenly erupted in the center of the battlefield. It was Alamir’s Divine Art: Beacon of Hope. Despite still being in fear, he had managed to complete this concentration-required Divine Art undisturbed. Steadfast courage and optimistic belief infused every ally’s heart, and the fear effect that had troubled them until now was lifted.

The dwarf let out a roar and, like a madman, rammed his helmeted head into the hellhound that had been pestering him. After a teeth-gritting, rock-crushing crisp crack, Bruto pushed away the exploded head of the hound and then hurled his Magic Warhammer toward the hell knight; nearby, the half-elf Cursed Swordmaster, dragging a pike taller than herself, charged forward. The color of the pike turned completely dark, but underneath Tanya’s white hair, her eyes burned with a fiery red glow.

The hell knight was forced to abandon his original pursuit. With a swing of his greatsword, he knocked the dwarf’s warhammer to the side; then, turning his swords around, he easily parried the incoming pike, while simultaneously lifting his right leg, encased in heavy greaves, and savagely kicked the half-elf back.

But when the third, unanticipated attack came, the Demon Commander’s defense was finally breached. Jing leaped out from an extremely hidden position and smashed her staff toward the back of the hell knight. Her strike was as fast as lightning, yet looked light and seemingly without much force. The enemy thought the same, deciding to rely on his sturdy armor to bear this blow as he had to deal with the more threatening attacks from the front.

He soon paid the price for his recklessness.

The fox girl’s strike indeed wasn’t very powerful, but it contained a unique technique exclusive to martial monks—Stunning Fist. Despite its name suggesting a fist, it could actually be triggered with any martial monk weapon. Once it hit, it would stun the opponent, rendering them unable to control their actions momentarily.

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After Jing’s successful strike, though her body paused mid-air, her tail curled the iron-headed staff between the enemy’s legs. The stunned Demon Commander had no idea what was happening, but in the next instant, his legs were subjected to forces pulling in opposite directions, forcing him to fall flat on his back.

Worse still, the ground beside him suddenly cracked open, and countless thick vines burst forth, instantly binding his limbs firmly to the ground, while the dwarf and half-elf charged again. Bruto leaped high, slamming his newly returned warhammer onto the hell knight’s knee, instantly bending the outward-protruding joint backwards, while the half-elf’s Shadow Glaive split his wrist, chopping off the right hand that held the sword.

This Holy Warrior who had sworn from the beginning to become a Conqueror and serve a certain archduke Demon really was very strong, but his biggest difference from Lancelot was that he recklessly sacrificed the lives of his subordinates, whereas Lancelot prioritized the safety of his companions in battle. It was these seemingly easily fear-controlled allies who forcibly ended what could have been a long duel, and made the outcome unquestionable.

The Demon Commander struggled to lift his head, watching Lancelot approaching him. In just a few breaths, the wound originally open on his shoulder had closed up again, only the split helmet still proving he had indeed severely injured the other just moments before.

“Victor, do what you must, for deceit grants you that right,” the area knight said with an indifferent tone, as if feeling no pain at all, “but I assure you, this will not be our final outcome.”

“You just spoke two vows of conquest,” Lancelot reached into his dimensional bag at his waist and drew out a beautifully sparkling short sword, “but as I understand, Demons are particularly obsessed with the number three, so there must be one last vow of conquest. Tell me, what is it?”