Army of the Deity's Servants

After emerging from the coastal cave, Sara pointed to a long vine ladder hanging from the cliffside, made of sturdy, native vines, leading to the precipice above.

"This is our escape route; there's a boat up there..." Sara's voice broke into a sob as she gestured toward a small boat overturned on the beach, oars and fishing nets beside it. "When it's time for the fish run, my grandmother and I would row out to sea."

How did the witch observe the ocean's movements? Noah was curious, but now was not the time to ask.

"Climb up quickly," Sara urged, stepping aside to rub her eyes.

Noah tested the vines, satisfied they wouldn't snap midway, and began the slow ascent, stepping carefully on each rung of the ladder. The overcast sky allowed enough light to slowly dry him, leaving salty stains on his skin.

Maden followed, his weight causing the vine ladder to sway violently with his movements.

Reaching the top, Noah crawled through a thicket of wild cliffside grass to find a quaint straw hut perched at the edge of the cliff. Seemingly mundane with its wooden walls and thatched roof, the hut stood hundreds of meters above the ground, completely isolated from the world.

Noah heard a sharp, raspy voice coming from the front, sounding like an old woman. "Fight with all you've got, you fools!" As he approached, he saw a woman in a brown cloak, her hair up high, clutching a hefty branched staff, shouting down the mountain path.

The moment Noah emerged from behind the hut, she noticed him.

"Yah!" Her wrinkled face had a milky glaze over her eyes, which was particularly frightening, and her pale lips added to her aged and stern appearance. She brandished her staff at Noah. "Who are you!"

"An ally," Noah raised his hands to show he meant no harm. "I am Noah, successor to Master Frederick. You must be the respected Dame Delish. It's a relief to see you alive!"

"Should I be dead instead? Get over here and charge at them!" Dame Delish angrily pointed down the mountain, her branched staff crackling with electricity.

Noah tried to appear non-threatening as he edged toward the cliffside path. He now understood the feeling Maden described, the discomfort of dealing with someone who could take your life at any moment.

The path was the direct route to the witch's hut, winding and exposed. If the temple forces were to advance, they'd have to negotiate several sharp bends, with nothing but rocks and dry grass along the way, offering no cover.

Their numbers exceeded a hundred, clustered at the front, a dense throng unable to breach the witch's hut from this slope. The site chosen by Dame Delish was easily defensible. Compared to these elite soldiers, the ones attacking Threetail Bay were inconsequential.

Was such a force really necessary to deal with a witch? Noah marveled at the power witches must hold.

The temple troops were well-organized, adhering to the oath set by Lorman's founding ruler, Godel the Stalwart, which allowed the temple to maintain its own military for clerical dispatches. This tradition had supplied the temple with a considerable military force for over four hundred years.

The front line consisted of temple guards, half armed with long swords, short axes, and oval shields emblazoned with the robust figure of Sodado, the warrior god, a sign of divine protection. The others wielded long pole-leaf spears, their expressions stern, most clad in chainmail, draped in ceremonial purple cloaks, with many also joining the fray in simple tunics and long cloaks, their heads bare.

In the middle were the clerics, the lower-ranked in modest attire, the higher-ranked in purple robes with specially made fur stoles and simple crowns or miters. Some held sacred texts, likely the "Lorman Divine Discourse," a classic tome recounting the deeds of the gods.

At the rear stood the most revered temple personnel, flanked by elite guards wielding heavy weapons like double-headed axes and great spears, encased in full iron armor with masked helmets that obscured their faces. Their postures were meticulous, their armor etched with the supreme figure of the sky god Edwo, exuding authority.

The guards were there primarily to protect two leaders. Noah recognized one, bald and with a cruel, judgmental gaze that made people uncomfortable, as if always ready to mete out punishment. It was the same bald cleric who had grabbed Noah's arm forcefully at the temple entrance. Now, instead of simple attire, he donned a lavish purple robe adorned with handcrafted embroidery, a towering crown on his bald head, which Noah suspected was exclusive to the high priest.

The other was a stranger to Noah, resembling a high-ranking knight, his helmet topped with a diamond crest and a movable visor, now lowered to hide his face. Fully armed in scale armor, the interlinked plates formed a dragon scale-like defense.

What was a knight with such fine equipment doing in a place like Greytree Hall? Surely it cost more than Rocher's iron armor, adorned with numerous gilded medals likely bestowed by some great noble.

Such a formidable force advancing with clear intent to crush the witch.

"Why not escape via the vine ladder at the back?" Noah thought of this immediately.

"You fool!" Dame Delish clutched her staff, eyeing the troops below while chastising Noah in a hushed tone. "The ladder is so high, you can climb it, but what about me?"

"Grandmother!" Sara rushed over.

"Ah!" Dame Delish didn't turn around, still wary of them. "Why... why didn't you run? I can handle these people!"

"You're too old to deal with so many," Sara wiped away her tears, feigning strength as she nervously eyed the military might below.

"They're not attacking yet, wary of your magic?" Noah asked.

"Of course, who do you think I am?" Dame Delish said disdainfully.

"But they haven't retreated, which means they're waiting for an opportunity. It's time for you to leave, please hurry," Noah analyzed.

"Leave? The moment I disappear, they'll storm the hill!" Dame Delish exclaimed. "We'd be done for then!"

"There's no time to waste, Dame Delish. I suspect the temple is consorting with demons. You need to leave fast, for they might summon even more sinister forces," Noah speculated.

Dame Delish glared at the troops below with deep resentment.

"And what about you? You'll hold them off here? With just one man and one knife?"

"I won't last long alone," Noah said. "But I'll do my best."

"Good." Dame Delish fished out a bottle of potion from her bosom. "Drink it all. It's a potion of beastly vigor. Even a fool can fight a hundred with it. You better make some good use of it, boy."

Noah uncorked the reddish potion, a mix of honeysuckle, wormwood, and dead rat wafting out. Pinching his nose, he gulped it down, soon feeling his arms surge with strength, power coursing through his body, his fighting spirit soaring.

The sensation reminded him of his time as a lesser demon in hell, similarly transformed to an endless well of energy.

"Hold onto it tight. If you lose it, I'll turn you into a pig," Dame Delish tossed her staff to Maden, then hurriedly dragged Sara behind the hut.

"Don't scare me!" Maden flinched, clutching the staff.

"Grandmother, what about our things?" Sara called out.

"I've packed everything. Let that big lug carry it. It's what he's good for."

"Take care, Sir Noah," Maden advised. After receiving a hefty bundle from the witches, he hoisted it with a sigh and retreated with them.

As expected, the moment the witches vanished, the clerics let out a chorus of cries, and the temple guards charged up the hill with speed, their armor rustling and weapons clanking.

One man, one knife.

"I love watching you slaughter mortals. Cut down everyone who comes at you!" Gladius was ecstatic.

"I can't hold out for long," Noah glanced back, the witches and Maden's figures already gone, swiftly descending the cliff. He didn't need to linger here much longer.

"Don't be so defeatist. Stand your ground, kill a few more mortals! It's a lawful killing spree, and you won't get another chance like this," Gladius urged.

"Watch and see." The potion's strength surged within him, the witch's power truly miraculous. If every hunter could imbibe such potions, fighting with such enhancements, how mighty would they be?

Suddenly, the ground shook, a long roar echoing.

The sound was all too familiar, the drake queen! The earth cracked open, the monstrous creature's throat booming with roars, the ground breaking apart as the terrifying beast burst through the rocks, a scene akin to the apocalypse.

Noah struggled to keep his footing and avoid falling. The charging guards were also unsteady, desperately grasping protruding rocks to keep from being thrown off balance and plummeting to their deaths.

The clerics turned to see the Damp Mother's terrifying emergence and cried out in panic.

It reached towards Noah atop the hillock, roaring incessantly.

Under the Damp Mother's command, smaller drakes crawled from the crevices, heading straight for Noah. However, they had to get through the temple's troops first, and the elite guards quickly drew their weapons to fight the creatures.

The great drake came for us but bought me time! Noah realized this was his chance to leave, as the soldiers had to pause their advance to protect the high-ranking clerics.

Noah heard the clash of metal, crisp and clear, still drawing near.

Among the retreating guards, one figure moved against the tide, a warrior's posture, the mysterious knight who had accompanied the bald cleric. Despite the ground's tremors, the knight's steps were unshaken, his purpose clear, heading straight for Noah.

A battle to the death? So be it. Noah twirled his gray knife in hand.

The knight reached Noah, stabbing with sharp precision. Noah couldn't dodge and retreated swiftly, counterattacking with his knife.

The gray knife clashed with the sword, the collision explosive.

The knight gripped the sword tightly, and against the knife, it resisted, not breaking.

"So, your forged weapon isn't indestructible after all," Noah said, the potion's power coursing through him, giving him the strength to hold his ground while conversing with Gladius.

"Nonsense," Gladius muttered. "His weapon was forged by your gods, imbued with divinity. Unless you possess divinity yourself, you cannot break it—what do I care?"

Finally, a weapon that could match the gray knife, Noah felt an inexplicable rush.

But "divinity"? What was that?