Chapter 149
Several Xirkushkartum soldiers reflexively gritted their teeth.
Onigakure narrowed his eyes as he stared at the towering pillars filled with sacred carvings.
Makakushi rolled his wrist, as though ensuring his body could still move freely within a place that seemed to reject their very existence.
Zhereth lowered his head briefly, drawing a deep breath that felt like needles piercing his chest.
No one spoke.
Yet everyone knew they were waiting for one person.
Zhulumat Katamtum.
The leader stood several steps ahead of his troops, staring at the hall with an expression that was difficult to read.
The gentle light from the ceiling reflected against the marble floor, causing his shadow to stretch out like another figure walking beside him.
His eyes swept across the entire room.
Pillars.
Symbols.
The sacred sealing circle at the far end of the hall.
Everything looked like a place of worship deliberately built to reject the existence of beings like him.
Several seconds passed.
Then Zhulumat exhaled quietly through his nose.
"…Too clean."
The words were spoken softly, yet loud enough for the team captains around him to hear.
Makakushi let out a faint snort.
"A place like this is even more disgusting than a graveyard."
Several soldiers behind him gave short laughs, laughter that sounded more like mockery than amusement.
Zhereth lightly shrugged his shoulders.
"At least we know one thing," he said flatly.
"This place is clearly not our home."
Onigakure merely rolled his neck slowly, the faint sound of cracking bones echoing through the silent hall.
"Then don't stand here too long," he muttered.
"The sacred air might make me vomit."
Several members of Zhulumat's Banner smiled faintly.
But Zhulumat did not laugh with them.
His gaze remained fixed ahead.
Toward the endlessly stretching hall.
Toward the place where the next step would lead them deeper into the castle.
A few moments later, he raised his hand.
That simple gesture alone was enough to make the entire army refocus.
"Maintain formation."
His voice was not loud, yet it carried a pressure that could not be denied.
"Team captains, return to your original positions. Do not break the line."
Everyone immediately moved.
Apathy and his eighteen subordinates took position on the left wing.
Makakushi and his twelve soldiers guarded the right side.
Onigakure and his troops remained along the rear center line.
Zhereth and his thirteen followers closed the formation.
The four members of the Orbit Breaker Unit spread out like shadows among them.
The two envoys of Zhulumat's Banner returned to stand near their leader.
Everything was orderly.
Everything was ready.
Zhulumat lowered his hand.
"Move."
The first step echoed throughout the marble hall.
The second followed.
The third.
The fourth.
The fifth.
And when their sixth step touched the pale white floor—the air changed.
There was no explosion.
No blinding light.
Yet something within that space suddenly felt… shifted.
Several members of the army immediately halted their steps.
Not because they had been ordered to.
But because their instincts screamed at them.
And in the next second—they appeared.
Dozens of figures.
As though the empty spaces between the pillars had suddenly opened themselves and given birth to creatures that had not existed moments earlier.
Holy Beings.
Their bodies were wrapped in pale light that was nearly transparent.
Some possessed tall and slender humanoid forms, with faces too perfect to be called natural.
Others bore stranger appearances—branches of luminous wings, bodies formed from layers of sacred radiance that moved slowly like water.
They stood silently.
Blocking the entire path through the hall.
Among them stood several far more striking figures.
Angels.
Their white wings unfolded slowly, feathers of light falling like fragments of stardust.
Their eyes emitted a cold glow devoid of even the slightest emotion.
Dozens of Holy Beings.
And several Angels.
All standing before Zhulumat's forces.
Blocking the way.
The entire hall suddenly felt far narrower.
Several Xirkushkartum soldiers immediately tensed.
Makakushi rolled his shoulder.
"Heh."
He stared ahead with a crooked grin.
"So this is the first floor's welcome?"
Onigakure grinned faintly, revealing rows of teeth.
"I was starting to get bored of waiting."
Zhereth stepped forward slightly, his eyes calmly sweeping across the enemy ranks.
But Zhulumat did not move.
He simply stood there.
Watching them.
Then slowly… his brow furrowed.
Not because of the number of enemies.
Not because of the pressure of the sacred aura filling the room.
But because of something far more specific.
Among the angels standing before them—there was one face that felt… familiar.
Zhulumat tilted his head slightly.
His gaze sharpened.
And several seconds later—his memories stirred.
A small village.
Fire.
Screams.
Sacrificial pillars.
Bound worshippers.
A small child being pushed into the center of the crowd.
And amidst the blinding light—an angel standing upon a sacred altar.
That angel.
Their eyes met.
The angel did not speak.
Yet its expression showed that it, too, recognized the figure now standing before the satanist army.
Zhulumat's eyes narrowed slowly.
"…Ah."
The sound escaped him almost like a murmur.
Makakushi turned toward him.
"What is it?"
But Zhulumat did not answer immediately.
His gaze remained fixed on that angel.
Old memories long buried suddenly resurfaced within his mind.
He remembered.
Clearly.
The day the small satanist village was burned.
The day dozens of people were tied to sacrificial pillars.
The day a small child was nearly thrown into a ritual of being burned alive to worship the One Accursed.
And that angel… had been there.
Watching.
Not stopping it.
Not rejecting it.
Not caring.
Zhulumat exhaled softly.
But this time, the breath did not sound like exhaustion.
Rather, it sounded like someone who had just confirmed something he had believed for a very long time.
He smiled faintly.
A smile devoid of even the slightest warmth.
"I remember now."
Makakushi raised an eyebrow.
"What is it, captain?"
Zhulumat finally shifted his gaze away from the angel and looked toward his army.
His stare was cold.
Sharp.
"The reason why I always say the same thing about them."
He slightly tilted his chin toward the ranks of Holy Beings and angels.
"These holy creatures."
His smile widened slightly.
"All of them."
The sound of the army's footsteps stopped completely.
Zhulumat finished his sentence in a flat tone.
"Bastards."
Several seconds after Zhulumat's final word fell into the air like a stone thrown upon water, the hall once again sank into a strange silence.
Not an empty silence, but the kind that felt as though it were waiting for something to shatter.
The ranks of Holy Beings did not move.
Neither did the angels utter a single word.
Yet the aura within the room slowly changed—like air tightening before a storm finally descends.
Amidst that tension, one figure from Zhulumat's Banner finally stepped slightly forward.
Hopsly.
His body was tall, his black robe hanging down almost to the spotless marble floor.
His sharp gaze stared directly toward the ranks of holy beings blocking their path.
He raised his chin slightly, as though challenging the entire hall itself.
"If you expect us to retreat simply because you stand before our path…"
His voice rang clearly, echoing lightly among the giant pillars.
"Then you truly do not understand satanists."
Several Xirkushkartum soldiers behind him smiled faintly.
Makakushi even let out a short laugh.
Zhereth merely stared ahead with a flat expression, though his hand slowly moved closer to the handle of his weapon.
Hopsly continued in a louder voice.
"We did not come this far only to turn back."
His gaze swept across the angels standing among the Holy Beings.
"Especially not because of a group of winged creatures pretending to be guardians of truth."
To be continued…