"Heh, you really don't even bother to hide your hypocrisy, do you?"
Hel mocked coldly, her tone filled with disdain.
"What would an evil witch like you understand?" Pablo snarled back. "Sacrificing the few for the sake of the greater good—that is true justice! Generation after generation, the Holy Adjudicators have devoted ourselves to eradicating you—the festering tumors of this world!"
Gripping his sword tightly, Pablo's body surged with power. Wisps of pure white aura began to coil around his blade.
[Knight's Secret Art: Just Judgment]
This was a sacred technique from the Nation of Justice, one that rivaled the Bloodburn Secret Art of the Nation of Sacrifice. As Pablo invoked it, the fighting aura around him grew denser and more vigorous.
But that was not the end. The divine authority bestowed upon him by a witch's power began to manifest. Behind him, a massive phantom of a goddess slowly took form—this time more complete than before. Her upper body fully materialized, one hand holding a scale and the other a longsword.
[Advanced Divine Art of Justice: Protection of Justice]
The phantom goddess raised her sword high, and then, inch by inch, the glowing blade sank into Pablo's body.
"For the justice I believe in… I will send you to your death, witch!"
With a roar, Pablo turned into a streak of light and charged straight at Hel.
Magic was never his strength—his sword was. He preferred to personally behead his enemies.
In the blink of an eye, he appeared behind Hel. The air screamed as his aura-laden sword swung down toward the back of her neck. For a moment, it seemed Hel's head would roll across the ground.
But just then—a pale skeletal hand appeared beside her, effortlessly catching Pablo's sword arm mid-swing.
"What—?!"
Pablo's eyes bulged wide in disbelief. He hadn't even sensed her casting a spell. And yet, beside Hel, a terrifying skeletal warrior holding a massive blade stood silently.
Even for the Witch of Death, summoning a high-level undead without so much as a magic circle was absurd.
Don't tell me… she actually keeps them stored in a magic ring?
That might work for weak undead—but for ones this strong? Wouldn't they turn on her the moment they were released?
As that ridiculous thought flashed through Pablo's mind, pain exploded through his arm. The skeletal warrior's grip tightened with monstrous force—equal to his own power even after all his secret techniques and blessings.
The next moment, he was flung backward faster than he'd charged in.
BOOM!
He crashed into the stone pavement before the castle gates, the ground trembling violently from the impact. Cracks splintered outward, and a cloud of dust billowed into the air.
"Captain Pablo!"
The surviving Adjudicator Knights shouted, rushing toward the crash site.
But before they could reach him, another figure—faster than any of them—darted into the smoke. A white blur wielding a long spear. It moved like a streak of lightning, slicing through the ranks of knights before anyone could react.
As the gusts from its charge blew away the dust, the knights froze in horror.
Before them stood a small, emaciated skeleton wrapped in faint red mist, both hands gripping a bone spear. The weapon was thrust forward, its tip buried deep in Pablo's chest.
Pablo's hands clamped around the spear's shaft, but the damage was done—the tip had pierced through his heart. He coughed up a mouthful of blood, staring in disbelief at the skeletal warrior before him.
"This feeling… the Bloodburn Secret Art of Selphis…? Heh… impossible. A skeleton… using Bloodburn…"
He choked out a laugh, blood dripping down his chin. "Ha… hahaha… unbelievable…"
His gaze lifted toward the distant figure of Hel, who hadn't even moved since the battle began.
"So… this is the difference between a supreme witch and the rest of us. Just two skeletons… and I'm already at my limit."
He didn't know that the two undead—Haji the Mad Blade and Haji the Spear—had long been reforged by Hel through countless enhancements. Their bones were as tough as a Saint's body, their cores refined to the limit of the sixth tier.
Each alone could rival a half-step Saint-level undead. Together, even a peak sixth-tier like Pablo didn't stand a chance.
Yet still, Pablo refused to give up. His bloodshot eyes blazed with unyielding fury.
"Did you think… that was enough to defeat me?!"
He roared, wrenching the spear from his chest and flinging both it and the skeleton aside.
Behind him, the phantom goddess reappeared—this time brighter, grander.
[Supreme Divine Art of Justice: Codex of Justice]
The goddess slowly lowered her hands, and a massive, ancient tome unfurled behind her. Waves of divine energy surged outward, the sheer pressure shaking the air. Brilliant light poured from the tome, illuminating even the pitch-black night sky.
But Pablo didn't notice the tiny undead roach crawling determinedly toward his feet.
The Codex of Justice, as a supreme divine spell, formed an impenetrable barrier around its caster until the ritual was complete. That was why Pablo dared to invoke it even now—he wanted nothing more than to make that arrogant witch pay for her pride.
Yet when he looked toward Hel again—
She was gone.
"What?!" Pablo gasped.
And then, from right behind him, came a voice that chilled his blood.
"Were you… looking for me?"