"Have you ever thought about the day when you'd lose the Authority of Flowers?"
With a casual wave of her hand, Hel shattered the nine colossal flower serpents.
Boom!
They exploded into a sky full of drifting petals.
Behind the falling flower rain stood Spur, his face dark with fury.
He glared at Hel and demanded, each word forced out through clenched teeth:
"You killed the Witch of Flowers? How did you get in?"
His expression was one of pure disbelief and grievance—like someone whose home had been robbed while he was away. He simply couldn't understand how Hel had managed it.
Hel, however, only replied with a question of her own:
"Now that you've lost the Authority of Flowers, you can't see the petals around you anymore, can you?"
The seemingly random question made Spur freeze for a moment.
Then humiliation surged through him. He felt as though Hel were mocking him.
But the anger also forced him to calm down.
Ever since he had lost control over the nine flower serpents, Spur had already sensed his connection to the Authority of Flowers weakening rapidly. By the time he asked that question, the Authority had vanished completely.
This wasn't the first time he'd experienced such a situation.
It always happened after the imprisoned Witch of Flowers died of old age, before a new one was captured.
During those periods, the Holy Inquisitors were at their weakest.
Right now, Spur could still rely on his superior realm and the countless trump cards he had accumulated over thousands of years to fight Hel.
But crushing her with the Authority of Flowers like before?
That was no longer possible.
Of course, this didn't mean he was helpless.
Over the past millennia, Spur had simulated this scenario more than once.
And to prepare for this very moment, he had stocked up on dozens of contingency plans.
With a flick of his hand, two magic scrolls appeared in his left hand.
Another motion—and a slender rapier materialized in his right.
Its hilt was engraved with thorny vines.
When Spur gripped the handle tightly, the vine-like thorns pierced straight through his palm.
Blood flowed freely, quickly absorbed by the vines.
The strange sword seemed to come alive.
The vine carvings on the guard parted to reveal a golden vertical eye beneath them. The eye spun wildly, searching for its target.
The moment it locked onto Hel, the pupil shrank.
Hel felt as if she had been targeted by some terrifying predator.
The Holy Sword Tyrfing—a cursed blade that must taste blood whenever it is drawn.
It devoured not only the blood of enemies, but also that of its wielder. Because of this, it was said to bring misfortune to its owner.
Spur knew its effects all too well.
The sword absorbed the vitality of those it killed, storing their life force.
When the wielder grasped the blade, all that accumulated vitality would surge into their body in an instant.
Even an ordinary person could temporarily gain a physique comparable to a Saint-tier powerhouse.
And Spur?
He had used this sword to kill for over a thousand years.
When he held it, he became a walking catastrophe—a berserker of pure destruction.
Even a Saint-tier witch would fall with a single strike if he got close.
As for the two scrolls in his left hand—
They were his insurance against the loss of the Authority.
Each scroll represented the friendship of a Holy Inquisitor of the Seventy-Two Seats.
These were not ordinary Saint-tier scrolls, but ones infused with fragments of Authority-level power.
"The Witches of Grass and Trees were hunted down recently," Spur sneered.
"Otherwise, I'd have even more cards to show you."
He activated the scrolls.
"But these two are more than enough to deal with you."
A terrifying storm formed instantly in front of him and swept toward Hel.
Then the second scroll flashed—
Streams of molten lava transformed into countless fire serpents, carried forward by the raging wind.
Compared to the earlier flower serpents, these attacks were clearly weaker.
Hel merely waved her hand.
The falling flower rain froze midair.
Under the control of the Authority of Flowers, the petals reshaped themselves into nine ferocious flower dragons, which charged straight at Spur's magic.
"This… this is impossible!"
Spur cried out in disbelief as he watched his two spells get obliterated effortlessly.
The flower dragons didn't even slow down.
They continued forward with overwhelming force, rushing straight at him.
Spur's soul nearly left his body.
He stomped on the air, condensing magic beneath his feet, and used the recoil to narrowly dodge the dragons' fangs.
But before he could catch his breath, more dragons closed in from every direction.
With the Holy Sword in hand, Spur slashed calmly.
Several swift strikes tore open a massive gap in the petal storm.
Yet he didn't relax.
Because the true danger of this spell wasn't the endless petals—
It was the second form that emerged after the petals absorbed enough nourishment.
If he wanted to break the stalemate, he had to kill the one controlling the petals before that transformation occurred.
Just as he prepared to charge through the opening and strike at Hel—
He suddenly spat out a mouthful of blood.
A horrifying sensation swept through his body.
His life force was draining away.
What's happening?! His mind roared in panic.
But he failed to notice that, at some unknown moment, countless petals had already surrounded his entire body.