Amber Sword

This was originally the largest wool trade market situated on the eastern side of Ampezel Port, but the previous battle turned it into ruins. Among the remains gather many retreating soldiers; the Harbor Guard and noble private soldiers are arguing noisily, while the White Lion Legion watches coldly.

"Lord Duke, the Holy Temple will not interfere in the internal affairs of other countries. This is not out of arrogance, but precisely because the Holy Temple does not wish to be swayed by secular authority. Both the Holy Scripture and the Holy Covenant explicitly stipulate this principle. I believe you should understand this."

Count Vitokin adjusted his helmet as his attendant helped him don battle armor, though his beard and hair were singed, diminishing his dignified appearance, making him look somewhat comical. He had escaped from the Ande Fulei Grand Temple along with Duke Xifah, and the injuries on his body were sustained while crossing through the fire. As he twisted the armor leaves on his arm, a stabbing burn caused him to clench his teeth.

"But, esteemed Lord Priest, isn’t punishing evil also one of your duties? Moreover, the opponent is an evil heretic, a promoter of chaos, an enemy of humanity."

"Certainly, the Holy Temple will not stand idly by while our country falls into suffering," answered the voice, somewhat mockingly.

Yet, the physical pain was nothing compared to the sting of the soul. The strength from the ’Extreme Realm’ shook the hearts of men. Gray Sword Saint Mephisto dragged Moros into the gray-white wilderness to suppress the Flame of Repentance, but that final gaze chilled the hearts of all present.

What royal authority, what titles—they all become meaningless in the face of true power. The Holy Temple stands above, yet still must bow to the ultimate laws. Vitokin glanced at his pale palm, which was still trembling slightly.

He lifted his head and glanced not far away. Duke Xifah’s renowned sword master, the flame-haired Nicholas, was negotiating with the Holy Temple at the behest of his master:

"Then let me ask on behalf of the Lord Duke, what do you plan to do, esteemed Lords?"

"Let me put it this way: we have come at the invitation of the newly appointed royal family of Erune to capture Gray Sword Saint Mephisto, who once killed high-ranking members of the Holy Temple and is a desperate menace. Additionally, we are here to reclaim the long-lost Holy Relics, Emperor of Flames Gilte’s sacred relics, the fragments of the Holy Sword Odysseus..."

The priest in the priest’s robe rambled on with a lot of details, broadly meaning: we will assist you in dealing with Gray Sword Saint Mephisto, strike against ’Cultists,’ but the internal affairs of your country, you need to resolve on your own.

He was a typical Cruz person, chin held high in an arrogant manner, as if you hillbillies should be grateful for this. Duke Xifah remained silent, his demeanor frighteningly grim, yet he dared not act out.

Since Oberg VI, Erune’s nobles have gradually degenerated, even forgetting that Erune once had masters of the Extreme Realm; Former King Ai Ke was a saint in his time. During the Second Revival Era, it is said Erune had two Sword Saints of the Extreme Realm, the Chief Court Wizard was the renowned Turaman, but after that, the glory was gone.

Flame-haired Nicholas too had an icy demeanor, "Those cultists mingling with Princess, what of it?"

The priest pondered for a moment, "Lord Wood has said, we can establish a temporary teleportation array for you, allowing you to deploy the Black Blade Legion to the battlefield... this is the limit. Establishing a teleportation array here will mean one less array in the Holy War. Even in Kruz, such teleportation arrays are only used for transporting elite legions... frankly, using it for third-rate legions is somewhat wasteful, but for allies, we are willing to sacrifice..."

Nicholas’s face turned frighteningly dark as he interrupted, "I understand, thank you for the support from the Holy Temple. But when does the Holy Temple intend to act?"

"It’s about to be soon. The means of the Holy Temple are beyond ordinary imagination," answered the priest, spreading his arms in admiration. "Just wait and see the show. Oh, it’s already here—"

Suddenly, the sounds of conflict on the ruins ceased simultaneously. The monks of the Flame Temple, cloaked in crimson robes amidst the crumbling walls, all lifted their heads. In the sky where their gaze reached, space opened from both sides, creating pure white ripples.

At the center of the ripples, infinitely complex and mysterious law threads were opening portals of light.