Chapter 2438: Lord of the Dung Heap
“Ugh! This is absolutely disgusting,” I exclaimed. Although I am a member of the Church of Gluttony and have witnessed the actions of many other believers, I’ve truly never seen such a revolting technique.
A swarm of giant flies was defecating in mid-air, and various semi-liquid masses of brown, yellow, and green excrement rained down. Just the wet, squishy sound of it landing made one instinctively nauseous.
It was then that I remembered Baal’s divine title, “King of the Dung Heap.” This move must surely correspond to this divine role. However, I still couldn’t accept that there was actually a god of excrement in this world.
Naturally, no one would worship such a defiled divinity. The avatar of the King of the Dung Heap had long lost all faith and vanished into the river of history. No church related to Baal would record this divine name, only mentioning it in the obscure corners of religious history.
But to think that the Church of Gluttony still possessed an attack method that echoed the former King of the Dung Heap! This aerial bombardment wasn’t just ordinary defecation; it was incredibly foul, an unbearable stench. The smell alone caused many soldiers to faint.
Moreover, while the priests’ shields could block the direct projectiles, they couldn’t block the stench. The phalanxes could increase the soldiers’ stamina and willpower, and heal their wounds, but they couldn’t make them endure this foul odor.
The excrement was also laden with a large amount of germs, a manifestation of Beelzebub’s plague authority. Among the most prominent were *E. coli*, *Helicobacter pylori*, and *Shigella dysenteriae* – bacteria that were terrifying to all.
These Imperial Guard soldiers were different from the ordinary Fourth-Rank Marines. They were directly under the royal family, usually receiving the best treatment, and in fact, they held themselves in high regard, considering themselves at least middle-class.
Now, they were forced to face excrement falling from the sky. This was something these soldiers could not accept. Many of them would rather die under dragon’s breath or be cleaved in two by a Black Robe Knight than be drenched head-to-toe in filth.
The phalanxes truly began to break apart. While they hadn’t completely routed yet, they were so terrified of the fly cavalry that they scattered, abandoning any formation.
What the Death Qi of the Undead, the terror of Evil Gods, and the might of the Black Dragon had failed to achieve before, these fly riders accomplished so easily.
The moment the phalanx collapsed, more enemy forces surged forward – resurrected undead and many living beings. The Death Trinity Church had committed all their forces.
“Soul Harvest!” An old man in a black cloak, holding a scythe, swept it across several soldiers. The scythe did not cut through their armor or flesh, but directly reaped their souls. Several soldiers fell to the ground.
These were priests of the Lord of the Dead, the Death Lurkers. They specialized in directly extracting souls, and enemies killed by them would be transformed into undead.
“Bastard! You traitor! Oathbreaker! How dare you show your face before me again!” an old Paladin in silver armor furiously questioned a warrior whose armor bore a black handprint.
The one he questioned was a Darkguard of Bane. He calmly replied, “Master, you shouldn’t be here. I am grateful for your adoption and teachings. If you leave now, I can pretend I saw nothing.”
“I only regret showing you mercy back then and not teaching you well. Today, I will purge the traitors!” the old Paladin shouted, his sword igniting with a faint Holy Fire. He then slashed out, “Ultimate Holy Slash!”
“I am truly sorry, Master,” the Darkguard’s sword deepened, as if it were an unfathomably dark abyss. He struck out at the old Paladin, and all the light along its path was absorbed by the blade.
“Evil-Shattering Slash!” The dark sword severed the faint holy sword and then sliced across the old Paladin’s chest. The darkness took a large portion of flesh and blood, remaining in the wound, preventing the Holy Light from healing it.
“You! Cough, cough, cough!” The old Paladin looked at his disciple before him in disbelief. He who had intended to purge a traitor had instead been instantly killed by his disciple’s sword.
“Master, I told you that you shouldn’t be here. Rest in peace.” The Darkguard said no more and severed his master’s head with another strike. However, he did not take his soul but allowed it to drift towards the Divine Realm.
I observed the entire duel between master and disciple with a sigh. The disciple was right; if not for the brilliance of King Morgoth’s crown overwhelming all surrounding Holy Light, the old Paladin might not have lost. He was too impulsive and failed to grasp the opportune moment, the advantageous terrain, and the overall situation.
I also knew the moves of that traitor. The “Evil-Shattering Slash” was said to be the opposite version of “Evil-Shattering Slash,” capable of forming a restraining effect on good creatures and granting multiple bonuses against Holy and Justice attributes, making it more versatile than the “Evil-Shattering Slash.”
It was said that when a Paladin fell, their mastered “Evil-Shattering Slash” would automatically transform into “Evil-Shattering Slash,” with power equivalent to their “Evil-Shattering Slash” when they were still a Paladin.
It seemed he was indeed once a Paladin, and likely from the same church as that old Paladin. For some reason, he later abandoned his original faith, converted to the worship of the Dark Lord Bane, and became a Darkguard.
Meanwhile, in other parts of the cemetery, in the mist-shrouded corners, screams continued to erupt. These were the soldiers who had scaled the walls from all directions to attack the cemetery earlier. They were not the main force, nor did they belong to the Imperial Guard, but were hastily assembled miscellaneous troops.
Now, those soldiers were being systematically reaped. They often couldn’t even see the enemy’s shadow before being killed by a sword thrust from an unknown direction, a dagger thrown from the darkness, or even just a fleeting black shadow passing by, leaving a deep knife mark on their comrade’s neck.
These were the assassins of the Murder Lord Church. These individuals were all experts in killing. They couldn’t possibly win against the well-equipped Imperial Guards in a frontal assault, so they played to their strengths, dealing with the other attacking soldiers.
These scattered ordinary soldiers who had broken in found themselves in a familiar territory, where they could only be assassinated en masse, much like slaughtering chickens.
Within this misty battlefield, the surrounding cemetery environment felt like a complex maze. Soldiers often couldn’t see the enemy’s shadow, and their comrades would be inexplicably killed. They wouldn’t even know how they themselves died.
Suddenly, I sensed two familiar auras. They were the two presences lurking in the manor – one filled with malice and pain, the other containing plagues and diseases.
Due to the sudden attack on Falbedy Cemetery, I had forgotten that I had intended to find Lavias and inquire about the origin of these two auras. Giselle had said she felt them here, and now it seemed to be true.
