Chapter 367 — The Dimming Holy Light
Blade of Dawn · Page 2 of 4
The soldier seemed frozen with shock. Having spent years in the Plains of the Holy Spirit, where there was no war, a man whose only practice was waving a blade to frighten commoners, he had no reaction at all to this sudden attack. There was only a thunderous bang as that pot-sized fist crashed against the soldier's helmet—the steel helmet rang out around the man's head like an inverted bell—and then his whole body spun sideways through the air.
Before he even flew, the soldier had already passed out cold. His helmet was caved in by a large dent, as though it had been struck by a warhammer.
After the one punch, Wright did not pull back his strength but let the momentum carry him around in a half turn, sweeping a low kick at the other soldier. The man finally reacted then, leaping back in a fluster and, in the same motion, drawing a one-handed sword from his waist and thrusting it at Wright!
Wright showed not the slightest fear of that sharp steel blade. Holy white light suddenly flooded his hands, and he reached out and seized the steel edge with his bare flesh. The holy light surged between his palms, hardening into a solid barrier. The soldier discovered to his horror that the thrust he had delivered with all his strength was caught fast by this robed priest—the blade was as though wedged into a crack in a city wall, and strain as he might with every ounce of his power, he could not pull it free!
Wright had once sworn never to use the Holy Light to do harm—but that did not mean he could not use it to defend against enemies.
Just then a ripple of magic power came from behind him. Wright did not turn his head; he only gripped the blade tighter. Cracks spread across the steel weapon, and then he gave a hard yank and drag, hauling the sword-wielding soldier in front of him. His other hand swung over and knocked the shield from the soldier's grip, then caught him by the neck as one might lift a chick, and he casually flung the man in the priest's direction.
The priest in the white gold-trimmed cap stared wide-eyed and, in his shock, rapidly condensed a holy shock—but the blazing light struck only the soldier who had been thrown at him. The man took the powerful holy force full in the chest with a shriek and was unconscious before he hit the ground, while the priest who had cast the divine art could only scramble ignominiously aside.
Before he could steady himself, Wright was upon him.
"The Holy Light tells us that the bullying of the weak is to be despised!"
With those words, a massive fist slammed into the priest's chest, but a shield radiating a faint golden glow appeared out of thin air and blocked the heavy blow for him. His body flew backward, and the crumbling holy shield scattered in flight like spilled blood.
Wright gave the priest no chance to rise. He rushed in again, pinned the man into the mud by sheer advantage of size, and raised his fist high.
"The Holy Light tells us that slander and false accusation are worse than banditry!"
The fist came down hard. The terrified priest reconstituted a shield with the fastest speed of his life, and in the next second he saw that shield split by a single blow into countless fine cracks, countless motes of light spraying from its surface.
The priest wanted to curse aloud, wanted to chant any counter-spell he could, but a vast oppressive force overawed his mind and left him unable even to form a complete sentence. Wright knew the priest's combat routine far too well; he would not give this priest the slightest chance to resist.
The heavy fist rose once more and came down with a whistling gust upon that holy shield.
"The Holy Light tells us that the greedy amassing of wealth is closest to the beast!" "Bang!"
"The Holy Light tells us that doing evil in the holy name is worse than doing evil in the name of evil!" "Bang!"
"The Holy Light tells us that an unjust deed unpunished is no different from doing evil!" "Bang!"