I Possess the SSS Skill: Future Sight

In a thousandth of a second, Ilarion vanished from atop the altar of bones!

The speed was not physical movement; it was a step through light itself.

Saint Ilarion materialized directly in front of Kyle, who was charging in the middle.

The distance between them became zero.

The scent of sacred incense struck Kyle’s nose with a force that halted his thoughts.

Ilarion smiled with a gentle, demonic softness, and whispered in a voice only Kyle heard inside his mind:

"You know, Kyle? The weapon you carry in your soul... is extremely dangerous. I have been watching you through my cameras.

I saw how you killed that S-rank steel hound in the alley with ease, without even touching it. It seems you possess very special abilities, belonging to a time that should not exist."

Kyle’s eyes widened in absolute terror.

He saw! He knew about the Forgotten Blade!

Kyle tried to summon the blade, raising his blackened right hand to stab the saint’s shadow...

But Ilarion was faster than thought.

"Therefore... I must first get rid of your hands, so you don’t play with those annoying shadows."

Ilarion extended his hand, radiating dense, brilliant golden light, and grabbed Kyle’s right wrist.

The touch was not warm. It was burning like the sun.

Craaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!

The sound of bones shattering echoed through the flesh cathedral like a cannon shot.

Ilarion’s golden light wrapped around Kyle’s right forearm, and with one calm squeeze, he crushed the ulna and radius with overwhelming force until they shattered into a hundred rough fragments!

The pulverized bones pierced Kyle’s skin from the inside out, tearing the black veins of the ghoul core, turning his right arm into a twisted, deformed mass bent at an impossible angle, bleeding boiling blood!

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Kyle’s scream was savage, throat-ripping, carrying the accumulated pain of humanity.

His magnum slipped from his hand, and he felt his consciousness nearly evaporate from neural shock.

The Forgotten Blade inside his soul recoiled in terror from the supreme light energy that burned its exit.

"Kyle!" Eva screamed, veering off her path toward Ilarion, trying to save the young man she had hated only hours ago.

Sia leapt into the air, directing her poisoned daggers toward the saint’s neck.

But Ilarion did not even look at them.

He raised his other hand with a simple motion toward the cathedral ceiling.

"Condemnation," he whispered calmly.

From the fleshy ceiling of the cathedral, and from absolute emptiness, hundreds of spears made of pure golden light formed!

The spears launched like a cursed rainstorm.

They were not mere light; they were solid, burning, concentrated mass.

Spears of light struck Eva in her thigh and her uninjured shoulder, pinning her to the screaming flesh floor that writhed in response to pain.

Sia, midair, was struck by three spears in her abdomen and arm, slamming her to the ground, pinned like a butterfly on display.

Valisera, who tried to advance, was caught in a net of light spears that pierced her calf and shoulder, fixing her in place.

In one second... the remaining Alpha Squad became completely immobilized, bleeding and screaming under the mercy of sacred spears.

Ilarion was not finished.

He turned back to Kyle, who trembled on his knees, sobbing while clutching his shattered, deformed right arm.

"Pain purifies the soul, my son," Ilarion smiled calmly, grabbing Kyle’s left arm.

"No! Please... stop!" Kyle cried, begging. Every mask of arrogance and cold killer shattered before this entity beyond humanity.

Craaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!

Kyle’s left arm met the same fate.

Completely crushed. The bones shattered, the flesh twisted like a soaked rag.

"AAAAAAAGH! Kill me! Kill me, you monster!" Kyle roared as he collapsed face-first onto the soft flesh floor, writhing like a severed worm, tears mixing with blood, unable to use his destroyed hands to fend off the pain.

But Ilarion was not done.

He stood over Kyle’s collapsed body, raised his light-radiating foot, and calmly placed it on Kyle’s right knee.

Crack... Craaash!

He crushed the knee joint completely, shattering the kneecap and driving it into the flesh.

Then he moved his foot to the left knee.

Craaash!

Kyle’s screams were no longer words.

They became animalistic rattling, continuous moaning from pain beyond the limits of any human nervous system.

His body was now merely a breathing torso; his four limbs shattered and deformed beyond what medicine or Eitra could heal on the battlefield.

"Rest in peace now," Ilarion said.

He created a spear of light in his hand, and with precise motion, drove it into Kyle’s back, piercing his spine and exiting from his abdomen, pinning him to the flesh floor so he could not even crawl or writhe.

Kyle partially lost consciousness, eyes open but empty from torment, gasping weakly.

"You... damn... bastard..."

Valisera’s hoarse, blood-filled voice cut through the saint’s calm.

She lay on the ground, light spears piercing her limbs and pinning her, yet she lifted her head and looked at him with demonic pride that refused to break even while being butchered.

"Did... did you tamper with Lieutenant Gray’s memories?"

Valisera spat blood and challenged his golden gaze. "Did you plant the Harvest lie to lure us? What do you gain from this? What interest do you have with the Volders to sacrifice your entire hospital just to destroy us?"

Saint Ilarion turned toward her. The golden light around him began to dim slightly, as if resting after completing a tiring task.

He looked at her with genuine confusion, furrowing his blond brows.

"Tamper with Gray’s memories?" Ilarion spoke with pure astonishment, as if she had insulted his doctrine.

"What nonsense are you saying, my daughter? I did not plant any memories in anyone’s mind. I only told Lieutenant Gray to act as if he worked for the Volders to mislead command and divert attention from my own projects. I possess the Eitra of light and purification... I cannot manipulate anyone’s memories. That kind of magic belongs to dark demons or mind mages, not to me."

A deadly silence filled the cathedral. A silence that cut through Eva and Sia’s cries of pain.

Valisera blinked.

Her mind, surpassing computers in analysis, halted for a second.

"Cannot... manipulate memories...?" Valisera whispered, her crimson eyes slowly widening.

If Ilarion did not plant the false "Harvest" memory in Lieutenant Gray’s mind...

And if the hospital was truly empty, with no intention of harvesting thirty thousand humans...

Then where did that story come from?

How did they learn of it?

Slowly, horrifyingly, as if her neck were made of rust, Valisera turned her head to look at "Kyle."

The shattered young man, pinned to the ground, who had just lost his four limbs to help them fight Saint Ilarion... was the one who told them.