Chapter 191: Light and Darkness
Augustin the Dark Punisher and Abraham the Shadow Punisher flanked a third figure between them — Cardinal Agass, known as Hadir's voice on earth. The three advanced in a loose half-circle formation toward Evan, stopping when fifty cubits still separated them.
Agass offered a courteous bow. "Mr. Lich. I am Agass. I must say, you're a bold one, slipping into the holy city itself. My thanks for dealing with Bilden — spares us the trouble of hunting him down ourselves. As thanks, I'm afraid we'll have to send you back to hell today."
"Wasn't Bilden sent by you in the first place?" Evan asked, expressionless.
"No, no, you're mistaken there. He wanted to kill you himself, and broke out of Saint John's prison to do it. We only followed his trail. You killed the madman Bilden for us — we're grateful, truly. Why would you assume we sent him? Simply that your own heresy has stirred such outrage that even a fellow heretic like poor Bilden felt compelled to come after you," Agass said, shaking his head.
"Hypocrite," Evan said, just the two words. He felt certain they'd sent the man — no one had ever walked out of Saint John's prison alive, save by pledging themselves to the Church. And even then, how would he have known Evan's whereabouts at all? Not that the Church would ever admit as much, whatever the truth.
"Mr. Lich, will you come quietly, or shall I simply kill you? Though I understand a lich can restore himself through his phylactery — rather inconvenient, that," Agass said, frowning.
"You walk your sunlit road, and I'll walk my narrow bridge. Since that's how it is, why not simply pretend neither of us has seen the other, and we'll call it settled," Evan said.
He remembered then — a lich's real advantage lay in exactly that trick. Pity he had no phylactery of his own. He'd nearly forgotten.
Agass smiled. "Mr. Lich, the Creator's power is beyond anything you can imagine. Do you think we couldn't find your phylactery? His Holiness the Pope carries power beyond measure — he could reduce both you and your phylactery to ash directly, through your own body. Care to surrender now instead?"
Something clenched in Evan's chest. So a demigod could locate a lich's phylactery and destroy it through some connection to the body itself — the first method he'd ever heard of that could actually end a lich for good.
"Why send Bilden to kill me, then? Even if he'd succeeded, it wouldn't have finished me off," Evan asked.
"I never sent him to kill you. And besides, if you could be killed by the likes of him, you wouldn't be worth my own trouble at all. Where there's light, there must be darkness. Without heretics like yourself, how could the Church's greatness ever be made manifest?" Agass said with a smile. He'd said the Church, not the Creator — a flicker crossed Evan's eyes at that.
"You keep calling others heretics without ever admitting you're the true heretics yourselves. The divine world lies beyond any mortal's understanding — what right do any of you have to brand others heretics?" Evan said flatly. He had every right to say it, given he could summon Hadir himself, the Creationist Church's own Dark Archangel — though Evan himself doubted this was truly Hadir at all.
"That is precisely the Church's greatness. The gods themselves need nothing from mankind, and yet the Church, honoring their teaching, gives this world its moral order. Once a mainstream order exists, dissenting voices always follow — that is heresy, and heresy must be suppressed. This is the will of the gods, and the demand of mankind both. Which is why your transformation into a lich is itself a challenge to the very limits of what humanity will tolerate," Agass said. Evan hadn't expected him to see it so clearly — no grand philosophy, just a plain, unflinching statement of what heresy actually meant to a religion.
Evan sighed. "Fitting, that you'd be Hadir's own voice. Your insight cuts straight to the heart of what heresy really is."
"Which is exactly why I became Hadir's voice — while you, Mr. Lich, have become the thief who stole the Archangel Hadir's own glory. You're a clever man, and it's a genuine shame you've made yourself an enemy of the Church, an enemy of mainstream society itself. I hear you took this path originally for the sake of a nun. One wrong step, and there was no turning back," Agass said, with something almost like regret.
"Why would I want to turn back?" Evan asked, genuinely puzzled. "The Creationist Church doesn't rule this world alone. In the Barbarian Continent, in the lands of Xia, the Church has no say at all. I'm simply a seeker of truth. Religion has its virtues, but it's not what I'm after."
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Something in Agass's face stiffened for an instant before he laughed. "You're a man who understands things clearly, at least — no point saying more. Augustin, Abraham. Take him. Alive, if possible — otherwise it's more trouble than it's worth."
Augustin's face stayed blank as he raised the small spear in his hand — the Spear of Nolahadin. The moment he gripped it, milky light flared, and the small weapon lengthened instantly to fifteen cubits. He swung it up, leveling it at Evan's chest, the milky light condensing into something solid, driving straight for him.
Abraham pointed his staff, and the ground split open at once. A massive, prehistoric skeletal beast tore free of the earth, the ground shaking as it rose — only two of them, and yet they carried the presence of an entire army, charging straight at Evan.
Agass stepped back, a faint smile on his lips, watching the fight unfold, his eyes never leaving Evan. Seeing the two men's seamless coordination — Augustin closing in while Abraham supported from range — Evan showed no hesitation of his own, black smoke flickering to life around him, his own figure swallowed within it. From the mist, countless skeletons, endless ghouls, bats, and gargoyles surged forward like a rising tide.
Milky holy light flared around Augustin, and at its touch, the undead crumbled to smoke and collapsed. His spear thrust straight at Evan, sword-intent already locked onto him — only to lose that lock an instant later, a startled sound escaping him as the spear drove into empty smoke, missing entirely.
Abraham's skeletal titans thundered forward, black mist swirling wherever they passed, colliding with Evan's own Undead Calamity and merging into one mass. The soulfire within the giant skulls flickered, dimming rapidly. Abraham felt the connection between himself and his creation weakening fast — this spell couldn't hold against Evan's own Undead Calamity.
Necromancer-Arcanist though he was, he remained mortal, not a lich, and necromancy, whatever else could be said of it, always answered best to a lich's own hand. His face went pale as he felt the link to his skeletal giants sever completely.
Both titans froze, then collapsed, crumbling into bone before dissolving into scattering black mist. Within moments, the two massive constructs had unraveled entirely, without a sound.
Hidden within his own black smoke, Evan watched Augustin's spear strike again and again, each thrust landing precisely on some skeleton's soulfire, no undead creature able to withstand it — within fifteen cubits of him, nothing could get close at all, whether skeleton or gargoyle circling overhead. A single thrust each time, seemingly effortless.
But Undead Calamity wasn't so easily broken. The black mist still hung thick outside that radius, as though an endless supply of undead waited within it. Worse still, Augustin felt something cold and bitter cutting through the mist, gnawing at his own skin — his very vitality seemed to be draining away, even as the skeletons kept multiplying without end. He understood then — his own draining life force was fueling the endless supply of undead. This was the true horror of Undead Calamity.
He roared, holy light flaring brighter still around him. "Nicholas! Stop hiding in that smoke and fight me properly, if you have the nerve!"
Evan gave a scornful laugh. "You two think I'm a fool?" A coil of black smoke shot free of the mist like a dragon, resolving into a wraith, lunging straight at Augustin.
Augustin gave a cold laugh and struck with his spear, scattering the wraith — only for it to split into several more, all converging on him at once. Some dissolved under his holy light, but more of them seemed to adapt to it, forcing their way through regardless. Startled, Augustin threw himself backward, clear of the mist's radius entirely.
Abraham pointed his staff, and a beam of jet-black light shot into the fray, a great swath of skeletons crumbling to dust at once, a skull woven from black mist grinning wide as it swept outward in every direction.
Evan gave a cold laugh. When it came to necromancy, who could ever hope to match a true lich — not even an Arcanist could manage it. The mist-skull had barely finished forming, hadn't even shown its full power yet, when the black smoke around it surged forward, the crumbling skeletons rising back to their feet at once, the mist-skull swallowed and assimilated before it could act at all. Abraham's face turned grim — his spell had lost its connection entirely.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, all glory belongs to the Lord. Within death's own domain, the Lord's great archangel, sovereign of endless death, true and final master of all that dies — Hadir. Let the blasphemer return to nothingness." As the chant rose, Agass finally moved, boundless holy light pouring from his body, the milky radiance turning jet black in an instant, driving like a blade straight into the field of Evan's undead calamity.
The darkness reached its absolute peak in that same moment — and then, all at once, blinding brilliance erupted, every trace of darkness swept away, every undead creature purified entirely on the spot. Evan grunted, caught off guard — he hadn't expected Agass's divine art to run this deep, shifting freely between light and darkness. It gave him something to think about — though now was hardly the time.
The light faded, and nothing remained before him at all. But a ring of crackling electricity had already formed around Evan's own body, surging outward in every direction. In that same instant, Augustin was already airborne, spear thrusting straight at him, its milky light condensed to something solid — the moment it met the outward-racing ring of electricity, sparks flared in layers across the impact.
Augustin landed. Evan looked at him, an odd expression crossing his face — something almost like pity. What was this? A thought flickered through his mind, and he felt something sharp beneath his own foot, glancing down to find a blade had already pierced through his boot into the flesh. Shallow, but his foot went numb instantly. Not good — he'd been caught by a trap of his own. He shifted his focus toward his foot at once, holy light already descending to meet it.
And in that exact instant, a streak of silver light leapt up from the scattered stones — the crescent blade, wreathed in whirlwind and thunder-fire, tearing through the air straight for Augustin.