The Successor to the Underworld Is a Cheat Player

He swung his sword, emitting a burning green aura.

Pang!

The sword flew, accompanied by a rising shockwave.

Kwaaang!

Soon, the sound of an explosion reverberated.

It had ignited the darkness not just once, but more than a dozen times.

“The heretics’ faith is unbearably sturdy.”

It couldn’t pierce through Galio’s sacred shield.

But that was all.

Crackle!

The once seemingly unbreakable shield of Galio began to show signs of cracking.

The reason why Galio’s shield, which seemed like it could withstand for days, was cracking, was simple.

Crunch-!

A faithful Iron Cross.

Galio was channeling his strength to prevent the Inquisitors from hunting down Tarian’s slaves and false priests.

“How long do you think you can hold on, heretic?”

Bardoman spoke.

“At this moment….”

The power emanating from faith.

That power.

“Darian must have arrived there.”

Emanating from belief and heart.

As the second-in-command of the Iron Cross, Darian lacked many things compared to Bardoman the leader, but he was an Inquisitor capable of easily hunting down false priests.

“To the false saint you so desperately protect!”

At that moment.

Vroom.

A gap appeared in Galio’s steadfast sacred shield.

The concern for the saint.

The delusion that she would be in danger.

The gap created by that.

Crunch-!

Bardoman didn’t miss it.

Once again, the sacred shield shattered under the strike of the sword.

Into the gap that had finally appeared, Bardoman had already slipped his body.

“The sin of abandoning Angel, you will not even repay it with your life.”

It was the moment when Bardoman’s sword, tightly gripped, horizontally slashed.

An unwavering blow of faith that the aging archbishop could never stop.

But at that moment.

Kwahng!

A pillar of dark light that surged forth pushed Bardoman far away.

“What in the world.”

It was a voice coming from the darkness.

“Could this be.”

A chilling and terrifying voice from the darkness.

“In the domain of Demorus, the beetles are rampaging.”

That was.

“A witch!”

The one who single-handedly destroyed six temples.

The one who laid to rest the three great paladins in the tombs.

“Yes, it’s me.”

She was the witch of the legion.

*

*

*

The witch.

With Arin’s appearance, the battlefield was instantly engulfed in silence.

The pillar of darkness that had surged with her arrival vanished.

Her dark aura that had been suffocating disappeared as well.

Standing there was simply a woman with stunning black hair.

However.

“We had turned a blind eye to your hiding beneath Antara.”

At her words, the ironclad knights attacking Tarian.

Boom!

Exploded where they stood.

Arin’s eyes narrowed.

They were eyes of undeniable rage.

“The beetles have infiltrated.”

Beetles.

Words aimed at the ironclads.

Distant.

Though Bardon felt a pang of disgrace, he only clenched his teeth, nothing more.

In Bardon’s mind at this moment, the warning bell continued to ring incessantly.

‘Move, and you die.’

Arin Seymour.

She was one of the three witches of the continent, the legion’s witch.

Even the paladins hesitated to face her alone, feeling they were not yet worthy adversaries.

“I was planning to clear out all the pests this time.”

Arin found herself standing before the kneeling Gallio.

“It was your doing.”

Gallio?

No.

Arin’s gaze went beyond Gallio.

She was seeing something.

“I told you to stay quiet.”

Ha.

A small sigh.

Arlen slowly turned her body.

At that moment.

Kwaaaa-!

A pouring divine power poured down on Arlen.

It was green.

But each part of it clearly had a shining white light.

Chiiing!

A paladin-level divine power touched Arlen’s skin and hair, causing them to melt.

A divine power of the level of a paladin.

But it was all Bardoman’s doing.

“……”

Bardoman vanished without a trace.

Realizing he had no chance of winning with Arlen’s appearance, he played his trump card and fled.

But that was it.

Kwaang!

A deafening noise erupted in the distance.

“Kerrrk-!”

The leader of the Iron Cross, Bardoman.

A massive black sword was thrust behind him.

Swish, swish.

As if conducting an orchestra, Arlen’s hand, moving the black sword of annihilation, plunged it even deeper into Bardoman.

Thud!

When the black sword was completely embedded.

Pashoo!

Arlen’s sword turned into dust and disappeared.

All that remained there was Bardoman, the leader of the Iron Cross, with a gaping hole in his back, facing death with a desolate expression.

A cockroach.

A mere existence that could be swatted away with a flick of the hand.

What Arlen first uttered upon her appearance was not madness, but a fact.

“Now that things are settled.”

Tarian’s attack had come to an end.

What remained was Tarian’s fate.

“Archbishop Gallio.”

Arlen spoke to Gallio with a slightly warm voice.

“I must have told you. Stay here quietly.”

“……”

Gallio fell silent at Arlen’s voice.

Though one couldn’t say how things were in the past, now Arlen was a being with status and power that Gallio dared not look in the eye.

She was able to survive and prolong lives, all thanks to her mercy.

“By the terms of the contract, she should have been disposed of….”

Arin slowly turned her head.

“I’ll let it pass this time.”

There stood a young man with white hair, waving his hand happily.

With a rather charming face and expression.

“Sigh.”

“Is it all over?”

Sane, and the girl in his arms.

Followed by Varus.

“….”

Varus, astonished by the unfolding scene, couldn’t close his mouth.

He had heard countless tales of the witch’s infamy, but witnessing her power in action was a first.

It was truly overwhelming violence.

“Was it you who did this?”

“I told you. I came to fetch. The massacre wasn’t my doing, though.”

“….”

Arin remained silent.

“By the way, want to see this?”

Sane, holding the girl in his arms with both hands.

He said, “This is a saint.”

“….!”

Saint or holy one.

They hold a position akin to that of a pope merely by their existence, sometimes even wielding authority above that line.

In other words,

‘Absolute within the clergy.’

The current clergy was completely in ruins.

The believers, numbering in the tens of thousands, had lost faith, and the priests and holy knights, numbering in the thousands, were scattered, with their fates unknown.

Fugitives.

Even those who knew their fate were mostly individuals who had chosen different paths in faith over the years.

Like Galio and the massacre.

Amidst this chaos, a saint emerged.

“….”

Silence fell over Tarrian.

With Arin’s arrival, the commotion in Tarrian came to an end.

The lords and guilds belatedly arrived with their troops, but upon seeing Arin’s face, they fell silent.

An issue arising in the territory of Demoras.

If one were to point fingers in the name of Demoras, it wouldn’t be a peaceful situation.

However, Arin put an end to the commotion.

-Let’s just overlook today’s events.

Because Sein is involved.

And there was a fact that could be inferred from that.

To the extent that Arin could handle such matters, it meant that Arin’s position in Demoras was high enough.

Tarian had found peace one way or another.

“……”

Nevertheless, the upper chamber was filled with a heavy silence and stillness.

Finally, it was Sein who broke the silence.

“It’s no secret that the gods are absent.”

It had been a long time since the connection with Angel was severed.

“And amidst that, a saint appeared?”

The appearance of the saint.

“It’s understandable why the iron cross is in such a frenzy.”

The believers would think.

Angel finally revealed herself.

Or.

“Perhaps they’ll consider her a false saint born of sin.”

A fabricated fake.

The iron cross probably leaned towards the latter.

No.

“It might not matter.”

As long as there is a being known as a saint, there will be a force to somehow move the crumbling congregation.

‘I suppose it’s closer to the latter.’

Sein had already reached a conclusion.

The power felt from the existence of the saint, it was certainly alien for one to call her a true saint or holy figure.

Completely different from what they possessed.

She was probably a saint created over the years using slaves, just as they raised the priests, Barus.

“The important thing is….”

Finally, Galio spoke up.

“I suppose a vessel carrying Angel’s will has been born.”

“In the end, you were just a human like the rest of us.”

“In times of chaos, lost sheep need a shepherd to guide them. Otherwise, more blood would have been shed.”

Barus remained silent as Galio spoke with a harsh tone.

“But it seems to have been in vain.”

Eyes of pure white.

They were fixed straight on Sein.

“Such a shepherd has appeared here.”

“Your expectations are too high.”

Sein exhaled a long breath.

“So.”

Tap.

A man touching something with his finger.

There was a girl there, looking up at the man with wide eyes.

Her name was Cecile.

This lad was none other than a saint.

“What do you think of this?”

“What can we do? We must follow your will.”

The man almost spat out a curse in frustration.

“I’ll consider the old man who’s dying. But if we take him along, it will only lead to trouble.”

If the Iron Cross caught wind of the saint’s presence, the rest would likely follow suit.

By the remnants of the Tarrian, or rather the Antara sect, the fighting would not cease.

“It would be a waste to kill him.”

“…!”

Barus was surprised by the man’s words.

But the man’s words did not end there.

“Let’s take him.”

That was the man’s decision.

Grin.

The man smirked.