209: A mysterious woman who embodies holiness and desire

The figure was bathed in pure holy light, like a deity formed from the morning glow.

Her face was shrouded in a soft halo, revealing only a glimpse of her breathtakingly perfect contours and eyes that seemed to reflect the pristine starlit river of creation itself.

Holy light flowed around her, forming a simple yet sacred plain white robe that accentuated her stunning curves.

The moment she appeared, the violent energy aftermath raging between heaven and earth seemed to be smoothed out by an invisible giant hand.

The churning lava solidified like a mirror, and the destructive electric arcs flickering at the edges of the spatial cracks obediently subsided.

This woman possessed the most typical Western female silhouette; her golden hair, like flowing molten gold, shimmered with a soft halo in the holy light.

Her skin was as delicate as the finest Oriental porcelain, exuding an almost transparent, jade-like luster under the holy light.

Her face was a masterpiece meticulously sculpted by the Creator; every line of her features was perfectly placed, breathtakingly flawless.

Her brows conveyed a divine and pure compassion for all beings, as if embodying the ultimate imagination of all 'good' and 'beauty' in the world.

However, beneath this extreme sanctity lay a temptation capable of instantly making any mortal being's blood surge and reason collapse.

The holy light, like the thinnest veil, not only failed to conceal but, in an almost miraculous way, perfectly outlined her breathtaking curves.

Her full bosom proudly stood beneath the holy light veil, gently rising and falling with each breath.

Her slender waist was so narrow it could be spanned by a single hand, connecting to suddenly plump, rounded hips full of astonishing elasticity.

Her long, straight legs were faintly visible in the holy light; each step she took seemed to tread upon the strings of desire, silently stirring the most primal impulses.

The sacred and pure face, the compassionate eyes, and the devilish figure, which was maximally highlighted and exuded fatal temptation under the holy light, formed the most intense and maddening contrast.

She was a walking icon, yet also the embodiment of desire.

Two diametrically opposed qualities perfectly merged within her, radiating a fatal allure that made one's soul tremble, simultaneously wanting to worship her and utterly defile her.

She slowly opened her eyes.

Her eyes, like the purest sapphires, or lakes reflecting the boundless starry sky, were deep, serene, and contained infinite wisdom and compassion.

Her gaze swept over the bottomless pit beneath her feet, its edges still flickering with destructive electric arcs, over the ruins that were once called Vatican and now only consisted of scorched earth and lava, over Elian and Baal confronting each other like gods and demons in the sky, and finally, it settled on the center of the giant pit.

A faint, light trace of regret, like a breeze across a lake, flitted across her flawless face.

She let out a soft sigh, her voice like a heavenly melody, carrying a soothing power, yet strangely piercing through space, echoing clearly in the depths of every being's consciousness.

"Alas..."

This sigh seemed to be a lament for the end of a great era, a mourning for the passing of countless faithful souls.

In the depths of the woman's sapphire-pure eyes, a flash of extremely cold, sharp light suddenly flickered, as swift as an illusion.

An absolute, undeniable sense of 'order' descended, replacing the previous destructive chaos.

However, this order did not bring peace, but rather a suffocating pressure.

The moment she stepped out of the light door, the oval light portal behind her did not dissipate; instead, it seemed to be drawn, compressed, and shaped by an invisible force.

The brilliant light rapidly condensed, finally transforming into a scepter that landed steadily in her outstretched, equally flawless, jade-like hand.

The scepter's form was ancient and majestic.

Its staff seemed to be solidified liquid sunlight, flowing with a warm yet supremely authoritative luster.

The head of the scepter was not a common gem or holy emblem, but a slowly rotating miniature sun composed of pure holy light, with an extremely profound rune faintly visible at its center, as if it were the source of all laws of light.

"The Grace of the God of Light..."

A cold voice, devoid of emotion, as if crossing endless time and space, came from within a strange high tower constructed of starlight and geometric light patterns, nestled in a spatial rift.

Deep within the tower, several figures shrouded in arcane light were observing the center of the battlefield through some trans-dimensional means.

The old voice, like metal grating, uncharacteristically carried an extremely subtle tremor.

"Divine artifact 'The Grace of the God of Light'... confirmed."

After a brief pause, another voice followed, carrying a hint of understanding and profound meaning.

"So that's it. The Church of Light a century ago did not decline naturally; it was the Archangel race... they stole its glory."

The voices within the tower continued to echo, as if narrating a buried secret history, coldly dissecting the truth.

"The Archangel... with their sacred appearance, consistent with the legendary supreme being, they deluded mortals."

"They altered the doctrines, twisted the flow of faith, and appropriated the power of faith that rightfully belonged to the God of Light and the Church."

"The source of power was stolen, and the foundation of the Church crumbled. And the Saintess of the Church of Light at that time, that pure soul closest to the will of God—Alicia Saint Vanzel..."

The voice paused here, as if even the cold mechanical tone sensed the weight and cruelty of that history.

"...She became the greatest obstacle in this theft of faith, and also the most tempting sacrifice."

"The Archangel could not directly destroy the divine artifact that carried the will of God and its guardian. So... they forced her to offer herself as a sacrifice, using all her holy power as a lock, sealing her eternal 'existence', along with her unyielding will, into the core of the divine artifact 'The Grace of the God of Light'."

"This act not only completely cut off the Church's possibility of regaining divine favor but also thoroughly erased all traces of Saintess Alicia's existence, allowing the Archangel's lie to perfectly continue."

"From then on, the Archangel replaced the Church, becoming the sole representative of 'Light' in the mortal world."

"And the true Saintess of Light was imprisoned within her own divine artifact, enduring eternal solitude and the pain of stolen faith... for a century."

The voices within the tower fell silent, leaving only the hum of flowing magic.

This dark history, deliberately buried, was unveiled anew at the edge of this battlefield of destruction and rebirth, carrying a chilling coldness.

At the center of the battlefield, Saintess Alicia, holding 'The Grace of the God of Light', seemed to hear this whisper across time and space, or perhaps a century of solitude and anger had already been etched into her soul.

Her face, shrouded in holy light, subtly lifted, her gaze no longer purely pristine, but burning with an extremely cold, soul-freezing rage!

The target of that rage was not merely the demon Baal, but firmly locked onto—the Archangel Elian!

"Thief... blasphemer..."

An ethereal voice, yet imbued with endless majesty and hatred, echoed clearly in the solidified space, like the ringing of a holy bell.

The voice was not loud, yet it penetrated all energy barriers, reaching deep into the soul.

The moment Elian saw the scepter, his golden pupils suddenly contracted, and for the first time, an expression of incredible shock appeared on his incomparably handsome face!

He recognized that scepter!

It was the supreme divine artifact of the Church, long 'lost' to history!