Chapter 67. The Prophet of the Red Flesh (3)
Will you take on the angel, risking it all, or just snag the free minion and call it a day?
‘Leaving a part of your power means leaving behind a piece of yourself.’
With that, the quest laid out by the mysterious chaos could be conquered. And it wasn’t a bad deal for Hesabel either. Only the Prophet of the Red Flesh would face defeat and shame, and she wasn’t keen on taking wild risks.
A simple agreement could be a win-win.
Isaac put on a show of thinking it over before flashing a smile.
“Shall we seal the deal in blood?”
Raela also grinned slyly.
“Alright. I’ve got something to show you as a token.”
Raela opened her mouth, revealing a piece of red flesh. A sweet scent drifted over to Isaac, even from a distance.
Raela picked it up with her fingers and said,
“Here, take this. It’s a part of me, flesh with the blood of the red chalice.”
Isaac lowered his sword, approaching Raela slowly. Raela stood still, her hand on Hesabel’s head. As Isaac reached out to grab the piece of red flesh, Raela suddenly sprung into action.
Pffft! The flesh burst, splattering blood all over Isaac.
Covered in blood, Isaac felt a sharp sting, as if he’d been bitten by a bee, and was thrown backward. He examined the areas where the blood had landed. Blisters formed, as if poisoned, but quickly subsided.
It must have been a potent poison. To an ordinary person, their skin would have melted away instantly from such a toxin.
But for Isaac, it was just a slight sting.
“Huh… How, how did you do that?”
The real issue, though, was Raela.
She locked eyes with Isaac, her face split from chin to forehead. Her speech was strange, thanks to her split tongue.
Isaac observed the blood on Raela’s blade burning away and remarked,
“Looks like the trust wasn’t mutual after all. Now what?”
As Raela burst her blood, Isaac swung his sword with his left hand, as if he’d been waiting for this moment.
The sword, entwined with tentacles, moved in an unexpected direction, slicing Raela’s face. His aim was to cut her in two, but this was the best he could manage.
“How on earth are you still on your feet with all that blood on you!”
A loud voice rang out, not from Raela, but from the red flesh prophet.
“Inside me runs something just as deadly as your blood.”
The blood Raela had splattered contained the poison from the red chalice, a divine surprise.
But Isaac had swallowed the plague god, Zihilrat. When it came to resisting divinity, especially plague, he had it in abundance. And with all the horrific things he had consumed and his healing powers, it was no wonder Raela’s poison couldn’t touch him.
Isaac wasn’t planning on sticking around to chat with Raela. He leaped off the rampart and darted away.
Raela thrashed her body in frustration and slashed her arm. A gash appeared, blood spraying out.
It looked like she was doing the same move, but instead of just a barrier for defense, a thorny barrier emerged from the blood, aggressively aiming to pierce Isaac.
“Think you, a mere human, can challenge an angel!”
“As if you’re the main act.”
Isaac wanted to mock the thorns scraping against his face, but it was no easy feat.
Decayed or not, a strategist like the red flesh prophet was still an angel.
Given Isaac’s current state, winning seemed nearly impossible unless the right moment came.
Following Raela’s lead, her other arm tore open, blood drenching the rampart. The thorn barrier weaved around the rampart like a bush, steadily advancing on Isaac. Instead of recklessly charging in, Isaac calmly dealt with the thorns, waiting for the right opening.
“That can’t be all you’ve got!”
The red flesh prophet shouted, driving Isaac with a thicket of thorns. She knew Isaac was hiding something.
That mysterious power had taken down Hesabel and the enhanced Owen.
Certain that she could meet a similar fate, the red flesh prophet remained cautious, attacking with care.
Unless Isaac unveiled his true strength, she kept some power in reserve.
But worry crept in.
The sky was brightening. Dawn was near, delayed by the mountains, but it would arrive soon.
The night belonged to the Red Chalice, but the day was for the Codex of Light.
“If you’re not going to go all out, I’ll crush you on the spot!”
The thorn bush, firmly rooted on the rampart, suddenly expanded. A massive thorn spear, more like a battering ram, shot toward Isaac.
Realizing he had no alternative, Isaac’s left hand moved strangely.
Tentacles sprouted, entangling and tearing at the thorn spear as he wielded his sword.
Isaac’s swordsmanship: The Red Thorn’s wounds, sliced by Eight Branches, let Isaac’s tentacles dig in, splitting the thorn spear. Bursting tentacles sprayed blood over Isaac.
The red flesh prophet trembled at the sight.
“That’s it! That’s your true self…!”
Groaning in pain, she displayed her revulsion and wrath toward Isaac.
Now everything fell into place.
Hesabel’s submission, Owen’s defeat, and the fact that despite being a Grail Knight, Isaac never once called upon the miracles of the Codex of Light.
Was there even a fresh corpse left anywhere!
Isaac couldn’t make sense of her crazy emotions, and he didn’t really care to. The Prophet of the Red Flesh had her eyes locked on him, broadening her shoulders.
With Isaac revealing his true self, it was now her turn to flex her muscles.
“I had no idea that among those with heads, there was someone carrying that seed! And can you believe that seed was hiding beneath the lighthouse keeper?”
Rather than chatting, Isaac made his way towards Raela. The Prophet of the Red Flesh gathered her strength, keeping a close eye on Isaac’s tentacles. But to her surprise, Isaac didn’t use them. Instead, he withdrew them back into his body.
Raising his sword high, he stood his ground.
Observing him opt not to use the tentacles and face her head-on, the Prophet of the Red Flesh was momentarily speechless.
“What? What in the world…?”
At that instant, a sharp pain shot through her eyes as the morning sun beamed.
Feeling the burning sensation, she grimaced but stayed focused on Isaac, avoiding the mistake of losing her concentration. Instead, she pretended to be caught off guard and shut her eyes.
As anticipated, Isaac charged with the morning sunlight.
In response, the Prophet of the Red Flesh summoned spikes from the spilled blood on the parapet. She snickered at Isaac’s sudden move. Did he really think she wouldn’t anticipate the morning sun? Even with the sun rising, someone like him…
But why did he retract the tentacles?
Curious about Isaac’s decision, the Prophet of the Red Flesh realized her spikes were ineffective against Isaac’s armor, either bending or deflecting off.
“What?”
Astonished, the Prophet of the Red Flesh witnessed this and then belatedly heard voices.
“Look! It’s the Grail Knight!”
Due to her fixation on Isaac, she hadn’t noticed the area still concealed in the shadow of the valley near Hendlock Castle.
There, Count Reinhardt and his soldiers stood by, as Isaac had directed them earlier.
The Prophet of the Red Flesh felt her powers wane under the numerous stares.
The Red Chalice thrived on conspiracy, seduction, and assassination. Naturally, her powers were strongest in darkness and secrecy. The revealing light dampened all her abilities.
Exposed in the bright dawn, and under the watchful eyes of many witnesses, she couldn’t muster even half of her original strength.
The Prophet of the Red Flesh desperately lashed out with her thorns in a final attempt. But Isaac’s movements were peculiar.
After absorbing the abomination, Isaac had mastered a new technique, the advanced swordsmanship Owen had used.
Isaac’s body moved in dual directions. While the thorns hit one, the other charge was unstoppable.
The blade gleamed in the sunlight.
Thunk.
Before Raela could react, the sword swiftly sliced through her neck. The Prophet of the Red Flesh realized her fate even before the blade touched her.
A searing pain shot through her.
With his eerie purple eyes fixed on Raela, Isaac spoke, his voice tinted with the smell of blood.
“Shall we find out who ends up squashed like a bug in the end?”
***
Raela stumbled and rested against the parapet. In that instance, her head tilted and rolled off her shoulders, tumbling down the wall. The hollow sound of her neck echoed as it fell.
The Reinhardt soldiers, chilling below the rampart, totally froze when all of a sudden things took a crazy turn. But once they saw Raela’s head rolling to their feet, the Hendlock Castle all wrapped up in red thorns, and Isaac standing tall and proud up on the rampart, everything clicked into place.
“Whoa, the Grail Knight! The Grail Knight!”
“Sir Isaac, the Grail Knight, totally took down the witch!”
Before their eyes, a classic legend sprang to life.
A sketchy lord, a wicked witch, and the Grail Knight who swooped in to serve up some justice.
No hard proof of the lord’s corruption or Raela being a witch, but they all knew Hendrake Castle was bad news, especially after Owen’s knights stormed in.
So, Isaac, who took down the castle all on his own, was like the ultimate hero straight out of legend.
“Cheers for the Grail Knight! Long live Sir Isaac, the Grail Knight!”
Hoots and hollers praising Isaac were flying from all directions. As he soaked in the sounds, Isaac felt something warm bubbling up inside him.
He quickly clocked what it was.
‘Faith?’
A faith stronger than when he was preaching to the Barbarians was seeping in. The genuine adoration from the people felt like it was filling him up with strength. Sure, he’d pulled off some moves using the “Lighthouse of the Watcher” back in Seor, but let’s be honest, he didn’t get any cheers back then.
Back then, he was just laying down the law and giving them a piece of his mind.
‘Yep, actions speak louder than words.’
Maybe that’s why gods toss miracles to their followers.
But to Isaac, the soldiers’ praise felt a bit premature. He hadn’t even put his sword away yet. He held onto that sword even tighter and stared dead ahead.
As he saw it, the real fight was just getting started.
Even with her head chopped off, Raela stood there all crooked but not falling.
Blood gushing non-stop from her neck stump.
Pretty soon, that severed throat started moving like lips, a voice oozing out.
“It’s way too late now.”
A chuckle so low it made the air shiver rang out.
[What were you thinking, cutting off that neck?]
Raela’s skin started moving on its own like a sad balloon losing air. Something inside was just using her skin like a puppet, moving without any bones, muscles, or joints.
Before long, the skin sloughed off, and this red figure started wriggling out from within. Raela’s body lay there, lifeless. Shedding that skin and dripping sacred blood, what showed up was this freaky figure almost 3 meters tall.
It had human arms and legs but no middle part.
Three arms, three legs, and three more unexplainable bits kept switching roles.
It was a mix of intricate and majestic, creepy and stunning.
This was the earthly angel embodying the divinity of the Red Chalice.
The Red Flesh Prophet.
