Chapter 68. The Prophet of the Red Flesh (4)
“Raela’s out of the picture now. She’s off to the banquet.”
The Red Flesh Prophet stood tip-toe, her massive body held up in a way as she peered down at Isaac with a touch of snootiness. Well, “peered” might not be the right word since she had no eyes.
Only limbs moving and twisting around.
“And this place is gonna be the new banquet hall.”
A tongue, almost impossible to connect to any mouth, slid out and licked the air.
Isaac couldn’t help but let out a soft groan at the sight of the angel, his first time seeing something like her. She exuded a power on a whole other level compared to the old gods. It was a stark reminder of just how big the gap was between angels and humans, and this was only a taste of what she could do.
The cheers from below had faded into a heavy silence, the soldiers also feeling the strange presence before them with every fiber of their beings.
All the soldiers facing the Prophet of the Red Flesh sensed danger. Some even felt blood trickling from their noses. Just by revealing herself, she had shocked and unsettled everyone.
Turning them all into piles of meat would be a piece of cake for her, if she wished.
But the Prophet of the Red Flesh didn’t make any sudden moves.
“What do you think, Grail Knight? The morning sun isn’t just a bother for me.”
Isaac’s main weapon was his tentacles. But in broad daylight like this, he couldn’t use them in front of so many people. Revealing his tentacles would just add to the chaos.
He didn’t want to expose his true self and end up in a destructive showdown.
As Isaac stood still, the Prophet of the Red Flesh let out a wicked laugh. She seemed unfazed after revealing her true form, moving as if nothing else mattered.
With a swift movement, she kicked out, sending Isaac flying with a loud crash. The magic in his Sword of Judgment was slowly fading. The pressure was too much for it to handle.
In contrast, the Prophet only had a small wound on her foot, which quickly healed. She hesitated as her skin started to dry in the sunlight.
“I guess I can’t have too much fun with this…”
Internally, the Prophet cursed her decision to reveal her true form. It was draining her power, and any damage she sustained would affect her true self in the afterlife.
Deciding it was time to switch bodies, she had one ready.
Tap, tap, tap.
Her footsteps were graceful as she moved quietly, yet loud enough for all to hear.
Suddenly, she was standing next to Hesabel.
She was certain no one could stop her now. Unless there was a true miracle worker among them, the people below were just fodder.
Isaac, now weaponless, could only watch without moving.
Convinced it was safe to possess Hesabel’s body, the Prophet of the Red Flesh prepared to make the switch.
Hesabel, being of noble blood, would surely handle her power better than Raela, a simple servant.
However, as time passed, the possession did not happen.
The moment the Prophet of the Red Flesh got confused, she figured out what the issue was.
“Seriously, you pain in the neck!”
The Prophet of the Red Flesh forcefully grabbed Hesabel’s face and pried her mouth open. Suddenly, a piece of flesh, looking untouched and fresh like it was never chewed, popped out.
Hesabel spat out the piece of flesh.
***
Plop.
The Prophet of the Red Flesh’s flesh fell to the ground like garbage.
Seeing this left the Prophet of the Red Flesh dumbfounded.
Ever since the Red Chalice came into being, whoever tasted the flesh couldn’t resist it. It was beyond mere willpower.
Ironically, the Prophet of the Red Flesh felt admiration for Hesabel.
Right after Hesabel spat out the flesh, she pulled out a dagger and stabbed the Prophet of the Red Flesh. Obviously, a regular dagger couldn’t harm her.
But the dagger that pierced Hesabel’s side was anything but ordinary.
The Prophet of the Red Flesh stood frozen, staring at the dagger sticking in her leg.
It was the very artifact Hesabel sought to retrieve.
But it was the same artifact Isaac had handed to her just before crossing the wall.
It was the Rite of Division.
“Ah!”
For the first time, a scream unlike any other erupted from the Prophet of the Red Flesh.
The Rite of Division killed Elil, a living god, transforming her to a true deity. This made the dagger not just any relic.
If it were Raela’s body, which the Prophet of the Red Flesh was merely borrowing, it wouldn’t have taken much damage.
But for a mythological being like an angel, it was a different story.
The Prophet of the Red Flesh suffered a more severe blow than any previous attacks.
The Prophet screamed in pain as her head felt like it was ablaze. She flung away the Rite of Division and Hesabel in agony. Yet, the blood flow and burning sensation couldn’t be escaped.
Her body started to rapidly weaken.
‘I need to get out of here.’
For the first time, the Prophet of the Red Flesh felt a sense of danger. The fear of Death loomed. Even if she perished here, her celestial essence would be safe. But if she didn’t flee fast, the wounds from the Rite of Division would leave lasting scars.
Yet, Isaac wasn’t about to let her off the hook.
A sharp murderous intent.
The Prophet of the Red Flesh noticed Isaac bolting towards her in just three strides.
In Isaac’s hand gleamed the rusty Sword of Judgment.
“Using that thing, really?”
Clang! The Prophet of the Red Flesh’s arm collided with Isaac’s sword. To her surprise, the blade slightly pierced her skin. The Sword of Judgment had lost its miracles, rendering it worse than a rusty normal sword.
Dealing with tentacles might have been a different story, but this weapon couldn’t slay an angel.
She anticipated Isaac being thrown back or shattered along with his sword.
Yet, that didn’t happen.
Rumble!
A loud bang echoed as the sword sank deeper into the prophet of the red flesh’s skin. With one strike, in the blink of an eye, it felt like the sword hit her over and over again.
Her already weak and cracking skin started to rip apart as Isaac’s sword intruded. The prophet of the red flesh didn’t get what was going on but knew it was bad and tried to pull back.
But the blade followed her arm like it had a mind of its own.
‘Well, would you look at that.’
Isaac grinned in triumph at the scene.
Back when he defeated the god of wealth, Golruwa, in Seor.
Isaac had to lure Golruwa inside himself since he couldn’t attack him directly. He knew he had to find a way to fight even against a being of concepts. It was a tough job for Isaac, who couldn’t handle miracles.
Finally, through his skill in swordsmanship, Isaac figured it out.
Advanced swordsmanship physically represents one’s intentions.
Isaac’s skill in swordsmanship, ‘Isaac Swordsmanship,’ took the form of tentacles.
Consuming the flesh of Owen and Baxter helped Isaac unlock the next level of Isaac Swordsmanship.
Isaac Swordsmanship: Blade Tearing.
Isaac’s sword vibrated intensely. Inside the blade, unseen to the eye, tiny tentacles spun, slicing through the prophet’s body like a saw.
Numerous tentacles cut and consumed her body steadily.
Isaac had envisioned a chainsaw.
A chainsaw made of tentacles and teeth.
It held the chaotic divine power Isaac had collected.
Though it was a subtle power, it packed a punch when it struck hundreds, thousands of times.
Crash, Bang!
[Aaaaah!]
With a shatter, the prophet’s arm was severed. In a last-ditch effort, she tried to push Isaac away with her other limbs.
At that moment, Isaac activated the Lighthouse of the Watcher as if on cue.
A bright halo surrounded Isaac’s head.
Even the newly risen dawn seemed dim compared to the halo above Isaac’s head.
The light from the Lighthouse of the Watcher disintegrated the thorn bushes on the wall into dust, purifying them. The impure and unjust were expelled, leaving only the righteous.
Isaac stood at the center of it all.
The soldiers of Hendrake Fortress snapped out of their trance, and the soldiers of Reinhardt witnessed the birth of a new legend. Hesabel watched in horror as the blade neared, consuming her flesh.
“The Lighthouse of the Watcher? Another one in this era…?” she muttered, puzzled.
No matter how potent the Lighthouse of the Watcher was, it couldn’t affect an angel directly.
For an angel formed of faith itself, different rules applied. But it prevented the prophet of the red flesh from further empowering herself.
In a flash, Isaac’s sword, gaining speed, sliced through her even more swiftly and forcefully.
Crack, snap, crunch.
It was more like devouring than cutting. Like felling a tree, the prophet of the red flesh lost her limbs in quick succession before being hurled away.
***
“What… This can’t be real…”
The prophet of the red flesh was gasping for breath like she just ran a marathon. Her struggle was real, like a fish flapping on dry land, her throat as dry as the desert.
She had been rocking her true form a bit too long. Without a new body to jump into, she was facing a dried-up demise just like a fish out of water.
In a shaky state, she scrambled to find her discarded flesh. If she could get someone to chow down on it and switch bodies, maybe she’d have a shot at escaping.
[Aaaaah!]
But what unfolded next was unexpected. Hesabel calmly picked up the flesh and handed it over to Isaac. In a final, daring move, the red-fleshed prophet charged at Isaac.
“No, no!”
Yet, Isaac coolly crushed the flesh in his palm, silencing the prophet’s desperate scream.
After his peculiar snack, Isaac strolled forward leisurely.
The red-fleshed prophet struggled to stay upright with her dwindling limbs. She was running on fumes, no fight left in her.
With a shred of pride, she clung onto her form.
Her days were numbered. Unable to find a new body or flesh to inhabit, she was fading away.
“You might gloat now.”
Even as she crumbled, the crimson prophet muttered a curse, a mere taste of an angel’s wrath; a promise of retribution.
Angels rarely let their true selves show, appearing only as messengers or when summoned. Death typically came for agents or the possessed – but for the red-fleshed prophet, a schemer, this demise was unique.
“Do you even grasp your deed? Regrets will haunt you in days to come.”
Her words carried weight – an injured angel’s power could bring dire consequences unless divinely sheltered.
Isaac, wearing a smirk, locked eyes with the fading red-fleshed prophet.
“Do you believe this is mere happenstance?”
