Trouble—absolutely disgusting.
He had no idea if the force of purification could truly erase these things' toxic taint.
With that thought, Charles lifted his hand. Shadows swirled, and in the next instant, the two-meter-long Montport twin-bladed polearm materialized in his grip.
As soon as the artifact appeared, the sinister voice of the Abyssal Lord echoed in Charles's mind. "Late at night, Master, and you're not out enjoying the nightlife—you're… oh, my word, Proto-Demons!"
He couldn't hide his shock: "Unbelievable… after all this time, there are still some of those crawling around?"
After the 666 core worlds in the Infinite Layers of the Abyss were all tainted into 'demon-soil' strongholds, the Proto-Demons were out-competed and nearly wiped out by the new breeds born from those lands.
These days, outside a few labs run by demon breeders, you'd almost never see one in the wild.
"You'll be seeing a lot more soon!" Charles snorted and ignored him, starting a rapid incantation. "Elemental weapon!"
Elemental weapon.
Whoosh—
Blazing fire surged up on the polearm's twin blades, brighter and fiercer than ever, bursting bright enough to chase away every shadow.
That was the result of higher-tier spellcasting—by burning seven spell slots, he cast Elemental Weapon as a fifth-level spell, making its enhancement even more overwhelming.
Fully buffed, he stepped forward, recalling every muscle memory from his recent training. The polearm spun into a deadly dance in his hands— "Purified!"
Bzzt—
With his shout, a gentle white light bloomed, wreathing the polearm's blade. In their psychic link, the Montport artifact began to yelp, "Master, wait! No! Not the purification—!" indicating even its soul was scorched by the magic.
But Charles ignored it, staying focused on the enemy. With a sweeping arc, the polearm's blade sheared straight through one Proto-Demon's body!
Shhhh—
Proto-Demon skin was softer than modern demons', and an artifact like this cut through like butter. The blade sliced right in, releasing a surge of purifying energy that instantly vaporized a swath of its body!
"Hissss—!"
The Proto-Demon let out a voice both shrieking and childishly gleeful—then its gooey limbs stretched and hardened, stabbing right at Charles's chest!
Bzzt—
An invisible protective force shimmered into place—Shield, catching the spear-thrust perfectly. Charles's face never flickered as he spun the polearm, the other blade slashing down at the Proto-Demon's torso.
"Hissss—!"
Its cries grew sharper and more frantic—whether from pain or to summon its allies wasn't clear. All around, more Proto-Demons uncoiled those spidery, grotesque limbs and dove for Charles, swarming him in seconds!
But at that moment, finally, the witches arrived on the battlefield!
Fwoom—
Sixteen black tentacles as thick as telephone poles erupted from the ground, lashing out to wrap and restrain the demons, slowing their advance.
Back behind Charles, Hattie's face was fiercely focused as she guided the tentacles—until she saw these creatures could deform and slip free of any bonds. She clicked her tongue and abandoned grappling, ordering the tentacles to just smash and whip instead!
Under her brutal cover, Charles's pressure eased. Backed up by the writhing tentacles, he lashed out with the twin-bladed polearm—two more swipes, and yet another mindless, raging Proto-Demon exploded in a cloud of inky mist, then was purified completely by the white light.
Seeing that, Charles finally allowed himself to breathe.
Thank the gods—even against Proto-Demons, the power of purification still worked perfectly. He could wipe them out completely.
Good—now he could unleash everything, cutting them down as fast as possible!
That thought barely flashed through his mind as three or four more shadow-creatures lunged at once, forcing him back on defense.
Luckily, more witch reinforcements arrived at that same instant.
Bzzt—!
Suddenly, just like the sunrise lighting up the land, a shining orb burst overhead, right above the monastery's main church, flooding the whole hundred-thousand-square-meter grounds with blinding radiance.
On the chapel's rooftop, Theresa stood in brilliant white opulent nun's robes, her face grave, looking down on it all.
The light was merciless—no shadow or filth could hide. Even these Proto-Demons shrieked in panic, their assault faltering.
With their charge blunted, Charles's tension eased a little. Out of the corner of his eye, he swept over the grounds—then his gaze zeroed in.
Far across the courtyard he caught a glimpse of a small, familiar figure. The silhouette moved quickly, leaping over the wall in the next moment—but Charles still recognized the face.
He silently made a note, but focused on the urgent task: purify every last demon!
Swoosh—
A petite figure zipped across the field—Ruth, blades extending from her nail, darted past several Proto-Demons in a blink, slicing right through them.
"Haste!"
Sophia's clear, concise incantation rang out, and a surge of magic wrapped Charles's body. The world seemed to slow down around him.
He recognized the effect instantly—Haste. Everyone else moved normal, but he was faster, sharper—everything doubled.
With the artifact in hand, he was a killing whirlwind. He broke into a run, copying Ruth, dashing among the demon-things, his twin-bladed polearm spinning like a windmill, hacking apart bodies with wild speed.
Haste—always the dagger's best friend, the classic buff for melee fighters!
Behind him, more witches poured in. Sephera was readying a spell, but once she saw all the enemies were fiends, she stomped her foot in frustration—her toxins were useless here.
Ekta almost lobbed a Fireball, but remembering this was her own monastery—and it would be Charles who had to pay for repairs—she winced and switched to fire ray, "biubiubiu"-ing instead.
And Andny, watching the fiends swarm in during a night assault, sank into a funk of self-blame.
Wow, they all made it inside and my familiars didn't notice a thing! I'm such a useless witch… gotta train my magic security way harder after this!
She made that mental note, but now, the battle in the monastery was nearly over.
Not just the witches—now the battle nuns had arrived as well. But they'd rushed out in a panic: hair messy, slippered feet, throwing on a single nun's habit at most as they snatched up weapons and charged into the fray.
No helping it—getting into heavy armor took too long. Many girls, seeking the most restful sleep, hadn't even worn any undergarments to bed. So, caught off guard, they were forced onto the field "bare beneath"—their outlines clear under the robes as they ran, some chests so prominent you could almost see the two little peaks.