For a time, deafening roars and violent tremors echoed continuously through the Dark Forest.
Even though Vlad possessed the strength to crush the forest giant, defeating him wasn't easy.
Artes's thick hide, dense muscles, and the powerful regenerative abilities triggered by his berserk state made him far more durable than expected.
This might be a unique trait of plant-based giants once they go mad—extreme vitality and self-healing.
What Vlad didn't realize was that the ongoing chaos in the Dark Forest was already shaking the hearts and minds of people far beyond its borders.
The battle's scale had thrown several neighboring kingdoms into a state of panic.
Directly or indirectly, it began altering the beliefs and perceptions of countless individuals.
Many humans had caught glimpses of the clash between Vlad and the forest giant.
Spurred on by cunning minds, a fanatical and deranged cult began to quietly take root in the darkness.
Its largest following came from the soldiers stationed at the borders of the Dark Forest—troops from various major kingdoms.
To these uneducated and low-ranking men, the battle between Vlad and the giant, the sheer spectacle, and the destruction it left behind perfectly matched the image of gods descending to war.
Whether Vlad was a god of justice or one of evil, in the face of fear, no one cared.
They simply prayed, using divine belief to soothe their terror.
Naturally, Vlad knew nothing of this.
He wasn't even certain if human kingdoms existed beyond the Dark Forest.
Boom!
Another thunderous roar shattered the silence, followed by the sharp crack of earth breaking apart.
Under the force of Vlad's devastating attack, a massive crater—hundreds of meters across and nearly a kilometer in radius—formed in the forest, its center webbed with jagged fractures.
When the dust finally settled, Artes had fully entered his berserk form.
His chest bore several massive dents, and his arms were twisted unnaturally—clear signs of his deteriorating condition.
Drenched in blood, Artes had been beaten to a pulp.
Through his hazy vision, he watched the demonic figure approach, and for the first time, fear and unwillingness filled his eyes.
He knew the end was near.
Holy See – Conference Hall
"Your Holiness, the Pope."
"Recently, the Light Scripture has shown frequent signs and omens. I fear they warn of a coming disaster. Please, we must prepare."
A frail old man, nearly seventy, staggered into the hall and addressed the Pope in a trembling voice.
Eight cardinals were already seated, discussing the current affairs of the Church.
They looked at the old man with surprise.
Though he, too, was a cardinal, he rarely took part in Church matters. His presence in the Holy See was weak and often overlooked.
But no one dared to disrespect him—he was an astrologer with rare prophetic abilities, and the custodian of the sacred Light Scripture.
The room fell silent.
The Pope turned his deep gaze on the old man and said seriously, "Bishop Leisen, do you have the results of your divination?"
Bishop Leisen's voice trembled as he spoke. "Your Holiness, forgive the limits of my power. With the help of the Scripture's warnings, I saw only a mysterious and powerful force shrouding the north. It is spreading across the world at incredible speed.
The world… is about to fall into darkness."
When he finished, one of the cardinals spoke gravely:
"Your Holiness, what I was about to report may be related to Bishop Leisen's prophecy. They could be the same event—or deeply connected."
"It seems today's topics have converged," the Pope said, turning to Bishop Leisen.
The old bishop looked surprised. "There's news already?"
"Father Solomon, please continue," the Pope gestured to a cardinal, who motioned to someone behind him.
Bishop Leisen turned to see a lean young priest in ceremonial robes step forward.
"Your Eminences, I am Solomon, predeacon of the Wilvia region."
He gave a brief introduction to the senior clergy.
Then he looked at Bishop Leisen and said, "Your prophecy may already be coming true."
The room stirred with whispers. Once the noise settled, the Pope signaled for silence.
Bishop Leisen noticed the Pope's calm demeanor—clearly, he already knew.
"Respected Cardinals," Solomon said, "a massive number of dark entities have appeared in the Wilvia region. They're spreading at a terrifying pace.
Deacon Mano of Wilvia has already perished."
The archbishops' expressions darkened.
"You're saying the wolf plague is spreading rapidly to the neighboring nations?" a powerful voice boomed.
It came from a muscular middle-aged man with a grim face—Chief Inquisitor Notting.
He was a First-Level Demon Hunter who had already taken his first steps beyond mortal limitations.
Ironically, the Church's extraordinary strength came not only from divine power, but from sorcerers and demon hunters alike.
The difference was that Church operatives used sacred rituals to convert their power into the Light.
Even so, the number of such elite individuals in the entire Church could be counted on two hands.
"Yes, Chief Inquisitor Notting," Solomon replied.
"The speed of the wolf plague's spread depends on how many are already infected.
If we don't act swiftly, their numbers will snowball. Even the Church might not be able to stop them once they grow out of control."
The chamber erupted into heated discussion. The meeting stretched into the evening—a rare show of urgency.
Once the senior clergy agreed unanimously, the Pope signed an emergency commission.
The Knights of Light of the Inquisition would be led by Chief Judge Notting. (Light Demon Hunters)
The Knights of Defense and the Foreign Demon Hunters would also be sent to Wilvia's borders to suppress the wolf plague.
They were granted full authority to command all bishops and deacons in the surrounding regions.
Yet even as Bishop Leisen watched the Pope issue the order, he felt no relief.
Instead, a deeper unease settled in his heart.
"Why am I feeling more and more uneasy?" he muttered, glancing at Solomon, his instincts as an astrologer on high alert.
But after a moment, he shook his head.
Then, as his eyes turned to Pope Thomas once more, a sudden sense of dread gripped him—for reasons he couldn't explain.