Imprisonment

The second onslaught from the three Demon Lords was fiercer, deadlier than the first.

Claws, shadows, and a colossal sword of darkness sealed off every possible escape Charles had, as death’s shadow fell upon him.

Terror and pallor spread across his face as he stared down death itself.

He could only watch as Molly’s claws tore through the air toward his throat, Sylvester’s shadows coiled toward his limbs like serpents, and Vivian’s greatsword, burning with black flames of ruin, descended from above.

“No—!”

He let out a shrill scream, flailing wildly as though clicking through invisible options in a frantic panic.

At that split second—

“In the name of Holy Light, [Divine Imprisonment]!”

His roar was hoarse and desperate, more like the activation of a command than a prayer.

A sharp detonation followed.

A power unlike any Holy Light around them surged forth—domineering, terrifying, as if it came from a higher realm of existence.

It did not originate from Charles himself but from the ancient-looking holy ring on his right index finger, now blazing with blinding radiance.

One of the [Rhine Ten Commandments]—the [Ring of Decree].

Invisible yet tangible shackles of law slammed onto the three Demon Lords.

Vivian’s descending sword froze midair, mere inches from Charles’s forehead.

Molly’s lunging form halted like someone had pressed “pause,” her claws an inch away from her target’s throat.

Sylvester’s spreading shadow stopped dead in its tracks.

“Damn it!”

Vivian cursed aloud—she had nearly forgotten this man still possessed a sacred relic.

The three felt as if they were encased in the hardest amber.

Their mana circulation was forcefully severed by a domineering power of incomprehensible law.

Even a finger could not twitch.

Even their thoughts seemed to grow sluggish.

A mass restriction spell.

A binding effect from an artifact—power that transcended conventional magic.

“Hahaha—hah! I did it! The [Ring of Decree] really works! The perfect crowd-control skill!”

Charles gasped for breath, his face twisting into that all-too-familiar expression of terror-tinged triumph—an expression unique to a “player.”

Still, he did not taunt further.

Instead, he quickly backed away to increase the distance between them.

For even now, the three Demon Lords were struggling—

Holding three of their kind for long was impossible.

Their movements were already starting to return.

As Charles retreated, his eyes swept across Vivian.

Something caught his attention.

His expression subtly shifted.

“Wait… You’re the Demon Lord of Evernight… Vivian? You’re actually here?”

He whispered to himself, curiosity twisting into greed.

“And the Shadow Demon Lord, and the Azure Sky Demon Lord! Amazing—

You’ve all walked right into my hands! I’ll reap endless rewards and achievements for this!”

His breathing quickened; his eyes gleamed with wild excitement, as though countless prizes were beckoning to him.

He took another step back and raised the radiant, dangerous [Ring of Decree] once more.

A deranged smile split his face.

“Since you’ve delivered yourselves to me, it’d be a waste not to seize the chance!

You’ll be the stepping stones that elevate me to the highest tier—my rewards!”

He inhaled deeply.

A massive holy scripture materialized before him.

Its pages turned of their own accord, glowing with resplendent light.

Charles poured tremendous Holy Light into both the ring and the scripture, his voice rising in a half-recited, half-maddened chant:

“Respond to my summons!

O soul slumbering within Holy Light—

By the name of the [Ring of Decree], descend!

[Angel Armament]—Saint of Light! [Lucia]!”

Thunder roared.

The ring erupted in dazzling brilliance.

A vast golden pillar of Holy Light crashed down before him.

It wasn’t a real heavenly descent but the result of space being forcefully torn apart.

A chilling majesty flooded outward in a tsunami of divine pressure, sweeping through the hall—strong enough to momentarily shatter the lingering effect of the binding spell.

The three Demon Lords suddenly felt the weight lift from their bodies.

The divine shackles vanished.

But before they could react, an even greater force of Holy Light bore down upon them, forcing them backward as they stared in shocked disbelief at the pillar.

Within the brilliance, endless motes of light converged and wove together.

A figure clad in the [Armor of Truth], wielding the [Sword of Dawn], her silver hair flowing like a river of light—took form.

It was the very being they had heard described in whispers—

A weapon of war created using Lucia, the Hero of Light, as its model and foundation.

An [Angel].

Yet something was different from the reports.

The Holy Light radiating from this “angel” was denser, fiercer.

Her once-empty eyes now burned with twin golden flames—cold, unfeeling, divine.

“Wha—Lucia?!”

Molly cried out in disbelief.

Even Sylvester’s shadows rippled with unease, seeming ready to flee.

Vivian’s pupils constricted.

Her heart felt as though a cold hand had clenched tight around it.

She had known—but seeing Lucia like this, hollow, stripped of life, turned into a mere weapon, still struck her with bone-deep dread.

Perhaps soon, she thought grimly, she might share that same fate.

“Hahaha! Do you see it now? This is true power! Perfect! Absolute obedience!”

Charles laughed maniacally, pointing toward the three Demon Lords.

“Go, [Lucia]! ‘Purify’ them!”

The “angel’s” golden-flamed eyes locked instantly onto her targets.

No hesitation.

No emotion.

The [Sword of Dawn] flared to life.

“Dodge!”

A piercing hum split the air.

A blinding beam of sanctified light—sharp as judgment’s spear—shot forth at unimaginable speed, aimed squarely at the three Demon Lords.

The strike toward Vivian was the fiercest of all.

“Careful!”

Sylvester’s voice cried out as his shadows surged, attempting to shove her aside—but too late.

Vivian barely managed to raise her greatsword of darkness before her.

The beam hit.

A thunderous explosion followed.

The impact slammed her backward like a battering ram.

She crashed into a stone pillar, blood tracing down her lips.

Cracks splintered across her conjured dark blade.