Hezekiah and the Divine War

Volume Three

Volume Three, Chapter 1: Hezekiah

The Holy City.

The Main Hall of the Church of Life.

“Yellow hair, haha, it’s yellow hair again!”

In the grand hall, an old man with a disheveled, luxurious purple robe and a scruffy beard suddenly burst into a maniacal laugh, looking up at the sky.

Then, with a furious gesture, he smashed the crystal ball in his hand into countless fragments.

“Haha, no matter how much I look, all I see is yellow hair. What else is there for me to see? What kind of grand astrologer am I supposed to be? Ugh! I quit, haha, I quit! I’m going back home to farm!”

With those words, the old man tore off his opulent purple robe.

Completely disregarding the horrified gazes of the other figures in the hall, he ran out, stark naked, wiggling his bare backside.

The old man fled with astonishing speed.

The Church Knights guarding outside the hall didn’t even have time to stop him before he transformed into a streak of light, sweeping across the Holy City’s sky like a meteor.

In the hall, several bishops exchanged glances, maintaining a long silence.

Their faces wore expressions as grim as if they had just stepped out the door and trodden in canine excrement.

After a long while, someone finally broke the deathly silence, their voice strangely subdued: “How many is that now?”

“Three, I believe.”

“That yellow-haired person… are they truly so terrifying?”

“I don’t know, but to be able to disrupt fate to such an extent is truly unprecedented.”

“Should we try to find them?”

“There are so many yellow-haired people in the world; how would we find them? We can’t possibly arrest them all.”

“True, but it’s still quite unsettling.”

“Perhaps we should issue a…”

“Why are you all so alarmed by a mere ethereal prophecy?”

At that moment, an indifferent voice resonated from the highest point of the grand hall.

Though the voice carried the gravitas of one holding a high position, it possessed a peculiar quality that made one feel as if bathed in a spring breeze.

The hushed whispers in the hall immediately ceased.

“Your Holiness the Pope,” everyone bowed in deference.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Amidst the solemnity of the crowd, the sound of a scepter tapping the ground echoed, and an old man in pure white divine robes descended from the high platform.

The old man’s hair and beard were completely white, his beard even longer than any of the bishops present.

Yet, his face retained the tender, rosy complexion of an infant. Only through his ancient eyes, which seemed to hold an infinite wellspring of holy light, could one discern the marks of time etched upon him.

The Church of Life.

Its Pope, Hezekiah.

“Fate is inherently unpredictable. To be overly concerned with tracing its path will only lead to an irreversible demise. It is better to let nature take its course and do what we ought to do.”

“We are enlightened.”

“Then return to your respective stations; the time is drawing near.”

“Yes.”

The bishops in the grand hall quickly dispersed, leaving only the Pope, who gazed up at the countless stars adorning the hall’s ceiling.

His eyes, too, shimmered in sync with those stars, as if he were deducing something profound.

“Ulrons.”

Hezekiah suddenly called out softly.

“Present.” An ethereal voice echoed, so indistinct that its origin could not be pinpointed.

“Begin.”

“Yes.”

At this moment, the earth rumbled.

The sound of a thousand thunders reverberated abruptly through the hall. Infinite golden light erupted from beneath the Pope’s feet, forming a colossal golden pillar that pierced through heaven and earth.

In the Holy City, countless believers looked up at this spectacle, their faces alight with fervent zeal.

Then, like a surging tide, they knelt, clasping their hands together in devout prayer.

Feeling the pure power of faith, Hezekiah gently tapped his scepter.

Where the golden light enveloped, a colossal gateway dramatically materialized.

The gateway was intricately carved with winged angels, playful children, and lands blessed by the divine, flowing with milk and honey.

He stepped through the gateway.

In an instant, the surrounding scenery shifted.

He was no longer within the majestic, sacred hall, but had ascended to the boundless heights of the distant heavens.

The sky abruptly dimmed.

An invisible, transparent membrane, imperceptible to the naked eye, divided the infinite firmament.

Below it lay wispy clouds, raging hurricanes, and the faint glow of dawn.

Above it was nothingness.

Hezekiah stood with his hands clasped behind his back, silently gazing into that void.

Soon after, a crow, a white dove, and a comical, mangy rat, flailing its limbs as if swimming in water, flew in from the horizon.

“Holy crap, the old geezer arrived so fast?” The rat, upon seeing Hezekiah, froze for a moment before involuntarily exclaiming.

Hezekiah glanced at the crow, the white dove, and the rat, then casually waved his hand: “Little ones, move aside; don’t block my view.”

“Is this your home?”

The crow, hearing this, retorted angrily: “You tell us to leave, and we’re supposed to? Why?”

“Because… I am the ‘old geezer’ you speak of.”

Hezekiah stated calmly, without turning his head: “Is that reason sufficient?”

The crow was instantly stunned.

As one of the continent’s top powerhouses, Hezekiah, now over four hundred years old, certainly had the right to act his age in front of them.

Moreover, given his status as the Pope of the Church of Life, calling them “little ones” was already a benevolent, grandfatherly gesture.

Its gaze instinctively shifted, only to find that the mangy rat had already scuttled away with its short legs, and the white dove had long since vanished.

‘Cowardly bastards.’

The crow’s beak strangely twitched, and it grumbled: “So what if he was born a little earlier? What’s there to be so smug about!”

Immediately, it flapped its wings and flew away, relinquishing the prime observation spot.

Hezekiah paid no mind, continuing to gaze into the infinite void.

Regardless of seniority, strength, or status, this was his rightful place.

He had long grown accustomed to standing at the forefront of everyone.

But suddenly, his brow furrowed.

Looking to the side, the space not far away suddenly warped.

From within stepped a… white-haired loli.

The loli was dressed in a pink nightgown, appearing to have just woken up, her eyes still heavy with sleep.

Rubbing the corners of her eyes, her amber-red gaze hazily assessed Hezekiah.

She pouted slightly and declared: “Little one, move aside; don’t block my view.”

Hezekiah: “…”

Those words… why did they sound so familiar?

“Meradomir.”

Hezekiah stared at Mera with a stern expression, stating gravely: “I was here first.”

“I know.”

Mera yawned, stretching languidly as she replied nonchalantly: “Don’t you understand the concept of respecting elders? Besides, you little rascal who hasn’t even grown all your hair yet, why are you standing so close? Didn’t your mother teach you to stand a bit further away when watching a show? Otherwise, if you get caught in the crossfire, you might end up crying.”

‘God, ‘hasn’t even grown all your hair yet’…

Hezekiah instinctively stroked his beard, which nearly reached his chest…

Yet, he found himself unable to refute her.

Hezekiah sighed, then looked at Mera and asked, “A projection?”

“What, do you think I’m not here in my true form, so you intend to bully me?”

Mera waved her tiny fists, declaring fiercely: “Do you dare to make a move? If you dare to lay a hand on me, I’ll… I’ll immediately lie on the ground and extort you until you’re dead!”

‘Is this truly something a Grand Archmage who has lived for a thousand years should say?’

“…” Hezekiah sighed silently once more: “Ulrons.”

“Present.” In the empty space, the ethereal voice resonated.

“Find a new location.”

“Yes.”

Golden light descended again, and a simple gateway reformed.

Hezekiah stepped into the gateway, disappearing in an instant.

After Hezekiah departed, Mera’s expression immediately turned solemn.

“Ulrons? I merely took a nap, and the Sanctuary has already evolved to this level? The Church’s millennium of accumulation truly cannot be underestimated.”

Mera narrowed her eyes, as if sensing something: “So that’s it. To leverage the souls of the living to manipulate the authority of the dead, and then use the faith of the Goddess’s believers as fuel to pay that exorbitant price.

A genius idea, remarkably similar to my own. The one who truly cannot be underestimated is you, Hezekiah.”

In the void.

Peering through the world’s thin membrane-like barrier, observing the scene beyond, Teacher Mera’s small face gradually grew solemn.

“Is it… almost over?”

****

Beyond the world.

A magnificent, apocalyptic scene, capable of driving mortals mad with a mere glimpse, enveloped everything within sight.

The endless crimson sea and the boundless black tide collided with a terrifying, destructive force.

Even the residual shockwaves caused the void to ripple and distort.

This was not a petty skirmish within the world barrier, constrained by projections.

This was a Divine War—a clash where complete divine bodies and supreme divine positions wielded true authority, unleashing world-ending power in an unrestrained domain!

Evil God, Withering King.

VS.

Evil God, Silent Moon!

Infinitely high above, a colossal, grotesque pupil, like a blazing sun, rose, emanating terrifying destruction.

Innumerable withered hands swayed around the giant pupil, forming a majestic corona.

Crimson flames poured down, and the illusion of a thousand-mile crimson earth, imbued with world-destroying might, violently suppressed everything!

The moonlight was cold and clear.

Deathly silent and profound.

Upon the flawlessly perfect lunar disc, countless crimson hues spread, enveloping the entire blue moon in an eerie, blood-red glow.

The black tide surged, raising monstrous waves like a sea, meeting the incinerating crimson earth with equal ferocity!

Boom—

Authorities clashed.

The void trembled.

No sound was heard, for the void was inherently silent. Yet, at this moment, numerous top powerhouses within the world barrier simultaneously looked up.

Although most could not physically witness the scene, all those who had achieved the ‘coronation’ clearly perceived this intense collision beyond ordinary comprehension.

And merely perceiving it caused many self-proclaimed extraordinary powerhouses to suffer soul damage and surging qi and blood.

They hastily withdrew their senses in disarray, daring not to pry further.

Thus, at the place closest to the world barrier, only a crow, a dove, a rat, an old man, and a white-haired loli remained.

“It’s over.”

Hezekiah suddenly sighed softly.

His ancient eyes, brimming with holy light, shielded him from the searing heat and blinding brilliance, allowing him to see with clarity.

The black tide and the crimson earth had indeed been evenly matched at first.

However, the Silent Moon clearly lacked stamina. Under the Withering King’s full-force suppression, after only a few breaths, the ethereal blue moonlight and the boundless black tide rapidly dissipated.

Revealing, beneath the blue moon, a hideous, canyon-like wound that had lost its concealment.

“So that’s it. The Withering King rushed so eagerly towards the Silent Moon because they knew of its weakness?”

Hezekiah instantly understood everything, sighing wistfully: “But having reached this point, the Silent Moon, after all its calculations, still expended too much power to prevent the Withering King from succeeding.

Even without this weakness, it likely wouldn’t have been a match for the Withering King.

In the end, what defeated this deity… was fear?”

“An Evil God dying from fear—a truly textbook ironic ending.”

“Next… Ulrons.”

“Present.”

“Begin.”

“Yes.”

****

Above the void, the Withering King seemed to not have expected to defeat the blue moon so easily.

Its grotesque pupil even showed a human-like ecstasy.

The majestic corona swayed wildly, and countless withered hands directly pierced through the void.

Carrying all-consuming crimson flames, they violently plunged into that hideous wound.

The blue moon roared in fury, yet was helpless.

It and the Withering King were deities of the same rank, but such an evenly matched, life-and-death struggle was like a dam spanning a great river: a single ant’s nest could cause a thousand-mile collapse.

Moreover, the power it had expended during this period could hardly be described as a mere ‘ant’s nest.’

Several projections, countless blood sacrifices, and the offerings of all its evil cultists had been exhausted in previous plans, yielding nothing.

It had even lost something crucial.

How, then, could it contend against the Withering King, who had conserved energy for this divine war, ignoring even the prayers of its believers during this time?

As previously stated, the outcome of this divine war had been predetermined long ago!

Thus, at this moment, the boundless crimson earth illusion descended, scattering all the ethereal blue light.

World-destroying flames surged like lava into the lunar disk, sweeping and devouring everything along that hideous, massive wound without restraint.

Boom—

The Silent Moon suddenly shuddered.

Accompanied by a soundless wail that nevertheless instilled a sense of profound sorrow throughout the world, the ethereal blue moon was no longer flawless.

Instead, like a shattered mirror, it developed desperate cracks.

The divine body shattered.

And from behind those countless shattered moonstones, at its core, the Withering King finally beheld the object it had long sought.

It was something whose form could not be observed, whose meaning could not be known, infinitely dazzling, and whose magnificence could not be described even in one ten-thousandth by any words in the world—

The Core of Authority.

****

While the Withering King was engrossed in the Core of Authority, in an inconspicuous corner of the void, a golden gateway suddenly materialized.

Hezekiah emerged from the gateway, looking up, a hint of fanaticism flashing in his eyes.

At a time like this, how could he let the Withering King enjoy it alone?

In the distance, a crow flew past, shedding a few feathers.

A white dove fluttered its wings, taking a piece of cold moonlight.

A mangy rat scurried furtively, wandering at the very edge.

Hezekiah gripped his scepter, and with a gentle wave, golden light descended.

It was as if countless gateways overlapped instantly, and the shattered portion of the divine body from the infinite distance directly appeared before him.

Upon the fragments of the divine body, a chilling aura of deathly silence still lingered.

Such terrifying contamination could, in an instant, transform a crowned individual into a puppet of the moon.

But alas, the moon was already dying.

Hezekiah swept his wide sleeve, and sacred light descended, sealing away the deathly silence within.

With a grasp of his five fingers, the divine body fragments automatically flew towards him.

But he suddenly wavered, as if a video tape had jammed and then rewound. The divine body fragment flying towards him strangely retreated.

Hezekiah froze for a moment, then suddenly reacted, roaring: “Meradomir!”

“Oh my, oh my, why are you shouting? Don’t you know to respect the old and cherish the young?”

Mera had appeared nearby at some unknown point, a faint, illusory giant bell materializing behind her.

With a spread of her small hand, the divine body fragment automatically shrunk and settled into her palm.

“One should always be courteous to elders, don’t you agree, little one?” Mera said, batting her eyes with a cute expression.