Chapter 1462: The Choice (2)

Among countless Nail Swords, one pierced through layers of defense, struck his chest, grazed his heart, and nearly killed him.

Fortunately, his instincts were still desperately fighting for survival. The Secret Blood remained hot, allowing him to claw back from grave injury and regain his life.

“Where is this?”

Anthony turned his head. There were some tents around him and many others like him, fallen, wounded, and being attended to.

“It’s the encampment, within the Holy Hall Knight Order’s ranks. Right now, Demons are assaulting the outer defenses.”

A Demon Hunter beside Anthony explained.

The good news was that the Demon Hunters hadn’t been wiped out; the bad news was that the Demons were already at the city’s gates. The Holy Hall Knights needed to hold these Demons at the Seven Hills and absolutely prevent them from approaching Florence.

Hearing this, Anthony hesitated for a moment, and then tried to get up.

“You need to rest!”

Someone beside him stopped Anthony. His injuries were severe, so severe that others didn’t believe Anthony could survive, yet he held on until the very end.

“No…”

Anthony wanted to say more, but then someone came over, clad in armor smeared with filthy blood, hair disheveled and unkempt.

“Still alive, huh, Anthony.”

The person said in a deep voice, and as he approached, Anthony gradually saw him clearly.

“Grand Commander Sweno.”

Anthony wasn’t surprised at the arrival. Under the orders of the new Pope, the main forces of the Holy Hall Knight Order were stationed on the outskirts of the Holy City, led by these highly esteemed Grand Commanders.

They had a status similar to that of the Cardinals and were aware of the existence of the Demon Hunting Order. Anthony’s relationship with the Grand Commander in front of him was even more complex; Anthony was once a member of the Holy Hall Knights, and Sweno, this Grand Commander, was his former superior.

“What have you Demon Hunters done?” His voice squeezed out from between his teeth, carrying a chilling killing intent. “I thought the Night of the Holy Arrival would have given you a lesson.”

Anthony remained silent.

Everything seemed like a malevolent curse, an unending nightmare, an endless cycle.

Many years ago, Anthony and Sweno had experienced all this, and now the Night of the Holy Arrival played out again, more terrifying than the past darkness.

“Where is His Holiness?”

Sweno asked again, and Anthony remained silent. Such silence was annoying, and sounds of fighting came from afar.

“Damn it! Say something, Anthony! My subordinates are dying, the disaster is spreading! At this rate, everything will march towards destruction!”

Sweno reached out, trying to pull Anthony from the ground, but he paused mid-air, his expression conflicted, ultimately resorting to angry shouting.

Anthony lowered his head without saying a word. What could he say?

Anthony knew very well, having seen the malevolent aura emanating in the dense black fog in the last moments at Saint Nalos Cathedral. He knew, but simply didn’t want to believe.

The new Pope was already dead, Sainy Loter was already dead.

In such erosion and surrounded by formidable enemies, no one could survive alone, let alone the fact that the battle had been ongoing for so long. Even the once mighty Yanar would have been worn down until death.

But knowing all this, what could be done?

Now, the Demon Hunters were all injured; the only force they could rely on was the Holy Hall Knight Order made up of mortals. Could Anthony tell them the new Pope was dead? Doing so would plunge everyone into despair.

Anthony couldn’t do that. Even if it meant deceit, he planned to keep them here, hold them fast, even at the cost of terrible fatalities.

But… what comes after?

Anthony’s eyes were vacant, bloodshot, with large drops of sweat mixed with filth dripping from the tip of his nose.

Indeed, it would be better to die, as dying would mean no facing all these problems, escaping would mean all of everything ceasing to exist.

Yes, what does deceiving these people matter? Mortals can’t hold back these creatures. The fall of these defenses is inevitable; everything they do is futile, merely courting death.

An unprecedented weight pressed on Anthony’s heart, a topic far heavier than death itself.

He was the Priest of the Demon Hunting Order, responsible for all Demon Hunters. He received appointment from the new Pope, responsible for this battlefield, this war. He was a Demon Hunter, a human, responsible for the impending dark fate.

Responsibility.

This simple word seemed so heavy at this moment.

“Nothing to say, Anthony?”

Sweno’s expression was dark. He was contemplating something, perhaps sharp and bitter words to try and sting Anthony, but in the end, Sweno could only sigh helplessly.

“I thought of giving you a sword, just to vent, but thinking about it, maintaining the status quo is the greatest torture for you.”

Sweno turned around, ready to leave, paused for a moment, and spoke to Anthony.

“I will continue to hold with the other Grand Commanders for a while, but I can’t guarantee that we can hold here. If we truly are defeated, I will order my men to retreat. I’d rather have them die beside family than under the hands of Demons.”

Sweno left, as orderly flames erupted in the distant encampment. Soon, a barrage of shells struck the gates, and smashed the Demons trying to crawl out of the Holy City to pieces.

Leaning on modern industrial weaponry and the sheer number of Holy Hall Knight Order, the situation was barely under control for now, but with the spread of erosion and the growing fear in people’s hearts, no one knew how long they could hold on.

They needed a beacon, a hope, someone capable of turning the tide.

Anthony knew that person was already dead in the Static Holy Temple, and he himself didn’t have the capacity to do it all.

He tried to get up, pain engulfing him, causing him to collapse back down as soon as he managed to rise. Some half-healed wounds tore open again due to the motion, blood oozing forth.

“Stop, you need rest!”

Someone said, grabbing bandages and gauze to stop Anthony’s bleeding, as Anthony lay on the ground motionless, like a corpse. But unnoticed by anyone, he slightly raised his head, staring fiercely with bloodshot eyes towards the blazing front.

Thanks to the time the new Pope and Demon Hunters fought for, the Holy Hall Knight Order established formidable defenses on the outskirts of the Holy City. With artillery and gunfire echoing, the streams of steel repeatedly slammed the gates, slaughtering any moving organism.

Bodies had piled to form a hill, blood soaking the ground, pooling into streams that flowed unchecked, past people’s feet.

Under the pervasive smoke, even without direct engagement with the Demons, some Holy Hall Knights were already feeling uncomfortable. This mountain of corpses and blood was a harsh challenge to everyone’s spirit.

In the end, fighting became numbing, mechanically loading and firing, arms shaking from gunfire, each person seemingly losing self-awareness, becoming mere tools.

This numbness didn’t last long; some couldn’t bear the scene and vomited, while others panicked and fled towards the rear, discarding their armor.

After an indeterminate time, gunfire weakened significantly, and Anthony seemed to have gathered strength, slowly climbing from the ground then standing with others’ support.

“You all leave, I need a moment of silence.”

Anthony said expressionless, and the other Demon Hunters didn’t say much, helping him into a tent.

Barely lying on a mat, albeit separated from the outside world by only a thin layer of cloth, Anthony felt it was two completely different worlds.

He shut his eyes, clasped his hands on his chest, as if lying in a coffin, this peace lasted a very long time until at a certain moment, he opened his eyes again, a glimmer of bright white flickering in his gaze, murmuring.

“Your Holiness, I know what to do.”