Chapter 409
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Chapter 409: The Princess Carry
The aftermath of this battle didn’t only affect those directly involved; it rippled out, drawing the attention of others.
From the entrance of the sanctuary, waves of energy rippled through the air, disturbing the peace. At the foot of the mountain, remnants of the ancient god and the outer god lingered, wary but too afraid to cross the thunderous pool.
These remnants were just that—remnants. They couldn’t leave the broken paradise, nor could they enter the sacred realm of the Supreme Will’s divine sanctuary. A clear boundary separated them.
The remnants knew that stepping over that boundary would lead to their demise. But if they remained, they faced four formidable templars standing in their way.
Alena’s situation seemed as if both paths were blocked—either death at the hands of the templars or a life turned into a projection under the remnants’ control. Either way, there was little hope of escape.
Alena’s body was enveloped in ice crystals. Her last encounter with a powerful monster had driven her to the edge of death, but this time, she fought even harder, tapping into her vampire bloodline’s secret arts, burning her life force to fuel her power.
Yet, despite her fierce resistance, she couldn’t hold on forever.
If she had been alone, perhaps she could have escaped. But there was the small, vulnerable figure of Guan Ling behind her, weighing her down.
Alena glanced back toward the foot of the mountain, where strange creatures stood blocking the way. Just one look told her that she could never handle these opponents. Escaping from them seemed impossible, so she chose to fight the four templars instead.
The Templar holding a gun looked at the bleeding Alena with cold indifference. “An advanced blood descendant… not just any, but a Capesh bloodline. How fortunate she was to sever a finger of our allied nation in advance.”
The Templar with the bow tightened his grip, his finger twitching on the string. “Don’t underestimate them. If she’s determined to fight, even at the cost of our lives, we’ll leave at least one of us here.”
The largest and most robust of the templars, holding a double-handed hammer, spoke with a voice as cold as ice. “If she were alone, maybe we couldn’t stop her. But with someone else to protect, she doesn’t stand a chance.”
The final Templar, wielding a sword, walked at the back, frost emanating from his body, slowly turning into a mist. “The Capesh bloodline must be eliminated. Even if we can’t wipe them all out, we must kill every last one of them.”
Both the Templars and the Shogunate Sword Hunts were ruthless killing organizations, valuing loyalty and obedience above all else. Honor was secondary, and mercy was a foreign concept. Like swords cutting through flesh, they were indifferent to who they killed—whether man or beast.
Sasha Capesh, known as the Blood Noble, earned her fame on the battlefield. Five hundred years ago, she toppled imperial rule with immense combat power. Her legend as a nearly invincible mage, having slain thousands of the Sacred Religion’s followers, made her a target even now. While killing her was nearly impossible, severing her bloodline would be a great victory.
In their world, there was no room for morality between enemies. If they could kill, they would.
The Templars were no novices; each had seen countless battles. All in their prime, in their thirties, they knew that killing a Capesh bloodline member would bring great recognition.
Alena could hear their words, but she merely smirked. “Why don’t you try and see if you’re qualified?”
The Templar with the gun stepped forward, slowly making his way out of her guard range.
“You’re powerful,” he said, his tone almost casual. “But inexperienced. Your magic reserves are vast, and the blood magic of elite descendants is formidable. If we fall victim to your blood-draining spell, we’ll become your prey. Continuing this fight may lead to both sides getting hurt. It’s unfortunate, but because you’re focused on protecting someone behind you, you’ll have to guard against all four of us. This limits your offensive options, forcing you to endure and give up the best fighting strategy.”
He spoke calmly, almost as if lecturing her, despite the fact that they had her surrounded. There was no way for her to escape their line of sight.
Alena said nothing.
Guan Ling trembled, wanting to say something, but Alena ignored her.
The two were strangers—Alena didn’t have to endure this, but she wasn’t heartless. Guan Ling had come for her, after all. It was a matter of responsibility.
Taking a deep breath, Alena looked at Guan Ling, offering a smile that barely showed any warmth. “It might hurt a little,” she whispered, then sank her teeth into the other woman’s arm.
Sweet virgin blood flowed into her throat, replenishing her drained energy. To her surprise, Guan Ling’s body was far stronger than she had expected, with abundant life force circulating within.
The exchange of energy was more than a mere survival tactic; it was a lifeline. Alena could feel the surge of vitality, pushing her toward one final act of defiance.
The Templar noticed the change.
“The blood cycle—this isn’t good!” one of them muttered, recognizing the spell as Sasha Capesh’s ultimate technique. It was called Blood Cycle, a war-level magic.
But before they could act, Alena revealed the illusion—the blood vortex dissolved, and a deadly blizzard erupted in its place. Hail and snow raged across the battlefield, freezing everything in its path.
Alena focused on the templars but didn’t engage them directly. Instead, she moved through their ranks, knowing that survival meant advancing, not retreating.
The real enemy wasn’t the templars; it was the Saintess of Justice, who was intent on containing the shards of heaven. If she could seize a moment of distraction, Alena could escape—her last chance.
As the frigid storm whipped through the battlefield, it left destruction in its wake. Arrows whizzed past Alena, but she didn’t flinch. She had to keep moving.
The sanctuary loomed ahead. She could see the exit, just above the central pool, bathed in an ethereal light, like a flowing painting of hope.
She was so close.
But as she stepped into the sanctuary, a flutter of panic gripped her heart—there was no sign of the Saintess.
Where was she?
Alena’s sense of space warped, her body frozen in place, and for a moment, she felt as though she were at the end of the earth.
A cold, distant control over space surrounded her, as if mocking her every step. There was no way forward.
She gazed at the immense distance of the precipice, her anger and despair threatening to consume her.
Turning back, she saw the four templars closing in. Escape was no longer possible.
It was like a wild beast, using every ounce of strength to escape one trap, only to fall straight into another.
Swords, hammers, spears, bows—all fell upon her, pushing her backward. She stumbled, falling into the sanctuary, her body tossed through space, like a ping-pong ball against a wall.
Her thoughts were scattered. Reality and illusion blended together, and as her body flew through the air, she felt like a bird with broken wings, unable to fly.
She felt herself plummeting, falling, and falling.
It is said that before death, people see long, fleeting scenes.
But Alena saw none of that. Only pain, cold, regret, and remorse.
And when her eyes finally opened, the sky above her was clear—too bright, too empty.
She closed her eyes again, but time seemed to stretch forever. She felt lighter, as if her body were weightless, gently supported by some unseen force.
Then, she landed softly, without a sound.
“Don’t fall asleep.”
A voice reached her, familiar yet distant.
Alena struggled to open her eyes, and when her vision cleared, she saw gold.
The moment her gaze touched it, an electric shock ran down her spine, banishing the chaos and despair clouding her thoughts.
The dazzling gold filled the sky, as if dawn had broken through the silent night.
There he was, the young man she had crossed paths with before, holding her in his arms.
She recognized his face, his breath, faint yet urgent.
Her cold body began to thaw, returning from the brink of death to full, vibrant life. The ice melted, and the flowers bloomed.
He was here. And with him, death had no place, no matter the heaven or hell beneath his feet
