My Players Are So Fierce

She cried out the final countdown, and then could no longer resist the utter despair that came flooding in. She turned and hugged Lieutenant Frayzer by her side as if seeking shelter.

This action caused the Lieutenant to freeze in place.

Shamefully, although born into a prestigious noble family and already 30 years old, the Lieutenant was still a complete blank when it came to affairs of the heart. The most direct contact he’d ever had with women was politely inviting them to dance at a ball.

But he knew that Miriam’s action at this moment did not represent anything.

She was simply afraid.

This was the instinctive reaction of a fragile human life facing death, representing neither cowardice nor ugliness.

He could completely understand Miriam’s fear, because he was enduring the same emotional impact at this moment.

However, as a gentleman, the Lieutenant naturally took on the duty that a man should fulfill at this moment of despair.

He opened his arms and held the trembling Miriam in his embrace. His height of 193cm allowed him to almost entirely shelter the red-haired girl. Even as death approached, he would forge the “Wall of Sighs” to protect this fearful lady.

This was the most silent defiance of death that he, as a man, could show in his final moments.

“Bang”

The Spirit Core in front of Tris flickered with an eerie glow, the signal that the response had arrived, causing the crimson witch’s heart to skip a beat.

She used nearly all the strength in her body to force the Spirit Core down, immediately activating the self-destruct sequence. In the blink of an eye, all the Spirit Nodes throughout the Blood Vulture Corridors were forcibly destroyed.

The intricate system sculpted with the Sacred Blood Pool as the center collapsed within three seconds, triggering a frenzied flux of unstable energies that propagated along the explosion path calculated by the thirty Computation Beads, crushing down and forcing the raging foul energies within the out-of-control Sacred Blood Pool to be channeled in a specific direction.

So in the next instant, the scorching crimson light, having lost control like a cannon shot, precisely pierced through the dimensional rift above.

The latter’s collapse accelerated tenfold in an instant, and the three-way mapping between the Astral Realm, the Material Realm, and the sub-dimension was also completely disrupted by this path being blasted through, causing the chaotic energies that should have poured entirely into the Material Realm to also form a tear on the other side.

This immediately caused it to begin collapsing in the reverse direction.

“Crash”

The oncoming storm of chaos violently flung Murphy away. He spread his Blood Wings in midair, executing an elegant tumbling landing right beside First Lord Palanno and the old knight Finoch.

At this time, the few remaining figures on the corpse-strewn battlefield looked up to see that the dimensional rift, once like the Eye of Chaos, had completely transformed into a maelstrom of disorder.

Like black cracks spreading through shattered glass in the air.

Not only were there energy collapses and explosions, but also bizarre sounds constantly emanating from within.

Twisted, oil-slicked tentacle-like appendages emerged from the irregular black nebulous rifts, writhing like the legs of a spider or like a monster composed entirely of arms trying to crawl into the mortal realm.

Those grotesque claws lashed out maliciously into the void, seeking to grasp some stable anchor to fully enter the material world. Even Salrokdar’s faded stone statue was seized and tossed into the gaping dimensional rift by the strange entity’s clutching.

Like a stone thrown into a pond, disappearing without even a ripple.

“By the Night Mother above, what foul abomination is that?”

First Lord Palanno roared in anger.

The old knight Finoch had already begun silently reciting divine names, seemingly about to unleash a large-scale divine spell. As for Murphy, his quick hands had already hurled a Detection spell towards the thing before them.

Static interference patterns appeared on the character card.

The information tag of that bizarre entity trying to crawl out from the closing dimensional rift was struggling to manifest piece by piece:

Name: 【Midnight Mother】Sub-dimensional Shadow

Profession: ???

Rank: ???

Evaluation: Akin to Divinity – Core Missing

Creature Description: 【Unfulfilled fallen aspirations will always twist into monstrosities to torment reality. She can no longer take the form She was designed for, nor even possess a core essence to answer summons, and so has degenerated into a twisted divine abomination amidst boundless chaotic malice.

She is the Midnight Mother!

And also the severed future of Femis Cecilia Lessenbra.】

“She is weeping,”

The young lady, pale-faced and whispering while held in Lord Palanno’s embrace, said:

“She is calling me, begging me to become one with her, begging me to save her.”

“Don’t be foolish! She only wants to devour you to make herself whole, and whatever she intends once whole, believe me, it will absolutely not be good for us vampires.”

Murphy released the humming Necessary Evil blade, allowing the sword of desire to hover by his hand. With a wave of his fingers, he signaled the severely injured Maxim and Lady Adele to carry the young lady away from this place.

No matter what happened next, Femis had to get as far away as possible from this sub-dimensional shadow conjured by Salrokdar’s foul sorcery.

“You all leave too!”

The old knight Finoch stood rooted to the spot like a mighty tree, enveloped in verdant spiritual energy. Without turning his head, he said:

“If the sub-dimensional filth is left unchecked, it will leave behind a lingering poison. Although most of the energy was banished to the Astral Realm by Lady Tris, even this remaining amount is enough to cause irreparable destruction. My God has issued a divine mandate – now is the time for this holy warrior to meet his end.”

“What nonsense are you spouting?”

First Lord Palanno, who had fought side-by-side with old Finoch just moments ago, slammed his battered and cracked lance into the ground with a bang. Glaring intently at Finoch, he shouted:

“You’re not going anywhere either! Your only mission now is to return to the knight’s garrison and face Lord Payne’s inquisition! Do not think you can evade responsibility for these crimes.”

“Yes, I admit I am guilty, a terrible sin, enough to make countless naughty little boys cry at night,” the old knight grinned wryly.

The peculiar sacred White Oak armor he wore began regenerating like an old tree reborn, sprouting vines and branches that took root in the ground around him.

In mere seconds, Finoch appeared as a growing oak tree. He had made his decision and resolved himself, no longer avoiding the secrets he had long kept buried.

As the bucket helmet opened amidst the spreading branches, the old knight’s bloodstained, wooden face turned towards the stern Palanno.

He spoke in a low voice:

“Your arrogant vampire noses are truly keen. I witnessed it firsthand fighting beside you during the Fourth Black Calamity. Seeing you here now, I know my long journey must finally end.

But Palanno!

My sin was not something I actively sought. It was merely a lingering remnant from delving too deep into history in search of the truth. If you plunge your hands into filth trying to unearth the reality beneath, how can you possibly emerge with clean hands?”

“What did you find?” the First Lord demanded.

“What truth did you unearth by dirtying your hands?”

“Nothing but regret! They issued me an invitation, and I paid the price. But at the moment I could finally join them, my God’s will caused me to have a profound change of heart.

This so-called pursuit of truth is nothing but a trick they use to lure the righteous onto the path of wickedness.

From the very start, I never should have let my curiosity be piqued by them!”

The voice of the old White Knight Finoch, truly transformed into a rooted tree by divine sorcery, grew dry and rasping like rustling vines.

He looked at Palanno and Murphy with grave seriousness, issuing a warning:

“Keep your distance from them!

Do not repeat the mistake I made by trying to gain the answers you seek through contact with them. Every single one of them is an irredeemable source of corruption.

Even ancient ones like Salrokdar are merely pawns being toyed with.

Murphy, you heard Salrokdar’s final warning to you.

Stay away from the Dusk.

Stay far away from them, those who have walked too far down the path of chaos.”

“Is it an organization? Were they behind orchestrating all of this?”

Murphy narrowed his eyes.

“Did you know from the start what would happen in Kadman City?”

“No, I did not.”

The old knight’s voice grew deeper and slower, like the ancient rumbling of a great tree.

He said:

“But behind nearly every calamity related to the sub-dimension in the last few centuries, their shadow lurks. Your Lord Payne knows more. Perhaps you should not ask, nor should you let curiosity take hold about them.

I am indeed guilty!

My God, in the name of seeking truth, I committed unforgivable sins. Spread across that distant new continent are disasters wrought by my own hands. And here I shall make my final stand.

Death is the only atonement. May You bear witness.

No one has the right to judge me!

Save for Your magnificence alone.”

“Crack…crack…crack…”

Low cracking sounds emanated from beneath Murphy’s feet, signaling the final stage of Finoch’s divine spell.

He had transformed himself into a White Oak imbued with purifying natural divinity. With sturdy roots, he enveloped the ruined Sacred Blood Hall and the shadowy entity trying to emerge from the dimensional rift, forming a sealed zone of divine sorcery.

“Go, leave! Tell them, old Finoch is dead! He died a hero’s death in battle against Salrokdar and the sub-dimensional fiends.”

Urged on by the White Oak Lord, Murphy and Palanno had no choice but to depart despite their doubts.

The sprouting divine thorns parted to open a path, and as Murphy took his first step, a verdant branch curled around the sacred Great Oak Blade “The Watcher”, vines coiling to form a wooden scabbard shielding the holy sword from burning Murphy with Avalon’s divine power.

The instant the vampire took hold of this sacred blade, he heard Finoch’s whisper in his mind:

“Regarding the proposal you made, I have given it careful thought. You said all the homeless who have contributed to Transia could become masters of this land.

I have given everything for this land. I have purchased their entry.

Murphy, please take in my progeny.

There are traces of the Dusk in the Goldflower Kingdom as well. Do not let them return!”

“Very well, I promise, as long as they are willing to stay.”

Murphy held the Great Oak Blade to his chest. As he departed, he heard Finoch’s deep voice in gratitude:

“Then I shall bless you, noble Alpha.”

“???”

Murphy whipped his head around in shock, unaware of how Finoch knew this codename.

As if sensing his confusion, amidst the verdant glow that ultimately shattered inward, binding and enveloping the sub-dimensional shadow as it vanished into the crumbling rift, the White Oak Lord’s final words rang out:

“In these last moments, my God has mercifully revealed to me, this wretched lost soul, all about the future. My God watches over you, and blesses you as well.

My God shall walk with you, the multitudes of spirits shall tread the celestial seas beside you, Alpha. Continue forth.”

“Boom”

In that moment, the entire Sacred Blood Hall shattered completely.

Collapsing fully into physical ruins, not a single trace of its existence could be found, even the structure itself seemed to be falling into endless void.

And this collapse quickly triggered a chain reaction, causing the surrounding buildings to begin caving in as well.

However, this was the headquarters that the Blood Vulture Clan had spent 400 years establishing. It should not collapse to the point of being unenterable, but cleaning up this area would undoubtedly be a long and arduous process.

“Let’s go!”

The First Lord grabbed Murphy, who was still gazing back at the teetering corridors.

The two ran towards safety, one after the other. As they rounded a corner, Murphy collided fully with the staggering form of Natalie Finochia Lawson rushing towards them.

The gray-haired witch hunter was covered in blood, just woken from her battle unconsciousness.

But she clutched at her chest, face contorted in such agony she could barely breathe.

She stared ahead as if knowing what had occurred, heedless of Murphy’s restraint as she screamed and tried to break free, to hurl herself towards the Sacred Blood Hall that had collapsed without a trace under the entangling roots.

“Let me go! Vampire! Damn you! Let me go! He’s up ahead!”

Natalie shrieked, with complete lack of decorum.

But Murphy simply silently held her back, dragging her away. Even the normally chivalrous Lord Palanno had to employ a small trick, as a black rose mirage bloomed before Natalie’s eyes, the double weakness of body and spirit washed over her in a wave, causing her to cry out before falling unconscious in Murphy’s arms.

“Tasting sorrow is an inevitability that even beautiful things cannot escape.”

The First Lord spoke gently as he took the unconscious witch hunter into his embrace like a princess, giving Murphy an impeccably handsome smile.

As he cleared a path ahead by shattering the fallen walls, he asked softly:

“Murphy, beautiful Murphy, you too have experienced sorrow just now, I can smell it.”

“I do not deny it,” Murphy replied hoarsely as he followed the First Lord out of the danger zone, cradling the Great Oak Blade while summoning Necessary Evil to quietly return the sword of desire to its scabbard at his waist.

“Today we have all tasted sorrow. But we must press on, not allowing that sorrow to become impotent tears.”

“Well said! Befitting of the beauty I hold in high regard,” Palanno nodded in appreciation.

But after a few seconds, Murphy cleared his throat and said seriously:

“However, regarding your earlier description of Tris, I have a somewhat different view. Perhaps it is a bit childish to say, but from this day forth, good sir Palanno, Tris is no longer your goddess!”

“Ah, the classic post-victory declaration of sovereignty! One beauty seeking to possess another, is it?” Palanno chuckled, then said in an ambiguous tone:

“But do you truly understand Lady Tris? No, you have merely been blinded by beauty, Murphy.

As I was in my youth.

When you truly comprehend the crimson witch, you will realize that just now, in a garden full of roses, you chose for yourself the most scorching red rose covered in thorns.

Believe me.

You will bleed because of it.

And I must remind you, Murphy, vampire cultural traditions explicitly forbid such presumptuous behavior towards elders and progenitors. It is not that those old ones do not understand love.

They simply see that under the bonds of blood covenant, true love can never be born, it is merely admiration while shackled! Can a slave ever be a friend to their master?

So before speaking of love, you must break your chains.”

“Gladly, but who are you to command it?”

Murphy said softly as they hurried through the darkness:

“To pluck such a ravishingly luscious rose, is it not imperfect without shedding a little blood? A touch of pain is merely the witness tax paid to the God of Love.

As for chains…

The key is not in my hands!”

“Hah, such a beautiful realization!”

Palanno praised:

“I grow ever more appreciative of you, beautiful Murphy.”