544 Oof, It's All Just A Misunderstanding!

The terrifying arcs of lightning had been reduced to harmless pillars of golden light. The Voidwalkers' black robes began to lose their colors, and soon, they were pure white. What this change implied was not lost on Jola, a devout man. For some bizarre reason, it seemed as though the Lord favored the two enemies more than his party.

The pillars of gold light shattered into fragments, and these fragments of light flew around the two Voidwalkers like butterflies. Some light fragments even fluttered close to the unkempt priest. Jola grabbed one of the light fragments and looked down at it carefully.

"What…" He stuttered. "What the hell is this nonsense?!"

The light fragments fluttering about looked rather similar to photographs from Earth. The photograph Jola had caught was of a young girl's fair things; far above the knees was the hem of a skirt, and just above the knees were a pair of black over-knee socks that extended downward. In Earth terms, the girl in the picture was "thicc". The photograph was capable of making any red-blooded man feel moved.

"H-hey, how the hell did my precious get out like that?" The Voidwalker, who had just nullified Jola's Word of God, screamed in horror. He flailed his arms frantically, catching the falling photographs as quickly as he could.

"Just who are you?!" Jola stared daggers at the Voidwalker flailing his arms like a kid. How could he remain calm when his enemies clearly considered him unworthy of attention?

Enraged that his question was not replied, Jola balled his hand into a fist, crumpling the photo within. He looked at the templars and bellowed, "Now!"

The frantic Voidwalker had seen Jola crush one of his special photographs, causing him to scream in pain. "You… You bastard! You'll pay for this! You destroyed my precious! You will be punished!"

Then, Apostle Jola and the frantic Voidwalker both bellowed at the same time, "And God says, 'Fear not, for I am with you!'"

A shower of golden light poured down and enveloped the Voidwalkers and the templars. The intensity of the golden rain increased, and soon, the golden rays coalesced into multiple frightening arcs of lightning; it was as though a crowd of Pikachus was letting loose. It was a stunning sight!

This was another spell derived from Word of God; it was called "For He Strengthens Me." This was one of the most advanced theurgical blessing spells in existence. It vastly improved the ability of the target. Although such a spell was not overly useful on normal people, it worked to great effect when used on powerful beings like it templars, as it greatly improved their skill and prowess.

As the Voidwalker and Apostle Jola had insta-casted such a powerful spell, a spectator would find it difficult to predict the victor of this clash.

"You sloth! You just want to kick back and relax while I do all the heavy lifting, don't you" The Paladin Walker growled.

Despite making a complaint, the Paladin Walker wasted no time in readying his weapon — a hammer that looked no different from those used by smithies: big, bulky, and made the ears of anyone who looked at it ring. The hammer's handle had some fine words inscribed on it; that was all it took for one to know that it was not as ordinary as its appearance suggested.

Anyone would expect a hammer wielded by a legendary Walker to have words of chivalry inscribed on it. However, on close examination, the line on the Paladin Walker's armor read: 'Protect all public properties; say no to vandalism! Made in the Faculty of Smithy, Da Xue.'

It seemed the hammer had been stolen from some poor student in the Blacksmith Faculty of Da Xue.

The templars glanced at the hammer in contempt. 'Who still uses a hammer these days? Who does this guy think he is, the legendary Holy Knight?'

In weapon science and physics, a hammer was an inferior weapon, as too much effort was required to handle its weight and momentum. There was a reason why many experts used lances, swords, chain-hammers, and nunchakus, but only a few used hammers. To the Templars — who wore sturdy but light armors, and were fast and agile — hammers had an adverse effect on speed, leaving many loopholes for an enemy to exploit. Hammers were only useful against slow infantries wearing heavy armor. Versatile experts would never choose to use hammers. Many centuries had passed, yet only a few used hammers.

The Paladin Walker swung his hammer around a few times, after which he gestured at the Templars to come at him. It was as though he considered this battle a cakewalk.

The Templars were proked. One Templar bolted out of the formation, fusing his broadsword with Divine Energy as he ran. White-hot arcs of lightning covered the sword, which was summarily swung down at the Paladin Walker.

The Paladin Walker raised his hammer to block the broadsword, then he let the broadsword slid off its head. This caused the Templar to stumble, and the Paladin Walker utilized the opportunity to strike the Templar's head.

Boonnnkkk! The Templar crumpled to the ground.

The other Templars were shocked. Before they could tell what was happening, the impatient Templar had been knocked out.

This incited their anger. Forgoing their belief of maintaining honor by fighting one-on-one, the Templars all charged towards the Paladin Walker.

The Paladin Walker, whose robe was too long for him, displayed some nimble footwork, cleverly dodging the attacks directed at him. Every time he dodged, a Templar was struck in the head with the hammer. It was as though the Voidwalker was playing Whack-a-mole. In seconds, more Templars had crashed to the ground. The Paladin Walker's movements did not look special; he looked like a blacksmith at work. However, this simple-looking style overwhelmed the Templars, the Church's most elite soldiers.

After some time had passed, only one Templar was still standing; forty-nine had been knocked unconscious. From his golden helmet, which had wing-like adornments, on either side, this Templar was the captain of this troop.

He tried to steady his trembling hands as he stared wide-eyed at the Paladin Walker. "W-who are you?! There's o-o-only one person in history that can use a hammer this skillfully, and that's —"

"Uh! For the Lord's sake, can you not stop fighting just so you can chat with your enemy?" The Paladin Walker groaned, after which he brought down his hammer Templar Captain's golden helmet.

As the captain of an elite team, this Templar was much more experienced in battle. He raised his broadsword to meet the descending hammer.

Unfortunately, the heavy hammer, which was also strengthened by Divine Energy, was unstoppable. The Templar Captain's sword broke, and his head was struck.

"Ugh! Kids nowadays. What a disappointing group of knights! If they can't beat me, how are they supposed to beat our tyrannical admin? They wouldn't even know what hit 'em," the Paladin Walker grumbled. He looked at the Cleric Walker, who was still frantically grabbing his photographs. "Are you done, mate? I want to go now."

"Just. A. Little. Longer!" shouted the Cleric Walker, as he grabbed the last of his photographs. He examined them carefully to ensure that no harm had befallen them.

The Cleric Walker quickly put away the photographs and hurried after the Paladin Walker. From afar, one could faintly hear their banter.

"Solve this riddle: why did my photos magically appear into the air?"

"How is that a riddle? You were airborne, and these things were with you. The wind blew, lightning raged about, and they got forced out of your robe — it's bloody elementary! Why don't you just take a leaf from my book and keep them in a secure safe?"

"Locked in a safe?! How then am I supposed to lick them when I feel the need to?!"

"Look, here's a piece of advice. If you carry them around with you all the time, like today, that son of a b**ch is going to find out, and when he does, he'll burn them all. Haven't you heard? He. Burned. His. Own. Master's. Collection. Without batting an eye! Do you know how low that sociopath can go?"

Jola stood still in shock. He had been utterly ignored by his enemies, whose banter he could still hear faintly. By the time he stopped shivering, horrible thoughts crossed his mind. 'How did those two emerge from a battle of theurgical magic completely unscathed? They were outnumbered! Why was their attention completely focused on something so… damn carnal?!'

"Just who the hell did we just face?!" Jola exclaimed. "What am I to them?!"

He recalled the words that the carnal-minded enemy had said to him: the devil had only dispatched two of them because he wished to spare the lives of the Templars.

Jola landed and began to examine the Templars. To his surprise, none of the templars were dead, neither were they severely injured. They had only suffered a few bruises and minor concussions.

The Templar Captain woke up first. When he stood up, he let loose a barrage of questions. "Father Jola, can you please explain what happened? What was our mission? Who the hell were those guys? Are they even… heretics?"

Apostle Jola was silent for some time. With a heavy voice, he replied, "Do you know who you were up against?"

"No." The Templar Captain shook his head. "By the gods, the way he swung his hammer… Such peerless skills reminded me of my idol, the Holy Knight Hantai!"

"I'm going to see the Pope. I have a hunch that he has all the answers," Jola muttered and walked away. He ignored the High Priest, who he passed by after walking for a while.

Several miles away from them, Noirciel suddenly stopped and looked back. "Oh no. Something slipped my mind. They told me that I'm needed to fend off a great evil."

"Eh-hem. That unspeakable evil they mentioned, is me," Baiyi replied.

Noirciel was baffled. "Impossible! You're the Vassal of Nehemiah! Father of Mia! The idol of Lulu! You're no devil!"

"They have their villains mixed up, again. You know humans and their limited faculties, don't you? There's always a misunderstanding," the Charlatan Walker chimed in, changing topics.

"Understood. That must be it." An expression of relief appeared on Noirciel's face. "Let us hurry, then."

She knew better than to involve herself in the petty quarrels of mortals. There was something more significant than that, something worth her finite time.

She had to redeem herself, fast.