Chapter 28: Chapter 28: Destiny Of Seven Saintesses
Today, Gareth truly learned what it meant to feel despair.
"Boss!"
His underlings rushed to intercept Sophia, but with just a casual wave of her hand, their bodies were thrown into the air like ragdolls before crashing down like raindrops.
Crack! Splatter!
Bones broke, blood sprayed, and the training ground was painted with a gruesome scene.
The spectating disciples’ faces suddenly turned pale, as if they had seen something terryfying.
"D-Demoness!" they shrieked in terror.
Even Vahn stood motionless in shock.
Before his very eyes, Sophia’s body transformed in an instant. From her forehead black horns sprouted like the devils in ancient legends. From her back, eight spider-like legs of obsidian emerged, radiating with ominous power.
Her face was still beautiful as before, but now it felt like nothing more than a mask hiding something far darker beneath.
She could be described in three words.
Terrifying. Seductive. Inhuman.
Yet to Vahn, she felt oddly familiar, as though he had seen her before somewhere in the depths of his memories. But no matter how he tried, he could not recall where.
"No one touches him without my permission."
Her voice, demonic and cold, echoed like a curse through the training ground.
Bang!
With a swipe of her clawed hand, Gareth’s body was smashed against the wall. Stone cracked and debris rained down as his body crumpled, unconscious.
Alive or dead, Vahn could not tell.
His heart pounded with questions. Who was this woman? Why did she protect him?
Before he could ask, her body began dissolving into dark mist.
"Wait!" he called out, reaching toward her fading figure.
She stopped just long enough to meet his eyes.
"We will meet again, Vahn. And when we do, I must get that answer."
After saying that, she vanished into the void, leaving only silence and the lingering chill of fear in everyone’s hearts.
Not long after, Orsted arrived, his eyes widening at the sight of bodies scattered lifelessly across the training ground.
"What a catastrophe! What exactly happened here?" he demanded, his voice heavy with restrained anger.
"Elder, it was Vahn and Sophia... They did all this," several disciples blurted out, quick to shift the blame.
Orsted ignored them for the moment and crouched to check pulses, confirming who was alive and who had already slipped too far. He immediately summoned medics, ordering them to save those who could still be saved.
Only then did his sharp gaze turn toward Vahn, eyes narrowing with the weight of demand.
"Elder, it’s like this..."
Vahn recounted the entire sequence of events without hiding anything. As he spoke, Orsted’s expression grew increasingly grave.
"If what you say is true, then this is no small matter. Gareth is elder Roland’s nephew. Should he die, Roland will not let this go easily. And as for this demonic woman... we must investigate thoroughly."
His gaze swept across the crowd. "For now, everyone disperse!"
The disciples scattered like frightened rats.
Vahn also turned to leave, clutching his injured right arm. Each step sent fresh jolts of pain through his body. On the way, he tried to channel his healing art, but it wasn’t enough for complete recovery.
The bones in his right arm were shattered from inside and out.
At this moment, only one person came to his mind.
Seraphina.
Only she could save him now.
---
"So, how did this happen, Vahn? Care to explain now?"
After hurriedly mending his injuries with her healing arts, Seraphina’s expression turned deeply distressed.
Emotional Connection: 60 / 100.
Physical Connection: 6.5 / 100.
Vahn explained the incident from start to finish, his voice steady though his body still ached. Beside them, Zephya stood quietly, ears perked, her face marked with doubt and confusion.
But Seraphina... she touched her chin, lost in contemplation, as if she already had a lead.
"Do you know something about her, Saintess?" Vahn asked.
Seraphina raised an eyebrow. "Why are you calling me by my title when we are not in public? Call me Seraphina, just as you used to."
"Oh, sorry, sorry," Vahn replied with an awkward cough.
Seraphina exhaled softly, then her eyes sharpened. "I have a guess who she might be. Most likely, she is the Saintess of Darkness—Lilith Moonveil."
"Lilith Moonveil?" Vahn muttered, the name unfamiliar and heavy on his tongue.
"Yes. Lilith Moonveil, the terrifying assassin who wields the Dark Elemental Arts. She always hides her face behind a veil. Rumor has it that her affinity with Darkness warped her features beyond recognition, leaving her... hideously ugly. From the description you gave me, she fits."
Vahn’s was even more confused.
"Wait, how can someone wielding the Darkness element still be called a Saintess? Aren’t Saintesses supposed to be divine, holy figures? I don’t understand."
Seraphina gently shook her head.
"Vahn, you still see the world too simply. Darkness does not mean evil, just as Light does not mean good. It is the heart that defines one’s path. And as for Saintesses, we are not divine or holy priestesses serving some god. We are chosen by destiny—or perhaps by something even older—to stand against what is to come. Each era brings with it a great evil that seeks to descend and destroy everything, and the responsibilities falls upon the Saintesses to stop it."
As she spoke, a faint radiance shone from her hand. She lifted her right palm, and there upon the back of it glowed the Mark of Light, shaped like a white angel with feathered wings.
"This is my mark. Every Saintess carries one unique to her path. We are not the first generation of Saintesses. There have been countless Saintesses before us. Each of them carried out their mission and then vanished from history."
Vahn absorbed the new information with a thoughtful look.
Old man Kevin had spoken before of the Saintesses, their stories, their shining deeds for humanity. Yet never once had he revealed anything about this destiny, about their role in the unseen tides over the history. Or perhaps he had, and Vahn had simply let it slip past his ears. At that time, his heart had been filled with only one obsession, a desperate longing to become a cultivator. Back then, he never cared for legends that felt too distant to touch.
But now, after hearing Seraphina’s words, the truth pressed into his chest like a boulder. Destiny, Saintesses, the greater evil that sought to descend in every era. If that was the case, then where did he stand in all of this?
One question blazed in his heart, refusing to be buried.
What exactly is my role in this so-called destiny of the Seven Saintesses?