CHAPTER 397: 397

The light crashed into the dark mist and spread across the field like a wave. The beam grew brighter, so bright that everyone had to cover their eyes. It wasn’t just light,it felt pure, holy, almost divine.

The miasma screamed as if it were alive, twisting and curling before it slowly vanished into thin air.

The beam spread farther, touching the soldiers and mages who were exhausted and wounded. Their bodies felt lighter and the pain along with exhaustion faded.

Their breath steadied. For the first time in hours, they could relax.

When the light finally began to fade, a new sight came into view. Through the glowing mist, several figures walked forward in a straight line.

They wore silver and gold armor that shone even under the weak sunlight. The emblems of the sun and the cross glimmered on their chests.

Martina and the others looked up, confused and curious. Riley squinted his eyes before finally realizing who they were.

"It’s the Holy Order of Light and Salvation!" he exclaimed.

Kael’s face twisted slightly. "Salvation, my ass," he muttered under his breath, barely stopping himself from saying it out loud.

As the holy figures stopped, the sound of heavy boots echoed. The leader raised his sword high. His voice was loud and full of power.

"In the name of the Holy Order of Light and Salvation, bow before the chosen of God!" he declared.

The soldiers behind him repeated his cry. "Bow before the Holy Order!"

Their combined voices rolled across the battlefield like thunder. A strong wave of pressure spread from them. The air felt heavy, almost suffocating.

The old knight in front had a presence that demanded respect. His silver beard glowed faintly under the sunlight, and his eyes burned with golden light. His armor carried scratches from hundreds of battles, but his stance was firm.

Power radiated from him like heat from a fire.

Martina frowned. She didn’t like the tone of command in his voice. Still, as she turned, she saw that most of the soldiers had already dropped to their knees, heads bowed deeply in obedience. Only she, Kael, Sol, Riley, and a few others still stood.

Sol looked around, confused. "What’s going on?" he whispered.

Before Martina could answer, a loud voice cut through the silence.

"Damn... isn’t this too much?"

Everyone turned sharply at the source of voice.

Kael felt a chill and his eyes widened. His face turned pale as he spotted the one who spoke.

"Vic..." he muttered under his breath. "You idiot."

Almost immediately, one of the Paladins shouted in anger. "Who dares speak against the Holy Order? Who is this blasphemous soul?"

The knights stepped forward, forming a circle. Their armor clinked together as their eyes burned with rage.

One man, wearing heavier armor with a red cross carved on his chest, moved ahead. "Soldier," he said coldly.

"Don’t you know you must kneel before us? I am not a simple Paladin. I am Richard, Captain of the Fifth Legion of the Holy Order of Salvation. You owe me the respect due to my name and service to humanity."

Vic’s face darkened. He straightened up and clenched his fists. "What the hell are you talking about?" he said in a low but firm tone. "I understand you’re important, and I can respect that, but why should I bow to you?"

He stepped forward slightly. His voice was louder now, echoing across the silent field. "You’re not my Lord, and you’re not my King. I’m a knight, and I bow only to the authority of the people I follow, not to some stranger appearing out of nowhere."

Another voice rose beside him. "He’s right,"

Herion said, stepping out. His eyes burned with anger. "We’ve fought for our lives here. After everything we’ve been through, now you want us to kneel like dogs? I’ve had enough of this humiliation!"

Martina felt her stomach tighten and she wanted these guys ’Why the hell are you picking a fight now?’she muttered under her breath.

She could feel the tension thickening in the air.

The Paladins drew closer, their hands moving toward their swords. The soldiers behind them shifted nervously. Even Riley and Sol exchanged worried glances.

Martina took a step forward before things got worse. "Sir Richard," she said calmly, her voice steady. "These men are my followers. I am Princess Martina, and by royal right, they are under my protection. Their courtesy should be excused."

For a moment, Richard paused. His eyes narrowed, thinking. But before he could reply, another voice echoed through the air.

It was a cold, female voice.

"Oh, you’re a Princess?"

A woman stepped forward. She wore a long white robe that shimmered in the light, her golden hair tied neatly behind her shoulders.

Her lips curved into a small, mocking smile.

"So what?" she asked softly, her voice dripping with disdain. She lifted her foot slightly and looked down at Martina. "Do you see this foot? Even the Prince had to bow and kiss it. What makes you think you’re any different?"

Her tone became sharp and cruel. The soldiers standing nearby lowered their heads even further, afraid to meet her gaze.

Kael, watching from the side, sighed and,Kael facepalmed.

Inwardly, he thought to himself, She’s talking about princes and princesses. Back in the old days, even kings had to kneel before the Church.

No throne could be inherited without their blessing. The Church controlled everything. It’s lucky that power has faded now... or this would be worse.

Martina’s expression turned cold. Her eyes met the woman’s without fear. "And who are you?" she asked quietly.

The question cut through the air like a blade. The battlefield, once filled with shouting and footsteps, fell into deep silence.

Even the Paladins stopped moving. All eyes turned toward the woman in white. The wind blew softly, carrying the faint scent of blood and ash.

Her smile faded a little as she stared back at Martina, and for a moment, the tension between them felt heavy enough to crush the air itself.

The soldiers watched, afraid to even breathe. The light that had once brought peace now seemed to flicker with unease. Something darker was starting to form behind those holy smiles, and Kael could feel it deep in his chest.

The battle with demons had ended, but a new kind of storm was about to begin.

The woman’s face turned cold, her eyes sharp like ice.

"I am the candidate for Saintess, Michelle O’Neil!" she shouted. Her voice echoed through the air like a roar of thunder.

"And you dare ask my name?"

"No,you dare stand against me?Are you trying to rebel?"

The question startled everyone.

Her breathing grew heavier, filled with anger. She pointed at Martina with trembling fingers. "Paladins, bring her down! I want her to crawl at my feet. Break her knees! And crush everyone else who refused to kneel!"

The Paladins immediately moved at her command. Their armor clanked as they raised their swords, rushing forward like a pack of wolves ready to tear apart their prey.

Martina’s eyes darkened. Her hand reached for her sword. The blade slid out with a sharp metallic sound that sliced through the heavy silence.

"Enough," she whispered, and her tone carried both anger and control.

The five Paladins looked at one another charged at her at once. They released their full momentum trying to pressurize Martina.

"What?"

Vic and others looked at Paladins as if looking at some group of idiots.

For god sake,do you even stand a chance?

Martina took a deep breath to steady her body and control her anger.

The first Paladin swung his sword down with a loud cry. Martina tilted her head slightly and sidestepped, the blade missing her by an inch.

She twisted her wrist, struck his arm, and kicked his chest. He flew back, crashing onto the ground.

Another Paladin attacked from the left. Martina blocked his strike with her sword, sparks flew as the blades clashed. She pushed his sword away and hit him in the stomach with the back of her hilt. He coughed and dropped to his knees.

The third came from behind, but Martina sensed it. She turned swiftly, her sword cutting through the air. The man barely blocked, but the force of her swing threw him off balance. She spun and struck his helmet with the back of her blade. The impact sent him tumbling to the ground.

The fourth and fifth Paladins attacked together. Their swords came from two sides, aiming to trap her.

Martina raised her sword and blocked both strikes with one strong motion. Her arms trembled from the pressure, but her stance stayed firm. She pushed them away with a sudden burst of strength and then kicked the fourth one hard in the leg. As he stumbled, she struck the fifth in the chest with the flat of her blade.

Both fell back, groaning.

The ground was filled with dust and the sound of metal scraping against stone.

Martina stood in the middle, her sword pointed downward. Her breathing was steady, and her eyes burned with calm fire. The fallen Paladins groaned in pain, but none were dead. She had beaten them without killing a single one.

Richard’s eyes narrowed as he watched her. His grip on his sword tightened. The air around him felt heavy and sharp, filled with holy energy.

"She’s strong," he muttered to himself. "It seems I must step in myself."

But before he could move, another sound echoed through the field,a deep, powerful voice that silenced everyone.

"What’s going on here?"

Everyone turned around towards the source of their voice.

The Holy Order froze, and even Richard’s expression shifted.

A tall man with long ears and silver hair that glowed faintly under the light drafted in the air and landed slowly