As the wings slowly unfolded, the Static Holy Temple welcod its fourth guest, an ominous guest.
The neutral face was stiff, with no trace of emotion, the skin was pure and white, like a crafted jade artifact. As consciousness gradually took control of this body, deep cracking sounds emitted from beneath the body. The interlocking bones began to stretch until the wings with grayish-white edges were fully spread.
This was the image known as an angel in the Gospel, but everyone present knew that the thing before them could never be an angel. Beneath that pure exterior was sothing forbidden, sothing twisted and putrid.
Lawrence took a deep breath, trying hard to stay calm. The strange corrosion had already started to spread. Although his will could resist it, his frail mortal body was showing abnormalities. His temporary body's arm, originally coursing with red blood vessels, started to turn dark red, resembling dead branches, clawing and twisting.
This was a scene that overturned previous understanding, the so-called Holy Grail was right there, in that form. But it was dead, or rather, its body was dead, with its consciousness whereabouts unknown.
So was the angelic presence before him the Holy Grail that escaped on the Night of the Holy Arrival?
Or... another Holy Grail entirely.
Fine blood vessels filled Lawrence's eyes as his heart pounded fiercely, sending blood surging to his brain. He tightly gripped his weapon, even as corrosion and fear violently assaulted his will. Yet, he never looked away, staring firmly at it as if to etch that sacred yet vile face into his pupils forever.
It was close, Lawrence was about to reach that so-called Truth. Everyone present was the sa.
The new Pope was engaged with the angel, the Nail Sword raised a blazing white-heat curtain. Clearly, the new Pope was unaware that the inside of the Holy Coffin was the angel he was currently fighting. Nor did he know that the anomaly he repeatedly killed and saw reborn was the Holy Grail that the Evangelical Church warned against.
The gray-white wings looked soft, but in reality, were as solid as steel, like a mobile shield, enduring the new Pope's attacks. But the new Pope didn't attack with all his might, understanding the terror of this ghostly thing.
The wings were so solid, and the edges as sharp as blades. With every swing, it was not just a solid shield but also thousands of swords.
The angel didn't move. It had just been "born" less than a minute ago, and the will residing within had not fully controlled this new shell.
Failing an attack, the new Pope leaped back, creating a safe distance. His gaze turned to Lawrence and the woman hiding in the shadows.
The new Pope didn't know what to call this thing and could only temporarily na it angel due to its sacred guise.
Angels were like that. Initially, they seed like intangible ghosts, much like the nearby woman, and just as her words suggested, a void cannot interfere with reality. Thus, they create those angelic-looking bodies out of thin air to wage battle.
The new Pope didn't understand how all this ca to be. What he did know was that through his excavations into the Church's past, the mystery of the Demon, and even the world's mysteries, he had encountered these angels erging from nowhere.
Like Shermans, the new Pope had touched upon that unknown Boundary, attempting to glimpse the God's true face beneath the veil, leading to divine punishnt.
Shermans did not withstand the bizarre divine punishnt, but the new Pope endured it. Not only enduring but also fighting back.
"Alchemy... equivalent exchange."
The woman's voice rang out. She had no form that could be directly observed, only the trajectory of falling dust could be used to determine her location.
Like Lawrence, since the angel appeared, her gaze was unbroken, as if this were her purpose, to closely observe this unknown entity and unearth the hidden secrets within.
Part of the ground was obliterated into an arc, forming a downward, concave semicircle. But in the woman's eyes, it was not obliteration but exchange.
From a rational perspective, matter cannot materialize from nothing. The peculiar angel was the sa. In the briefly twisted arc light, the ground's materials were extracted and exchanged, enabling the angel to create a moveable body from the vanished material, to interfere with reality.
"To retreat?"
That was a man's voice, today's fifth guest, yet practically a non-existent guest.
His voice seed only audible to the woman. It was unclear where the man was; he seed to be everywhere, or perhaps right beside the woman, with an overlapped figure, difficult to discern.
"No, I need to see more."
The woman refused, knowing that each second lasted in this Static Holy Temple brought her closer to the deliberately concealed secrets.
A gaze from within the void locked onto the angel, seemingly about to dissect it ticulously.
The battle suddenly ca to a halt. After the new Pope ceased attacking, the angel remained where it was. Beneath its jade-like skin, crimson blood coursed, running through the slender veins, extending from the heart to the entirety of the body.
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