Lance observed, realizing that the Church had various tricks up its sleeve, recovery thods abound, and much like conjoined twins, extrely troubleso.
No wonder Count Bastia was able to defeat those Mountain Barbarian Tribe Legends with the Church’s help; once stalled, there was no escape.
But he was not like those barbarians; for Lance, these thods were nothing extraordinary.
The monk deprived of his magic wand posed much less of a threat, as for the Candlelight Priest?
Moving! Lance’s figure instantly appeared before the priest, raising his hand for a punch, yet his fist burned with dark fla, akin to a teor striking the shield head-on.
teor Fist!
"Bang!" A heavy tallic clash resounded; a muffled sound was emitted from Lance’s activation of [teor] enveloping his armored arm colliding with that great shield.
In just one punch, the Candlelight Priest, bolstered by nurous divine arts, felt his shield-bearing arm numb, like it had been struck by a siege hamr.
But a siege hamr wouldn’t be this terrifying.
Because punches ca one after another, as if the man’s strength was endless, never knowing fatigue.
The second punch made his steps falter, half his body seemingly lost sensation, intense nausea and dizziness flooded his mind, leaving only a stubborn will holding onto the shield tightly.
The third punch had him spewing a mouthful of blood in reverse, with all the candles on the shield dimming, even consciousness briefly lost, his massive body toppled rigidly to the ground.
Lance felled the Candlelight Priest with three punches; had the divine enhancent not been effective, he might not have withstood three punches.
An average person couldn’t keep up with Lance’s punching speed, thus couldn’t clearly see the abnormality of that arm.
By the ti he stopped, the armor on that arm had already dissipated as dark fla, any corroded traces vanished instantly, inconspicuous even in the night.
Lance looked at the fallen Candlelight priest; if not for intentionally using him to test moves, he probably wouldn’t even touch him.
And the monk wasn’t just watching, from behind frantically applying buffs to his teammate, making the Candlelight Priest actually wake up, attempting to struggle to his feet.
Lance raised his fist towards the face, punching so that his mouth was twisted, nose askew, like a torn fabric shop, reds, blacks, and purples blossod forth.
Not even rising before lying back again, this ti truly losing consciousness.
He bent down wanting to take the weapon from his hand, unexpectedly, despite being unconscious, still held it tightly, yet how could it resist Lance’s brute force, directly pried open, taking the warhamr and shield in his own hands.
Picked up these two pieces of equipnt, able to withstand such force without damage, truly strong extraordinary equipnt, the Church folks were filthy rich indeed.
The odd thing, however, was the spirit light dissipating from the warhamr, and the candle fla on the shield extinguishing as well.
Clearly, the two pieces were bound, yet it didn’t hinder Lance from using them as cold weapons, under the enhancent of brute force, they were extrely fearso weapons.
Lance raised the shield, holding the warhamr, walking towards the ndicant Monk, sowhat arrogant in manner.
The Candlelight Priest fainted, shield taken away, thus the protection ritual naturally broke; without a support package, how many punches could the old ndicant Monk stand?
"You have no faith, but luckily the Holy Light gave strength!" The ndicant Monk unwilling to accept defeat, shouted pointing towards Lance, "I will banish you, demon!"
Holy power transford into lightning shooting towards Lance, but the great shield blocked the attack, also obstructing the monk’s final fantasy.
And Lance wasn’t just waiting to be hit, quickly charged forward swinging the warhamr against the light circle, the shield built by the sanctuary instantly shattered, like a beautifully stained glass window of a grand church breaking, even allowing a crystalline sound illusion.
The powerful force even knocked the monk to the ground, without protection after the fragile beca obvious, even standing was unstable.
Lance said nothing, rely walking slowly forward, looking down at the sowhat lost monk.
Didn’t they demonstrate strong power to intimidate the populace during battle, thus earning prestige?
Lance thus brutally beat these two conjoined twins before the face of these faithful, using them as stepping stones to showcase his might.
"Hey, can we make peace?" The monk raised his head confronting the shadow cast by Lance.
"What do you think?" Lance sneered, "Surely joking~"
"Then why aren’t you acting!" The ndicant Monk nacingly grimaced, apparently this plea was but a taunt disliking Lance’s mockery.
"Light above, I am ready!"
Lance observed his deanor, killing him was but a hamr blow yet instantly sanctified him.
Wants to be a saint? Not that easy!
"Hamlet will certainly not let a bad person escape, nor will it wrong a good person." Lance grimly grinned, "Those to judge you are not but the people of Hamlet you hard."
Lance directly put away the weapons in hand, then grabbed the old man, lifting him high with one hand, calling loudly.
"Send my orders, escort all prisoners to the square for a public trial!"
Unknown when, already quite a crowd of common people had gathered around, faintly visible these mobs sealed off upon hearing and all echoed in fray.
"My Lord commands..."
A voice like a tide delivering orders, the sound echoed throughout Hamlet.
Lance commanded soldiers and sheriff began intervening, controlling all those mobs, herding them towards the square.
"Put down all weapons!"
"Move along, hurry!"
"..."
These people after witnessing the scene prior, had no thoughts of resistance, so reluctant to move seed scared stiff, trembling without budging.
But directly were carried away by others.
The fallen Candlelight Priest surprisingly, two people couldn’t move him, until Barin reached to drag him away.
No one could escape...
"Public trial!"
"My Lord has returned! Justice is back!"
"..."
News of Lance’s return spread like wildfire, soon countless ordinary people gathered, seeing one standing on the stage built at the square.
Though clothes were tattered, that was the Lord.
In front beneath, squatted a huddled bunch of mob, surrounded by a circle of soldiers.
Funny enough, during the day, the ndicant Monk incited chaos from the stage.
And now one lay bound, beca the backdrop of the Lord.
Lance gazed at the assembled crowd, imdiately spoke.
"I know everyone’s curious about where we’ve been these days, we stood at the outpost blocking the frenzied offensive of heretics then counterattacked chasing them out of the wilderness."
"We won the victory!"
Lance without first addressing the situation in Hamlet, instead explained his absence.
Because they fought against heretics protecting Hamlet, under his leadership achieving victory, gaining sizable spoils.
"Hamlet Must Win!"
Cheers echoed with the soldiers’ echoes, the public vibrating with excitent, eyes upon the Lord filled with fervor, even the squatting mob couldn’t help but puff their chests hearing this.
Lance knew people urgently needed good news to disperse the gloom entrenched in their hearts, nothing could be more apt than a victory.
Besides, Lance needed to rebuild the people’s faith in Hamlet, for it was too fragile.
And Lance needed to embellish himself with victory, diminishing the Church Duo’s achieved rit.
Yet while everyone was so enthused, Lance didn’t continue narrating the battle’s toil and acquired gains.
Instead, he directly tore open the ugliness behind that victory.
"But why having returned with triumph, am I t with a riot, even lighting buildings intending to burn innocents alive! Aiming guns at !"
Lance spoke of his recent observations, demanding answers before everyone’s eyes, this statent plunging the euphoric scene into dead silence.
"Who can tell what truly transpired? Why has Hamlet turned out this way?"
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