The Life of a Wise Cult Leader - Chapter 202

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 202

Now that Erendor had awakened as a Transcendent, victory truly seemed within reach.

There appeared to be hope.

Erendor swung his sword with all his might once more. The solid barrier shook violently as if struck by an earthquake. A rupturing sound echoed piercingly through their eardrums, and the air supporting the barrier screamed and twisted.

For the first time, the Widow couldn’t hide her panic as she screamed at the demons in the void.

“Protect the barrier! Now!”

As the demons clung to it and poured their mana in, the barrier seemed to stabilize quickly. But the white flames erupting from Pieta paid no heed to physical defenses.

The white flames used the transparent threads filling the void as a fuse to instantly strike the Widow’s main body.

“Aaagh…!”

A scream burst forth. The Widow’s jet-black veil melted away in the white flames, and her green eyes flashed with hatred.

The white flames persistently devoured not only her flesh but also her mana and ether. The Widow covered her face with both hands and growled.

“These damn…!”

The Widow bit her lips until they bled.

The white flames Erendor unleashed were not simply hot fire.

They were eating away at the opponent’s rank.

She felt deep in her bones her burning skin and crumbling soul.

Even when she transformed into smoke to dispel those flames, the fire would not extinguish.

In the end, she had to cut away her own burning flesh. The severed parts turned to ash and disappeared into the void.

However, the pure white flames that clung to her again began gradually eating away at her rank.

‘I need to deal with that Elf first.’

Killing intent flashed in the Widow’s eyes. Dozens of daggers formed at her fingertips and rushed toward Erendor.

But they were not the type to just stand by and watch.

The Demon King blocked Erendor’s front and deflected the daggers. Sparks flew ceaselessly, clawing at the darkness of the battlefield.

Through the rising dust, a massive halberd charged toward the Widow’s neck.

Whoosh-

The Widow, who had scattered into smoke and reappeared, stepped on the void and looked down at Yelena.

“Trying to strike your mother’s neck. You don’t even know the grace of being raised.”

“Isn’t it too late now to discuss grudges and favors?”

“Hehe… I suppose that’s true.”

The Widow laughed helplessly, then reached out toward Yelena. As if snatching something, she forcefully pulled at the void.

Kiii-ing

Yelena instinctively twisted her body. The thread grazed close enough to cut the fine hairs on her face. Had she not dodged, it would have been a strike that sliced her body to pieces.

“Huff, huff…”

The fear of nearly dying. And the surging adrenaline. Before she knew it, Yelena was smiling as she charged at the Widow.

Similar green eyes faced each other.

“Now you’ve gone so far as to defy your mother.”

The Widow’s jaw tensed and her eyes became bloodshot.

The pain of the white flames hot enough to crush souls was beyond imagination. With fire that melted not flesh but souls, even subduing Yelena had become difficult.

The Widow saw her own ugly, bloodied appearance reflected in Yelena’s green eyes.

I tried to think calmly…

And the fact I faced was this.

If things continue like this.

‘I’ll lose.’

Her toes melted, and her skin stuck together. Though ordinary pain was already familiar from being offered to demons, the flames that burned souls were painfully enough to make her hair stand on end.

The battlefield was a hellscape entirely filled with surging white flames. Erendor’s power, having gained perfect control over fire, was persistently targeting only her.

The Widow gasped for breath as she barely dodged Yelena’s halberd and the Demon King’s consecutive attacks.

At this rate, achieving her dream would become distant.

She hated that. Even more than dying!

That can’t happen.

How far have I come to get here.

I thought calmly again.

‘My pain is greater and more painful than anything else in this world…’

So shouldn’t the world stop flowing until it understands my pain?

Tick, tock…

The clock in her pocket slows down…

A creaking noise that only echoed in her own head could be heard. It was the sound of time being twisted by something caught in the gears.

‘The Elf’s greatsword is fast, but…’

Whoosh-

It couldn’t compare to the swift swords or speed techniques used by masters. She needed to thrust in multiple attacks too fast to defend against.

The Demon King would attack next. The Archmage comes later. The rest are all small fry. There’s no need to worry about the rest.

The only exception would be the Gaju of House Alderion, but there was no reason to be wary of him, who was far from martial arts.

He’s just someone who gets swung around by swords, and since the Elf took that sword from him, he’s probably sucking his thumb by now.

Front, Yelena. Left side, Erendor. Right side, the Demon King…

“…?”

But where is Alderion?

“…!”

The Widow urgently turned around. At some point, the sword Erendor had been wielding had changed back to his original one.

She quickly twisted her body and tried to disappear into smoke. However, Pieta cut through that very instant of transformation.

Pieta, swung from Alderion’s hand, emitted sacred white light as it traced a massive arc.

The blade sliced through her shoulder blade.

Thud—!

With a chilling rupturing sound, one of the Widow’s arms fell to the cold dirt floor, spraying dark red blood.

“Ah, aaagh…!”

Dry ash powder scattered like confetti from the severed arm’s cross-section.

She groaned in pain very ‘humanly’, clutching the severed arm’s stump.

But that too was only for an instant.

Having experienced and witnessed countless situations, she knew. That if she just stayed there groaning in pain in this situation, she’d be finished in an instant.

“Huh? Wait, be careful!”

The Widow used her remaining arm to control Yelena to attack Erendor. Yelena staggered and slashed Erendor’s wrist.

“What the…”

The wrist turned to flame and disappeared as soon as it fell. The area around Erendor’s severed wrist flickered with fire as regeneration slowly began. Yelena gave him no respite and swung her halberd at Erendor.

“I’m being controlled!”

Erendor tried to cut the threads attached to Yelena.

In that momentary gap when the two pressing the front disappeared, the Widow created distance.

The plan was already complete, so from now on, stalling for time meant victory.

The pain of losing one arm was nothing much.

Even if her rank had fallen from being burned by fire, regenerating one arm at her level was nothing.

Playing along with those bastards’ rhythm right now was for the sake of the plan.

Alderion and the Demon King quickly caught up to the distance the Widow had created. Though swords were swung here and there, rather than forcing attacks, the Widow focused on evasion and defense while trying to control Alderion.

The holy sword in Alderion’s hand swung fiercely toward the nearby Demon King, regardless of its master’s will. The Demon King growled low and blocked Alderion’s heavy strike with his own greatsword.

“What I’m doing… it’s not my will!”

“I know that without you saying it.”

While dodging attacks, the Demon King tried to swing his sword at the Widow at least once, but it was difficult to shake off Alderion’s sword path that flew in bizarre trajectories. Alderion’s eyes were mixed with regret and fear.

The threads controlling him would reconnect when cut, and when burned away, new threads would attach again.

‘An opening.’

The Demon King tried to subdue Alderion. Thanks to that, an opening appeared. The Widow tried to attach threads to him.

Unless it was Erendor’s white flames, eliminating the threads wasn’t easy. The Demon King created distance toward where Erendor was.

‘I can’t give them distance.’

Then, Erendor, who had instantly burned away the threads binding Yelena, charged into the center of the battlefield spewing hellish white flames.

With each step he took, the earth burned white and turned to ash.

Around the man who had lost Ifrit’s warmth, only cool heat lingered. With each step he took, the ground melted smooth as glass, then became fine ash that scattered into the void.

She greeted Erendor with cold sweat streaming down her face, yet still wearing a smile.

“Did you have fun playing with that doll? It’s a doll I put great effort into making.”

Erendor’s eyes grew coldly sunken at the Widow’s sarcasm.

“Wasn’t she your family?”

“Oh, of course. She is my daughter.”

“Your true nature in calling your daughter a doll is obvious without even looking. Everything must not look human to you. What a pitiful monster who will go through life never understanding what family means.”

Her smiling face hardened stiffly. She slightly tilted her head and looked up at Erendor. Sharp anger dwelt in her eyes. Her gaze alone seemed ready to pierce through her opponent, but to Erendor it was merely laughable.

“Are you pitying me right now?”

“That’s right. I felt sorry for you, about to die without knowing a single true love.”

“You sure talk a lot. Did you win over the High-Grade Spirit’s heart with such things?”

Erendor just let out a hollow laugh.

Their conversation briefly cut off. The Widow desperately extended threads trying to control Alderion, and Erendor breathed out white flames to burn those threads.

The burning threads fluttered in the air, leaving only sparks behind.

“If you could know the future, you’d feel like you know everything… but at this point, your fate of having no one to trust is quite pitiful too.”

“Fate? Were you the type to believe in fate? I didn’t realize you were such a romantic romanticist.”

Erendor didn’t respond to her words and swung his sword. A chaotic battle where they blamed each other while dragging out time. Only their stamina was hitting rock bottom moment by moment.

“Then I suppose Ifrit dying like that was also designed into your fate?”

Erendor’s expression flinched as he wielded Pieta. He growled.

“Don’t speak carelessly.”

“How scary. Prickly men aren’t popular, so why does everyone treat me so coldly…”

The Widow grumbled as she flicked her threads. Erendor erased the threads with white flames and shouted.

“You’re nothing but a bug caught in a spider web anyway.”

“You probably think this world is in the palm of your hand. Boasting that you know the entire future, trying to manipulate people’s fates!”

Erendor swung his sword at the Widow in anger.

“Fate. I don’t like things like fate. And if I were the type of person who creates fate, wouldn’t I not have ended up like this?”

“Nonsense. Watch closely how pathetic that crude fate you created is before this flame I gained by burning my family…!”

Erendor’s sword tore through the Widow’s defense. In that instant, the controlled Alderion found his freedom.

“Hehe… How pitiful. A sword wielded with the sorrow and anger of a man who lost love, ah. Good material for a play.”

When Yelena belatedly joined and attacked together with Erendor, he could feel her gradually being pushed into a defensive position. The Widow had no cards left to play.

His comrades’ rough breathing filled the battlefield, and the conviction that the end was finally in sight crossed everyone’s minds.

It was manageable. Defeating the Widow too.

Just as everyone seemed to feel this fact and rushed forward more vigorously than before to corner her.

All the noise in the world stopped as if it had disappeared into a vacuum.

An eerie silence where even heartbeats couldn’t be heard.

The swirling dust and fragments of burning flames were fixed in the air as if nailed there. The explosive sounds that had been pounding their eardrums and the flickering of the burning white flames disappeared as if incinerated in an instant. The world was preserved in place like a single detailed still life painting.

Fine threads seemed to penetrate their entire bodies, fixing them to spacetime itself.

Time had stopped.

In this dead world, only one person.

Only the Widow moved gracefully, touching her severed shoulder. Her arm became a new arm again as nearby smoke gathered the moment she touched it.

She slowly walked toward Yelena, who was at the front.

“Daughter, I told you, didn’t I.”

She caressed Yelena’s chin and cheek with her jet-black hand that had long fingernails.

Before Yelena’s eyes that couldn’t even show shock, the Widow curled up her red lips.

“When an opponent drags out time, there’s always some intention behind it…”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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