Chapter 150
Several soldiers behind him snorted in satisfaction.
But the moment that sentence ended—the Holy Beings began to move.
Not by attacking.
Not by stepping forward.
But with something far stranger.
Their lips moved.
Dozens of Holy Beings opened their mouths at the same time.
And from them came a sound.
Verses.
Chants that sounded far too ancient to be called an ordinary language.
Their tones were low.
Rhythmic.
Like a prayer.
Like a hymn.
Like something that had once been recited thousands of years before any civilization had ever known the word "war."
The sound echoed throughout the hall.
One Holy Being began to chant.
Then another followed.
Then another.
Within seconds, dozens of voices merged into one long harmony that made the very air tremble.
Makakushi frowned.
"Ah."
He glanced slightly toward Zhulumat.
"They've started singing."
Onigakure grinned.
"If this is a performance, I hope the ending is bloody."
But Zhulumat did not answer.
His gaze remained fixed ahead.
Toward the Angels.
Because something was happening there.
The Angels moved almost simultaneously.
Slowly… they raised their heads.
The movement was so perfectly synchronized that they looked like a single massive organism moving with one shared consciousness.
Their eyes glowed brighter.
And in the next instant—light began to form above them.
At first, it was only a small flicker.
Like fragments of light gathering in the air.
But those fragments quickly merged.
Lengthened.
Hardened.
And took shape.
Dozens of sharp objects formed in the empty space above the angels' heads.
Forks.
Long.
Radiant.
Each tip emitted a cold glow that made the metal look like perfectly sharpened ice.
But the aura emanating from those weapons immediately caused several Xirkushkartum soldiers to feel something deeply unpleasant.
Makakushi tilted his head.
"Hmm."
He narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Forks?"
Zhereth observed the metallic gleam seriously.
"Not ordinary weapons."
One soldier behind him whispered softly.
"The sharpness…"
He swallowed hard.
"… I'm certain those things could split steel."
Makakushi smiled widely.
"Good."
He stretched his neck.
"It's been a long time since I've seen something capable of challenging my body."
But at that same moment—the Holy Beings' chants reached their peak.
Their voices rose.
Their tones shifted.
The hymn transformed into something sharper, louder, more oppressive.
As if the entire room was trembling alongside them.
And just as the final verse left their mouths—the Angels lowered their heads simultaneously.
Their gazes returned toward Zhulumat's army.
There was no emotion in them.
No anger.
No hatred.
Only decision.
One angel moved its hand.
A small motion.
But enough.
The dozens of forks of light immediately moved.
Not falling.
Not gliding.
But launching forward.
Like meteors fired from point-blank range.
The air split with a sharp sound.
One.
Five.
Ten.
Dozens.
All the forks shot toward Zhulumat's forces with a speed that made the surrounding air vibrate.
The instant those dozens of luminous forks surged forward, time itself seemed to condense.
The air trembled. The sacred marble floor reflected sharp flashes racing toward a single point—Zhulumat's army.
Yet not one of them panicked.
No screams.
No chaos.
There was only reaction.
Trained.
Measured.
And… lethal.
"Now."
A single word from Zhulumat.
Enough.
Within a fraction of a second, nearly the entire army moved in unison. Their hands slipped into their robes, behind their belts, into small storage spaces prepared long before this mission had begun.
Exorcism tools.
Not ordinary ones.
Not cheap ones.
But tools standing at the boundary between technology, sorcery, and something even the servants of the Cursed One could not fully comprehend.
Makakushi pulled out a black cylinder engraved with red carvings that pulsed faintly across its surface. The moment it activated, the cylinder unfolded like a metallic flower, releasing a vibrating layer of dark energy.
Zhereth raised two metal rings that immediately extended into thin transparent blades, layered with inverted symbols that looked "wrong" against the laws of holiness.
Onigakure did not even bother pulling out something large—he merely flicked his wrist, and thin wire-like threads shimmered from his sleeve, coiling through the air before him.
Shaqar and his forces moved more systematically.
Agatha, standing nearby, lifted a prism-shaped device that instantly rotated, projecting a rejection field stretching like an invisible wall.
"Synchronize!" one member shouted.
"Done!" another replied.
And the moment the dozens of luminous forks reached lethal range—all the devices activated.
Impact occurred.
But not like an ordinary collision.
There was no clashing metal.
No sparks.
Only… destruction.
Every luminous fork that touched the exorcism field immediately distorted.
Their light cracked.
Their structures collapsed.
And in a single instant almost impossible for the eye to follow—they were all destroyed.
Not deflected.
Not blocked.
Erased.
The dozens of holy weapons shattered into fragments of light like dust consumed by darkness.
The hall became bright once more.
But now it was filled with fading particles of light.
Makakushi exhaled shortly.
"That's it?"
He rolled his shoulders.
"I haven't even broken a sweat."
Onigakure grinned.
"If this is all they've got, I'm disappointed."
But Zhereth remained cautious.
His eyes stayed fixed ahead.
"Don't relax yet."
And indeed—the Holy Beings moved again.
This time more clearly.
More synchronized.
More… threatening.
The dozens of Holy Beings opened their mouths simultaneously.
And from them—not words emerged.
Not verses.
But sound.
A siren.
The sound had no clear form.
But the moment it was born, the entire room shook violently.
A high-pitched tone.
Piercing.
Not only heard—but felt.
As though the sound crawled into their skulls, clawing at the inside of their minds, grinding away their consciousness little by little.
Several Xirkushkartum soldiers immediately winced.
One of them dropped to his knees.
"Ugh—!"
His hands clutched his ears.
But it did not help.
Because the sound was not only coming from outside.
It felt as though it was appearing… from inside their own heads.
Makakushi gritted his teeth.
"Damn it… this isn't an ordinary sound—"
Onigakure struck the side of his own head.
"This attacks the nerves directly!"
But before chaos could spread—Zhulumat moved once more.
His hand rose slightly.
Not high.
Not dramatic.
But enough to draw attention.
"High-level devices."
His voice remained calm.
Even as the siren continued raging throughout the chamber.
"Now."
And once again—no one hesitated.
No one questioned.
In one swift movement, the entire army pulled out their second devices.
Smaller.
Simpler in appearance.
But far more dangerous in function.
Headsets.
Black.
Without flashy ornaments.
But the moment they were worn—they activated instantly.
Agatha put hers on first.
Click.
At once, the tension that had briefly appeared on her face vanished.
Makakushi grinned after wearing his.
"Oh?"
He tilted his head.
"Silence."
Onigakure chuckled softly.
"Much better."
Within seconds, the entire army had equipped the devices.
And the siren—still existed.
But it no longer reached them.
Muted.
Destroyed.
Cut off from their perception by high-level exorcism technology specifically designed for one purpose—to annihilate the influence of holiness.
However…
that did not mean everything had stopped.
Because within the siren they could no longer hear—something was being conveyed.
Another voice.
Deeper.
Vaster.
Not coming from a single Holy Being.
Not from one Angel.
But… from the entire room itself.
To be continued…