The Legend Of Black Eyes is a Webnovel created by GoodHunter.
This lightnovel is currently ongoing.
“I’m only stalling until boss is done with your bishop,” Hartwell said as he met Pontiff Nari’s sword. “You can’t beat me, no matter how many times you try.”
“Even Qil’Al’s champions aren’t immune to death,” Nari said, gritting her teeth.
They’d been fighting for hours, but neither of them had gained the upper hand. After The Bishop’s last transformation, their fight had taken another turn. Hartwell lost interest in their fight and began a tactic of hit and run. Every time the Pontiff thought she was gaining the upper hand, Hartwell would find a way to distract her and get out of sight.
“Your miracles cannot hurt me,” Hartwell told her after dodging a fire ball half his size. “You represent a weak, cowardly G.o.d. I have the soul of a Primordial in me!”
“That only makes you as powerful as I, when I was High Priestess,” Pontiff Nari said. She shot her hands forward and another fire bolt flew toward Hartwell.
Death’s champion swung his scythe, breaking the fireball in half. The resulting combustion hid Hartwell from sight. Pontiff Nari flapped her silver wings and took to the air. She spotted Hartwell fleeing inside the woods. She bit her lower lip and chased after him.
She longed for an exciting fight, but Hartwell wouldn’t give her one. He hadn’t used any of his death spells against her, not even once. This irritated her more than his. .h.i.t and run tactics. Did he not take her seriously? Was he really buying time for the mad wizard?
She flew above the forest, her senses extended in all directions. Hartwell was very good at one thing, hiding his presence from his pursuers. She found herself inspecting every life form she could sense, and none of them was her target. She spent half an hour hovering above the forest before she could finally spot him.
She landed in front of him in a loud crash. Trees fell all around them, as her sharp wings cut them in her rapid descent. “You can’t flee forever,” she said in an exasperated tone.
“You don’t know that,” Hartwell retorted with an insolent smile.
“Tsk!” Pontiff Nari dashed toward Hartwell. In the blink of an eye, she had reached him. Her sword whistled as it cut the air. Hartwell didn’t even bother countering her attacks anymore. He’d dodge, distract her then run. This time, Pontiff Nari wasn’t willing to let him go easily.
She thrust her sword into the air then screamed: “Let thy cage confine thine worst enemies!”
Light flashed within the sword, then it shot out toward the retreating Hartwell. He was instantly surrounded. A spherical cage, made out of light beams, surrounded the champion. He swung his scythe, but the beams wouldn’t dissipate.
Pontiff Nari walked toward the trapped Hartwell, a smirk plastered on her angelic face. “You will face me whether you like it or not!” she said in her soothing voice.
Hartwell gave up on his attempts and turned to face the silver angel. She towered above him, even from a distance. Her wings grazed tree trunks as she walked, leaving deep gashes on their trail.
“Our Lord will redefine existence itself,” she said as she approached the trapped man. Her strange oblong eyes were narrowed to slits. Hartwell could see her shining pupils, like pearls within a dark sea. “With our help, he will ascend from a G.o.d to a Primordial.”
Hartwell guffawed. “You are crazier than master thought,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye. “You have one ambitious G.o.d, don’t you? Not only does he think of ascending, but he also think of bypa.s.sing the mighty Celestials! You’re all crazy, your G.o.d included.” Hartwell roared in laughter.
Pontiff Nari’s hands twitched. “You will pay for such Blasphemy!” she said. Her voice was no longer soothing. It sounded like metal sc.r.a.ping against solid rock.
Hartwell winced upon hearing her. “Supreme Leader wants your head. I’m only here to keep you busy while he takes care of your boss up there.”
“And you lost your hope of partic.i.p.ating in the Holi Wars for that,” Pontiff Nari replied. She drew an arc in the air with her sword then brought it down in a vertical motion.
Bright light shot out toward the champion, who brought his scythe closer to him. The scythe transformed into an obsidian shield just as the beam of light reach Hartwell. A loud explosion ensured, and the trees in their vicinity turned to dust.
After the dust settled and calm reigned once more in the forest, Pontiff Nari noticed that Hartwell had fled once more. She cursed under her breath and took to the air. Remembering Hartwell’s last words, she shot a glance toward her master.
Stalwart had opted not to use his angelic form anymore. Despite his size, he was giving the Bishop a hard time. Pontiff Nari couldn’t believe her eyes as she saw the mad wizard replicating their Lord’s miracles.
“This is what Sully meant…” she said, sorrow gripping at her heart. She took a quick glance at the forest below her. Hartwell was hiding somewhere within the thick trees. If he wasn’t willing to face her, she might as well help The Bishop. The king and his army were dead anyway.
She flapped her wings and made for the mad wizard.
She felt pain sear through her left wing. She looked at it, only to see a large hole instead of her silver feathers. She fell, rolling uncontrollably in the air as she headed toward solid earth. Hartwell had shot her with one of his spells. A dark energy was eating away at her wing. She couldn’t even regenerate it.
She crashed against a tree and rolled down the damp earth. When she finally came to a full stop, she could hear Hartwell’s approaching footsteps. “Don’t look away when you’re engaged in a fight,” he told her.
She caught a glimpse of his lower body as she struggled to stand. Her wing was badly damaged, and the corruption in the wound was spreading rapidly toward her body. She held the wing by the humerus and tore it away. A dark substance, neither liquid nor gas, oozed out instead of blood.
“Your life force’s draining,” Hartwell pointed out. His eyes were fixating the angel’s wound with clear greed.
“I see how you look at me. You’d love nothing more than devour this,” Pontiff Nari said jerking her head at the dark substance that oozed out of her. She struggled to keep her trembling legs and arms steady.
Hartwell shrugged. “Life force is my guilty pleasure,” he said in wry smile.
He dashed toward the Pontiff. He had eyes but for her open wound and the dark matter that oozed out of it. He swung his scythe at the Pontiff’s head, and the latter dodged, albeit with great difficulty. She shot her hand toward Hartwell, and the latter jumped away just in time to avoid a devastating fire bolt.
“Supreme Leader will have my hide if I killed you,” Hartwell said through a clenched jaw.
“You can’t kill me even if you tried,” Pontiff Nari said then shot another fire bolt at the champion of death.
At that moment a loud roar reached their ears. Pontiff Nari looked up to see The Bishop falling down toward the capital. His mountain sized angel was slowly dissipating.
“At this rate, he will fall into the capital. So much for saving lives…” Hartwell commented with a mocking smile.
Pontiff Nari was about to shoot another fire ball at Hartwell when she heard a familiar voice behind her.
“I’m sick and tired of Dhobor and his angels. Maybe it’s time we took over the Church, what do you say Pontiff?” Stalwart materialized right behind Nari.
He looked as though he’d just taken a refreshing bath. Not even a colossus, the Maker’s Archangel, could bring the mad wizard down. Pontiff Nari felt as though her heart was being cut to pieces by a miniscule, yet sharp razor. It was the end, for her and all her order…
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