Chapter 113
Chapter 113
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 113
Chapter Title: Miracle of the Storm
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Is today the end of the world? Or did a volcano erupt or something?
Everyone who witnessed it was speechless. Pillars of flame crisscrossed the sky densely, streaking diagonally. It almost looked like a rain of fire pouring down from the heavens.
It was too absurd to be the work of any living creature. Pope Nergal shouted at the cardinal beside him.
“That bastard’s mine. You take over the Blessing of Ascension!”
“Always the same with you old folks! Trying to hog all the easy jobs!”
The cardinal groaned, suddenly saddled with heavy responsibility. But given the circumstances, he didn’t hesitate for a second and placed his hand on the Sky Stone.
Thanks to the Blessing of Ascension anchored to that stone, this massive Artabus soared freely through the skies carrying so many people.
It devoured an enormous amount of holy power in exchange for unrestricted ship movement. In times like these, its superior mobility was absolutely essential.
Zigzagging to dodge fireballs, the Artabus suddenly rotated at a right angle, and a beam of light shot from its prow. That was the signal—beams began firing one after another.
“Ah. It’d be nice if we could turn that thing into a cripple.”
The mage operating the mana cannon muttered ominously.
“With the Magic Tower’s mass-produced mana cannons, I’m afraid that’s not feasible.”
They had ripped these off the walls of Valles City for defense and slapped them onto the ship.
They would’ve been devastating against a demon horde, but against volcanic ash? Worthless. So they’d brought them along without a second thought.
Now everyone regretted lugging around those heavy things for nothing. The phoenix was too far away for effective shots.
“Even if we fire, they won’t hit. Is this thing really accurate? It’s supposed to have guidance magic!”
The apprentice yelled, veins bulging on his face. What else could this be but military graft?
They’d poured so much budget into these cannons, yet the accuracy was pathetically low.
Of course, the Magic Tower’s Valles City branch chief had his own side to tell. He replied while fighting nausea.
“This is meant to be fired from a stable ground mount! Not like this... urgh!”
The Artabus lurched in a sharp evasion maneuver to dodge a flame orb, and he grabbed a nearby handhold, pausing his response.
This ship was built for stargazing, not dodging incoming fireballs in a mad dash. So there were hardly any safety features for passengers—they had to make do with their bodies.
“Firing from a moving airship like this? No guidance magic in the world makes that accurate!”
“That thing’s just standing there! Why can’t we hit it?”
“We’re the ones who can’t stay still! In this situation, even your cannon’s grandpappy couldn’t hit it!”
Pew! A beam struck home right on cue, just as he finished speaking. It wasn’t some precise sniper shot—just a lucky hit from firing away.
The mage who’d fired was probably marveling at his own aim when the phoenix swatted an incoming mana shell aside with its talon from point-blank range. It was like the beast was snickering all the way over here. The shell exploded harmlessly in midair, sweeping up nothing.
“Hey, you!”
The apprentice exploded in rage at the sight.
“You see that and still call it no graft? How are you even human? Tell me! Who’d you take bribes from? How much did you pocket for the shells to be duds!”
“It’s a misunderstanding, sir. Even if we take money, we still deliver the basics.”
The branch chief shook his head in protest, collar grabbed. He genuinely looked wronged. If it were real graft cannons, the mana orbs wouldn’t have exploded at all.
They’d inflated prices outrageously, taken massive profits, and spread plenty of that cash to Citadel Republic’s elite and military brass. But the cannons themselves were fine.
Just overpriced bubbles—no defects, even if the cost-performance sucked. The Magic Tower prided itself on quality.
So this wasn’t a flaw issue. Proving it, a second mana cannon struck the phoenix dead-on. It detonated right in its face before it could deflect.
But the blast was pushed back by the heat, never reaching the phoenix. It was like an invisible barrier enveloped it, blocking attacks.
“The core issue is its innate fire power acting as a natural barrier. It’s a Monster Sovereign, sir. A Monster Sovereign. If mana cannons could take it down, the Magic Tower would’ve mass-produced them and conquered the continent.”
Their opponent was just terrible. A being born at the ecosystem’s apex.
Humans had to grind through bone-shattering training for what it gained by molting a few feathers. Pure innate unfairness. Even with it standing still like a perfect target, they hadn’t landed a solid hit yet.
“We still not there? My head’s about to explode!”
The Artabus hadn’t taken damage either, but that was solely thanks to Cardinal Omen’s valiant efforts.
Output from the Sky Stone aside, human minds had limits. Piloting this behemoth through evasion maneuvers wasn’t sustainable long-term.
“Wait.”
The pope silenced his griping—really, his screams—with one word.
“We wait. Until the moment comes.”
“When’s that moment, exactly? After I’m bald?”
“See, you’ve got energy for jokes, so we can wait longer.”
Everything had to be considered. Air. Temperature. Atmospheric flow. Lightning currents...
The pope was nearly certain. That thing was underestimating humans right now. Wide-open wings, just spamming fireballs—it was careless.
Makes sense. Every human it’d seen so far was either fleeing or dying pathetically before it. There’d be one chance to pierce that carelessness.
Even a cornered rat bites a cat. Once it felt mortal peril and grew desperate, what happened next was obvious. A wounded beast was scary enough—what about a wounded phoenix?
‘At least the battlefield’s deserted. Small mercy.’
Fallen fireballs boomed on impact below. Ash piles erupted, splashing high enough to nearly reach the Artabus. If this happened over Valles City or the capital, it’d be literal hell on earth.
Even those updrafts factored into the pope’s calculations. Everything aloft belonged to the skies, after all. He chanted a prayer toward the roiling hot energies around them.
“O Heavenly God in the skies. Our Lord of the Heavens who claims the firmament. Summon the north wind to drive out the fire demon, and take away the scorching heat. Let the flowing winds find no rest, and let restless calm persist.”
As if responding, a stream of cold air pierced down from the stratosphere. Hot air rose. The pope’s holy power mingled with the atmosphere, and whistling winds converged from all directions.
Cold clashed violently with heat, whipping up turbulence everywhere. Ash split the sky, turning it blue again, only for storm clouds to blanket it next. Swallowed by updrafts on warm currents, the clouds rained down and unleashed lightning in all directions.
“Weather control?!”
The Corinel branch chief, also a chief mage from Magic Tower HQ, shouted.
“N-no, this is...”
Even top-tier Weather Control could only summon brief rain on a clear sky. But this? Undeniably beyond that. At the storm’s heart, winds rose in the shape of a long dragon.
The waterspout devoured ground heat and surged, spinning faster and faster. The phoenix finally sensed something wrong and wheeled to scan the ground.
“Praise the storm! Perish, torn asunder by the winds, wicked beast!”
A tornado vast enough to dwarf the huge phoenix erupted. Its diameter was now measured in kilometers, not meters. Winds swallowed and uprooted everything on the ground.
Nothing but ash remained below, so gray dust mixed in, tinting what should’ve been colorless winds.
The murky gray vortex engulfed the phoenix whole, forcing it to stagger, no longer rooted in place.
“Heaven’s judgment descends!”
The pope raised his fist and slammed it down. Lightning burst from churning, friction-heated clouds. Cloud to cloud. Cloud to cloud again.
Each jump intensified and thickened the bolt. As it grew, scattered thunderclaps faded. Minor strikes lost power and vanished.
“Oh, ooh!”
The apprentice marveled. Aldehir Church priests gazed in awe at the humming sky lightning. They stared at the pillar now large enough to blanket the phoenix.
Had their pope always been this magnificent? Eyes filled with reverence and respect turned to Nergal. Even Cardinal Omen fell silent now.
“Fall!”
With his roar, the lightning finally struck. Less a bolt than the Heavenly God’s fist crashing down. The divinely attuned pillar wrapped the phoenix entirely and blazed white-hot. The light was so intense no one could open their eyes.
“Damn...!”
But the pope clicked his tongue. He murmured bitterly.
“I thought I hadn’t let my guard down at all, but my power falls short?”
Careless? No—the phoenix had been. But he’d failed to pierce its lapse and obliterate it in one blow.
Where the lightning faded stood the phoenix, now glowing nearly white-hot. An energy no one had witnessed before surged from within. It burned fiercely, cloaked in pure white flame.
“Is that thing literally immortal?”
“It’s not unscathed. Your Holiness’s attack landed true.”
Omen—for the first time in who-knows-how-long—honored the pope as Your Holiness.
But he didn’t release the Sky Stone, turning the prow instead. Breaking through the winds at max speed, away from the phoenix.
“The problem is it didn’t kill it—just woke it up. Even an immortal monster bird... can’t handle that without limits!”
The rest of his words drowned out. A sound no one had ever heard erased all other noise. Everyone felt blistering heat. A heatwave swept the world.
Even the tornado shattered and vanished under the onslaught. Clouds vaporized into steam and scattered. Humid air turned desert-dry. Moments later, where all light and heat had vanished, a panting bird appeared.
Gruk! Kek!
Heavenly God’s shield? Or just too far for full force? Scorched but intact, the monster bird glared at the fleeing Artabus with fury in its eyes.
No one had ever pushed this bird this far. Such humiliating damage was a first since feathers grew on its body!
Gwoooo...
Smoke rose from its whole form. Flames extinguished, revealing bare feathers. The phoenix was no longer a blazing bird—just a giant one.
White-hot incandescence wasn’t for casual use—even for a phoenix, the energy drain was catastrophic. But even so.
Kruk.
It wouldn’t tolerate some mutant monkey looking down on it. Absolutely not.
The venomous bird’s eyes locked on the woman standing before it, as if it had waited for this.
“Come at me.”
Gripping her moon-powered blade two-handed, ready to swing at any moment.
Roca no longer fled from any foe.
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