Chapter 94
Kanya did exactly as Jericho had told her.
Pressed flat to the ground, she held her breath and watched as Amael fought against impossible odds.
And the longer the fight went on, the wider her eyes grew.
No matter how you looked at it—it should’ve been unwinnable.
But Jericho handled it.
He crushed the overwhelming numbers.
He fought alone.
And he shattered through the followers of the Demon King of Wrath like they were nothing.
A single javelin had torn through dozens like a storm. Three knights—Satan’s chosen warriors—were crushed as easily as glass.
It looked like it was nearly over.
Jericho.
Who was this man?
Why was he helping her?
She still had no idea.
But she knew one thing:
If Jericho kept fighting like this—
Then getting to Talahaim’s Stone Mountain…
Was no longer a hopeless dream.
Kanya felt her heart beat faster.
Freedom.
It was real now.
The hope of finally being freed from these cursed black magic seals, from the grip of the Demon King of Sloth—it was finally in reach.
But just as that sliver of hope bloomed inside her—
A chilling sound came from behind.
She whipped around—and watched as the air split like paper, opening vertically from the ground up.
And through that space—stepped ten people.
Followers of Sloth.
Their robes, their auras—she knew them too well. She hated them too deeply.
“So this is where the runaway whore was hiding.”
That voice.
Distorted through a mask, but unmistakable.
A voice that made her blood freeze.
Of course.
Of course they wouldn’t just let her go.
Belphegor wasn’t the type to toss away her favorite “collection piece.”
And certainly not one hosting the Divine Power of a War Goddess.
Kanya bolted upright and ran.
No weapon.
Too many enemies.
No chance of winning.
“Jericho!! Help me! Please!!”
She did the only thing that made sense.
But she didn’t get far.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going, you bitch?!”
Black magic lashed out, binding her arms and legs.
She crashed to the ground, rolling.
Within seconds, the cultists surrounded her.
She clenched her jaw and tried to summon divine power.
The War Goddess inside her—Belia—was asleep.
But the power remained.
The divine strength she’d lived with—whether she wanted it or not.
That red light—the sacred energy—rose up, aiming to break the black magic holding her.
But—
“Think you can slip away, you whore?!”
The followers moved faster.
One of them drew a dagger from his robes and rushed her.
The Oathblade of Subjugation.
Kanya went pale.
“No! No—please!!”
“You really thought you could run from Sloth?”
Grinning wickedly, the dagger slashed downward—just before the divine light could purge the magic from her body.
“Got you! You’re—AARRGH!!”
With a sharp metallic clang, the dagger was deflected violently.
The cultist’s hand was torn open.
The blade clattered across the ground, useless.
Kanya looked down—
A dark, shimmering barrier wrapped her chest.
Jericho’s time-stasis armor.
The very thing everyone had forgotten about… did exactly what it was meant to do.
And just in time, Belia’s divine power surged, erasing the rest of the black magic restraints.
Her limbs went free.
And then—
She moved.
With lightning speed, Kanya assessed her situation and acted.
She reached for the revolver strapped to the cultist still straddling her—
Snatched it.
Infused it with divine power.
And pulled the trigger.
It was her first time holding a gun.
But the moment her fingers touched it—she handled it like she’d trained for decades.
Perfect aim.
No hesitation.
A gift from the War Goddess.
Kanya could instinctively master any weapon she touched.
BANG!
The cultist’s head exploded.
Their protective wards were useless.
A bullet wrapped in divine light tore through them like tissue paper.
The headless body slumped forward—collapsing onto Kanya.
But she didn’t feel trapped or suffocated.
The time-stasis armor bore the weight effortlessly.
If anything, it gave her cover.
In a field with no hiding places—this corpse became the perfect barricade.
She slowly raised the gun again.
Divine fire coiled around the barrel as she pulled the trigger.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Three more shots.
Three more cultists—gone before they even finished their sentence.
Headshots. Clean.
They never saw it coming.
Their magical barriers meant nothing.
Finally, the remaining followers grasped what was happening.
“She’s infusing bullets with holy power!!”
“Shit—spread out and hit her with spells!”
They scattered.
Black magic lit the air and rained down on her position.
But most of it was absorbed by the corpse on top of her.
The few that pierced through—
Bounced right off her armor.
Then—one more shot rang out.
BANG.
A bullet struck one of the spellcasters directly in the throat.
He dropped instantly—like a puppet with cut strings.
Her barrel turned toward the next—
Click.
She froze.
A hollow metallic sound echoed.
Frantic, she opened the cylinder of the revolver.
Six chambers.
Five spent casings.
One chamber—empty.
There was never a sixth bullet.
Why?
Why only five?
Why the hell would someone load just five bullets into a six-shot revolver?
One more.
She could’ve killed one more.
“She’s out!! She’s out of ammo!!”
“Now’s our chance! GET HER!!”
The hollow click of the revolver echoed, and the moment it did, Kanya saw the cultists abandon their formation—charging straight at her like a pack of rabid beasts.
She shoved the corpse off her and rolled out just in time.
With no other option, she hurled the now-empty revolver at the closest one, then turned and sprinted.
Grabbing another gun was out of the question.
They wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
“Jericho!! Help!! HELP—AAH!!”
Black magic lashed her limbs again.
Desperate, Kanya reached for her divine power—
But this time, it wasn’t enough.
“Bind her with triple layers! If she escapes again, we’re screwed!!”
“Hurry!! Before that freak notices!!”
Layer upon layer of black magic crushed her in place.
It was over.
There was no way she could break through spells cast with that much focus.
“Guhhk!!”
Unless the caster died.
A spray of blood exploded in front of her as one of the cultists’ torsos detonated.
Kanya’s head snapped toward the source—
“Kanya! Keep fighting!!”
Jericho was shouting.
In his hand—something small and black.
About the size of a fist.
He wound back, twisted, and hurled it overhead.
If Kanya were from Earth, she’d have recognized the motion instantly.
It was a textbook overhand throw.
BOOM.
Over sixty meters away, another cultist exploded.
“What kind of brute strength is that?!”
Wards meant nothing.
Magic shields, nothing.
They crumpled under sheer, raw power.
But Jericho couldn’t keep it up forever.
“Stop him!! SHOOT!!”
The remaining cultists—Satan’s troops—opened fire.
Machine guns. Bolt-action rifles. Offensive spells.
All raining toward Jericho.
But that was enough.
Two of the binding spells restraining Kanya broke.
And the third—cracked under the pressure of her divine energy.
While the cultists panicked over Jericho’s insane throws, Kanya moved.
She rushed to a corpse—one of Sloth’s men whose upper half had been vaporized—
And pulled a revolver from his belt.
Only three enemies remained.
Kanya holstered the gun, flicked the hammer three times with her left hand—
Click. Click. Click.
Fanning.
Fast. Precise.
Deadly.
“No—wait! The gun—!”
They didn’t finish the sentence.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Three perfect shots.
Three heads blown open.
The last of Sloth’s followers—gone.
Calmly, Kanya holstered the spent revolver and stepped to the side of another corpse—this one holding a bolt-action rifle.
It was long. Heavy.
Too much for her skinny arms.
Didn’t matter.
She dropped into prone position, steadied the rifle on the corpse’s body, and drew a bead on the black mages attacking Jericho.
They didn’t see her.
They were too busy flinging spells.
“Eat this.”
She inhaled.
Exhaled.
The rifle pulsed with divine light.
No ward could block it.
CRACK.
One black mage’s head exploded.
Without pause, Kanya pulled the bolt.
Click-clack.
Another round chambered.
“There—SHE’S SHOOTING—!”
He didn’t finish.
CRACK.
His brain splattered across the grass.
Two shots. Two kills. In less than a second.
The third mage’s skull burst like a melon.
But by then—it was too late.
Their spells were already coming.
Black energy whipped through the air toward her—
Kanya ducked behind the corpse.
Spells slammed into the ground. Into the body. Into the armor.
Only one hit her directly—
And bounced harmlessly off her time-stasis armor.
As soon as the barrage passed, she rose to shoot again—
But stopped.
She didn’t need to.
In the split-second their attention shifted to her—
Jericho had already closed the distance.
Now all that remained of the black mages and cultists…
Was pulp.
Silence returned to the plains.
Kanya and Jericho stared at each other.
Then both—simultaneously—
Laughed.
The impossible fight…
Was over.
They had won.
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