The Headless Centaur Phantom

"Is everyone okay?" the Scholar emerged from the dust.

His [Deflection Field] had deflected all the debris from the explosion, but the intense heat had still injured him, scorching a corner of the book in his hand.

The bald mercenary's final self-destruction wasn't a built-in feature of the exoskeleton.

These close-fitting military exoskeletons were designed to minimize overall volume while considering payload capacity; adding an optical camouflage module was already a stretch, leaving no room for a dedicated self-destruct device.

But the thermobaric rounds he used had far exceeded expectations in power.

Three Silver Rank powerhouses, even with precautions, had still resulted in one dead and two injured... Thinking that the strongest Knights in the squad were already out of commission, the Scholar suddenly realized that among the remaining few, there seemed to be no one who could oppose him.

He wouldn't need to resort to underhanded tactics like replacing beams with rotten posts to bring this piece of Apep's flesh back to the academy.

Then, the professors who had never given him a second glance, and the classmates who always played impact but never invited him, would all look at him with newfound respect.

Most importantly, he could apply for funding, lead a project, and research this piece of flesh.

If he could decipher the Divine Arts...

Excitedly, the Scholar raised his book, its corner scorched, and summoned a gust of wind to blow away the surrounding dust.

He saw the woman, her face severely burned, kneeling before the unconscious Knight, raising a purplish-black Ritual Dagger. Before she could strike, she was knocked to the ground by the wind he summoned.

The blood-covered Gnome was in the small crater at the explosion's center, attempting to salvage something from the shattered exoskeleton.

The Dragonkin, inexplicably unharmed, stood under a tree about 50 meters away, its right hand resting on its scabbard, motionless, like a lizard basking in the sun on a rock.

Ignoring the two demi-humans, the Scholar pointed his fingertip at the woman and shouted:

"Stop!"

The woman, pinned down by the wind, couldn't get up. She was severely injured, and only after the strong wind subsided did she slowly rise.

She didn't pick up the Ritual Dagger that had fallen beside her. Instead, she looked up at the Scholar, a sly smile on her severely burned face, her voice sickeningly sweet: "Don't rush, darling, it'll be you in a moment."

As she spoke, she stuck out her tongue, revealing intricate runes on its tip.

From over 20 meters away, the Scholar could only see something on the woman's tongue and mistakenly thought she was bringing up old issues. But the next moment, his entire body went numb, and he instantly lost control of himself.

A purplish-black spider emerged from his abdomen.

The spider was as large as a fist, with eight finger-length segmented legs that pierced his abdomen, embedding themselves into the nodes within him. It controlled his motor nerves and magic source, turning him into a puppet.

The Scholar's pupils contracted sharply, and he suddenly recalled the encounter in the tent the night before, realizing he had been set up.

Having controlled the Scholar, the woman picked up the dagger from the ground. Without hesitation, she moved swiftly, muttering a prayer, and plunged it into the Knight's throat.

"Gk... gk..." The unconscious Knight instinctively covered his throat with his only available arm, but it was useless.

He shriveled up like a sponge that had been wrung dry, his life force transforming into bloody mist that flowed through the dagger into the woman's body.

"Ah~~~" The woman moaned, reveling in the pleasure of the sacrifice.

The burned skin on her face was healing at a visible rate. Soon, it scabbed over and fell off, revealing fresh, tender skin beneath.

The Scholar could only watch everything in despair.

He saw the woman recover from her severe injuries after sacrificing the first Knight. Then, without pause, she sacrificed the second unconscious Knight, gaining some kind of power from an unknown Evil God.

Although he held no hope, the Scholar still glanced at the two surviving guides while the woman was performing the sacrifice.

The Gnome had already removed the exoskeleton's core, flipped its wrist, and placed the core into its personal storage space. It then proceeded to dismantle the exoskeleton's optical modules.

The Dragonkin remained motionless, like a perfectly rendered wax figure.

What the hell was going on!

Even if those two had taken the opportunity to steal the Evil God's flesh, it would have been better!

If that cultist woman got her hands on the Evil God's flesh, who knew what she would do!

After the second Knight turned into a desiccated corpse, the woman stood up from the ground, her steps light. She walked over to the Scholar.

The Scholar no longer had time to worry about others.

The woman held the Ritual Dagger in one hand and used her slender fingers to trace a line across the Scholar's handsome face with the other. She leaned close to his ear and whispered seductively, "What should I do with you, my sweet?"

Even though she was wearing a heavy work uniform, it couldn't hide her alluring curves.

The Scholar found he could speak. Just as he was about to beg the woman for mercy, he suddenly heard a rhythmic drumbeat.

"Da... dada... dada... dadadada!!!"

The faint sound of hooves echoed from afar, and in the next moment, it seemed to grow closer, and then, in the instant after that.

It arrived!

He saw a galloping Centaur instantly appear behind the woman, wielding a long-handled saber, charging at full speed!

Unfortunately, the woman reacted quickly and immediately lunged to the side.

The galloping Centaur, unable to change direction, could only charge towards the Scholar.

Under the spider's control, the Scholar couldn't even close his eyes in his final moments!

He could only watch as the Centaur raised its saber and brought it down, striking the woman on the back, about 10 meters away.

Huh?

The Scholar smelled urine, but his brain was overloaded and couldn't process such complex olfactory information.

He saw with his own eyes the Centaur charging at him, raising its blade, and slashing down.

But before the blade could slice past his head, it suddenly flashed behind the woman, leaving a bloody gash on her back!

After landing a blow, the Centaur teleported again to a nearby spot, retaining the speed from its charge. It then raised its long blade and charged at the woman once more.

Taking a solid hit, however, only ignited the woman's fighting spirit.

Eight sharp spider legs extended from her body, propping her up from the ground. She then charged back at the Centaur.

These spider legs emanated a dark, purplish glow, and the curses contained within them sent a chill down the spine of the Scholar, an expert in such matters.

This teleporting Centaur was merely a Silver Rank monster.

And the curses on these spider legs were a gift from a sacrifice to an Evil God!

A single graze from these spider legs would immediately end the fight!

The two monstrous, inhuman figures collided. Under the woman's reckless counter-charge, the nearly three-meter-tall Centaur had no way to avoid the spider legs' attack!

The spider legs pierced the Centaur cleanly, but the woman's heart sank to the bottom.

It was as if she had struck a ghost; the Centaur passed right through her body, with no contact whatsoever.

The next moment, the Centaur teleported behind the woman again. Utilizing the lossless directional change provided by its teleportation, it retained its charging speed and slashed down at the woman's back, who was off-balance from her missed attack.

A head, filled with utter shock, flew out from between the eight spider legs, which were harder than steel, and rolled onto the ground.

However, the woman's death did not free the Scholar. He continued to watch in despair as the headless Centaur, still carrying its momentum, used its teleportation once more to retain its speed and charged towards its next intended victim.

A Dragonkin.