Saint Garling Loses an Arm, and the Celestial Dragons Scream

Saint Garling's famed sword collided with Rektol's lightning.

There was no deadlock.

Only pure, brutal cutting force.

The crescent-shaped blade was the embryo of a Supreme Grade Great Blade. But before the blue-white high-voltage arc, it was as brittle as a damp biscuit.

A terrifying gravitational field wrapped around the Thunder Greatsword. The instant the blade made contact, Saint Garling's grip split open. Before the blood could seep from his skin, two hundred million volts of heat evaporated it into a wisp of white smoke.

There was a crisp crack.

The Fine Steel blade was forcibly sliced in two. The broken tip spun through the air and embedded itself deep in the rock overhead.

The thunderous sword aura lost none of its momentum. Accompanied by a sonic boom that tore through the air, it cleaved straight toward Saint Garling's left shoulder.

Saint Garling clenched his teeth so hard they cracked. The muscles in his cheeks twitched violently.

He desperately tried to roll to the right and dodge. But the invisible gravitational field held his bones fast. His knees had sunk into the floor tiles, and he could not pull them free.

Blue light flashed past.

Splurt.

The sound of flesh being cut open and bones being sawed through rang out at the same time. Saint Garling's entire left arm, along with half of his shoulder, was severed cleanly from his torso. The severed limb flew away and crashed into a pile of rubble.

Scalding blood sprayed like a ruptured high-pressure hose. Plasma splattered across the remaining half of Saint Garling's pure-white mask and dripped down from his chin.

Thick blood smeared over his right eye, turning his vision crimson.

He let out a muffled groan and dropped heavily to one knee in the rubble pit. His right hand clamped over the smooth stump. Black smoke hissed between his fingers—the mangled flesh had been instantly roasted by the lightning's extreme heat. The blood vessels around the wound had been forcibly sealed, barely keeping him alive.

The remaining four members of God's Knights had not even finished drawing their swords and charging.

The speed they were so proud of was as slow as crawling through mud before Rektol. They had not even had the chance to think about fleeing.

The thunderous sword aura transformed into a blue net that left no openings. It trapped them tightly in the middle.

They did not even have time to scream.

The four lofty guards of the Creator Gods were mercilessly sliced into dozens of chunks of minced flesh by the sword aura. Severed limbs danced through the air, while their white high-collared capes became scraps of cloth drifting across the sky.

The two hundred million volts of electricity followed close behind. The violent heat instantly enveloped the scattered flesh. All the moisture was drained away in an instant.

The bones and blood ignited, giving off the pungent stench of burning protein.

A fierce wind mixed with stone dust swept through. Several puddles of human-shaped black ash were all that remained on the ground. A few half-melted pure-white masks dropped onto the steel plates with lonely, brittle clanks.

Deep inside the underground vault.

Behind a safe door made of solid steel was the Celestial Dragons' emergency shelter.

A row of surveillance Den Den Mushi hung on the walls. Their eyes projected images of what was happening outside the vault.

A dozen or so Celestial Dragons wearing bubble helmets huddled on a Persian carpet. They wore expensive silk clothing and clutched precious jewels and gold bars in their hands.

In the footage, God's Knights had been reduced to ashes, while Supreme Commander Saint Garling knelt on the ground with one arm severed.

The air in the safe room froze. Heavy breathing could be heard clearly.

One fish-faced Celestial Dragon loosened his grip.

A gold bar smashed onto the top of his foot. He had no time to feel the pain. His legs went limp, and he collapsed onto the red carpet.

Yellow urine ran down his wide trouser leg. The foul stench instantly filled the room, overpowering the scent of perfume.

Several female Celestial Dragons clung to one another, burying their heads in their companions' chests as they screamed at the tops of their lungs. Their pig-like shrieks made the iron walls of the safe room hum.

A Celestial Dragon wearing gold-rimmed glasses smashed the red wineglass in his hand onto the floor. The expensive wine splashed across the carpet like a glaring pool of blood.

Shards of glass flew everywhere. He clawed at his hair with both hands, scratching ten bloody furrows into his scalp.

"The Knights are all dead! Those filthy pirates are coming in!"

The fish-faced Celestial Dragon rolled around on the carpet. His bubble helmet struck the corner of a table and shattered instantly.

Snot and tears covered his fat face. He clutched the trouser leg of a nearby guard, digging his fingernails into the flesh.

"Get a Marine Admiral here to save me! Where's the admiral?!"

The guard's face had gone deathly pale with fright. The flintlock in his hand trembled and fell to the ground.

He forcibly yanked his leg free.

The fish-faced Celestial Dragon lost his balance and landed face-first, biting down on broken glass scattered across the carpet. Sharp shards pierced his cheek, filling his mouth with blood. His howls became slurred and indistinct.

The entire safe room turned into an insane asylum. When facing death, these noble descendants of the Creator Gods behaved even more disgracefully than rats in a sewer.

The vault ruins.

Rektol took his short legs forward. His military boots stepped across bloodstained floor tiles, ringing out with crisp footsteps.

He walked up to Saint Garling and raised his right foot.

The sole of his boot stomped hard onto the severed left arm. It ground across the white cross-starred cape, leaving a muddy black footprint on the limb.

Saint Garling's entire body convulsed with pain.

The veins on his forehead bulged as if they were about to burst. His remaining right eye fixed itself on Rektol, every inch of it bloodshot. He opened his mouth and coughed up a mouthful of blood mixed with fragments of lung.

Rektol looked down at him from above. He could not even be bothered to waste words mocking him.

He raised his right hand and pointed his index finger at Saint Garling's face.

Arcs of electricity gathered at his fingertip once more, emitting a piercing buzz. The blue-white lightning grew brighter and brighter, illuminating every detail of Saint Garling's pale face. The two-hundred-million-volt Lightning Spear was ready.

He intended to shoot straight through the Supreme Commander's head.

Before he could fire the lightning,

a world-shaking boom suddenly erupted from the earth overhead.

It was not thunder. It was the rock strata of the entire island crying out in agony.

The fifty meters of earth overhead split open with a massive crack. Huge chunks of granite came crashing down like hail. Seawater flooded wildly through the fissure.

The island's rock strata had completely broken apart.

Rocks could hold on no longer.