Chapter 35: Battle Situation

That intense sense of deathly oppression brought a flurry of negative effects to Phylin! Cold limbs! Paralysis! Shame! Rage! These complex and overwhelming emotions surged like a massive flood, ultimately becoming the shattering blow that broke his inner chains! If his earlier talent had merely created a crack in the wall restraining his potential, then now—he had smashed that wall to pieces! At the brink of death, Phylin became one of the first beta testers to step onto the path of true transcendence! [Iron]! [Follower]! ‘A battle with no way out! Even if it means death!’ His mind echoed with the roars of countless [Followers] who had faced desperate situations. Without such a roar—how could life be called tenacious? Faster than ever—stronger than ever—sharper than ever, he slashed backward with a sword that carried blood and life on the edge! Phylin had a strong sense that even if this strike landed perfectly and severed the attacking tentacle, judging from the creature’s previous speed, he would still end up perishing alongside it. Bang!! Just as Phylin’s eyes widened with determination to die fighting, a sudden gunshot exploded! He felt a massive sense of danger coming from the side. However—that danger wasn’t aimed at him. The incoming tentacle was precisely severed at its midpoint! Immediately after came Phylin’s flashing sword strike, which completely chopped the [Root of Man]’s retaliating tentacle into fragments! Having narrowly escaped death, Phylin collapsed to his knees after pulling off the high-difficulty maneuver. His hands trembled violently—he couldn’t even hold his weapon. “Huh. Not bad. I actually hit my target.” Smoke curled from the gun’s barrel. The black-robed nun, Maria, looked quite pleased with her marksmanship after her first-ever shot. It was entirely due to her exceptional stat bonuses; she had simply raised her hand and fired on instinct. As it turned out, Sister Maria had a natural talent for shooting. “Can you still stand, Phylin?” Maria had wanted to help him up when she saw him kneeling in a puddle of mucus, but she stopped mid-step. Even without a cleanliness obsession, she found the pus of the [Root of Man] far too disgusting to touch. “I… don’t think so…” Phylin tried multiple times to stand, all in vain—he nearly fell face-first into the foul liquid. In the end, it was Tyr and Ralph who rushed over and used their steel batons to pull him out. The moment he was clear, this newly ascended [Iron]-rank player plopped down on the ground without a shred of grace. “…Thanks.” “God helps those who help themselves. My shot only bought you a moment of time.” Maria shook her head at Phylin’s gratitude and told him the truth. Had he not turned around in time, her shot would’ve merely delayed the inevitable. That tentacle’s momentum could’ve still pierced his skull. By now, with the combined efforts of Phoenix and Maria— The [Root of Man] in this area had been completely purged. The ground was littered with sticky puddles of pus and pits gouged out by combat. Severed tentacles still twitched occasionally, as if they hadn’t fully died. Phoenix stared at Phylin with a strange look in his eyes. “To cross that line on pure willpower…” He couldn’t remember how many years it had been since someone achieved such a nearly impossible feat. Everyone had grown too used to relying on potions to advance. “Isn’t that better though, Mr. Phoenix? When you return, the church will have gained another devout seedling. Or… are you afraid your student might surpass you?” Maria dusted her pale hands. A thin sheen of sweat covered her brow—it was clear the recent skirmish had taken some effort. “He’s still far from it!” Phoenix’s face turned cold at Maria’s teasing. He snorted and turned away, no longer looking at the half-dead Phylin. Maria only smiled deeper—seeing this proud man sulk was rather amusing. “We need to send the wounded back. If they continue, it’ll be suicide.” “Mm…” Phoenix understood. Some of the injured—like the poor soul whose leg had been torn off, or Phylin, who was completely exhausted—would only become liabilities. Keeping them in the field put not only themselves, but also their comrades in danger. It was best to have them retreat to a safe zone. Thankfully, the church had already prepared for such contingencies, so withdrawing the injured wouldn’t be an issue. At this point, they were only one street away from their original destination. Time was on their side. You could say Phoenix and Maria had already accomplished their primary goal. Once they completed the divine spell coverage for the entire lower city district, they would have freedom of movement! The cat-and-mouse game had yet to truly begin. …… Compared to the church’s armed forces—well-versed in battling heretics and abominations—the regular noble military lacked experience in facing such grotesque threats. Put simply: they had no psychological resilience. In this era, most people who saw something as twisted and mentally scarring as the [Root of Man] would vomit on the spot, instantly losing most of their combat effectiveness. Even with newly developed military weapons in hand, the soldiers lacked any true sense of safety. “Hold the line! I said hold the damn line!!” Officer Sylis shouted from her position in the chaotic street battle, her face grim. Bolts whizzed. Soldiers roared. Explosions lit the battlefield. Blood spattered the ground, bearing silent witness to what had just occurred. The mutated [Root of Man] weren’t just more disgusting—they were also far more dangerous. No longer afraid of fire, they could use their liquid-like bodies to absorb the damage from volleys of arrows. The steam-powered crossbows weren’t the miracle weapons they’d hoped. To be fair, weapons like these were designed for use against humans—not abominations like the [Root of Man]. So it was no surprise that their performance was underwhelming. Sylis clenched her teeth hard. She refused to let her debut battle end in failure. As she searched for a solution— One of the [Root of Man] staggered and suddenly locked its full attention on her—the front-line commander. Through its eyes, it had finally found a suitable conversation partner.