Chapter 74: The Bridge of Judgment

The Archbishop of Cologne hesitated for a long moment before finally saying, “Follow me.”

Li Nanke and Reynold exchanged a glance, then fell in step behind the Archbishop, winding their way up the mountain path.

Clergy formed an honor guard around the three as they passed through ranks of Penitence soldiers, making their way toward the Cathedral of All Saints at the mountain’s summit.

The last rays of sunset, like golden threads, spilled through cracks in the clouds, bathing the peak of Ashen Mountain in a somber, amber glow.

Illuminated by this light, the hundred-meter-long Bridge of Judgment appeared especially magnificent—a span arching across a bottomless abyss, leading directly to the towering spires and awe-inspiring grandeur of the Cathedral of All Saints.

The cathedral’s spires pierced the heavens as though to touch the very sky, a testament to its unassailable sanctity.

The Archbishop walked alone, clutching the box containing the severed head, and entered the cathedral...

He did not reappear until some time had passed, and when he emerged again, a figure almost twice the size of an ordinary man followed in his wake—a giant.

That colossal form was encased in blood-red heavy armor, like an immovable iron fortress, and wielded a massive warhammer whose head was bristling with cruel, sharp spikes; a single brush with such a monstrous weapon would leave any creature’s body riddled with bloody holes.

From beneath a helmet engraved with the faces of the tormented, a coarse and excited voice rumbled, “Reynold, I didn’t think you’d have the courage to return here!”

Reynold’s expression darkened; his hand unconsciously settled on the hilt of his wolf-headed greatsword.

Li Nanke regarded the hammer-wielding giant, then glanced at Reynold’s reaction, instantly discerning the newcomer’s identity.

Fariano—the name was known to all within the Holy Assembly; none could claim ignorance of it.

Both the most fanatical and devout butcher among them, as well as a member of the Penitence Army, he had fought in countless battles and personally ended the lives of innumerable heretics.

In one particularly fierce battle, Fariano was surrounded and captured by the enemy, who brutally flayed him alive and subjected him to inhuman torment. Yet it was precisely this ordeal that earned him the blessing of the God of Agony, endowing him with power beyond that of any ordinary man.

From that day forth, he became the most formidable and fearsome presence in the Penitence Army.

Fariano was no master of strategy; though the Holy King granted him the honorary title of Commander of the Holy Hammer Legion, he was not entrusted with its command, but rather made a special Inquisitor—a fearsome executioner of heretics.

The Archbishop spoke: “Reynold, the Holy King knows all. But if you seek true atonement, the head of a heretic alone is insufficient proof.”

“Upon this Bridge of Judgment, countless penitents have met their end. The earliest among them were the heretics who once set fire to Bramble Mountain.”

“Their flesh and blood was trampled again and again, soaked into the bridge itself, making it sacred and unbreakable.”

“Thereafter, every powerful heretic seeking penance was brought here for judgment; only those who survived truly earned forgiveness for their sins.”

“Reynold, if you truly wish to atone, you must be prepared to face judgment!”

The elite Penitence guards stationed on the bridge had already withdrawn to a distance, their eyes alight with anticipation and excitement.

Reynold, once the Grand Instructor of the Holy Assembly, was famed for his strength and swordsmanship, while Fariano, Commander of the Holy Hammer Legion, was a name that struck terror into all.

A clash between these two was cause enough for fevered excitement.

Reynold remained silent, his eyes fixed on the imposing foe before him.

From within the blood-red armor came the beastlike rasp of excited breath. “Reynold, you know you’re no match for me. You’re hesitating. You’re afraid. You don’t dare face my judgment!”

“I’ll give you a chance—both of you, come at me together!”

The Archbishop frowned. “Fariano, judgment has its rules.”

Fariano laughed thunderously. “Reynold is a heretic stained with sin, and the knight at his side must be one as well. Judging multiple heretics at once is within the rules.”

“If you still don’t dare accept judgment, Reynold, then get off Ashen Mountain and never return!”

Li Nanke suddenly interjected, “Archbishop, if during this judgment, the Commander of the Holy Hammer Legion were to perish, would that count as successful atonement?”

“How outrageously arrogant!” Even Fariano couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief.

The Archbishop’s face remained impassive. “Judgment is judgment because it is harsh and just. If you can defeat Fariano—whether he lives or dies—it will prove the Holy Father has forgiven your sins, and the Holy Assembly will welcome you back.”

“Conversely, if you die upon the Bridge of Judgment, it means only death can cleanse you of your guilt.”

Reynold drew a deep breath, recalling the image of a suffering woman imprisoned beneath the earth.

He drew his wolf-headed greatsword, assumed a guarded stance, and pronounced solemnly, “I, Reynold Scott, accept judgment!”

Gazing at the cathedral, little more than a hundred meters distant, Li Nanke drew his chainsaw sword. The thorned hilt bit into his flesh, making the saw-teeth spin with renewed ferocity.

With a shrill, buzzing cry, a surge of strength poured into his body from the blood-red thorns.

“Good! Very good!”

The towering figure hefted his massive warhammer, murderous light gleaming from the eye-slits of his metal helm.

The warhammer, anointed by the Holy King himself and sanctified with prayer, glimmered with a faint aura of blood. It was shaped like a pair of enormous horns—one end blunt and rough, the other sharp and bristling with spikes—a weapon of pure, undisguised violence.

Beneath the sallow twilight, their shadows stretched long across the bridge.

Every inch of ground here was soaked with the blood of ages past; the air was thick with the stench of iron and slaughter.

Before the great doors of the cathedral, the Archbishop raised his staff and struck it against the ground.

With a thunderous shout from the assembled Penitence soldiers, the judgment began!

A tremendous crash reverberated; the bridge trembled, the ground shook.

Encased in crimson armor, the iron behemoth—Fariano—charged forward like a berserk chariot.

Though his blood-red form was still some distance away, a howling gale of wind preceded him.

The solid hammerhead, nearly half the size of a man, grew rapidly in their vision, its cruel, glittering spikes tearing the air with a deafening roar, promising annihilation.

With an earth-shaking crash, Fariano, who had so loudly demanded judgment of Reynold, now targeted Li Nanke first, unable to forgive his earlier insolence—he would destroy this impudent heretic before all else!

The onlooking Penitence soldiers gasped in alarm. Such a brutal blow epitomized overwhelming force; to meet it head-on—or even graze its edge—meant death or ruin.

Li Nanke’s pupils contracted. Facing this savage and devastating onslaught—

In a flash, his knight’s armor transformed, and a suit of powered combat armor forged of high-strength alloy appeared around him.

Azure flames burst from his back, propelling him forward with immense force as he launched himself diagonally across the bridge.

The spiked hammer whistled past, missing his nose by scarcely a hand’s breadth; the wind off its passage stung his cheek like a lash.

“What kind of blessed armor is that?” Fariano’s bloodthirsty gaze was furious and wild; his killing strike had missed, and he failed to eliminate this vexing knight.

He raised the massive hammer for another blow, but from the side, the wolf-headed greatsword wreathed in flames came slashing down.

Fariano sneered and spun, swinging the hammer in a brutal counterattack.

Even Reynold, formidable as he was, dared not meet such a savage blow head-on.

He twisted aside, the greatsword sliding past the hammerhead to strike at Fariano’s thick wrist.

Sparks flew; the blood-red gauntlet tore, but there was no time for a follow-up—another ferocious swing was already descending!

Reynold was forced to rely on nimble footwork to evade and circle his foe. Though he occasionally landed a blow, Fariano’s armor was unbelievably resilient; even when pierced, his sword’s force waned, doing little harm.

Reynold, by contrast, was forced to maintain utter vigilance; his enemy could make mistakes, but if he were struck even once, the result would be grievous injury if not death.

The distant Penitence soldiers could all see Reynold’s predicament—if things continued like this, his defeat and death were only a matter of time.

Suddenly, the distant soldiers cried out in alarm.

In the midst of the fierce battle, Fariano heard a strange humming sound growing ever louder from afar.

He whipped his head around, catching sight of Li Nanke standing some distance away, hefting a bizarre tube brimming with dazzling light on his shoulder.

Fariano sensed mischief and started toward him, only to be intercepted by Reynold’s desperate, reckless assault.

“Hey! Big oaf!”

Fariano, enraged, turned to glare at Li Nanke—

He saw not the man, but a blinding flash of light.

A torrent of searing brilliance filled his vision; burning rays instantly heated the metal of his helmet, and some of the laser’s fury poured through the eye-slits, stabbing into his eyes.

“My eyes!”

Fariano’s agonized scream echoed across the bridge, making the assembled Penitence soldiers involuntarily suck in their breath—just witnessing the spectacle was enough to make their own eyes throb with sympathetic pain.