Chapter 363 - "Do you have any plan?"

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The square erupted into chaos the moment the ice phoenix screamed across the sky.

Its cry tore through the air like a blade of frozen thunder, sending a shockwave of frost-laced wind rippling across the execution grounds. Banners snapped violently. Loose papers spiraled upward. Even the sacred flames lining the platform flickered and bent away as if bowing to its presence.

Gasps exploded through the crowd.

"W-What is that?!" "A holy beast—? No, that’s not—!" "Why is it attacking—?!"

Above them, the massive ice phoenix banked sharply, wings scattering shards of glittering frost through the air like falling stars. Its eyes burned cold and intelligent as it circled the plaza, mana pulsing outward in steady waves.

On the execution platform—

The bishop staggered back half a step, eyes wide.

"W-What... what is happening now?!" he barked, voice cracking. "Who are these people?!"

The Saintess looked up.

Her breath caught.

The cold wind brushed against her face—and in it, she felt something familiar.

Then—

Three figures leapt from the phoenix’s back.

They fell like comets.

Kyle hit the ground first, boots slamming into stone as he rolled and came up in a crouch, spear already in hand. Aurelia followed, landing with a controlled skid, spear glowing faintly with contained heat. Sylthara dropped last—silent, fluid—daggers flashing as she twisted midair and landed atop the platform’s railing.

And at the center of it all—

Luca stood.

Already waiting.

He looked up as they landed and shook his head with a faint, helpless smile.

"...You guys really don’t know how to stay out of trouble, huh?"

Kyle grinned wildly. "Says the guy who picked a fight with an entire kingdom."

Aurelia tightened her grip on her spear. "We saw the smoke from miles away."

Sylthara’s eyes narrowed, scanning the Divine Guards. "And honestly? This place reeks of arrogance."

The Divine Guards reacted a heartbeat too late.

"Seize them!" one shouted.

They surged forward in a coordinated wave—dozens of armored soldiers, spears and blades flashing beneath the sun.

Luca stepped forward.

"Don’t kill them," he said calmly.

Then—

He moved.

The first guard lunged.

Luca pivoted, blade flashing sideways—not cutting, but striking with the flat. The impact sent the guard flying, armor clanging as he skidded across the stone.

A second came from behind.

Luca ducked, twisted, and drove his elbow into the man’s ribs. A sharp crack echoed as the guard collapsed, gasping.

Two more rushed him.

Luca spun, sabers crossing in a blur of steel. Their weapons were knocked aside, arms numbed by the impact. He stepped in close and struck their chests with precise, controlled force—just enough to drop them unconscious.

No wasted movement.

No hesitation.

Kyle laughed as he thrust forward, his spear sweeping low and knocking three guards off their feet in a single arc.

"Hey! Nice armor!" he shouted at Luca mid-fight.

Aurelia smacked the back of his head with her spear shaft.

"Focus on the fight!"

"Ow—hey!"

Sylthara moved like a shadow.

Her daggers flashed in tight arcs, striking joints, pressure points, nerve clusters. Guards collapsed before they even realized what had happened, their weapons clattering uselessly across the stone.

Above them—

The ice phoenix roared again.

Selena stood on its back, gripping the reins tightly, face pale but determined. She raised one trembling hand, channeling what little power she could.

A wave of frost surged downward.

Not lethal.

Just enough.

Divine Guards attempting to regroup suddenly found their feet frozen to the ground, ice climbing their boots and locking them in place.

"I—I can’t hold this long!" Selena called.

"You’re doing great!" Luca shouted back.

The square was in uproar.

People screamed. Some ran. Others stared in stunned silence.

"Who are they?!" "Why are the guards losing?!" "Are they... protecting the Saintess?"

The bishop stood frozen in disbelief.

His hands trembled.

"W-What kind of monsters are these...?" he whispered.

Then, louder—

"How can a group of first-years—!"

A trembling priest leaned in close.

"Y-Your Grace... these guards... they’re the newer recruits. The veterans were redeployed days ago."

The bishop’s face twisted.

"...You’re telling me," he hissed, "that the ones stationed here were children?"

The priest swallowed. "It... it was meant to be ceremonial duty."

The bishop clenched his fists.

"Useless."

He spun toward the battlefield, rage pouring from him.

"Why are they still standing?! How are they winning?!"

Luca deflected another spear, sending its wielder sprawling. He exhaled sharply, eyes flicking toward the bishop.

We need to make an impact

, he thought.

Enough that they can’t ignore us. Enough that they have to listen.

He stepped forward, sabers crossing in front of him.

More guards hesitated now.

Fear was spreading.

And then—

The bishop straightened.

His voice rang out, sharp and venomous.

"Bring them here."

The priests around him stiffened.

"Call the veterans. The true enforcers."

His gaze burned with fury.

"We cannot allow these brats to get away with this."

Above them, the ice phoenix screeched again.

And far beyond the plaza—

Something began to move.

The clash of steel rang across the plaza like thunder.

Luca pivoted, parrying a spear thrust and forcing the guard back with a sharp kick to the chest. The man skidded across the stone and didn’t rise. Around him, chaos still raged—shouts, clashing metal, the cry of the ice phoenix overhead.

Aurelia slid in beside him, spear held low, eyes sharp.

"Are we just fighting," she asked through gritted teeth as she deflected a blade, "or is there actually a plan here?"

Luca twisted his wrist, sending a Divine Guard sprawling with the flat of his saber. He didn’t look at her when he answered.

"We stall."

Aurelia blinked. "That’s it?"

"For now," Luca replied, eyes flicking upward.

His gaze landed on the raised platform.

On the Pope.

The old man sat perfectly still, hands folded, eyes half-lidded—watching everything as though it were a performance meant solely for him. Not fear. Not anger.

Amusement.

That old bastard... Luca thought grimly.

If I hadn’t realized what you were waiting for...

He exhaled slowly and spoke again, voice low but firm.

"We show them enough strength that they hesitate. Long enough for what’s supposed to happen... to happen."

Aurelia followed his gaze, understanding dawning in her eyes.

"...You’re waiting for something."

Luca gave a short nod.

"Just a little longer."

Before she could respond—

The ground trembled.

Not from magic.

Not from an explosion.

From weight.

From many synchronized footsteps.

The noise rippled outward through the square—heavy, rhythmic, merciless. The chaotic clamor of the crowd faltered as heads turned in unison.

Then the crowd parted.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

A path opened through the mass of people as a formation emerged.

Fifty figures.

No—more than that.

A full company of Divine Guards.

Not the recruits.

Not the ceremonial sentries.

These were different.

Their armor was darker, etched with deep gold runes that pulsed faintly with divine energy. Their presence alone pressed down on the air, heavy and suffocating. Every step they took struck the stone in perfect unison.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Each carried a weapon that hummed with restrained power—halberds, greatswords, tower shields layered with holy sigils. Their eyes were cold, disciplined, unyielding.

Veterans.

The true enforcers of the Holy Kingdom.

The murmurs in the crowd died instantly.

Fear replaced confusion.

"Those are..." "...the Vanguard..." "They’re the ones who put down rebellions..."

The bishop’s lips curled upward at last.

"There," he said softly. "That is how you deal with insolence."

The guards halted in formation.

Then—

In perfect synchronization—

They raised their weapons.

A wave of divine pressure rolled outward, slamming into the plaza like a physical force. Several civilians staggered back. Even some of the lower clergy flinched.

Luca stepped forward instinctively, placing himself between them and the Saintess.

Kyle swallowed hard.

"...Ah," he muttered, tightening his grip on his spear. "Yeah. That’s... that’s a lot of them."

Sylthara exhaled slowly, rolling her shoulders as her daggers slid into a reverse grip. "They’re different," she said quietly. "Disciplined. No hesitation."

Aurelia planted her spear into the ground, eyes blazing. "So? We’ve fought worse."

Kyle shot her a look. "Not all at once."

Above them, the ice phoenix screeched again, wings beating hard as Selena steadied herself.

Luca’s gaze remained locked on the approaching formation.

His grip tightened around his sabers.

The air was on the verge of breaking.

The Divine Guards stood poised, weapons raised, their formation flawless—an iron wall of faith and steel ready to crash forward. Luca’s group held their ground before them, tension coiled so tightly it felt like the world itself was holding its breath.

And then—

A cry tore through the sky.

Not the deep, resonant call of the Kunpeng.

Not the shriek of ice and storm.

This one was sharp. Brilliant. Ringing with purity and speed.

A sound that split the heavens like a blade.

Everyone looked up.

A streak of gold burst through the clouds.

Wind exploded outward as a radiant Pegasus dove from the sky, its wings blazing with light, feathers scattering sparks as it descended in a controlled spiral. The creature’s hooves struck the air itself, each step rippling with divine energy.

The crowd gasped as one.

"Another one...?"

"First a Kunpeng—now this?!"

"Is this some kind of omen...?"

Even the Divine Guards faltered, their formation wavering for the first time.

The bishop’s face twisted in disbelief.

"Now who is it?!" he shouted, fury cracking through his composure.

The Pegasus descended sharply, its wings flaring wide as it landed between the opposing forces in a thunderous gust of wind. Stone cracked beneath its hooves. Dust surged outward in a blinding wave.

As the haze began to settle—

A figure stood atop its back.

Golden hair whipped in the wind. His armor was battered, scorched in places, and streaked with dried blood. One arm hung slightly stiff at his side, clearly injured, yet his grip on the radiant sword in his hand was unwavering.

Light pulsed faintly along the blade’s edge.

His eyes—sharp, resolute—swept across the battlefield.

Luca’s breath caught.

The figure leaned forward slightly, steadying himself atop the Pegasus, then looked directly at him.

A grin tugged at his lips despite the blood and exhaustion.

"I’m not too late," he called out, voice carrying clearly across the stunned plaza,

"am I?"