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The chicken-feather-duster-like flail was incredibly heavy. Even with Lucian's current strength, he couldn't swing it with ease, and the elemental damage from its two flail heads was formidable — far surpassing Lucian's "Acid Splash" and "Fire Glue."
Watching the corpses split into numerous pieces by the flail's strikes, then either burned to ash or dissolved into viscous liquid by the flames and acid, Lucian finally felt a chill of retrospective fear: "If I hadn't Moonlight Transformation and been hit directly by this flail, I would have suffered severe elemental damage — definitely not something that could heal in a short time."
But even with Moonlight Transformation greatly weakening the fire, acid, and blunt-force damage of the flail strikes, the remaining physical and lightning damage still left Lucian considerably injured. His hands and feet were still trembling slightly, unable to fully shake off the numbness.
"It seems I'll need to bathe in Silver Moonlight for at least half an hour to recover." As he continued lashing, Lucian downed a vial of "Owl" to replenish the enormous mental energy he had spent on the unincantation casting.
Under the barrage of the magic flail, all the corpses were reduced to a small puddle of oddly-colored liquid within thirty seconds, while the ash from the burning drifted through the air.
Janssen's black leather armor had a few fragments remaining, but Lucian unhesitatingly destroyed the crystal ball, fearing that taking it along might allow the cultists to track him.
Next, Lucian kicked over the water bucket inside the cell, making it look as though the cultists had accidentally knocked it over in their hasty retreat. The clear water that spilled out, aided by the remaining fragments, washed the corpse-liquid clean.
Throughout all of this, Lucian kept one ear on the explosions and sounds of combat from the surface. By now, their directions and positions had shifted dramatically, telling Lucian that Camille and the Church forces had already driven back the personnel outside the "Silver White Horn" and were about to pursue into the ruins. He dared not delay any further. He moved the unconscious Joel and Elisa back inside the iron railings to Evan's side, then picked up the flail and the remaining fragments, walked to the entrance of the "prison," and quietly chanted a spell. Using the temperature differential, he cast "Gust" to scatter the dust inside, blowing it out into the hallway and corridor beyond.
This apprentice-level spell couldn't disperse supernatural smokes and such — it was only useful for setting atmosphere or situations like this.
With the scene properly arranged, Lucian grabbed the flail and hurried toward the nearest exit. This was a remote section of the palace ruins, far from the temple's core and key locations. Leaving from here, he was unlikely to encounter any cult priests, hierophants, or Dark Knights.
"Without this flail, I would have had to carry those corpses outside to dispose of them." Lucian ran at full speed, trailing afterimages, while mentally reviewing every step of the process, fearing he might have overlooked something. "I've done everything I can. Now all I can do is pray that Uncle Joel and the others aren't that unlucky. The other cultists are busy fleeing — they shouldn't come to the prison to help." After all, the prison had Janssen, the Dark Knight, in charge of handling things.
But if Lucian had directly rescued Joel's family, suspicion would have latched onto him without any obstacle.
A blur of afterimages flashed past as Lucian raced through the corridors and passageways of the ruins, heading for the nearest exit. But what struck him as strange was that he hadn't encountered a single cultist!
Deep within the underground palace, ever since the robed Grand Hierophant Elijah had issued his orders, the remaining hierophants, priests, and Dark Knights had begun erasing traces.
Inside a stone chamber.
A handful of ordinary cultists saw a priest rush into their room and hastily prostrated themselves on the ground, arms extended forward, performing the unique ritual of the "Silver White Horn." "Honored Priest Jerome, what are your instruc—"
Before they could finish, their voices cut off abruptly. Clusters of black mist rose from within their bodies, draining away all life, then burrowed into Jerome's flesh.
Glancing at their terrified, twisted expressions of disbelief, Priest Jerome shrugged his shoulders. "You lot are part of the traces that need to be dealt with."
Events had spiraled beyond Grand Hierophant Elijah's expectations. In this critical moment, the ordinary cultists would never escape the Church's grasp, so they had to be "processed" to prevent any information about the priests, hierophants, or the ruins from leaking out.
Jerome turned and left the room, heading straight for the exit. Rummaging through rooms searching for ordinary cultists was an exceedingly tedious and time-consuming task — not a good choice when every single second was precious. He had simply dealt with the cultists near the forester's cabin entrance first, to prevent them from being captured by the Night Watch before they could reach another exit.
Of course, Jerome didn't dare approach the rooms too close to the forester's cabin entrance. "Deep Blue Tide" Camille and two Cardinals were converging from that direction. Even if he wanted to go "audience" with the True God and obtain "eternal unchanging silence," that would be far too foolish a method.
"Anyway, with several sixth-tier and seventh-tier powerhouses fighting, the rooms over there will surely be completely destroyed. No one will survive," Jerome muttered to himself, simultaneously channeling dark arts to bolster his body and increase his speed.
The ruins' exit was now very close — he could even feel the Silver Moonlight pouring in from outside. But Lucian came to an abrupt halt, ducking into a shadowed corner, because he caught the scent of blood and death carried on the moonlight.
Though Lucian had long anticipated encountering cult priests or hierophants blocking the exit, he couldn't help but be surprised. "A fight has already broken out? Infighting among the cultists?"
Silently, he crept closer to the exit, listening cautiously.