A mage? A spell engineer!

Chapter 582 The Sin of Pride

The high and mighty Grand Master crashed to the ground.

He was in agony, his mind too heavy to focus, let alone control his magic to cast spells.

Gregory couldn't suppress his laughter, lifted his heavy deerskin boot, and kicked Saga. Not satisfied, he kicked him a few more times, focusing on his face.

"Is this the Archmage? Is this the Elder of the Arcane Senate? He's nothing but a stray dog!" He couldn't suppress his laughter and kicked with increasing vigor until he finally stopped after a while.

Now, the fires that the Grand Master had deliberately set on fire are completely out of control. They are no longer tools for purifying cultists, but rather a pack of unbridled wolves, their flames stirring and then devouring everything.

The residents began to flee in panic, but suddenly thugs dressed in black robes and pointed hoods appeared in the streets and alleys. They were masked and carried various weapons—knives, flails, clubs, and whips—by the firelight.

"Ah!" "Help—"

These crazed servants of God used violence to prevent residents from leaving the fire. Instead, they knocked people to the ground and then picked them up. These beasts were incredibly strong; they could easily hold men, women, and children in their arms and throw them into the fire.

Yes, they were performing a fire sacrifice, a living sacrifice.

Each time the flames engulf an innocent person, the agonizing cries in Saga's mind amplify, accelerating the destruction of his spirit.

"In the far east, there exists something called 'karmic fire,' and the sacred fire you are igniting now is the karmic fire that is entangled with you."

Gregory boasts of his culture, then excitedly proclaims: "Feel their pain, let guilt, anger, and sorrow torment you, until you finally understand that only the great and forgiving Mother can forgive your sins and cleanse you of your karma."

Sakya rolled in the mud full of ice shards. He could now hear more and more shrill screams and cries, as well as faint female voices.

The voice murmured, its words and song indistinct, yet it possessed an irresistible allure, drawing the archmage to listen. Compared to the piercing howls, it was exceptionally ethereal, otherworldly, grand, and transcendent.

"It's almost here, almost here. Offering you a city and a powerful mortal is just the beginning." Gregory pulled out a bunch of herbal powder and inhaled it directly through his nose, then gulped down half a jug of strong liquor.

"Ha!" Feeling exhilarated, he opened his eyes again, the whites of his eyes now completely red.

He took out a dark green dagger from his pocket. It was rough, even made of stone.

But it carries the power of Mother Earth, enough to deal with the Saga. Gregory will inscribe blasphemous runes all over his target, forcing him to fall completely into the embrace of his mother.

Just as the blade was about to touch the archmage, Saga's hand suddenly twitched.

"Damn it!" Gregory yelled, almost bouncing backward. His reaction was correct and swift, because Saga suddenly emitted four extremely hot arcs of electricity from his body, which surged and spread outward until all the charge was released.

Although he was unable to enter a focused spellcasting state, it was precisely that deep female voice that, because of its status, temporarily suppressed the cries of the wronged spirits, granting the archmage a brief moment of clarity.

Instead of casting a spell himself, Saga activated his defensive alchemical ring and released the stored [Moon Bow Technique] at the cost of an expensive crystal.

The four attack entities it releases look like crescent moons and bows, but they are actually sharp bolts of lightning that light up around the caster's body and shoot out in an instant.

He no longer needed such alchemical protective items; the ring was just a keepsake. He never expected it would come in handy at this moment.

It is especially suitable for that alcoholic evil god acolyte.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" Gregory cursed three times. His right hand had been severed from his forearm, but instead of bleeding, there was a burnt smell.

"Do you even know what you're doing! Sakya, you are rejecting God's salvation, it's unforgivable, you're courting death."

His extreme anger wasn't due to his severed hand; as he spoke, the charred, overcooked cut surface began to writhe grotesquely, and soon a new right hand appeared, though it was slightly different in color from Gregory's other skin.

However, the exquisite, ancient stone dagger shattered solidly on the ground.

It can be very powerful, capable of piercing and corroding anyone, even a saint of the Lord of Order; yet it is also fragile, as brittle as any other weapon made of stone.

Gregory's arrogance was dealt a heavy blow simply by losing his dagger. He also became tormented—as if the Mother Goddess were punishing the acolyte for damaging sacred objects.

Thick, foul-smelling blood seeped from his leather coat. His self-healing began to spiral out of control, his internal organs regenerating and devouring each other wildly, showing signs of collapse. Gradually, the demonic monk began to bleed from all over.

But the punishment is limited to this. Gregory will not die; the one who will die is Saga, the chief of the Tower of the First Flame, who committed the sin of arrogance.

The Grand Master hurried to bolster himself; he had only temporarily escaped the mental disturbances and pollution, and now the shouts from all over the city were reverberating and echoing in his mind again.

Ironically, in the current situation, the chief needs to regain control of all the fires while fighting this wicked monk.

His opponent knew he was an archmage and was quite confident. In just a simple exchange, Gregory's single move nearly incapacitated him, leaving him no room for carelessness.

We must go all out.

Having made up his mind, Saga began to transform. The temperature of his body surface began to rise sharply. First, the moisture in his body evaporated, instantly turning into rising white mist as it entered the winter night air.

Then his robes and clothes burst open, revealing that he was growing taller, breaking free from the awkward physique between dwarf and human, and he was still growing.

Fires from all over the city were drawn together and gathered on Sakya like gusts of wind.

Whether gathered from the outside or ignited from within his own chest, he has now transformed into a complete elemental being.

Gregory, having suppressed his rage, watched the Archmage transform with a sinister glint in his eyes: "Molten Lord, shouldn't we marvel at your power—such a small body wields such immense energy?"

After all, the Molten Lord was almost four meters tall at this time, his body was covered in flames, and he could easily create a divine weapon made of pure flames.

In this state, it seems that Gregory's previous tricks have also failed. Whether it is the screams of the people who were burned to death or the seductive voice of the Mother Goddess that tempts people to fall into her arms, they are all swept away from his mind at this moment, if Saga still has a brain structure in this state.

He began to swing his sword, which, though seemingly less than two meters long, suddenly lengthened as it pointed at the demonic monk, unleashing a sharp and scorching attack comparable to the surface of the blazing sun.

Gregory was pierced and charred, yet he smiled calmly.

(End of this chapter)