Chapter 89: True Purpose (5)

What does it mean to be invincible?

If it simply meant having no rivals, that would be ideal.

But the word “invincible” carries a far more terrifying meaning—like the reason they were struggling now.

No attacks could land.

Even attempts to immobilize her were futile.

She effortlessly shrugged off any weight or restraints.

It was, quite literally, a hopeless situation.

It was eerily reminiscent of the time they faced the Winter King directly.

Gasping for breath, Galina and Leifen stood against the approaching figure.

A one-man legion.

The phrase wasn’t just empty words.

If they weren’t on that level, they would have been defeated by Van, under the goddess’s blessing, in less than ten seconds.

“Damn it, what kind of cheat is this?!”

“Hm, I think I’m starting to figure it out.”

“You’ve noticed something?”

“No matter how divine they may be, no god can wield their authority so recklessly. If that were possible, the world would’ve been ruined long ago.”

The balance of this world had been maintained by the mutual restraint of good and evil gods.

Yet, the enemy was blatantly disregarding such rules, freely wielding divine authority.

Ordinarily, battles between gods and humans would naturally result in the human’s defeat.

Exceptions like Wolfgang Leonhardt were extremely rare, mere anomalies.

Leifen had doubted from the start whether such a display was truly possible.

After clashing repeatedly, he finally arrived at the answer.

Leifen shared his conclusion with the others:

“The goddess we’re fighting… everything about her is fake.”

“Yeah, the boss told us that already.”

“Listen to the end. Normally, when a god ascends to their throne, they pay a price.”

A god must either expend divine authority or maintain balance, or they will face consequences.

However, the goddess they were fighting was a fake in every sense.

While she sat on the divine throne, she herself wasn’t the true goddess.

In other words, the real goddess—displaced from her rightful seat—was the one paying the price for the fake’s actions.

Whether this loophole was due to a flaw in the throne or a deliberate plan by the fake goddess to keep the real one alive was unclear.

What was clear, however, was that their only option right now was to buy time.

“For now, we’ll have to rely on the boss.”

“So that’s your big realization?”

“Exactly. But I’ll deal with this guy, Van, myself.”

Leifen turned his gaze to Van, his eyes sharp with resolve.

Did Van sense Leifen’s intent?

Or perhaps he read Leifen’s thoughts. Without hesitation, Van charged at him.

“You’re too late, you fake bastard.”

Leifen’s plan was surprisingly simple.

The synergy between the saint and the hero was overwhelming.

If the saint was the shield, the hero was her sword.

In other words, separating the two would nullify their synergy.

He’d already tried to send Van elsewhere before.

The problem was that the saint had easily brought him back.

It didn’t seem to be spatial manipulation—more like Van was being drawn back to her side.

So the solution was to send him somewhere he couldn’t return from.

Leifen grinned, grabbing Van’s hand and pulling him down with him.

Van, his expression unreadable, looked around.

The space seemed unchanged—the temple’s ceiling, altar, and candelabras were all as they had been.

But the saint was nowhere to be seen.

Van, acting on the goddess’s command to protect the saint, instinctively tried to return to her side.

“You can’t go back.”

“…”

“Of course you can’t. This space is identical to the original, but I’ve divided it with my authority.”

Yes, this space was identical to the original, but Leifen had used a trick to split it.

It was a crude method, but it worked.

The space was perceived as the same, but Van couldn’t return to the saint.

Maintaining this space required immense skill, so Leifen was forced to stay here with Van.

The good news: the saint and the hero had been successfully separated.

The bad news: he now had to face the hero alone.

A thankless task, but Leifen willingly stepped into this role.

“As No. 2 and deputy commander, I guess it’s my job to handle the dirty work.”

If any of his comrades were hurt or killed, he’d never hear the end of it from Wolfgang.

With Leifen and Van disappearing into the separate space, Galina, Natascha, and Dena swiftly closed in on the saint.

Without the hero, dealing with her was much easier.

Though their attacks still couldn’t harm her, the problem now lay with the saint herself.

Despite overwhelming power and the goddess’s blessing, the saint couldn’t land a decisive blow against even one member of the Vendetta Legion.

‘This situation is overwhelmingly in my favor. They can’t even scratch me. So why… why does it feel like nothing is changing, as if we’re stuck?’

The saint wasn’t simply idle.

She used every ounce of authority granted by the goddess to unleash her most powerful attacks.

But her attacks never landed.

Meanwhile, the undead Natascha summoned kept reviving no matter how many times they were struck down.

Dena led the undead, keeping the saint pinned in place, while Galina stepped in whenever danger arose to ensure the saint couldn’t escape.

“You’re persistent. Why struggle so much when you know it’s hopeless?”

“You don’t understand. You have no idea what we’re after.”

“I know you’re clinging to false hope.”

“Isn’t it strange? You hold near-invincible power, yet we’re still standing. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

Galina’s words struck a nerve.

For a moment, Saint Jeanne froze.

Watching her reaction, Galina felt confident. Jeanne was beginning to feel uneasy.

Provoking the enemy was a valid strategy on the battlefield.

Galina wondered how to push the saint further.

It didn’t take her long to decide.

“You’ve never fought on the front lines, have you?”

“What nonsense are you spouting? As a saint, I’ve led armies and knights to repel the Wild Hunt.”

“That wasn’t you. Your knights did that for you.”

“That’s…”

“Have you ever fought on the front lines yourself? Have you wielded a weapon, drenched in blood and gore? I doubt it.”

Jeanne couldn’t deny it.

Sure, war required more than just soldiers—there were strategists, supply chains, and commanders.

But Jeanne had never personally fought on the front lines.

At most, she used her divine authority from a safe distance.

It had been enough against the Wild Hunt.

But against the Vendetta Legion—monsters with human intelligence and demonic power—her inexperience showed.

Though her power was overwhelming, her lack of skill in wielding it gave her enemies an edge.

But what angered Jeanne more than anything was Galina’s comparison between her and Wolfgang.

“How dare you run your mouth so freely.”

“Let’s see if you can still talk after this!”

Jeanne raised her hand, and pillars of light erupted from the ground, slamming into Galina and sending her flying, blood spilling into the air.

Jeanne’s fury erupted as she summoned countless pillars of light, filling the sky and earth with no gaps.

If things continued like this, it would’ve been their defeat.

Their strength wasn’t infinite, and they couldn’t land a decisive blow.

But then—

Fwoooosh!

“Hold out long enough, and the boss will always return.”

Golden flames burned through the pillars of light, reducing them to ashes in an instant.

Amidst the searing heat stood a woman with a striking resemblance to Jeanne.

Wolfgang Leonhardt had arrived.