Wow! The item-dropping rate is really high!

"How... How did this happen?" Glatis stared blankly, watching everything unfold before her eyes amidst a cloud of green mist, "How did it turn out like this?"

The bloated green body before her, and the mist it spread upon appearing, confirmed that its arrival vastly deviated from her original intentions!

The other had never been a True God who would deliver all beings from suffering! Nor had it ever been the kind of True God she idealized, one who could bring relief to the world!

Instead, this dense cloud of epidemic carried the potential to bring profound destruction to the world.

Life had been somewhat harsh before, but it wasn't beyond the means of survival.

But now...

The beautiful sister who had burst in alone was now barely breathing, tormented by the cloud of epidemic and the assault from the phantoms and the "unclean," including their siege.

Her colorful gossamer dress was already tattered, and the tip of the Longsword in her hand had shattered, leaving just a faint spiritual light flickering in and out over her body.

Nonetheless, the lady swordsman stubbornly propped herself up on one knee with the sword, lifting her bloodied face defiantly toward her target— the Eternal Archdemon, the Unclean.

The adversary had not even deigned to act in person; instead, it was the little demons that had crawled from the high-dimensional rift, who, bolstered by the epidemic, had already worn her down.

More importantly...

Franca glanced at the human girl, whose limbs seemed to be connected or ensnared by pale green light. Her body had been completely used as a conduit for demons to enter the material world, such that the little demons emerging from this pathway also possessed the "blessed" traits.

Not to mention the small demons of the Eternal line inherently boasted considerable defense and vitality, coupled with their granted immunity to negative states and damage reduction abilities, her sharp sword now seemed dull in comparison.

But as the flame of her soul defiantly ignited once more, Franca forced herself to stand, sliding her sword along her blade.

The shattered sword tip was reborn in a blaze of light, and a fierce white glow burned in Franca's eyes, "As long as there remains one executioner in this world, we will never allow your filth to invade the realm of man!"

With a "crack," the crystal necklace Franca had been wearing burst open, the uncontrollable surge of Spiritual Energy flooding her consciousness in an instant.

The immense and unmanageable Spiritual Energy caused her to lose precise control over her body, her right arm trembling noticeably as she brandished the sword.

However, this "slowness" was a deception to others' senses—for the Longsword, seemingly slow yet swift, spun in Franca's palm and shot out instantly.

The Longsword, spinning around its center, whipped up a blurred white cyclone that ravaged the entire circular plaza.

The lethal blade wind, emanating from where Franca stood, spiraled outward, slaughtering all encroaching enemies.

The small demons of the Eternal line, which they had only managed to fell two of before, would be instantly slain, flesh stripped from bone if caught in the blade cyclone.

Yet, the path of this sword cyclone was chaotic and hard to control.

Even with Franca's best efforts, she could only slightly steer the cyclone.

Combining sword techniques with Spiritual Energy for the ultimate move—Sword Dance Torrent—was still beyond her ability to control.

Had she not detonated her family's last Amulet to unleash such a terrifying reserve of Spiritual Energy, she could not even have released it.

Luckily, all around her were enemies, and she had no fear that the attack might accidentally harm her allies.

Franca's desperate strike pushed Glatis's self-denial of her own actions to its peak. A steadfast will broke through the ritual's constraints, and the girl, now utterly helpless, addressed her once-revered teacher with a bitter voice for the last time, "Teacher... didn't you say that we were the ones in the right?"

The Unclean, Sogros, still bore some semblance of his previous human visage. Facing the girl's question, he parted his wide mouth in a delighted smile. With a gesture of feigned benevolence, he signaled to the surroundings—those armed individuals and shallow Believers who had not been sacrificed in the plaza but had instead perished directly under the influence of the plague cloud now exhibited grotesque, rotted appearances.

Pus-filled boils on their shoulders oozed yellow, foul-smelling fluid; white worms squirmed in and out of exposed muscle tissue beneath decaying skin. Yet, beneath these horrific forms lay their increased strength and more potent life essence.

These individuals now had resilience far surpassing any average human, coupled with pain transference from the "Pain Link." Dai Lian and the other two players struggled against the armed personnel's entanglement just as much.

"You too can feel the current state of these people, can't you? When have their bodies ever been so strong?"

"But..."

"But they are sick?" Sogros scoffed with disdain, "That's the most shortsighted aspect of you humans! If sickness can no longer end your lives in agony, does it matter whether you are ill? Embrace it willingly, and disease becomes eternal. The virus is small, yet will exist forever! All the battles now arise from those stubborn resistors. If they too would join our great family, then naturally, there would be no conflicts or suffering in this world."