In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities
Chapter 319 - 319 Like A Dog To The End

Perhaps… this might be the last moment of peace. Soon, the entire continent will be consumed by war.

But for now… they chose to enjoy this fleeting moment.

Just as Alfred was savoring the walk with his grandson, he suddenly stopped.

His expression hardened, and his eyes sharpened like a blade.

Michael also sensed the disturbance and halted his steps.

It was faster than he had expected.

Someone's watching the coast?

No—more likely, a high-ranking priest curious about Julius's whereabouts had begun an inquiry and stumbled upon them.

Attacks rained down from the top of the coastal cliffs.

The divine power of the Radiant One filled the air once more.

"So it's starting," Michael muttered quietly.

Alfred moved without hesitation.

"This time, I'll handle it. Stay back with Marcus."

He removed his black hood, revealing his face, and in an instant, leapt to the top of the cliff.

Dark shadows gathered and coiled around his body.

"Heretic!"

"Face the judgment of the Radiant One!"

Priests of Silence, lying in wait at the cliff's peak, activated a sacred formation.

At its center, a pure white storm surged with divine fury.

Alfred's eyes gleamed, a smile playing at his lips.

He flicked a finger toward the surrounding priests—a casual, almost mocking gesture.

The insult sent them into a rage, their teeth grinding with fury.

Bishop Agrippa, staring at Alfred's vaguely familiar face, began summoning the remaining divine power of the Radiant One.

Of course, most of it was devoted to maintaining the defensive barrier around himself.

He needed to escape to the bunker hidden beneath the temple before it was too late.

If Julius were here, he would've long since retreated—but where was Julius?

If only the Holy Knights were still here…

He cursed the Pope, who had summoned them away for some trivial reason.

Incompetent—utterly incompetent.

His fury then shifted to the fallen warrior monks, who had died in vain.

This is why I said even warrior monks should be recruited from noble households…

Knowing full well that no noble family wanted to send their children to endure the grueling training of warrior monks, he still complained.

The path to becoming one of them was harsh and brutal.

Yet because of that, warrior monks were undeniably powerful.

They lacked the noble birth to become knights, but in terms of sheer ability, they rivaled the Holy Knights.

Under normal circumstances, they would have been more than enough to suppress the enemy.

It was simply that Michael had been far beyond "normal."

Alfred slowly raised a hand, summoning shadow from beneath.

The darkness stretched outward, threatening to engulf the entire island.

The shadow surged, colliding with the pure white formation.

The trembling field of divine power soon fell silent, its radiance disappearing as if it had never existed.

"How dare you! You defile the sacred ground!"

Unable to bear it any longer, the first priest charged with a dagger raised high.

But the true attack wasn't the dagger—it was the concentrated divine power in his left hand.

Seeing Alfred unmoving, the priest smirked slightly, thinking he had a chance.

That smirk twisted into horror a moment later.

A black shadow surged from behind, extinguishing the divine energy and piercing his heart in a single motion.

The priests, shaken by the brutal death, launched a coordinated assault.

Even without the formation, they were elite warriors—each one a match for a hundred foes.

Praised and revered, they had forsaken worldly splendor for the harsh isolation of the sacred island.

Their faith in the Radiant One was absolute, their pride in their skills unwavering.

But in front of Alfred, they were nothing more than butterflies in a storm.

Alfred turned slightly, extending one arm.

The shadow that had pooled along the ground shot upward like a sharp whip.

Moving like lightning, the shadowy lash coiled around the priests' throats, tightening with brutal force.

They had no time to defend.

"Kghk…!"

The priests tried to summon the power of the Radiant One, their bodies thrashing.

But it was futile.

The shadow, like a living beast, burrowed deep into their flesh.

In an instant, blood gushed forth and bones shattered.

Several priests died on the spot.

Alfred snapped his fingers once more.

With that single gesture, the shadow lashed out through the air.

The rising shadow-whip hurled the remaining priests against the rocky cliff face.

The priests were completely powerless—nothing more than puppets obeying the will of the shadow.

Blood sprayed, and the sound of bodies crashing into the sea echoed like a haunting rhythm.

Slowly, Alfred lowered his hand.

The shadows that had stretched far enough to blanket the entire island began to retract, flowing back into him.

It had all happened in the blink of an eye.

The last remaining priest trembled like a leaf, unable to believe what had just occurred.

The brothers he had trained and suffered alongside had been slaughtered—torn apart before his eyes.

All that remained were scraps of blood-soaked robes tangled in shadows and crimson-streaked stone.

Alfred approached the final priest.

The man instinctively dropped to the ground, crawling backward in terror.

Everything he once understood—every principle, every belief—was crumbling.

A monster… That man is a monster.

"Mo… monster… Stay away!"

The horrific scene replayed endlessly in the priest's mind.

How could this be? How is it even possible for someone to slaughter trained priests who wield the Radiant One's power—with a single strike? Not even the strongest warrior should be able to do that…

His gaze drifted to a shattered corpse, tossed by the shadows and rolled to his feet like a discarded doll.

He could see it now—what the future held.

The priest closed his eyes.

A yellow stain seeped between his legs.

Alfred looked down at him and spoke.

"As expected. Like a dog to the end, a coward can never face death with dignity."

The shadows curled around the priest's ankles.

Alfred's shadow-whip cracked through the air again.

The priest's scream tore through the cliffs before his life was snuffed out.

If there was any mercy in that death, it was that it didn't last long.