Mythology Rebooted
Chapter 854 - 324: How Can It Be Only 70%?

Chapter 854: Chapter 324: How Can It Be Only 70%?

Saint George’s Oath Sword inherently possessed the power of Heaven, suppressing the Giant Dragon’s formidable vitality, as well as the Laws of Death that converged at its demise.

After hundreds, even thousands of years, the celestial power within the Oath Sword had not diminished in the least.

The false aura of Hell emanating from Archibald was dispersed by this powerful force; the dark mist dissipated, his black wings transformed into pure white, and the Golden Rule Holy Words took the form of three golden bands of light, coiling continuously around him.

At this moment, Archibald’s form underwent a drastic transformation, standing three meters tall, gaunt as a skeleton, with long, thin arms and legs covered in pale skin, his claws gripping the sword, and keratin face armor covering half of his face.

The skin of Hell’s wind, the angelic, holy wings, and the strong power of Heaven infused by the Oath Sword.

This combination seemed inharmonious at first glance and, upon closer inspection, indeed wildly incongruous.

A Devil with angel wings, wielding the great Archangel’s Sword from Heaven, was not only unabashed by the heavenly power but also gained tremendous strength from it.

Viewed from a different angle, if this was an Angel masquerading as a Devil, then everything made sense.

Dreyne and Wayne had not thought of this; Archibald’s Hellish appearance was impressively lifelike, and his strength was notably considerable—not seeming like an act. Prejudiced by first impressions, both believed that Archibald’s transformation was influenced by the Oath Sword.

Archibald raised the Oath Sword high, as the surging power of Heaven flowed ceaselessly into his body, like the glorious dawn dispelling darkness, his body burst forth with blinding Holy Light.

Endless radiance fell, and amidst the roars, the Bone Dragon succumbed to silence once again.

Archibald was ecstatic, gripping the Oath Sword, his mind fixated on one thought—I am capable of slaying gods!

He was aware that being omnipotent was certainly false, slaying gods unrealistic, mere illusions brought on by the sudden surge of power, and if he truly believed, that would be his downfall.

How formidable the power of a God-chosen Knight was, the documents of the Papal State described it quite in detail; with his current strength, even wielding the Oath Sword, he was unable to triumph.

Unless he could obtain the Blood of Saint George, shed the human shell of the Reincarnated Angel, and transform thoroughly from thought to flesh, reverting to his original angelic form.

"It’s getting more interesting."

Dreyne squinted his eyes, resting the Moonlight Rapier atop the White Night Purity Words.

The Longsword turned into an arrow, and with a twang, the bowstring hummed, and dazzling auroras shot straight down.

The instant the Longsword touched the bowstring, Archibald felt an overwhelming sense of dread; a thick veil of Death loomed over him, and he envisioned an arrow piercing his chest, his thoughts being ripped from his body.

I will die!

He didn’t think further; with a swift motion, he stood the Oath Sword in front of him, invoking the Golden Rule within and reshaping the three golden bands into a Gold Triangle Shield.

On the shield, numerous symbols of the Golden Rule Holy Words were inscribed, along with the illusion of an Angel holding a shield in a half-crouch defensive stance.

A point of white light sped forth, touching the illusory shield-holding Angel, penetrating;

Touching the Golden Triangle Shield, penetrating;

Touching the Oath Sword, penetrating.

The white light ignored all defense, directly targeting Archibald’s chest as if, by some retroactive causality, it was destined to hit his body and mind the moment the arrow was released.

Whoosh!

The white light shot far into the distance, and the image of the shield-bearing Angel and the Golden Shield both crumbled simultaneously, dissolving into specks of Holy Light and vanishing into the air.

The Oath Sword itself was unaffected, merely the light around it spreading faintly, not as bright as before. In terms of rank, this dragon-slaying sword and White Night Purity Words were on par, but due to the vast difference in the wielder’s strength, the Oath Sword seemed far inferior to the White Night Purity Words.

Archibald’s chest felt wide open, air freely flowing through, and as the residual image of the white light faded, a transparent shadow could be seen being drawn out of his body.

That was his spirit, his thoughts, and it could be considered his soul.

Crack!

The sound of a Magic Stone shattering echoed, the transparent shadow returned inside Archibald, and his physical wounds were instantly healed.

He looked apprehensively at the Moonlight Knight holding the Longbow.

Can’t beat him, can’t beat him at all.

When Archibald obtained the Oath Sword, he was overjoyed and, despite knowing there was a disparity in strength, still held a bit of confidence, pondering how to manage the situation, hoping not only to leave alive from the hands of the Moonlight Knight but also to take the Oath Sword with him.

He revamped his tactics; now his only thought was to survive.

What to do, if he shed the false skin of Hell and revealed his identity as a Reincarnated Angel, would the Moonlight Knight let bygones be bygones for today due to their shared allegiance to The Justice Faction?

Obviously not.

Archibald knew deep down that the Moonlight Knight would only intensify his efforts, taking advantage of the solitude to finish him off.

The sound of the bowstring resonated once more!

Archibald felt his scalp go numb, the scythe of Death looming at his neck, leaving him no time to plan, only to fight desperately.

He wielded the sword with both hands, and behind him, the illusion of the Gates of Heaven slowly swung open, guided by the Oath Sword, skipping over complex incantations, and divine-level Holy Light Magic was conjured in a thought.

The moment the Gates of Heaven opened, the whole world fell silent, time seeming to slow its pace, every single thing frozen in place, with only the glow of Moonlight still slowly shifting.

The radiance of the arrow neared his cheek, growing larger within Archibald’s gaze, missing his head by mere millimeters.

Archibald flapped his wings to dodge, narrowly evading the arrow light whose speed was infinitely slowed yet astonishingly swift; he swung the Oath Sword, commanding the Holy Light within the Gates of Heaven to descend.