When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist

Amidst the ruins and broken floor tiles, in the rubble-strewn alley about seven or eight meters wide, the Salvation Army Infantry advanced step by step with their long spears in hand.

Rows and rows of holy muskets fired, and the guards on the walls and in the alleys fell like grass being mowed down.

Even those who weren't killed were left leaderless, and it was at this moment that the most elite breastplate infantry surged forward with spear, axe, and halberd.

These were indeed the most elite Old Guards, with a reinforcement of over a thousand mounted infantry arriving.

Though their horsemanship was almost negligible, they managed to bumpy ride to Rapids City from the Lai Xi River by moving with the cavalry and clinging to the horse necks.

Thanks to Ailard's act of demolishing the gate bolt, the Salvation Army easily surged through the gate, with the guards even lacking the time to intercept.

After all, most of the elite guards had been reassigned to the North City Gate to block civilians, leaving the South City gate where Jeanne arrived practically undefended.

After a flash of lightning, the reinforcements led by Jeanne took less than ten minutes to easily capture the gate.

The black and red bicolor banner representing the Salvation Army rose atop the city wall, and the Old Guards formed small squads, fiercely jabbing their spears into the necks of the gate guards.

Blood spurted from the tracheas, their throats already fractured, these second-rate guards were no match for the Salvation Army.

Even when occasionally an Armored Soldier was able to charge back causing some casualties to the Salvation Army, they were soon besieged by War Monks, whose organizational and morale surpassed them.

People fled in panic from the South City gate, especially after they saw Jeanne holding the head of the Lingya Knight.

From the gate, dozens of Salvation Army Infantry squads, five meters wide, began sweeping through the enemy troops along the streets and pathways.

Whenever a Knight tried to charge them, they found themselves facing three rows of dark gun muzzles, as flying lead bounced off walls and mounds.

The Knights fell from their horses one by one, and even when they managed to rush directly in front of the Salvation Army, they were met by swinging halberds and thrusting spears.

In the narrow alleys and streets, the Knights could barely unleash half their strength, quickly falling under the advancing infantry muskets, even lone Imperial Knights among them.

With horses foaming at the mouth, broken spears scattered all over, and lead hitting the walls raising clouds of dust.

Tear-streaked civilians peeked from behind garden walls or cellars, staring blankly at the Salvation Army before them.

Every one of them dressed identically—

Brown-black jackets fastened with buttons, split brown long sleeves, a red sash tied around the waist, with pouches for lead bullets and smelling salts.

The fabric of their breeches brushed against their legs, and their fresh ankle-high leather boots marched in unison, their steps thunderous like a giant striding.

From the perspective of the civilians, the straight-lined Salvation Army resembled a massive spiked battering vehicle charging forward.

Previously playing the role of the battering vehicle, the Master Knights instead became casualties amid the stray bullets.

More and more cheers erupted, every time a Knight fell, those on the rooftops or behind open attic windows applauded the Salvation Army.

"Clear the way!" cried Carl, stumbling up to the second floor of a house as he listened to the growing cheers beyond the wall, and the crowding figures in black atop the walls.

Through the dancing vines, the retreating Church Army withdrew from the West City Gate, led by a half-sized Imperial squad under Ailard.

Along their path, numerous militiamen emerged, frantically hindering their advance, seemingly wanting to avenge past massacres in one breath.

"Lady Catherine! Lady Catherine!" Carl called tearfully, waving toward Catherine in the sky, the large man with stubbly beard cried in agony for the first time.

Though his vision was blurred from severe injuries, he could still make out Catherine's current state.

Her cheeks and eyes sunken, her once glossy chestnut-red hair withered, massive blood loss left her more emaciated than ever.

Despite being thirty-one, due to the Witch's hundred-fifty-year lifespan, her body condition was akin to that of a woman in her twenties.

Yet now her once youthful skin was covered in fine wrinkles and scars, Catherine seemed to age two or three decades in an instant, almost resembling an old granny.

Heralded by a voice seemingly from an endless distance, Carl's shout reached Catherine, spurring her to barely open one eye to look upon the city below.

Amid burning houses and ravaged streets, Knights fell wailing, guards fled shrieking as if haunted.

Even Ailard himself fled, dodging hurled bricks as he headed for the West City Gate unheedingly.

Beyond the vine-laden wall, a girl shrouded in lightning charged back and forth with hundreds of cavalry, knocking the Foot Knights into disarray.

Near the Foot Knights, hundreds more black-clad soldiers advanced step by step toward them.

Reinforcements? Where did these reinforcements come from?

Scanning the entire Rapids City, Catherine's gaze soon fixed on the nearby city wall, on the black-edged red solar gear banner.

The Salvation Army? Indeed, it's the Salvation Army, they'd really arrived in time; Catherine's mouth curled in a smile—they'd really made it!

Rapids City was saved!

Upon this realization's birth, except for the vampiric vines encasing Catherine, all the other vampiric vines stopped writhing, turning from purple-red to withered yellow almost instantly.

The mushy vampiric vines leaked human-like pus, sapping and descending from the sky, and amidst these breaking vines, Catherine's frail body descended slowly along with them.

She felt as if she turned into a feather, swaying as it floated down straight to the ground.

Voices of alarm rang in her ears, accompanied by the footsteps of countless people and horses rushing toward her position.

To fall to death after saving the city was no graceful way to die, after all.

Her lips formed a bitter smile, yet Catherine could not open her eyes, though it no longer mattered to her.

Her mission was complete; dying so was not bad.

Allowing a city-saving Witch to survive would probably be a great disaster for the citizens, after all.

Despite the withered vampiric vines cushioning her fall, the hard ground loomed ever closer; she could hear the whistling of the wind.

It was over.

Catherine's lips bore a smile.

Yet unexpectedly, what greeted her was not the hard ground, but a strong wind gusting upward from the earth.

Then, a pair of steadfast arms reached out, cradling the crook of her legs and supporting her back, warmer than her own cold body against her skin.

Just like when Juanuo first embraced her from the cold snow, so warm she couldn't help but curl up like a kitten.

Opening a lazily squinted eye, in the hazy daylight, Catherine saw a young face.

A moist breath whispered by her ear, carrying youthful warmth, along with words that sent the last remnant of her energy surging into her brain:

"Someone come and help, this aunt is heavy, I think my arm's broken... Auntie, don't move!"

"...Oh damn, this bloodsucking vine of the damn sheep is sucking my blood! Get me a Witch Doctor, someone get me a Witch Doctor!"