When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

#426 - Aunt Catherine, you are so heavy.

Amidst the broken walls and shattered paving stones, along a rubble-strewn lane roughly seven or eight meters wide, the Salvation Army infantry advanced step by step, long spears in hand.

Volleys of sacred gunfire erupted, mowing down the guards on the city walls and in the alleyways in swathes.

Those who remained, even if not killed, were utterly demoralized, whereupon the elite cuirassiers charged forward with their polearms, axes, and halberds.

These reinforcements, a thousand mounted infantry, were the most seasoned veterans of the Old Guard.

Though their horsemanship was practically nonexistent, they had managed to traverse the distance from the Leisie River to Rapid Current City by clinging desperately to their horses' necks and moving in concert with the cavalry.

Thanks to Aillad's act of destroying the city gate's bolts, the Salvation Army could easily enter through the main gate, the guards stationed there not even having time to mount a proper defense.

After all, most of the elite guards had been diverted to the north gate to intercept the civilians, leaving the south gate, where Jeanne arrived, more open than a football goal.

In the wake of a lightning strike, Jeanne's reinforcements effortlessly seized the city gate in under ten minutes.

The Salvation Army's black and red banner was raised atop the city walls, and the Old Guard formed into small squads, plunging their spears deep into the necks of the gate guards.

Blood spurted from severed windpipes, throat bones shattered, these second-rate guards were no match for the Salvation Army.

Even the occasional armored soldier who managed a counter-charge, inflicting some damage on the Salvation Army, was quickly overwhelmed by the warpriests, whose organization, resilience, and morale far surpassed theirs.

The entrance to the south gate was filled with fleeing crowds, especially after they saw Jeanne holding the head of the Nimble Knight.

Entering through the city gate, dozens of Salvation Army infantry squads, each five meters wide, began to clear the enemy forces along the streets, both large and small.

Whenever knights charged, attempting to attack them, they were met with three rows of dark gun muzzles, lead bullets ricocheting between the walls and piles of earth.

Knights fell from their horses one after another, but even if they managed to reach the Salvation Army, they were met with descending halberds and thrusting spears.

In these narrow streets and alleyways, the knights could not bring even half of their true strength to bear, and they fell one by one under the guns of the advancing Salvation Army infantry, even including the occasional lone Edict Knight.

Foam flecked from the horses' mouths, shattered spears littered the ground, and lead bullets kicked up puffs of dust on the walls.

Civilians, tears in their eyes, peeked out from behind their courtyard walls or from their cellars, staring blankly at the Salvation Army before them.

They all wore the same attire—

Brownish-black jerkins, long-sleeved brown shirts buttoned onto the jerkins, a red sash around their waists, holding pouches of lead shot and smelling salts.

The fabric of their breeches rustled as their polished ankle boots stepped forward in unison, the sound of their marching like the footsteps of giants.

The Salvation Army, a straight line, appeared to the civilians as a massive, spiked dump truck charging forward.

The knight lords, who had previously acted as the dump truck, were now the ones being crushed to death by stray bullets.

Increasing cheers erupted, and whenever a knight fell, those standing on the rooftops or opening their attic windows would cheer for the Salvation Army.

"Get out of the way!" Hearing the increasing cheers from behind the walls, and the surging figures in black on the city walls, Karl stumbled to the second floor of a house.

Behind the dancing vines, groups of church troops were retreating from the west gate, led by Aillad's half-strength Edict Company.

Along the way, countless militiamen charged out, desperately trying to halt their advance, as if to avenge the slaughter they had suffered earlier.

"Lady Catherine! Lady Catherine!" Karl, tears streaming down his face, waved towards Catherine in the sky, the burly man with a full beard crying so bitterly for the first time.

Even with his vision blurred by severe injuries, he could clearly see Catherine's current condition.

Her cheeks and eye sockets were sunken, her glossy, auburn hair was withered, and the massive blood loss had made her three times thinner than before.

Although Catherine was thirty-one years old, her body was no different from that of a twenty-year-old girl due to the witch's lifespan of one hundred and fifty years.

But now, her once-tender skin was covered with fine wrinkles and scars, Catherine looked as if she had aged twenty or thirty years in an instant, almost like an old grandmother.

Hearing Karl's shouts, which seemed to come from an endless distance, Catherine barely opened one eye and looked down at the city before her from the sky.

The houses were ablaze, the streets were fragmented, but amidst these streets and houses, knights were wailing as they fell, and guards were running away, howling.

Even Aillad himself was desperately dodging thrown bricks, heading towards the west gate without a care.

Outside the vine wall, a little girl enveloped in lightning was charging back and forth with hundreds of cavalry, knocking the foot knights askew.

Not far from the foot knights, hundreds of soldiers in black were advancing towards them step by step.

Were those reinforcements? Where did the reinforcements come from?

Scanning the entire Rapid Current City, Catherine's gaze quickly locked onto the city wall not far away, on that black flag with a red-bordered sun gear.

The Salvation Army? Yes, it was the Salvation Army, they had really arrived in time, Catherine's lips curved into a smile, they had really arrived!

The moment this thought arose, all the blood-sucking vines still wriggling around Catherine, except for those wrapped around her, almost instantly turned from purplish-red to withered yellow.

The rotten blood-sucking vines oozed human-like pus, falling sparsely from mid-air, and in these severed vines, Catherine's emaciated body slowly fell along with them.

She felt as if she had turned into a feather, swaying and falling straight towards the ground.

She heard exclamations and the sound of countless people and horses running towards her position.

Dying after saving the city was not an elegant way to die.

A bitter smile appeared on her lips, Catherine still couldn't open her eyes, but that didn't matter to her anymore.

Her mission was accomplished, and there was nothing wrong with dying like this.

Letting a witch who saved the city live would be a huge disaster for the citizens.

Although the withered blood-sucking vines were pulling at her descent, the hard ground was still approaching, and she could hear the whistling wind.

It's over.

Catherine smiled.

Unexpectedly, what greeted her was not the hard ground, but a strong wind rising from the ground.

Then a pair of strong arms reached out, supporting the back of her knees and her back, and compared to her own cold body, these arms pressed against her skin were surprisingly warm.

Just like when Hu'anno picked her up from the cold snow, she couldn't help but curl up like a cat.

Opening one lazy, half-closed eye, Catherine saw a young face in the blurry light of the sky.

A moist breath with the heat of a teenager came from her ear, followed by a sentence that made her remaining energy surge into her brain:

"Someone come and catch her, this old aunt is so heavy, I think my arms are broken... Old aunt, don't move!"

"...Oh my god, damn it, these sun-goat's blood-sucking vines are sucking my blood! Get a witch doctor, get a witch doctor!"