Chapter 167: Chapter 167: Execution
Even then, the enemy had their own divine artillery.
A bishop sent by another king fired from afar — "Purifying Light."
A white beam meant to erase all blessings.
The disciple of hymns — the one who turned faith into weapon — sang a single verse and created a resonant dome.
The beam hit the dome and bounced back, tearing through the enemy’s formation behind the bishop.
Without realizing it, the fool had unleashed divine annihilation on his own troops.
Columns of light sliced through his ranks like blades through paper.
The war wasn’t just physical — it was tactical.
Enemy generals tried flanking maneuvers, sacrificing shock units to open breaches, and leading heavy beast-mounted cavalry into synchronized strikes.
But Jax’s disciples had been trained to read patterns — they used faith as radar.
Every prayer, every scream from the believers sharpened their senses.
The crimson runner could see the path of every spear before it was thrown; the sacred archer nailed arrows that hadn’t even left the bow yet.
Faith slowed time itself for them.
At the center of the battlefield, the Undead Demon King unleashed his elite knights — spectral warriors whose blades could freeze the will.
They charged toward the holy formation.
The disciple of black lightning met them head-on.
Chains of darkness erupted from her arms, biting into the specters’ essence.
Each cursed blade was absorbed, turned into a thunderbolt, and blasted back through their skulls.
The Demon King barked orders, but his voice was swallowed by the clash of living swords.
The gods kept sending their best soldiers, while Jax’s golden statues simply countered whatever they threw at them.
On his throne atop the golden wall, Jax watched with a smile of pure ecstasy.
The amount of faith pouring into him was greater than anything he had ever felt.
Every disciple’s kill, every martyr’s death — it all fed him.
Even the souls of the fallen were being devoured by his divine system.
The battle kept escalating, bloodier, more desperate.
Jax looked down at his dying followers and sighed.
"I don’t want to run out of believers already... That’s enough.
My statues... attack."
The hundred statues began to move.
From afar, they looked like a living wall of gold — each extending a hand, a weapon, or a magnetic field.
A battalion of knights charged, focusing all their power on one statue.
But the moment they reached it, a mirror of light appeared and reflected their own energy back at them, vaporizing everything.
Those closest watched their own weapons turn against them, twisting, cracking, and igniting the gunpowder of their camp in a chain of explosions.
Their smiles remained — mocking, merciless, godlike.
"Don’t back down!" roared the Thunder King, hurling lightning that rained like a storm over one of the statues.
The bolt melted steel, fused armor, and incinerated hundreds.
The statue raised its hand.
The lightning was absorbed into its palm like a toy.
"Was that all?" it whispered — and fired back.
A golden beam tore through the Thunder King’s shoulder, ripping off his arm in a burst of blood.
"Damn it!" he screamed, stumbling as his own blood sizzled like molten iron.
The Northern Beast King
jumped forward, transforming into a titanic wolf.Flames surrounded his fangs as he bit into the statue’s neck with all his might.
But the statue simply grabbed him by the skull and smashed him into the ground, breaking bones like glass.
The wolf whimpered, his blood soaking the dirt.
"This can’t be! They don’t even feel pain!" shouted another — a giant clad in iron, wielding an axe that could cleave mountains.
The Eight Disciples watched from the wall.
The armies were still trying to advance, but they didn’t need to step in.
The shockwaves alone were killing everyone who tried to flee.
They stood still, eyes burning, knowing the statues were only the beginning.
The Undead Demon King raised his arms, summoning thousands of skeletons like a white sea.
"Stop them!" he roared.
The undead tide crashed forward, shaking the ground.
But the statues laughed.
"Pathetic toys."
Their golden hands glowed — hundreds of skeletons exploded instantly, a chain of blinding detonations that filled the air with bone dust.
"Shit!" cursed the Iron King, his armor dented as a golden fist hurled him hundreds of meters away.
The statues fought without mercy.
Each strike removed a king from the formation.
One after another they fell — the Sea King, crushed beneath a golden colossus; the Sand King, split in two by a single kick.
The Undead Demon King realized they couldn’t win.
"Strategic retreat!" he roared, opening a dark gate behind him.
"You’re running away now, coward!?" shouted the Thunder King, spitting blood.
"Shut up, idiot! You wanna die here!?" barked the demon, raising both hands.
In that moment, thousands of his own undead detonated in waves of black necrotic fire.
The explosion wiped out everything within kilometers — even the statues had to step back, their golden skin darkened by the blast.
"Move, now!" the Demon King yelled, diving into the portal with a handful of his legions.
Several kings followed, limping, dragging the wounded.
Not all made it.
"They won’t catch us!" shouted the Flame King — right before a disciple appeared in front of him, her spear piercing his chest.
The others turned in horror as the Disciples descended from the wall, each picking a wounded king like prey.
"You’re not leaving that easily," said the Solar Blade Disciple, slicing the Steel King clean in half.
"One by one, you’ll fall," said the Crimson Disciple, burning the Wind King alive in her sacred flames.
Their screams echoed across the battlefield.
Once proud, feared, worshipped — now begging, bleeding, slaughtered like cattle.
The Undead Demon King looked back one last time before disappearing through the portal.
The statues still stood there, smiling with royal corpses at their feet.
For the first time in millennia... he felt fear.
"That bastard Jax... this isn’t war.
It’s an execution."
The portal closed, leaving behind only fire, corpses, and gold soaked in blood.