The Evil God Summoned by the Saintess

Chapter 320: Chapter 318: On Why the Sheriff Arrived After the Incident

Before leaving, Hilia still had one more thing to do.

She watched as, with Vera’s death, the magic puppet’s pollution slowly leaked out.

This kind of pollution, imbued with Divine Power, was incredibly inefficient to purify using the Holy Court’s Purification Skill.

To prevent the area from being contaminated, after thinking for a moment, Hilia decided to cleanse it before leaving.

"Though Kost definitely already noticed the fight here, it seems they haven’t sent anyone yet, so I’ve got time to purify."

Looking at the two people’s magic puppets, Hilia thought, might as well cleanse them both, since one’s dead and the other’s gravely injured—perfect opportunity.

So Hilia began casting the Purification Skill.

A few minutes later, she wiped the cold sweat from her forehead and let out a sigh of relief.

"The Tier Four pollution concentration is terrifying. It drained so much Magic Power..."

She eyed the two Tier Four Mages—one dead, one gravely wounded—hesitated for a moment, and in the end, gave up on purifying them as well.

"Even the magic puppets were so much trouble. If I keep delaying, Kost’s men will show up. Better go now."

She probed a bit, making sure Vera’s death hadn’t released further pollution, or rather, that she’d already dealt with most of it.

Same with Suna. She’d just about exhausted all her Magic Power and Demonic Qi—she gave everything for that last kill shot and was left unable to dodge, hanging on by a thread.

"Time to head back now."

Hilia took one last look at them, then left without a backward glance.

Not long after she departed, Kost’s sheriffs finally arrived, late as always.

A dozen or so sheriffs, riding identical Flying Brooms, hovered hesitantly down near the two bodies.

"Looks like they took each other out."

"The pollution lingering here is serious—at least one of them is a heretic."

"Huh? Seems one of them’s dead. Let me check..."

"Don’t touch her!"

"Ah—!"

One reckless sheriff, noticing that Vera seemed dead, curiously reached out to pinch her delicate cheek—only for a trace of lingering pollution inside her to flood from her into his body.

He screamed in agony, collapsed to the ground, howling in pain.

The others immediately stepped back, leaving a wide ring around him. No one dared go help their comrade.

"Both of them are at least Tier Four big shots... there’s nothing we can do..."

"Report to headquarters, let them bring backup."

Nearly an hour later, headquarters finally replied—they’d dispatched High-tier Mages, told them to wait.

But just then, Suna suddenly groaned and started to wake up.

The crowd instantly withdrew several paces back.

The guy who’d accidentally touched Vera and got tainted by Demonic Qi was already unconscious, but still, no one dared check on him—everyone just waiting anxiously for the High-tier officer’s arrival.

Suna sat up, gazed around bleary-eyed, and muttered, "Where... is this?"

She looked toward Vera’s corpse beside her, frowned. "I feel oddly happy, but I have no idea why. Feels like I’ve forgotten a lot of important things."

A stabbing pain ran through her head, making her groan in agony.

One brave sheriff ventured, "Miss, please don’t move around. Our priest will arrive soon to heal you."

"Priest?"

Suna’s frown deepened. Without waiting for her head to stop hurting, she forced herself to stand and walked outward.

But before she could take a step, her feet halted. She looked toward the magic puppet surrounded by people.

She reached out, recalled her magic puppet, then in a flash, vanished from sight. Shortly after she left, the dispatched High-tier Mages from headquarters finally arrived and exploded in fury:

"Didn’t I tell you to guard them? How’d you let her run off?"

Everyone trembled, afraid to reply, venting only in their hearts.

If you’d shown up even two minutes sooner, she wouldn’t have woken up at all.

...

On the other side.

Hilia returned to the inn, finally able to relax.

She set her bag beside the bed. Benovia, who was reading inside, looked up, smiling, "Looks like you gained a lot, Hilia."

Hilia replied offhandedly, "Just went out to buy some supplies. Not planning to watch the matches?"

It was almost time for the matches to begin—everyone else had already gone out, only Benovia remained reading in the room.

Benovia smiled, "I’m not interested in solo matches. Better to stay in the room and read."

"Oh."

Hilia didn’t press the matter.

From last night until now, she’d only slept half the night. After all the chaos, now that she finally relaxed, sleepiness crashed into her like a wave.

After a quick shower and changing into fresh clothes, she clambered into bed and told Benovia, "I’m catching up on sleep. Bring me back lunch if you go out."

"Okay," Benovia agreed.

She looked up and watched as Hilia fell fast asleep, a spark of curiosity lighting in her eyes.

This morning, when everyone woke, they found Hilia already gone. At first, nobody thought much of it.

Benovia hadn’t minded either, but now, seeing Hilia come back all rumpled, looking as if she hadn’t slept well...

"I can’t help but wonder—what world-shaking thing did Hilia go off and do this time?"

Benovia felt a surge of curiosity.

Still, she didn’t choose to investigate further.

"Whatever she did, if it was big enough, I’ll hear about it from someone soon enough anyway."

So Benovia simply buried herself back in her book.

...

Meanwhile, in the arena.

Today, everyone had arrived. After so many days without any ’overslept’ incidents, that old story had all but faded away.

Things proceeded as usual—matches started as scheduled.

Yet soon, something weird happened on the field...

From the Divine Magic Academy, Pascal—who was in fact the eighth prince of the Ista Royal Family—was staring at his current opponent, a contestant from the Northern Alliance who was ranked at the very bottom among all participants from the alliance.

"An utter nobody. Not worth mentioning."

Pascal barely gave his opponent any thought. After all, that guy only needed one more loss to be eliminated, while he himself was just one win away from advancing.

The outcome was obvious!

He didn’t even bother casting buffs, just looked on indifferently, waiting for the referee’s 3-2-1 count before unleashing his Magic Power in a burst.

But in the next instant, he felt a strange surge of magic invade his mind, leaving him dazed. His opponent before him began to blur and shift, becoming dreamlike. Vaguely, he seemed to see Emilia striding toward him with a stern face.

Fear made him stumble back, drop to a crouch, and cling to his own head.

The next second, he felt himself being flung into the air.

As his Magic Power receded, the dreamlike trance faded too—but he discovered he was already underneath the stage, instantly ruled to have lost.

This left him stunned.

"Well, it’s best of three, so I’ve got one more chance."

But after he was thrown off a second time, he began to sense something was very wrong.

"Referee, this can’t be right! I request a playback."

"Certainly."

Soon, the match recording was played. They saw the Northern Alliance contestant dash over, and Pascal, inexplicably, hug his head and prepare for a beating—then a split second later, he was blasted out of the ring.

Much the same thing happened in the second round: after the match started, Pascal froze, then stood around warily as if sleepwalking—until both he and his magic puppet were launched out by the opponent’s puppet.

Pascal blurted, "Something’s wrong! I demand a rematch!"

The Northern Alliance’s referee replied calmly, "The problem is your own. We’ve watched the playback; I see nothing wrong. If you want to appeal, go to the committee after the match."

Pascal was about to protest further when he suddenly heard quarrels from other stages. Looking up, he realized that on most of the arenas...

Problems were erupting everywhere.