"I wish we would have trained you more," she said in a regretful tone. 

Sam gave her an amiable smile. "Your training, as well as my escape from Stalwart, had helped me develop in ways I couldn't have imagined possible," he replied. He got to his knee and bowed to the Pontiff. "It has been an honor, your Excellency."

Pontiff Nari's lips parted into a wary smile. "The honor was mine," she replied in a cordial tone. "Help the young one a.s.similate his Fragment, will you?" She leaned in and hugged a surprised Sam. "You'll need all the allies you can get in there," she whispered. 

She got up and shot Wojtek a worried look. "I'm truly sorry for your king," she said in a sad tone. 

Wojtek nodded. "Thank you for bringing me here, and thank you –"

Pontiff Nari cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Stop, I only did my duty. She glanced at Stalwart's s.h.i.+p then at Sam. "Are you sure he'd let you in?" she asked. 

"He's a coward. I know how to handle his kind," Sam a.s.sured her. 

Nari's eyes narrowed. Something about Sam's change in behavior irked her. Maybe his imprisonment had indeed changed him, but something didn't sit right. She could feel it. "Maybe I should go with you, just in case he gets cold feet," she said. 

Sam frowned. "He will definitely get cold feet if he sees you," he retorted. "This place is teeming with Stalwart's men. Osgar can sneak me into the boat. I'll convince him to take this young one too. Trust me." 

He had a point and Nari knew it, but she couldn't shake this bad feeling she had. Stalwart rarely makes mistakes. Why would he leave Empor's champion alone in a castle he decided to abandon? She couldn't press the matter any further though. Besides, she had to get back to the Bishop. 

She clapped her hands together and bowed to Sam. "May the Lord lighten your darkest nights."

Sam clapped his hands and bowed in turn. "May the Lord steady your sword arm." 

"Thine justice shall prevail!" they finished in unison. 

Nari turned on her heels then disappeared inside the woods. Soon after Sam and Wojtek saw a beam of light shoot into the sky then disappear as a single dot. Sam turned to Wojtek and wiped his forehead. 

"I thought she'd never leave!" he finally said, relieved. 

Wojtek opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. He looked ahead of him. Two dozen armed men were walking toward them. Sam waved at them then pulled the stunned Wojtek ahead of him. 

"Whose men are you?" Sam asked as he reached them. 

"Lady Vogel's," one of the men said. "We've been instructed to take you to the s.h.i.+p. We depart immediately." 

"Weren't we supposed to wait for Hartwell?" Sam asked. 

"Hey man, we just receive orders, we don't question them," the guard snapped. "Are you coming?" 

"Fine," Sam replied, exasperated. "What about the kid?" He pointed at Wojtek. 

"Boss says he can come," the guard replied. "Anything else, your highness?" he asked in a sarcastic tone. 

"Lead the way," Sam said, irritated. 

High above the clouds between Moira and the capital, Nari had stretched her senses in all directions. She'd sensed Stalwart's presence as she was escorting the champions. She feared he was after them, but his presence soon vanished. 

'The Bishop's Archangel is the strongest in the Lord's army,' she thought as she flapped her silver wings. 'Stalwart shouldn't stand a chance… Yet I can sense his presence now, but not the Bishop's.' 

She started to worry. She urged her wings to transport her faster. She soon reached the battlefield. Stalwart and the Bishop were exchanging blows above the king's overwhelmed army. She quickly noticed Hartwell's army of undead and their relentless advance. The king was trapped above the hill, surrounded by roughly five thousand of Stalwart's men. 

Around the hill, more than sixty thousand men advanced. They were about to get crushed if she didn't interfere. She shot a quick glance at the Bishop. His transformation hadn't started to wane yet. She could help him and end this war, but by the time they were done with Stalwart, the king would be dead. 

Their victory would be meaningless if there was no brave king to lead his people to a better tomorrow. She knew what she had to do. Revenge could wait. She folded her silver wings and descended on the battlefield. She landed among the undead army, and an shockwave covered the entire Flat Plains. 

A bright light flashed, blinding Hartwell and his army. When the Qil'Al's champion could finally open his eyes, he'd realized that half his army had been obliterated. A slender, silver winged angel stood in the middle of the carnage. She was roughly ten times their size, though she paled in comparison to the Bishop and Stalwart. 

She drew a long sword from her back and aimed it at Hartwell. "The Lord doesn't approve of necromancy," she said in a low pitched voice. Although she didn't speak loudly, her voice still carried all the way to the king's camp atop the hill. "I shall put these tortured souls to rest. Then I will eradicate this disease from its source." 

She held her sword in both hands and pointed it upwards. Her wings flapped open, covering the undead army's field of vision. A bright light pulsated inside the sword, as though it were a beating heart. Then, in a blinding flash, the light expanded throughout the battlefield. 

All of Hartwell's undead collapsed. Hartwell dismounted then approached Marshal Olivier. He stabbed him with his sword then brought him closer to his mouth. Hartwell's gaping mouth kept expanding until it covered the terrified Marshal. He twisted his sword and everybody on the battlefield witnessed a gruesome scene. 

Olivier's tortured soul detached itself from his body. Its painful shrieks caused all the regiment to s.h.i.+eld their ears. The pained soul struggled as it was being forcefully sucked into Hartwell's gaping mouth. As soon as Qil'Al's champion absorbed Olivier's soul. He turned to look at the Pontiff. 

He extended his right hand to the side, and a scythe materialized. Its obsidian blade shone brightly against the sun above them. He swung the scythe and a dark matter scattered in the air around it. 

"Is your G.o.d immune to death?" he asked in a voice that resembled a roar. 

"Are you?" the Pontiff's angel retorted in her soothing voice.

He dashed toward the Pontiff and their weapons collided. Obsidian sparks left the scythe at it clashed with the angel's sword.

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