Floating Island - Triple S Talent

Chapter 184: Tier 3 Faithwarden: Holy Disciple

The Harmony Circle alliance soldiers shouted loudly. They knew that ever since the arrival of the Tier-3 winged man, the city they were in was doomed to be 100% destroyed. Earlier, a Tier-3 enemy had come and was immediately dealt with by the alliance leader. But now, another had appeared without warning. Who else could they rely on?

Boom...

Slash...

As Galen continued running and flying with his escape skill, he heard terrifying explosions behind him. The sounds of buildings collapsing, trees falling, and the ground shaking echoed all around him. Even without looking back, he knew there was no more hope. Discover more at m-vlempy _r.

Far behind, the winged man was now lifting a large sphere of light with a 10-meter diameter. The ball of light radiated an immense aura. "Take this," he said casually.

Soon, he threw the ball of light directly at the soldiers of the Harmony Circle Alliance. The ball flew swiftly and exploded over an area with a 50-meter radius. Everything was completely destroyed, even the faithwardens within the vicinity were affected by the impact.

"Attack!!! Don't retreat!" a man with a large shield shouted, trying to rally the remaining alliance soldiers.

He raised his shield high into the air, attempting to activate his Barrier skill.

"Barrier!" he yelled with full confidence.

Instantly, a system notification appeared before him:

[Barrier active, link has been established. Successfully connected with 0/10 friends.]

The man's eyes widened in disbelief. "Zero? No one connected?" he muttered bitterly. The emptiness of that notification pierced his heart. A cold sensation spread through him, not just from the battle, but from the reality that all his comrades were gone.

He looked around. There was no more fighting. What remained were only the ruins of the city, buildings that once stood tall now leveled with the ground. A few faithwardens with their white halos still stood atop the rubble, and above them, the winged man observed with an empty, indifferent gaze.

"Damn it… bastard… you killed all my friends!" the man with the shield roared, his voice hoarse and full of hatred. His eyes locked onto the winged man above, no longer filled with fear—only with burning rage.

He steeled his resolve, tightening his grip on his shield and silver sword, and without a second thought, he charged forward, running as fast as he could toward his enemy.

"Arrggh!!!" he screamed, filled with the final determination to exact revenge.

The winged man remained gracefully airborne, looking down at his opponent's every move. His face was rigid, almost expressionless, as though what he was witnessing was something of no significance. With a single wave of his hand, a beam of light shot out from his fingertip, aimed precisely at the approaching shield-bearer.

Sing!

The sharp sound pierced the air, followed by a short thud, as the beam of light penetrated the man's chest.

The man's body froze instantly, his running feet stumbling. Slowly, he fell to his knees, his shield slipping from his grasp, clattering emptily atop the debris.

He looked down at his chest—a large hole gaped open on his right side, where the beam had pierced through. Blood flowed heavily, soaking his tattered clothes, staining the ground beneath him a deep crimson.

His eyes began to blur, his vision hazy. The air seemed to thin, and the pain that had ravaged his body started to fade, replaced by emptiness. A bitter smile appeared on his lips, a final smile full of resignation. He knew his life had come to an end.

With his last breath, his body collapsed onto the ground, unmoving. The shield-bearer's death was tragic, but to the winged man who still floated above, the event was nothing more than a trivial sight—not worth his attention any longer.

"You will gain no points from this city," the winged man's voice echoed through the air, cold and commanding. His face looked frustrated, his jaw clenched as he glared at the remaining faithwarden soldiers. His eyes were full of displeasure.

The faithwardens who heard him exchanged glances, trying to grasp the extent of the winged man's disappointment. Fear began to creep into their hearts. They knew who stood before them—not just a superior, but someone whose power far exceeded their own. Failure in front of this man was not something to take lightly.

"There's no excuse for repeating this mistake," the winged man continued, his voice heavy with implicit threat. "Finish off the other areas and secure the entire island. Leave no one alive."

He took a deep breath, but his anger was clearly not yet abated. "Our forces have already lost at Island #12. One more defeat…" his voice grew more dangerous, "and our share will be reduced further."

His last words hung in the air. The faithwardens felt their hearts race, realizing that failure was not an option in front of this winged man, who could obliterate them with a single gesture.

One of the faithwardens even furrowed his brow, his hands trembling slightly as he adjusted his sword, struggling to hide his fear.

With a cold, unchanging gaze, the winged man signaled for them to move. Without further words, the faithwardens quickly rushed off, not wanting to wait or risk provoking further wrath from the figure they so deeply feared.

The faithwarden troops left, and the battle in the city was over, leaving the winged man alone.

He slipped his hand into the pocket of his pristine white robe and pulled out a small, round object. It resembled a compass, though its needles spun in an unusual pattern, pulsing in sync with the flow of energy from the surroundings.

A thin smile appeared on his face, as if something he had anticipated had been confirmed. "As I thought..." he muttered lightly, almost as if speaking to himself. "Their movements are quick."

His eyes focused sharply on the compass, its needles spinning endlessly, indicating a large movement in the distance. He sighed softly, but his face remained untroubled by the urgency of the situation.

"We need to move quickly...," he said with a more serious tone, though still calm. "Otherwise, more reinforcements from the enemy will arrive."

His words carried an unspoken tension. Time was running swiftly, and every second wasted was a chance for the enemy to fortify their position. Without wasting more time, the winged man disappeared in an instant, his body fading gracefully, as if merging with the wind. All that remained was dust, swirling lightly in the air.