The reincarnated devil was blessed by the goddess

Urban disappeared.

It wasn't burned by flames, nor was it cut off by a sharp blade, nor was it even torn apart by some force beyond cognition.

He disappeared so easily, like a speck of dust blown away by the wind, even the trace of his existence was wiped out.

There was no struggle, no screaming, not even a hint of resistance.

Theresa slowly withdrew her gaze, a smile almost mocking the corner of her mouth. She looked at the sky that was gradually being bathed in the morning light and slowly raised her middle finger.

This action contains not only provocation, but also complete contempt.

Contempt for the gods.

Contempt for those so-called gods who are high above, controlling fate, but cannot even directly interfere in the real world.

The sunlight fell on her fingertips, as if trying to cleanse her of disrespect, but it was helpless.

Because she still has a human body, walking on the earth, breathing the air, and her heart beating in her chest.

She is not an illusory concept, nor is she an apparition that requires the prayers of believers to appear, but a living, tangible existence.

What can the gods do to her?

Bring down divine punishment.

But her soul had long been twisted and reshaped by the tempering of filth and divine power, and even the concept of death had become blurred.

Send believers to encircle and suppress them.

But those mortals don't even have the qualifications to look her in the eye. Just like Urban, they won't even have time to think of resisting before they disappear from the world completely.

Theresa exhaled softly, the morning breeze brushing through her hair, as if the world was trembling.

The battlefield was eerily silent.

There were no piles of corpses, no broken swords, and even the bloodstains were so thin that they were almost transparent.

It was as if some higher-dimensional being had gently erased the traces of the war with an eraser.

The survivors who had awakened from the divine time stagnation stood frozen in place, their pupils trembling violently, but no one dared to actually raise their eyes.

Is she... a god now?

This absurd thought exploded in everyone's mind, and was immediately crushed by a deeper fear.

"The Bishop of Judgment...disappeared..."

The trembling question floated in the solidified air.

"She's moving! She's coming over here—!"

When Theresa walked up to the Bishop of Light, Isaniel, the latter's knees under his robe were creaking under the heavy weight.

When Ryan subconsciously wanted to move, the girl just glanced at him casually.

"Boom!"

The paladin's knees slammed into the ground.

But this was not a punishment directed at him at all, but a terrifying oppression that penetrated his body and directly acted on the virtual image of the angel behind him.

"Wow... She's really pretty."

Theresa fixed her gaze on Isaniel.

The once spotless Bishop of Light is now covered in mud after fighting for this world.

Theresa reached out and brushed the Holy Symbol of Light on Isaniel's chest.

"My dear Bishop... the title of Saint should be reserved for those good children who are willing to wake up early and pray."

Isaniel's Adam's apple rolled.

This mute girl who once couldn't even utter a complete sentence now utters every word with the weight of a god.

"Thanks......"

Before the bishop could utter the monosyllables between his teeth, Theresa turned around with a chuckle.

Her steps suddenly became lighter as she wanted to see her dear friends.

"Hey Hey hey......"

As she squatted down, Theresa's tone suddenly switched to her usual lazy tone, and her fingertips poked Xuelian's cold cheek.

"That certain saint lady who always urged me to sleep, is now lying peacefully?"

Fortunately, Xuelian was unconscious. If she was still alive and kicking, it would really be like seeing a ghost.

The morning sun just happened to be rising above the clouds at this moment. The halo that appeared in Theresa's palm was not as dazzling as the Holy Light, but more like the warmth extracted from the crushed morning glow.

She brushed aside the strands of hair that were stuck to Xuelian's forehead by cold sweat, her movements as gentle as if she were handling fragile glass.

"It's my turn to preach now."

When the first truly mortal morning breeze blew across the battlefield, Xuelian's eyelashes trembled slightly in the interweaving of light and shadow.

"First, I'll teach you a lesson and let you have a good sleep."

Theresa immediately put on a mischievous smile and playfully flicked the other person's nose with her fingertips.

Strelitzia's posture standing on the stone is still as straight as a spear, but the black mist condensed on its eyelids casts a strange shadow on this heroic picture.

The pitch-black sparrow sat quietly on her head, scratching it with its tiny claws from time to time.

"Our wind-like Miss Strelitzia, did you enjoy this battle?"

She suddenly stood on tiptoe and waved her fingers exaggeratedly in front of the other person.

The Strelitzia, having lost its sight, showed no reaction, but the sparrow, filled with filth, suddenly raised its feathers.

"Filth... then you are the strongest now."

At this distance, she could clearly see her own reflection shining brightly like a lighthouse amidst the black tide surging in the other person's pupils.

Theresa was so dazzling that Strelitzia's vision was directly enveloped by the brilliance.

The sparrow screamed silently, and its wings flapped, scattering asphalt-like slime.

Theresa casually pinched the filthy creature, and after a while it actually began to become intimate with her.

"But don't worry, once you get tired of seeing me, you'll naturally be able to see other things."

In Strelitzia's vision, which was blocked by darkness, the receding figure was constantly collapsing into a dazzling spot of light, like the burn marks left after looking directly at the sun at noon.

"I'm so happy. I'm really happy."

Theresa kept repeating this sentence, and when she needed help the most, all the people who loved her appeared in front of her.

But...this painting is not finished yet, and more painters are needed to participate in the painting.

But... before that.

"Let's go home and take a look first."