With Draven at the forefront, the tide of battle was instantly reversed.
The sharp threads that had once posed countless dangers to the holy knights were either swept aside by his massive hammer or blocked by the golden defensive magic enveloping him.
Watching carefully from the sidelines, Tris noticed that whenever the threads struck Draven, the golden light would immediately intensify at the exact point of impact for a brief moment.
Draven skillfully maintained his defenses with precision, all while conserving his spiritual energy. His mastery was truly worthy of his position as leader.
Tris doubted he could defend any better himself.
Although the threads were losing effectiveness, the two white-haired girls did not abandon them entirely. Instead, they used them as a disruptive tactic, while shifting their main assault to the spider legs protruding from their backs.
These legs stabbed forward like sharp spears, relentlessly trying to pierce Draven's defenses.
Yet Draven, bolstered by the priests behind him, grew even more formidable.
His hammer swings were both swift and powerful, deflecting the deadly thrusts and forcing his opponents to retreat or dodge desperately.
Observing the battle, Tris voiced his concern:
"Things don't look good for them. Are you planning to step in yet?"
Rose replied calmly:
"Not yet. They've only just started fighting with their full strength instead of holding back."
And just as Rose had said, faced with the mounting pressure from their opponents, the two white-haired girls now began to fight with their full strength.
Spiritual energy surged from both of them, their pupils glowing crimson at the same time. Then, they invoked their magic. It was Ice magic, a rare attribute seldom used.
The tips of the spider legs behind them were now encased in blades of ice.
These made their thrusts far more powerful than before, while also extending their reach, allowing them to better contend with Draven's long hammer.
Not only that, countless sharp ice projectiles were fired in rapid succession, aimed at both Draven and those standing behind him.
Faced with this sudden and fierce counterattack, the offensive of the Church of Light slowed, forcing them into temporary defense.
Seizing the opportunity, one of the white-haired girls stormed Draven with a barrage of relentless strikes, while the other circled to assault the remaining members of the Church.
Seeing their intent clearly, Bishop Draven roared in fury.
The plan was simple, yet deadly. It was built entirely upon the confidence of the two white-haired girls in their own strength—one believing she could entangle Draven without being defeated immediately, the other believing she could slaughter the rest of the Church one by one.
Assessing their power, Draven realized that unless he acted, even if victory was achieved, the cost to his side would be immense.
Knowing he could not quickly defeat the foe binding him and then aid the others, Draven decisively played his trump card: calling upon divine aid.
This was not the empty prayer of ordinary believers, which the gods rarely answered.
Draven's trump card was no gamble of luck. In truth, the leaders of the Church of Light were granted the ability to borrow a fragment of divine power. The higher their rank and devotion, the greater the blessing they received.
This ability was known as:
"Divine Blessing."
The moment those words were spoken, spiritual energy surged violently from Draven.
His entire body was wrapped in radiant golden armor, while the hammer in his hand seemed to transform into pure light itself. It now blazed with such brilliance that ordinary eyes could hardly look directly at it.
In truth, the members of the Church of Light were not harmed at all by this radiance. On the contrary, they felt its warmth, clearly sensing that their own strength was being replenished and amplified.
For Tris and the two white-haired girls, however, it was far from pleasant.
Even though their vision far surpassed that of ordinary people, it only allowed them to continue perceiving the battlefield clearly—it did not shield them from the discomfort of the blinding light.
Tris muttered irritably: "(╯▔皿▔)╯ Dropping a flashbang? My eyes are burning."
He was annoyed by a technique that affected even unrelated spectators outside the fight.
Rose, who had kept her eyes closed all along, showed no sign of discomfort from the glare.
Instead, she was irritated for an entirely different reason.
Rose scoffed: "(╯▔皿▔)╯ Can't win, so you go crying to your parent. You really can't handle it, can you?"
After invoking 'Divine Blessing', Draven became overwhelmingly powerful.
His spiritual energy seemed inexhaustible. He unleashed a variety of potent magics—both to strengthen himself and his allies, and to strike at his enemies.
Under this sudden surge of pressure, the two white-haired girls struggled desperately, combining every technique they had with their Ice magic to resist. Yet they were forced into a grueling defense.
From the sidelines, Tris could see clearly that at this rate, they would soon be defeated. Worse still, even the smallest misstep in their movements could instantly lead to death.
Putting himself in their position, Tris believed he would not fight any better than the two of them. He was certain he would never want to face Draven in his current state.
Thus, the best response was to escape as quickly as possible and return to fight only after Draven's Divine Blessing had faded.
Of course, whether one could successfully turn their back and flee depended entirely on the skill of the person attempting it. In this matter, Tris had a fair amount of confidence in himself—except when facing someone like the figure standing beside him now (or more precisely, his clone).
Rose commanded: "Retreat."
The two white-haired girls immediately conjured a barrage of massive ice spikes, hurling them toward the enemy to cover their withdrawal.
Draven smashed the ice apart with a single swing of his hammer, yet he did not pursue them relentlessly.
Instead, his gaze, filled with caution, remained fixed on Rose as she stepped forward.
The most dangerous opponent had chosen to enter the battle herself.