Read Rising from the Ashes (Andrew and Lauren) Novel by Only For You Updated 2025 -26 - Rising from the Ashes (Andrew and Lauren) Chapter 3138

Rising from the Ashes (Andrew and Lauren) Chapter 3138

Arya’s expression was cold as frost. The white holy sword in her hand summoned a towering pillar of sacred light and slashed down with brutal force. Below, Andrew’s face was just as icy. Storm energy roared around Godslayer, his aura surging violently. He answered her strike with one of his own, meeting it head-on.

“Andrew, you devil. I told you I wouldn’t let you keep growing stronger,” Arya said, her face sacred and solemn, stripped of all emotion. “As long as I’m here, your demonic ambitions in the Wastelands will never come true!”

Andrew snorted coldly. “Arya, you insane woman. I’ve been waiting for you for ages!”

Arya sneered. “So you knew I wouldn’t just stand by and watch. Then you should be ready to be completely wiped out!” Her white holy sword crashed down again, its force overwhelming. The sacred light flared so brightly it was blinding. Andrew swung his greatsword back again and again, but even so, he was suppressed by the white radiance, forced downward toward the ground.

Arya said icily, “Nyx can’t help you right now. I know you won’t sit around waiting to die, so go ahead—call all your people to fight. Don’t worry, I won’t hold back. Since the Highland Tribe warriors have fallen into corruption just like you, I’ll purify them along with you.”

Andrew swallowed the blood rising in his throat and let out a mocking laugh. “You really know how to dress it up as righteousness, Arya. Looks like the Pope wants to be king of the Wastelands too. You should’ve just said so. For that old geezer’s sake, I could’ve handed Throne City over to him.”

Anger flared across Arya’s sacred features. “Blasphemer, you’re courting death!”

As she spoke, an overwhelming wave of sacred light slashed down like a killing storm. Andrew’s greatsword rang as he blocked again and again, retreating without pause. Arya pressed forward relentlessly, her gaze cold and unyielding. She had already promised Kass that this time, she would kill Andrew for good.

She had waited until now because Nyx was already tied down, fighting atop Throne City. Arya seized this chance to ensure Andrew’s death. Though he resisted fiercely, in her eyes it was still far from enough.

Across the entire battlefield, the only ones who might pose a real threat to her were the progenitor-level figures of the Dark Clans. Andrew and Arya fought their way in the opposite direction, carving deeper into the Wastelands and far from the heart of the battle.

Arya began to chant a prayer. At once, the white of her holy sword brightened another degree. Andrew’s heart clenched as he cursed how terrifyingly powerful this madwoman was. Still, he had no choice but to hold on. Taking a deep breath, he activated the holy light inheritance within his body.

In an instant, the black and red hues on his greatsword faded, replaced by swirling white sacred light. The two greatswords collided in midair—holy light against holy light. The same blinding radiance illuminated both Arya’s snow-white face and Andrew’s grim expression.

Arya roared, “Blasphemer, I don’t know what method you used to wield the power of holy light, but I’ll make this clear—no matter how cunning you are or how desperately you struggle, you cannot escape the fate of being ended!”

Her white holy sword suddenly trembled, and a rippling surge of energy slammed straight into Andrew’s chest. He threw his head back and finally lost control, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

High above Throne City, Nyx was frantic with worry. “Arya, if you kill Andrew, I’ll end my life too!” Her voice rang out, shrill with desperation.

Arya ignored her completely. She swept her greatsword sideways, firing three more bolts of white lightning downward.

In her heart, she thought, Nyx, even if you hate me and want to kill me, I still have to eliminate him. The Pope himself ordered that this man must die.

The reason was sacred. Andrew was the greatest blasphemer of all—more blasphemous even than the princes of the Dark Clans, already rivaling several dark progenitors. Arya had once felt a flicker of doubt. Was Andrew’s blasphemy truly comparable to that of the dark progenitors? But the Pope’s stern teachings had once again purified her wavering heart.

By killing Andrew, she would be carrying out the most righteous act of her life. It had to be so.

Andrew raised a hand and wiped the blood from his mouth. His expression turned savage. Without hesitation, he activated Arcturus’s Primordial Thunder and shot back into the sky, clashing with Arya once more. At the same time, he pushed with everything he had to force out the totem power of the Lloyd royal family.

Andrew had no choice but to endure Arya’s onslaught, because the critical moment he was waiting for had not yet arrived.

In the vampire camp, Gaston withdrew his gaze and said in a deep voice, “Progenitor, Andrew has already begun fighting the Cathedral’s archangel. From the looks of it, he won’t last much longer and will surely be killed by Arya.”

Jorge replied calmly, “Gaston, does Andrew look like he’s putting on an act to you?”