Chapter 110: Praise the Machine God

Beyond the dense forest, at a devastated gathering point.

When an anomaly erupted deep within the trees and countless startled birds rose into the sky, the dangerous, icy face of the Black Coat—a title reserved for high-ranking officers of the Military Intelligence Department—suddenly lit up with excitement. That inhuman roar—ancient and furious—had proclaimed itself to the entire world.

The Lord of Cinder had truly awakened…

This particular Black Coat cast a meaningful glance at Woodpecker Hedda, his newly risen and capable subordinate. She had proven herself formidable, even managing to extend the Military Intelligence Department’s influence into the Radiant Sun faith.

Although the Department had some “nails” planted within the Radiant Sun faith, as a Black Coat who reported directly to the Noble Council, he knew those agents were all low-ranking. None could directly influence the church’s higher secrets. But now, with the faith in chaos, Woodpecker’s value could continue to climb—yielding greater contributions to the Noble Council.

“Prepare to meet the enemy.”

Though his mind raced with thoughts, the meaningful look from the Black Coat lasted less than a second.

And in that fraction of time, Hedda felt an immense pressure. From his eyes, she saw curiosity. Clearly, the church’s assistance had been unexpectedly effective—too effective. Effective enough to stir strange emotions in this NPC of the Military Intelligence Department.

Damn this realism…

“Understood.”

Cursing the game’s authenticity under her breath, Hedda grabbed her steam crossbow and moved toward the forest to intercept the enemy.

Steam cannons adjusted their angles, steam rifles fortified their positions, and boiling-water spiders began preheating. Within the ranks of the Kingdom’s army, Hedda—armed with her steam crossbow—was an elite among elites.

Her crossbow drums were arranged in an alternating S-shape: two loaded drums, each with 60 steel bolts. With the rapid assistance of the steam generator, all 60 bolts could be fired through two ports in under ten seconds. The bolts carried enough power to pierce the Kingdom Army’s standard steel armor.

This weapon was a custom order she had secured through her connections with the Steam Church. Those steam fanatics who cried out daily to the Machine God produced works of quality worth trusting.

Beyond the forest, the war machines stirred to life, steam hissing as they revealed their fanged maws.

And their first victims were not the Forbidden Lord of Cinder—but rather fleeing clergy of the Radiant Sun faith.

With a thunderous volley, prototype steam rifles fired metal projectiles propelled by combustible steam. The spinning rounds tore through flesh and muscle on impact, their fragments causing further damage with retained heat and force.

Of the dozen or so clergy deliberately allowed within effective range, all but one were killed instantly.

That lone survivor, a transcendent priest, could only stare dumbly at the hellish scene wrought by these demonic weapons, as if glimpsing a grim future.

Weapons like these—operable by mere mortals—posed immense threats to low-tier transcendents when deployed in firing lines. Once mass-produced, they would crush knightly orders still lingering in the age of sword and glory. And this was only the Steam Church’s first batch of completed products.

Rumor spoke of second and third batches to come.

A power to awe even the gods themselves!

“Fire!”

Another storm of bullets tore bodies apart, blood mist spraying. Even the soldiers who unleashed them shuddered at the cruel beauty of it all.

“Praise the Machine God.”

Smelling the blood and acrid tang of burning fuel, a soldier trembled as he adjusted his magazine. In that instant, he became a believer.

Deep in the forest, at the crossfire point between the Forbidden Lord of Cinder and the army.

Pastor Arthur watched impassively. It was as though he had foreseen this moment, showing no reaction as clergy of the Radiant Sun faith fell under gunfire. The Gof of Justice beyond the pantheon of the sun had long united to prepare for the Second Divine Era.

That decayed remnant clinging to the First Flame should have been discarded in the first millennium.

He tightened the Scarf of Silence at his throat, his gray eyes glowing with fervor—something never shown before Maria.

“My Lord… grant Your blessing…”

With a blur, Pastor Arthur vanished from sight, moving like a black eagle gliding through the branches. From inside his coat he tossed fuel-cartridge gun-swords, blasting into hidden corners with practiced ease.

In under two minutes, Arthur returned with agile steps to his Special Squad teammates.

“The army is killing.”

Ever laconic, Arthur’s gaze never left Maria and Liline’s delicate face as he spoke. Neither woman looked particularly surprised. Maria merely furrowed her brow coldly at the deed, while Liline lowered her eyes with faint guilt.

All three in the squad knew something of the truth.

Or perhaps, the scheme…

In Southwind Province, the God of Justice and the Lady of the Lake had tacitly approved—even supported—this act. And if one counted Maria’s silent patron, the Radiant Dominator, that made three gods.

Three gods gathered—not to play cards or dice.

These super-beings thought far beyond mortals. Only they knew their true purpose.

“I’ll draw the Lord of Cinder away.”

Maria brushed back her silver bangs. Even while fleeing, her every gesture carried an air of noble grace. Unlike Liline’s gentle beauty, Maria exuded the dangerous allure of a battlefield—blood-scented and irresistible.

“Alright.”

“Eh? Won’t that be dangerous? They have guns and cannons.” Busty, naïve Liline tilted her head, blinking with worry. She couldn’t bear to see the beautiful Maria torn to pieces—that would be far too ugly.

“Don’t worry. I have a way.”

Targeted by the Lord of Cinder, Maria knew she had been marked for death. Better to lead it out than circle endlessly in the forest. Besides, such crude gun formations were hardly a challenge for her.

The only thing to watch for was not getting struck head-on by a cannon.