He emerged from the illusions of the past, bringing hope and soothing wounds. He ended countless conflicts, and today He continues the same work as He did many years ago—*The Book of the Holy Spirit—Ambrose*
...
"Your Highness..."
"Just call me Mr. Roman."
Stars descend upon the daytime, azure hues spread amidst the clamor, and the invisible magician's hand patiently mends the wounds ripped across the sky by storms and lightning, pushing death further away.
Roman Ambrose, the "angel of announcement," supported the barrier with both hands, his lips curving into a quick smile before falling back down, the subtle emotions hidden beneath his slightly twitching eyes intriguing.
"Mr. Roman, is it the angel of the storm?"
Faced with this unfamiliar angel, Klein found it extremely difficult to utter any slightly intimate address.
He forced himself to shift his attention as much as possible, focusing his gaze on the large group of natives huddled on the stone ground not far away, shivering and praying in hushed tones.
Although these people were venting their fanatical beliefs in a manner that could be described as frenzied just a few seconds ago, what Klein sees now is more like a flock of quails, deserters who can only rely on self-deception and burying their heads in the sand, seeking a glimmer of hope by escaping into the spiritual world.
No matter how the "Sea God" priest called out, no one would rise to respond.
It wasn't that the Rothschilds were all cowards, but rather that the believers could still smell the foul stench of the corpses of several brave warriors, that the roar of thunder still lingered above them, and that the majesty of natural disaster weighed heavily on each of them, whether the calamity came from their faith or from their enemies.
A desperate gamble under the threat of survival ignited courage, but natural disasters ruthlessly tore apart the beautiful dream of idealism, embedding the bloody reality that could not be resisted into the minds of the rebels.
Klein couldn't understand how a mad uprising could collapse so quickly if the angels of the storm hadn't intervened.
"no."
However, Roman refuted Klein's guess, which inadvertently added a touch of gloom to the young "Master of Puppets".
The "Angel of Proclamation" looked up at the two shadows that appeared faintly in the dark clouds each time lightning flashed, his tone calm and even.
"The seal is still intact, so the 'Calamity' can only exert limited power. Without a carefully planned ritual, it is difficult for it to exercise its true authority. The bishop of the Storm also recognized this, which is why he brought a level 1 sealed artifact with fewer negative effects to try to fight against the 'Calamity'."
"Furthermore, recently, the Pope of Storms and the other angels will probably have little time to turn their attention to this island."
"They need to devote more energy to the fertile plateau that is about to be lost than to the broken land."
The natives' fear and helplessness were also seen in Roman's eyes. Unlike Klein, the "Angel of Proclamation" did not show any extra emotion, not a trace of pity or heartache.
He calmly analyzed the situation for the young people around him, keeping his speaking speed within the most appropriate range.
"I have read the report you submitted, the one submitted in the name of the Islands Division."
"If you want to help the Rothschilds, now is the best opportunity."
"While the war on the highlands remains unresolved, once the Rune weighs the pros and cons and begins to prioritize the importance and gains of continuing to defend the highlands, the Rothschild Islands and you will face a counterattack from a powerful nation with a complete industrial system, and there will be no possibility of victory."
The aftershocks of the disaster were perfectly contained in the distant sky. The earth gradually returned to calm, and more and more indigenous people struggled to their feet with trepidation. Roman lowered his raised hands and turned to look back.
"However, don't underestimate the obstacles to success just because it's the best time now."
"I believe you have seen and understood that in the near future, your 'comrades-in-arms' who share the same goal—these indigenous people—may be almost blindly fearless with the support of certain reasons. But this blind fearlessness is ultimately built on the fanaticism of abandoning personal thought, and is no different from a castle in the air."
"From the bravest warriors to cowardly lambs, their transformation can happen in an instant, so fast that you can't react. One second they might be fighting with their weapons, and the next they might have given up."
"You have a better way to deal with Rothschild's farce, you know what to do."
Roman's words stung Klein, making him momentarily forget to refute the fact that he had not submitted a report to the High Council in the name of the Archipelago branch.
"No, you shouldn't call this a farce."
Klein racked his brains, trying to recall examples he had seen on Earth, in an attempt to persuade the noble angel.
"Perhaps the idea of integrating the Rosd people and giving them a spirit of resistance is backward and primitive, but look at their lives."
"What kind of life is this...?"
Klein suddenly turned around, anxiously looking around, pointing to one dilapidated building after another, and then to the tall and majestic Storm Church in the distance, as if he had grasped at a lifeline.
"A century of colonization, everything that Rune did in the Rothschild Islands, has pushed these Rothschilds to the point of no return."
"The Lord said, 'Survival is the last line of defense for living beings. When that line is crossed, a powerful force is born.' Why can't you give more trust to a group of people who can't see a future?"
In the Dark Ages, the Creator was born. Faced with a distorted world where giants and dragons ruled the earth and sky, He spoke these words to His followers, the "Pure White Angels," who have now been removed from the sacred texts.
Seeing that Klein, in his panic, even quoted scripture to intimidate him, Roman chuckled helplessly.
"Before the Creator was born and the sun rose, humanity was already on the brink of survival, one step further and death would be imminent."
"In fact, many people have already fallen off the cliff. Too many people have voluntarily given up their chance to survive. What remains in that small space above the abyss are their descendants and their beloved loved ones."
"Even in the darkest and most chaotic period of the Second Age, you will not hear of a single human being who mustered the courage to rebel against the Old Gods because they could not survive, not even one of the Old Gods' followers."
"There was no such example before the Creator. Even the teacher, the 'Lord,' did not bring light and fire to the people of that time."
Klein opened his mouth slightly, but didn't know how to refute it.
He had read Roman Ambrose's diary and knew that His Highness the Angel before him had personally experienced that era as a slave.
Nothing is more ridiculous than someone who knows old stories from dusty archives showing off in front of those who experienced them firsthand; this is not how you play the clown.
"Your Highness..."
Roman stopped Klein's bewildered sigh, raised his hand, and the scattered wounds on the earth damaged by the storm were instantly restored, drawing cheers of 'Praise the Sea God' from not far away.
"I told you, you have better options."
"The power of choice ultimately lies with you; the teacher did not entrust me with the task of welcoming back the 'natural disaster.'"
"Perhaps He still thinks I am not mature enough, or perhaps I have other missions. In any case, the decision is yours, and I will respect every step you take. I will also respect these Rosd people who are struggling in the name of 'Sea God'."
The "Angel of Proclamation" patted Klein on the shoulder and looked towards the stars scattered across the universe on the other side of the sky, which, though temporarily sheltered from the sun's brilliance, would not extinguish their light under the dazzling daylight.
"Do your best, and don't let down the precious opportunity that the Creator has won for you and for us."
The Creator?
Klein looked up in a daze, but received no response from Roman. He then turned to look at Alger, who had been silent amidst the shock, but saw nothing of note.
Watching his actions, Roman continued.
"With the Creator himself at the border, no angel of the Seven Gods will be able to spare the energy to deal with these islands within a week."
"This is the opportunity."
...
"It's an angel!"
"Heretical and rebellious angels!"
Fire rain obscured the sky, the vampire lieutenant's eyes were bloodshot, and the blood vessels on his sickly pale skin were clearly visible, each one bulging out.
"Everyone, lie down! Lie down! Don't look up!"
The hour-long battle had long since worn down the vampire lieutenant's keen sense of smell.
He huffed and puffed as he tried to clear his nasal passages, then grabbed the head of the nearest soldier and shoved it down hard, before simultaneously plunging into the trench that was almost completely filled in.
The intense heat exploded in the sky above the battlefield, a miniature sun churned, and a large amount of clouds followed closely behind, obscuring the side where the iris flag was raised, and also protecting a few of the "Double-Headed Eagle" and "Scales" positions.
The brilliance that streamed down from the cracks in heaven cast one colorful spectacle after another on the earth. The leaping light spots exploded one after another, and in just a few seconds, they reversed the losses of the past hour of war.
The large number of vampires serving as officers were thrown into agonizing madness the moment the light spot exploded.
These extraordinary creatures, born of the crimson moon, wailed helplessly beside their mortal brothers, while their comrades were powerless to offer any assistance.
In the deep trenches, a figure in tattered military uniform, his body ablaze, struggled to channel water to extinguish the sacred fire that was tormenting his superior. But before he could act, his charred body crumbled into carbonized stone-like solids, merging with the soil beneath him.
The angels from Intis, servants of the "Eternal Sun," once again spread their five fingers in the sky.
He set his sights on the positions further back in front of him, preparing to repeat his old trick.
However, before the second "Yangyan" could even leave the battlefield, the spiritual shriek had already resounded throughout the entire battlefield.
An endless sea of fire surged from the horizon, like a living beast roaring and howling, its fangs transforming into sharp swords that pierced the sky.
The angel of war brandished his longsword, and the vaporized, complex matter condensed beneath his banner, vaguely revealing a phantom of a red horse wielding a long sword. He gathered his nearly routed troops under the horse's hooves and sank them into an even larger sea of fire behind him.
"'Crescent Moon', Goshinam."
He calmly examined the smoke of battle, his gaze sweeping over each pitiful vanguard soldier, quantifying everything with inhuman ruthlessness, and assessing the loss of life with numbers.
The two angels who were summoned by Him escaped from the sea of fire behind them.
The bright, vibrant red moon temporarily replaced the sun, thunderclouds pressed down from the sky, and silvery thorns brandished their claws. The torrential rain that once symbolized destruction now became a savior, extinguishing the sacred fire that reaped life.
On the floating ship, the "Queen of Calamity" sat high on her throne, while the vampire duke occupied another corner of the sky, his arms outstretched as if he wanted to merge with the conceptualized red moon.
The absolute material authority overwhelmed the "Light Chasers," and the lingering voice of the Mother of Life rekindled a faint hope.
The surviving vampires discovered that the pain was receding, and the bare bones and flesh continued to grow, tilting the scales of the battlefield once again.
Seeing that the situation had stabilized, the legion commander at the top of the sky did not hesitate at all, and the phantom knight spurred his horse forward with his sword drawn.
The two "war bishops" deliberately lagged behind, not following in their leader's footsteps. They focused their energy on the non-"war red" army, and their mental connection temporarily covered the entire battlefield.
The only "doctors" and "magicians" were dispatched by the "war bishop" to various places, constantly searching for wounded soldiers who still had hope of being healed, and doing their best to save the Creator's precious currency.
The wars among mortals seemed to have ceased, leaving only the battles among angels.
Medici, the "Angel of War" and "Red Angel," was unusually silent.
He reaped all the enemy troops that fell into his field of vision with the utmost efficiency, and the longsword forged from black iron in his hand gradually lost its deep color and was completely soaked in scarlet.
The flames irritated the Light Chaser's fragile nerves. Even though the Queen of Calamity and the Vampire Duke wisely distanced themselves from the battle under the orders of the War Angel, turning an encirclement into a duel hosted by the War Angel, the Light Chaser still felt immense pressure.
This was inevitable; it was a fact ordained by fate.
He attained complete divinity during the extraordinary and hidden Dark Iron Age, transforming the essence of life, and the "War Angel" has fought as a completely mythical creature since its birth.
Even though they lost their uniqueness and once faced death, the "conquerors" who embodied the wrath and weapons of the Creator are still incomparable to the mixed stream of priests who live by praising the sun.
He did not vent his anger with words, but his iron eyes were filled with rage.
As the weapon sliced through the bird's feathers, severing the bird's head formed of sacred fire, Medici swiftly gathered all the characteristics under the control of the "Light Chaser," which was about to explode like a meteor, and seized the head of the golden crow-like creature, a symbol of purity and nobility, in his hand, gazing at the sun that was expanding in an instant.
"Come down here if you dare!"
"Stand still against me!"
"Ocycus!"
Pure, clear light swirled around the sun, and a simple circular graffiti in the astral plane twisted several times, but ultimately failed to advance any further.
The restless flares were forcefully suppressed and then quickly fell silent, and the real sun also calmed down.
In the far distance of the battlefield, the black-armored giant leaned against a curtain, slumped on a mountain peak, and thousands of troops passed by at his feet.
The curtain of shadow concealed the giant's true appearance and also hid his exhaustion.
He struggled to his feet, not because he was exhausted, but because he needed to be constantly focused to restrain his fallen impulses and prevent them from affecting his believers.
The sovereign behind the veil of shadow raised his sword. Beneath His feet, giants roared, dragons soared into the sky, and the world's only non-human army, chanting the name of "Father of All Beings," joined the battle.
His weapons, His wrath, His apostles, and His "war knights" understood their master's will immediately.
Medici immediately turned around, his gaze locking onto a figure among the collapsing enemy ranks, and then ran towards another enemy angel, shouting at his subordinates around him.
"Take down 0-36!"
Amidst the chaos of the Loen army, Prince Grove, dressed in a ceremonial cloak and a grand cloak, with a retro air, seemed to have foreseen something.
He hesitated for a moment, his steps stopping for only a second.
The next moment, all the Rune soldiers saw Prince Grove's head, still bearing the solemn and rigid expression, being tossed high into the air.
Duke Crescent Moon stood in mid-air, casually tossing aside Prince Rune's corpse. He clutched a crown that resembled a thorny woven fabric, its palms covered in burns that continued to spread outwards.
The duke somehow managed to avoid the pain.
He gazed toward the capital, ignoring the fleeing soldiers, his blood-red eyes hidden behind long eyelashes, concealing his true feelings with silence.
After a long while, He made a move, outlining a full moon on His chest and then adding an inverted cross.
...
May you rest in peace, Your Majesty Olnia.
May you rest in peace, Your Highness Ortina.
May you rest in peace, Your Majesty the Night Emperor