Chapter 349
Chapter 349
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 349
Chapter Title: How to Survive as the Second Son of a Magical Noble Family
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What’s the best strategy to use against Pleroma, now that they’ve built their own independent coordinate system?
Thud—
We stomped our feet while chanting the warp coordinates for the Pleroma world, poised in front of the dam. Just before closing our eyes, I caught the world shifting.
With the encirclement net offline, we had to strike straight at the heart of enemy territory.
The entry point for our 101st Batch—Corvignano 780:736:485—was the archbishop’s residence, home to the offices of two archbishops. The residence wasn’t just offices and living quarters; in emergencies, it served as the final escape route, and if the Pleroma leadership opened a portal, reinforcements could arrive. Surrounding and closing in on an enemy unbound by spatial limits would be suicide, so hitting the center directly was the right call. Especially since we’d concluded Munich-Freising was more adept at spatial magic than other dioceses—wasn’t it?
Don’t give them time. That was our strategy.
‘So what are the 91st and 98th Batches doing while we’re in the cathedral?’
Whoosh—
The moment I sensed the air change around us, Narke silently grabbed my arm to keep me from stumbling.
The 91st Batch’s A and B Teams would yank the two cathedrals out of Pleroma space and move to their control rooms, ensuring no escapes from here. The 91st C Team and 98th C Team would relocate Munich-Freising’s Pleroma residential coordinates. Then what about the 98th A and B Teams? They’d shift other cathedrals within the Munich-Freising Archdiocese—not the main cathedral, but the rest, one by one. It might look easier, but relocating numerous cathedrals in short order wouldn’t be simple. Naturally, even after moving the coordinate systems outward, combat would continue inside them.
‘More importantly.’
The moment I inhaled, my throat and lungs stung.
‘Munich-Freising uses the same air as the Brandenburg Archdiocese, after all.’
Only the Baptized would be immune to the damage from this air. Even so, we couldn’t afford to be hampered twice by the same trick we’d already faced, so HQ had injected resistance serum into everyone entering these worlds. Thanks to that, unlike the previous burning agony, it was just a prickling now.
The moment Leo laid eyes on the sunlit white lobby, the massive staircases leading to the second floor on either side, and the distant gallery, he spoke up.
“…Alte Pinakothek.”
The Munich-Freising archbishop was using the royal art museum as his office. We’d shared this intel during strategy sessions, but seeing it firsthand was different from hearing about it. Elias glanced at the paintings in the gallery and asked flatly, without a hint of a smile.
“How’s it feel, as the Bavarian Crown Prince, to see Pleroma squatting in a building funded by royal money?”
“…….”
Instead of answering, Leo thickened his physical barrier. The mana swirling around Heike and Ulrike grew denser too.
—David said,
Boom!!
—The hand of the Lord came upon me and showed me the design of all these things, making them known to me.
Narke’s incantation, followed by the erupting light, blanketed the vast building. Now it was time to cast the spell sending this space to the real Kingdom of Bavaria. With the coordinate data already in hand, we’d completed eighty percent of the battle; pull it off, and we’d be done. Everyone stayed on high alert, eyes fixed on Narke as he chanted. For a split second, surprise flashed across his face, then it hardened into the cold calm of someone who’d expected as much.
“It’s blocked.”
The new spell formula, developed in collaboration with the Papal Office, wasn’t working. I could see a dozen possibilities flicker across my friends’ faces. At the same time, my earpiece artifact buzzed with updates utterly unrelated to our snag.
[98th A, destroyed coordinate 1. St. Benno Cathedral. Moving to 2.]
[91st C, destroyed zone 1 coordinates.]
[91st C, destroyed zone 2 coordinates.]
[98th A, destroyed coordinate 2. St. Margaret Cathedral. Moving to 3.]
[98th C, destroyed zone 30 coordinates.]
About thirty seconds since entry. Success reports kept pouring in. The Pleroma air imposed restrictions with every mana use, sure, but each team had a divine magic user for cover—these users played the same role as Narke—suppressing lesser Pleroma long enough to handle them. It shouldn’t take long. Once shifted to Bavaria, reinforcements would arrive, and they could dart to the next spot before HQ demolished the entry routes. But they’d already relocated coordinates to real Bavaria, while we hadn’t budged the archbishop’s building yet. That meant…
Boom!!
Pitch-black vitriol hurtled toward my face.
‘Finally.’
An elderly pureblood in monsignor robes popped up right in front of me. The realization that we’d truly crossed into Pleroma space surged through my body. I braced my legs, switched my wand to sword form, and blocked his strike.
Screech—screech—boom!
The eerie scrape of green mana against the blade. Already, the same number of monsignors had latched onto my friends. I quickly scanned the surroundings.
‘…Not different people. Over ten identical ones.’
Self-replication? Illusions? Either way, plenty problematic.
[101st Batch, trouble? One minute thirty seconds elapsed.]
No time to respond. I clenched and unclenched my raised hand, signaling temporary command transfer, and shouted.
“Ainsidel, Kleist!”
That was the cue. Someone shot in like a beam of light and tackled the monsignor in front of Heike.
Stab—slash—
The sound of a blade piercing deep into flesh rang out clear amid the screams. I saw the blood drain from Ulrike’s face through the light. She whipped around and savagely severed the neck of the monsignor on her tail. A muffled splash mixed with the explosive mana from her sword. Heike watched a head sail by without a flicker, then thrust his wand upward, landing on the staircase leading to the upper floor. As he bolted toward the archbishop’s room on the second floor, Ulrike dry-heaved while swinging her sword.
Clang—…
The dulled ring as her blade met hardened vitriol. Elias grabbed the monsignor by the scruff and hurled him aside, slashing without hesitation. Cheringen moved with him. Scattered screams shattered my focus. Even as replicated monsignors crumpled to the floor, their numbers kept growing.
‘Yeah. Without unique ability wildcards, it’d be too easy.’
We’d racked our brains over these types in Brandenburg too. Feeling my scalp crawl, I swung at the monsignor blasting mana at me. A quick glance let me parry and thrust. I sliced away vitriol blobs aimed at my neck and legs, then brought my sword down on his forearm.
“Aaahhh!”
One silver lining. They couldn’t micromanage each clone. Instead of complex formulas for advanced spells, they just swung wands, hurling raw mana. Like opponents repeating a single forward punch.
‘Well, yeah. If they could issue different orders to multiple bodies at once….’
Slash—
He’d be the archbishop, not some monsignor.
Viscous blood splattered my face. I spat out the metallic tang seeping into my mouth and swung again. The blood I spat evaporated into the air, vanishing like it was never there. I’d entertained hopeful thoughts earlier. Now for the grim news. Their numbers kept increasing—you’d have sensed it already—but killing clones just recycled their power back to the source. Impressive regeneration. One of them was the original; take that out, and we’d win.
And one more thing.
[Even the blessed light of heaven filters through stained glass here, casting an eerie gloom!]
Mana reflux hit me, nausea surging abruptly.
“…Faust…!”
Hearing an actual incantation from the Scriptures—not the Bible—shocked Ulrike into gaping. Even on an empty stomach, it felt like my guts were spilling out. I clamped my mouth, grimaced, and parried the monsignor’s onslaught. Right—there wouldn’t be just one monsignor stationed here, and they were already mixed in.
‘That’s why we had to move fast….’
I hadn’t expected instant success. They wouldn’t skimp on securing the residence. That’s why they deployed our 101st Batch. Out of seven teams from 91st to 101st, only ours was mostly A-Class holdouts. Besides, no orders meant no wild variables. Not even area attacks beyond melee. We’d learned that the hard way in the extra chapter. Elias bellowed.
“Squadron Leader!”
[Farnese.]
Leo’s low voice called the name over comms from where he fought afar. As Narke swung his staff, the vitriol thickened.
‘Hm.’
They knew full well that black-haired, yellow-eyed mage used divine power. As white light spread after Narke’s incantation urging us through the narrow door, the vitriol seemed to melt—then reformed. Blocked, as expected. But…
Even buying one second was precious for us, and they’d overlooked something.
‘Most assume divine mages stick to mental spells.’
Or support with area magic. Unless you’re someone like Gabriele Caetani, that’s usually the limit. Narke’s staff morphed into a white sword. A glint in his yellow eyes—I knew that insight gaze instantly. Elias, watching Narke, parried the clone monsignor’s sword and lunged at the one in Narke’s line of sight. Narke kicked off the ground and barreled past them without hesitation. As they fixated on him, mana struck from behind.
Slash—clang!
I deflected the incoming sword from my back and downed the monsignor.
Crunch—
By the time I turned at the squishing sound, one lay crushed under Narke’s foot. The lobby’s white floor stained crimson with blood and vitriol. Narke shook the blood from his sword with a smile and flashed me a bright grin.
“There really was someone using lightning. Good thing we didn’t go for area mana spells.”
“…….”
Skyrocketing from parishioner to archbishop’s aide monsignor in seven years—unique abilities guaranteed promotions, huh. The special unique ability users I’d met in the cathedral seven years ago were scattered across this diocese now. And we’d run into one.
[Ascanien, commence.]
Finally, time to end it. At Leo’s order, I severed the lunging clone monsignor’s arm with my sword and incanted.
[The wicked man’s light will be snuffed out, his upraised arm broken.]
Boom!!
Black sand whipped away in the wind. The monsignors standing here and there turned to sand pillars and dispersed. Dozens vanished, leaving just three in vestments. The other four surged toward them, excluding me. I swung my wand, reverting it to staff form, and slammed it into the floor.
Thud—
[The Lord Almighty will punish them with thunder and earthquake and great noise, with whirlwind and storm and consuming fire.]
At the same instant, a deep inhalation echoed. Unlike before under a pre-dawn sky, my vision flushed blood-red. Staring into that alien crimson, I slammed mana through my staff into the floor.
[All who assault Ariel and her fortress, who distress Ariel and all her defenses, will vanish like a dream, like a vision in the night!]
Boom!!
I fought to keep my eyes open, watching fire-like mana erupt where Pleroma stood. Elias and Ulrike’s swords and divine power gleamed in the scarlet vista. As life signs faded from vitriol positions, I lifted my head from the staff’s top and withdrew my mana.
[Don’t relax.]
Leo’s warning came as Elias slapped my back—I hadn’t noticed him approach.
“It ended this quick? Your AOE is always….”
“Always?”
“Impressive.”
Elias grinned, brushing it off. Then Heike’s dry voice crackled over the artifact from upstairs.
[101st Batch, to Corvignano 780:900:550.]
[Team 1, move. Teams 2 and 3, clear to y850.]
“Found it.”
Narke replied curtly, smiling at Elias and me. We were Team 1—pre-planned for splits if needed.
After handling the Class 3 sacrifices in the northern wheat fields, I’d reworked team tactics to better leverage Heike’s ability. Object-reading pasts weren’t huge in berserker ops, but his power had gaps, so prepping it made sense. That’s how we’d pinpointed this residence’s coordinate security via Heike.
[91st C, 98th C, all residential coordinates destroyed. Moving to diocesan museum and archives.]
Meanwhile, 98th A and B Teams had shipped over half the cathedrals to Bavaria already. Wonder how many Pleroma were raining down there now.
Elias and I warped to the coordinates Heike called. The moment we arrived, I swung at the vitriol lunging at me.
Slash—slash—
“Smooth sailing.”
Elias quipped from behind, striking Pleroma. Vitriol splattered my face. I wiped it off and clashed swords with a Pleroma.
Clang—screech—
“What is?”
“We’ve already nuked half of Munich-Freising.”
“What’s half? Not over till we bag the bishops.”
“True, but too humble~”
“…….”
Boom!
I infused mana into my sword, hurling the foe, then kicked off. Far off, the priest I’d noted seven years ago in the cathedral was now a monsignor here. Faust snippets, clashing steel, and Elias’s voice flowed amid it all.
[Without you, would we have nuked half by now? HQ’s following your playbook to the letter.]
“Everyone contributed.”
[Slapping your letter into the ops manual counts as planning, sure.]
“…….”
I chuckled at Elias’s deadpan and memorized the local coordinate formula one slot forward. A figure’s nape appeared. As his gleaming eyes turned to me.
“…!”
Stab—
“Aaahhh!”
I crushed his core, dropping him. That’s why coordinates mattered. Speed-blitz before unique abilities activated.
[All teams, commence bishop hunt. Three bishops down. Per prior intel, ten remain. Of 103 coordinates in Pleroma Munich-Freising Archdiocese, two left: archbishop’s residence and Munich-Freising archives.]
Already? Impressive work clearing 103. Hearing the alert, I pressed on. So how’d we know these? Recall: On day one of Munich strategy, I’d pegged Munich-Freising as hyper-vigilant—no objections since. Why so security-obsessed? Why did captured Munich-Freising priests know less than others? Why the info lockdown?
Obsessive leader? Past breach? Both possible. Then I revisited seven years ago. Weight shifted to the latter: They’d had their archives raided by a Pleroma seven years back?
Conclusion: Info from seven years ago wasn’t fully valid now. Nor fully invalid. Easy changes: entries, council durations, protocols. Hard: pre-built sites.
With Catacomb aid under Papal cover, I’d scoured Bavaria buildings from my two-day look for spatial spells—key to cracking Corvignano. Imperial tech couldn’t match. Chance to expand Catacomb influence underground—fortunate all around.
‘And….’
One more aid source, but not now. I regrouped with Elias amid the corpse-strewn building and halted before the iron door thick with security spells.
“Oh, what now~?”
I smiled at Elias’s teasing feint—he knew. I shifted the coordinate slot and incanted the warp. He grabbed my back; eyes open, we faced the spell-shrouded substrate. I tapped the comm artifact with a grin.
“Farnese.”
[…Ah~ nice.]
Narke’s light laugh burst through. As I smashed the substrate, a floor-slam echoed beyond, his sacred voice following.
[—David said, the hand of the Lord came upon me and showed me the design of all these things, making them known to me.]
[Boom!!….]
“…….”
Elias smirked beside me, patting my back. Munich-Freising bishops had nowhere to flee now. No leadership support either. Leo’s voice came over.
[101st Batch, archbishop’s residence coordinates destroyed. Moving to final stronghold.]