Direction and Special Effects
"God always speaks loudest in silence."
The moment those words left his lips, the black-haired man half-closed his eyes and began to tremble slightly.
It might have looked ridiculous. Yet, no one laughed.
The solemn atmosphere, the exotic features of the Easterner, and the vibration of his body as if struck by lightning created a bizarre aura—as if 'something' was descending.
Gulp.
In an instant, the sound of people swallowing hard in tension echoed simultaneously around the table.
Beneath the table, the sound of someone's knees buckling could be heard.
Someone wiped the sweat from their brow; someone else bowed their head without realizing it.
In the quiet meeting room, only Doyunes disrupted the undulating air.
Then, his trembling stopped, and his closed eyes slowly opened.
Pure white. Eyes devoid of emotion or warmth.
The presence of a single human that had emanated from the black-haired Easterner completely vanished the moment he quietly drew the sacred sign.
At first, it felt like an illusion of nothingness. He was right there, yet he did not exist. His voice, his movements, his presence—all faded.
Was he standing? Was he sitting? They couldn't even tell. Their minds recognized him visually, but their senses rejected his existence. A cognitive dissonance between sight and perception. His presence was warped.
And in an instant, that distortion swelled.
"Gasp!"
"Ack—!"
The only thing they could clearly see was the smiling Eastern man before them.
The attendees could no longer perceive anyone else in the room. An overwhelming presence, like a towering mountain, eclipsed everything else. It felt as though only Doyunes and themselves existed in the entire world.
The figure was towering. No, it was more than that. It was a presence no human could possess. A pressure that no living creature of flesh and blood could exert.
If there was anything comparable, it would be a Demon King. But even that felt faint in comparison.
Could it be? Is that... a god?
"Yamen."
"..Yamen."
"..Ya, Yamen."
What is the biggest difference between modern and medieval religions? True faith? Devout hearts? No. It's the direction.
Grand stage setups. Appropriate visual and sound effects. The actor's performance and aura. Only when all of these come together do people become wild and captivated.
You can't expect modern stage equipment or sound effects in the Middle Ages. But even without them, I had the abilities to produce those exact effects.
I decided to use another utility skill. Just yesterday, I had finally accumulated enough currency to afford a single draw.
My Gacha and Daily Check-in were both enhanced to +13.
The reward range for Gacha had expanded from [1st Tier] - [3rd Tier] to [1st Tier] - [9th Tier].
And the currency received from the Daily Check-in had increased nearly fifty-fold.
As soon as Yerin returned to her tent and left me alone, I immediately activated the skill.
Gacha.
1,000 Coins consumed.
The Gacha wheel is spinning!
I pressed the glowing golden button. The rapidly spinning wheel slowly ground to a halt.
I wasn't asking for much.
Just a 5th Tier. Please.
It passed.
A 4th Tier isn't bad either.
Passed.
...A 3rd Tier is still somewhat usable—
Passed.
A 2nd Tier... well, it's better than nothing. Just give me this—
Passed.
And then, the result of that absurdly low probability appeared in my mind.
◈ Intensity: Barely strong enough to blow out a candle.
I had intentionally suppressed my presence to the level of an [Ant], only to spike it to the absolute maximum the moment I drew the sacred sign.
Presence That Terrifies Even the Demon King
Intensity: [Ant] → [Demon King]
There was no physical sensation of change. Did it... actually activate?
I squinted slightly and carefully scanned my surroundings.
When I raised my head, I saw people frozen stiff.
Seeing these medieval folks—who could laughingly talk about stuffing a human head into a salt jar—looking completely traumatized, I didn't know exactly what they were seeing or feeling, but it clearly wasn't anything light.
I spoke as calmly as possible.
"A revelation has descended."
Every single eye locked onto me.
Reacting to my voice, the Grand General stood up and took a step forward. His eyes held caution, hesitation, and a strange anticipation all at once.
"...What kind of revelation is it?"
At his question, the method acting of 'Han Nuri'—the fanatic from that movie—began to seep into my very bones.
In that instant, I immediately used the skill.
Activate the one-time ability.
Inside the sealed barracks, the air rippled slightly.
And then... whoosh.
The candles on the table flickered precariously before dying out all at once.
The barracks plunged into pitch darkness.
Before panic could set in and break their concentration, I activated my second ability.
Now that the stage direction was set, it was time for the special effects. I used my class perk.
The ability I received as a class perk: Fanaticism.
The primary effect of this ability was faith. But as a secondary effect, it produced a faint, subtle halo behind my back.
What I needed right now was the latter.
I slowly opened my mouth. The stage was set. Now, all I had to do was look like the agent of a god.
"Prepare the oil and cloth. On the day the wind reverses, the sky shall be dyed in a different color."
On one side of the meeting room, Priest Chris of the Aling Sect sat quietly.
Dispatched on a humanitarian mission, he had initially looked upon the man with deep skepticism.
To him, any god other than Aling was a false deity. His ironclad rule was that those with false beliefs must be guided to become 'good.'
And to him, the only good heretic was a decapitated heretic.
The only reason he hadn't moved yet was out of respect for the royalty sitting in this room.
Once this meeting concluded, he intended to report this immediately to the Holy Order and have the heretic brought to judgment.
However, those thoughts did not last long.
From the moment the black-haired Easterner half-closed his eyes and began to tremble, Chris could not tear his gaze away for even a second.
Time felt like a mere instant. Before he knew it, the ritual was drawing to a close.
Struggling to maintain his composure, Chris felt a shift.
The moment the sacred sign was drawn, the very air inside the barracks transformed.
A sensation he had never experienced before washed over him. He saw the Easterner before him. And the man no longer looked small.
God.
The divine form of a deity, which he had never witnessed despite dedicating his entire life to his faith, now stood right before his eyes.
It—it is sorcery! O Aling, please look upon your pitiful lamb in this hour of trial, so that—
He tried to steel his heart, but it was futile.
The flames flickered.
To prevent any sound from leaking, every single opening connecting the barracks to the outside had been sealed. There was absolutely no way for wind to enter.
As that realization struck him, his face flushed. His chest tightened, and his heart pounded.
Finally, the precariously flickering flames died out.
Yet, the darkness did not dare encroach upon the man.
Light. A gentle, subtle light was protecting him.
"Ah..."
His eyes glazed over, losing their focus.
"This is... Ifrit..."
This was the exact moment Chris, an inquisitor priest who had dedicated twenty years of his life to the Aling Sect, switched his religion.
⊳ Knight 'James' has embraced the true faith.
⊳ Commander of One Thousand 'Caron' has embraced the true faith.
⊳ Commander of One Thousand 'Gais' has embraced the true faith.
⊳ Commander of Ten Thousand 'Caron' has embraced the true faith.
⊳ Knight 'Lacru' has embraced the true faith.
...
⊳ Inquisitor Priest of the Aling Sect 'Chris' has converted to the true faith.
During the two days following the meeting, preparations went smoothly.
This was largely thanks to the cooperation of the leadership, who were surprisingly compliant and proactive.
Neither of the two royals present in the meeting room raised any objections or resistance to my words.
On the contrary, they threw their support behind this operation more passionately than anyone else.
The result of that effort was now before me: mountains of arrows, cloth, and oil.
Now, it was truly all or nothing.
The galleons were approaching.
As expected, the Zenith Kingdom's army had not turned back.
With their bows pointed forward, they made no effort to hide their hostile intent.
They probably thought it was already over.
They did have a larger force, and massive vessels like galleons naturally instilled a sense of security.
Fortunately, contrary to our intelligence reports, those ships were transport vessels, not warships.
They lacked cannons, and their formation was loose.
It was a cautious opening move, meant to test the Elium Kingdom's reaction.
Unfortunately, they had vastly overestimated the Elium Kingdom.
Our kingdom possessed spies of a much lower caliber than they assumed, and those spies had drafted reports without even distinguishing between military and civilian vessels.
I wasn't quite sure whether to laugh or cry about that.
In the distance, a colossal vessel that stood out even among the other ships caught my eye.
That was likely where she—the legendary administrator, Rachel Auf Krin—was stationed.
