Under the Evil God's Guidance
After managing the church under the guidance of the Evil God and clashing with the Iron Masks several times, Seraphina spent a great deal of time pondering how to deploy her followers. A force armed with the Evil God's gifts was undeniably powerful, but that did not make them an invincible army.
Even on this ruined Earth, she had encountered that iron-skinned Iron Mask when she first claimed the church's headquarters. And if she turned her gaze back to the Continent, the threats multiplied exponentially. In truth, the Evil God's gifts were not exceptionally powerful on their own. Their true advantage lay in their accessibility—they required not a single drop of mana, allowing even an ordinary person to wield lethal force. In terms of raw destructive power, however, they fell short of the Continent's true powerhouses.
Even near a Gate, swordmasters and tower masters could still exert their might, and those below them could at least unleash a single devastating strike. To her followers, who lacked the [Forcefield] of the otherworldly beasts, even that single spell could prove fatal.
What, then, was the solution? Seraphina and Merlin had put their heads together to find an answer. They analyzed the church's unique traits: beastman warriors and Thunder Staffs. They needed to devise a strategy that maximized these assets. The tactics they conceived became the core of their raid on the auction house.
* First: Command via Merlin's illusion magic. Illusions could be overlaid onto the eyes of allies, and Merlin could manipulate their contents at will. Through these visual overlays, he could relay precise, real-time instructions directly to the followers.
"Hehehe. When I researched this on my own battlefields, it yielded nothing but failure. But this time, it shall bear magnificent fruit."
Normally, such a strategy would be useless. The moment a warrior channeled their mana, the illusion would naturally disperse. This was why mages treated illusion magic as little more than a jester's trick—it was far too easy to break. Elite soldiers capable of manipulating mana were immune to it, while ordinary soldiers were too inefficient to command effectively even with it. Because of this irony, commanding through illusion magic had long been discarded from the Continent's military doctrines.
Yet, this irony was completely resolved if ordinary soldiers, who used no mana, could unleash high-level destructive force. Guided by Merlin's real-time commands, the beastmen displayed flawless coordination without any formal training. They were so effective that they could easily overwhelm even a Hero, provided the latter was weakened near a Gate.
* Second: Obstructing the enemy's vision. Most beastmen possessed night vision. Excluding the elderly Merlin and Seraphina, the darker it was, the more one-sided their visual advantage became. Thus, the moment she stepped through the Gate into the auction house, Seraphina's first task was to locate the light sources. Though it was her first time at the Bruton Auction, gathering information was trivial. Seraphina possessed a talent—a talent that allowed her to find whatever information she needed whenever she was on the Continent.
As I thought. There are quite a few eyes watching this place.
The moment she crossed the Gate, she activated her gaze detection. Vivid colors painted themselves across the empty air. Wherever a believer stood, a gaze lingered. She searched for the gazes of the Constellations looking down on the auction from the heavens, focusing her mind particularly on the one worshiped by the auction's host. It was a gloomy, blue-green hue. Compared to the otherworldly Evil God, it felt incredibly small and feeble.
Ha. Maybe it's because I've only been looking at the Evil God's gaze lately, but this one feels... kind of pathetic.
Seraphina let out a dry chuckle as she analyzed the blue-green gaze. This, too, was only possible because she was a priestess of the Evil God. Normally, once a priest chose a Constellation to serve, they dedicated all their senses and spirituality to their deity. They would become blind to other gazes and grow distant from the presence of other Constellations. All of a priest's talents would converge upon their own deity. The greater their talent, the more efficient their divine power became, and the easier it was to channel their god's Authority—but it also became impossible to look elsewhere.
But the Evil God was different. The Evil God of the other world—a being whose very existence seemed fundamentally distinct from the Constellations. He did not monopolize Seraphina's talents. Instead, he left them unbound, constantly stimulating them. His grand touch had unlocked entirely new facets within the girl's five senses.
Thanks to him, I've gotten used to reading the intent behind these gazes.
Now, through her gaze detection, Seraphina could perceive far more than mere sight. She could faintly grasp the intent hidden within a Constellation's glance. That ability told her exactly what she needed. Deciphering the true meaning behind the blue-green gaze, she extracted the necessary information.
...Found it. The switch.
Just like that, Seraphina located the fortress's lockdown switch. She cut the lights, plunging the area into darkness, and hid herself in the shadows. She replaced her physical sight with gaze detection, and used her followers as her hands and feet. Beneath the blanket of night, the beasts began to run wild. Even the Hero could not halt their advance and was forced to flee.
* The raid on the auction house led by Seraphina ended in a resounding success. Although the Hero had been an unexpected variable, he had been dealt with surprisingly easily given his reputation. Seraphina led her followers to secure the auction goods. They gathered not only the items put up for bid, but also every valuable found on the corpses. The VIPs in the second-floor private rooms were no exception. They had taken great care of their safety, even hiring A-rank hunters as bodyguards, but they were utterly powerless before the onslaught of the Evil God's church. In fact, because of their high status, the gazes of the Constellations clung to them heavily, making them nothing more than easy prey for Seraphina.
Rat-tat-tat! The followers did not hesitate to pull their triggers. This was a black market auction house that kidnapped innocent people to sell them into slavery. The people treated as honored guests in such a place could not possibly have clean hands. Furthermore, the mere thought of Hector and her other followers being enslaved by these people washed away any trace of guilt.
Let's gather as much of the Continent's currency as possible. We might find ourselves in a similar situation again.
It took a full day for the followers to sweep the entire fortress for money. Seraphina then crossed back through the Gate with their spoils. By now, the area surrounding the Gate had been completely transformed into the church's territory. After resting nearby for a night to recover, they returned to the Continent. The moment she stepped through the portal, Seraphina's necklace pulsed with a warm heat. Arriving once more at the abandoned fortress, she tracked the gazes of the Constellations. She pursued the Hero and the auction attendees who had fled with him. With the path laid out before her in real-time, the labyrinth beneath the fortress posed no obstacle at all.
She had intended to wrap up the incident by reclaiming her kidnapped followers and eliminating everyone else. She didn't care if they were the Hero's party; the mere fact that they were protecting the scoundrels who had kidnapped her people was enough to earn them death. However, the moment she saw the face of the priestess in the Hero's party, Seraphina's mind completely changed.
Senior Rowena?
The priestess of the Hero's party. Seraphina knew her. She was a priestess of Order who had grown up alongside Seraphina in Renatus's orphanage. She had graduated two years ahead of Seraphina and reportedly joined the headquarters of the Holy Order of Order. They had occasionally exchanged greetings in the past—an old acquaintance met after a long time.
Of course, if that had been all, Seraphina would have ordered her death without a second thought. But within Rowena's trembling, terror-stricken eyes, a distinct pattern had manifested. A pattern Seraphina could never ignore.
A golden pentagram in a blue eye...!
The symbol of the Council that Renatus had warned her about in his final moments. The brand marking the targets of Seraphina's vengeance. Naturally, Rowena herself could not be a member of the Council; her divine power and Authority were far too weak. But it was clear she was connected to a member of the Council in some way.
I heard Senior Rowena's mentor is a Cardinal of the Holy Order of Order. If so, then—
In an instant, several schemes formed in Seraphina's mind. Plans to use Rowena as bait to draw out the Cardinal behind her. Because they were conceived on the spot, none of them were fully fleshed out. They were still in the realm of raw ideas. Yet, one premise was absolutely clear: Rowena must not die here. Her death needed to be far more dramatic, far more destructive. She could not simply perish in an attack by mysterious, otherworldly monsters. She had to die on a stage perfectly set by Seraphina, serving as the bait that would drag her mentor, the Cardinal, down with her.
That realization spared the lives of the Hero's party. Seraphina threw her dazed senior to the ground and whispered to Merlin.
"Do not kill them. Just subdue them. They might be useful later."
"Hmm. Very well, Saintess. A fire mage will not die easily from a bit of heat."
Merlin quickly subdued the red-haired spitfire. The followers took care of the pathetically wailing Hero. Seraphina walked over to her followers, who were kneeling in a corner of the dungeon. Removing the gas mask that covered her face, she spoke with gentle benevolence.
"You have suffered greatly. It is time to go home."
Hector and the others, who had been momentarily startled by her unmasked face, relaxed at her words. They wagged their tails and offered their gratitude.
"Thank you, Saintess..."
"I knew it! I believed in you! God would never abandon us!"
Seraphina handed the rescued captives over to Merlin. Most of them were indeed the kidnapped followers of the church, save for one elf she had never seen before.
"The Iron Masks were human?! W-Wait! Take me with you too! I'll be useful, I swear! I'll do whatever it takes!!"
Due to her desperate pleading, she was permitted to join them. In truth, she would have met the same fate even without her begging. The church of the Evil God always welcomed new followers.
"Shall we head back, then?"
"""Yes, Saintess!"""
Seraphina spoke, and the followers—having just finished off the remaining survivors, including the auction host—answered in a roaring chorus.
The raid on the Continent's auction house, triggered by the kidnapping of a church follower, had come to an end. It left behind 193 dead, 3 injured, and one young beastman girl who was released after being treated with great care by the followers. Having gifted the church a massive hoard of physical wealth, an elf slave, and a strange black ring, the unofficial first operation of the Evil God's church on the Continent concluded in resounding success.
It was a day when an unusually refreshing breeze blew beneath the perpetually gray sky. The day after the angel sister and the animal-eared uncles had put on their gas masks and departed for some far-off place. In the now somewhat lonely church headquarters, a young girl played. Having eaten her breakfast as usual, she had come up to the surface to tame the local beasts. Cradling a red-eyed rabbit in her arms, she lay down on a small hill. Feeling the rabbit's steady heartbeat, she stared blankly up at the sky, watching the clouds drift through the polluted atmosphere.
After some time had passed, a new figure stepped into her quiet field of vision, blocking her view of the sky. The girl turned her head slightly. He was a very tall young man, someone she had never seen before during her time at the church. Despite appearing to be an ordinary human, his body was large and solid, much like the animal-eared uncles. A longsword hung at his waist, and a long, spear-like weapon with a crescent blade was slung across his back. He wore black trousers and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing several scars on his arms. His physique spoke of a seasoned warrior, battle-hardened and resolute.
Yet, looking up at his face, the girl felt an inexplicable sense of comfort. Perhaps it was because his hair was a pale gray, like the ruins of the city, and his clear eyes were a deep brown, like healthy earth. Or perhaps, to a girl who had suffered sexual exploitation at the hands of men wearing gas masks, someone walking the streets freely without one was