NOVPUBSeveral minutes later.
The fight came to an end, almost like a fleeting yet violent storm.
The crew and guards on the merchant ship deck were quickly overpowered and tied up with hardly any chance to resist. Their weapons scattered on the ground, their hands now only held feeble fists.
Fear and distress overflowed in their eyes, as if they could not comprehend why they had been attacked by the Resurrection Believers, and they did not want to guess what would happen next.
Among all those on the merchant ship, only Viscount Francis stood unbound. A subtle tension turned his cheeks slightly pale, and his formerly dignified appearance now seemed somewhat withered.
But he managed a helpless, resigned smile.
Viscount Francis probably guessed what was going on.
The nobles in town must have been unable to suppress their desire to replace him, and now, there was this ridiculous opportunity to eliminate him using the Rebirth Church.
Although anger burned inside him, Viscount Francis was well aware of reality. In these chaotic times, a slight misstep could get one crushed under the wheel of fate.
The Resurrection Believers in silver robes demonstrated an overwhelming power. From their brief confrontation, Viscount Francis had clearly recognized the absolute difference in combat power between the two sides.
One could even say that if the enemy wished, he and his crew were now in a life-and-death situation.
Just when this oppressive and uneasy atmosphere had permeated every corner of the deck, the Silver-armored Priest leading the Resurrection Believers approached.
This Silver-armored Priest was so powerful that no one in their entire town could match him. 𝖓𝔬𝔳𝔭𝖚𝖇.𝔠𝔬𝖒
In the capital, Fifth-order might not be uncommon. Even some exceptional talents from the Imperial Royal Academy had Fifth-order strength at a young age.
But in their remote city-states, even a Third-order was considered a strong mercenary or adventurer.
Viscount Francis’ excellent secretary and guard happened to be a Fourth-Order powerholder.
But when faced with this Silver-armored Priest, he was defeated in just a few hits, just like a child who could not fight back against an adult.
For these border people, the Resurrection Believers were completely overpowering.
No one could resist the Hegemony Branch Believers, notorious for their fierce combat power.
"Cut to the chase."
Viscount Francis stood there with an expressionless face, smoke curling at the corner of his mouth.
Being watched closely by multiple Believers, he took a deep breath and then tossed the cigarette butt into the sea.
He tried to appear as calm as possible.
Because if they didn’t kill him straight away, it meant there was probably room for negotiation.
Negotiating and even compromising with the Resurrection Believers was humiliating, but if it could save the innocent people on board and his daughter left in town, he had no choice but to swallow his pride.
The person who approached him was a Priest draped in silver armor, who emitted an oppressive aura much stronger than the others.
With his will, he could easily take the head of any person on the ship.
"Viscount Francis."
The Silver-armored Priest laughed, cross his arms on his chest,
"What is your stance towards our Rebirth Church?"
"From what I understand, I don’t want to have any involvement with you."
Viscount Francis responded.
The Silver-armored Priest chuckled, apparently not surprised by Viscount Francis’s frankness.
That’s precisely why he preferred this straightforward Viscount over the scheming pig who would only play tricks.
If he had to choose a side to cooperate with, the Silver-armored Priest would actually prefer to work with Viscount Francis rather than the crafty strategist who could stab him in the back at any time.
After all, the command of the Bishop of Hegemony was to use a combination of wisdom and power to establish absolute dominance in each town as a Priest and to have the people believe in and accept their doctrine without violating imperial law and causing trouble.
Although, in their eyes, a violation that’s not discovered is not a violation.
But he still wanted to avoid any risky situations as much as possible.
"Now, we are actively changing in accordance with the environment and have not harmed anyone. That’s my sincerity."
Having said this, the Silver-armored Priest took out a bracelet,
"But the core doctrine of our Hegemony Church is to believe in the natural rule of the strong dominating the weak. As is the case right now, since you have no power to resist us, I even hope that you can willingly cooperate with us."
"Is that so... It really sounds like something you guys could do."
Viscount Francis sneered, finding it ridiculous.
He could recognize it, this bracelet was a sort of magic tool used for low-ranking slave contracts like those of the slave traders.
The other party spoke grandly but was truly involved in illicit activities.
"I believe Lord Viscount should have made the decision by now."
The Silver-armored Priest said, looking straight at Viscount Francis.
Though the contract ceremony was a bit troublesome, through completely controlling Viscount Francis, their missionary goal had taken a significant step towards success.
Just at this time, a faintly detectable little flying bug made its way past the Silver-armored Priest’s back.
"Come and see me."
The cold and succinct command in his ear put the Silver-armored Priest on high alert.
"End of the second-floor corridor."
Another sentence.
However, when the Silver-armored Priest turned around, he found no trace of the source of the sound.
In front of his eyes, a faint blue light, accompanied by dissipating magic power, disappeared.
He frowned tightly, certain that no one had come close to him or spoken behind his back.
This sort of directional audio magic, though not necessarily of high order, was quite miraculous to him. It turned out that there was such a flamboyant mage on the ship.
"First, keep a close eye on Viscount Francis."
A cold smile tugged at the corner of the Silver-armored Priest’s lips. He was curious to see who was playing tricks.
Moreover, this unpredictable factor failed to catch his attention. He needed to personally eliminate it.
On the deck of the ship, a priest wearing silver armor slowly descended down the ship’s ladder. His armor shone with a cold glint under the sunlight, reflecting beautifully off the surrounding waves.
Despite his measured steps, each one conveyed an unspeakable sense of power.
When he entered the cabin, he looked around, searching for something.
It wasn’t long before the priest arrived at the end of the second floor of the cabin. He focused his gaze on the last door, stood in front of it for a moment, and feeling no strong magic fluctuation or trap, he twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open with a slight creak.
The room was fairly simply furnished, yet not without elegance.
A single bed, a small table, and a bookshelf filled with books and documents.
There was no one else in the room, but it was filled with a special atmosphere, as if it was the intersection of knowledge, power and faith.
On the bed sat a young man.
Light brown hair smoothly drooped in front, partly covering his eyes, but it failed to hide his calmness and ease.
He held in his hand a code of Imperial law, seeming to search for answers within. Every page he turned seemed to fuel his deep thoughts.
He seemed indifferent to the Silver-armored Priest, which could signify that either he didn’t feel the danger, or simply didn’t consider it a threat at all.
"Are you the one who called me here?"
The Silver-armored Priest asked, staring at the young man.
The latter was clearly distinguished in bearing, yet the Silver-armored priest did not sense any powerful aura from him.
The priest wouldn’t spare anyone who dared to mock him if they are weak, and if they were powerful, he would respect them.
Proving one’s strength was indeed a crucial step in their doctrine.
"..."
The brown-haired youth closed the code in his hands and slowly looked up.
Although he did not utter a word, the air seemed to freeze around him. His silence was not weakness or disengagement, but a self-evident strength that enabled anyone present to feel his inner determination and confidence.
His emerald green eyes reflected neither evident anger nor displeasure. They were an abyss of authority, placing the Silver-armored priest ill at ease for reasons unknown.
Finally, after a moment passed.
"Which unit are you from? Who’s your leader?"
Lanci asked in a nonchalant tone.
He had to go back and give lessons to the young lady from the Viscount Francis family.
Who would have known that some inferior department would cause a ruckus halfway through his journey?
