“Your… Your Holiness the Pope.”
Nilo immediately wiped the astonishment from his face, straightened his body, and executed a perfect military salute.
His heart was in turmoil.
The Pope visiting the military academy at midnight, bypassing all guards, and entering this top-secret tactical simulation chamber directly… This was anything but ordinary.
“Instructor Nilo.”
Feink’s voice was as dry as dead leaves rubbing together, devoid of any emotion.
“No need for formalities. I’m merely… a bit curious about the future fate of Arslan.”
He slowly paced to the side of the magic sand table.
The eyes hidden in the shadow of his hood seemed to carry a tangible weight as they fell upon the light representing the Falushir Squad.
“The Sentinel Plan… I’ve heard of it.”
The Pope’s voice echoed through the silent hall, unusually clear.
“A… very… very ingenious concept.”
Nilo’s heart clenched.
He had expected the Pope to object, even rebuke.
After all, even if it exploited the revival trait of outsiders, the Sentinel Plan itself was a tactic that disregarded life—something that, within the Lishen Church which preached God’s Grace, could easily be seen as blasphemy.
Yet, the word the Pope used was “ingenious.”
“To turn chaos into one’s own strength, to use heresy to cleanse evil.”
Feink extended a withered finger and lightly tapped the drifting green lights through the air.
“Commander Falushir. She always manages to surprise. She is not bound by traditional morality or Honor, but instead chooses the most pragmatic and efficient path. For that, I deeply approve.”
Approval?
Nilo was completely confused.
Shouldn’t this man, who held the faith of the entire continent, be enraged by such desecration of life?
“Your Holiness the Pope… You overpraise.”
Nilo chose his words cautiously.
“The Commander’s actions were a stopgap, born of desperation. With heavy losses at the front, this was the only way to gain maximum strategic depth at the smallest cost.”
“A stopgap?”
The Pope let out a faint, unreadable laugh.
The sound squeezed from his lips like wind through a leaky skull, chilling to the bone.
“No, Instructor Nilo, this is not a stopgap. This is… evolution.”
He turned, the shadow of his hood facing Nilo directly—like twin bottomless black holes.
“You’re a smart man, Nilo. You must see that the Rules of this world are undergoing… interesting changes. The old power structures, laws of war, even the boundaries of life and death, are being rewritten by a higher, stronger will.”
His words were like a poisoned key, suddenly prying open the most unsettling door in Nilo’s heart.
“These outsiders,”
For the first time, there was a trace of near-fanatical passion in the Pope’s tone.
“They are not heresy, but the gospel of a new world—God’s most direct revelation to us mortals. They show us that power can be quantified, death can be reset, and Rules can be exploited.”
Nilo felt his blood turn to ice.
What was the Pope saying?
He was interpreting the existence of players as a divine revelation?
This completely overturned the core doctrine of the Lishen Church, built up over thousands of years!
“Your Holiness…”
Nilo’s voice was hoarse.
“Forgive my ignorance. I cannot understand your meaning. These outsiders’ behavior is full of uncertainty; they have no loyalty to the Kingdom. Bringing them into our system is no different from seeking skin from a tiger.”
“A tiger?”
Feink chuckled again, his laughter filled with condescending pity.
“No, they are not tigers. They are… tools. The sharpest blade bestowed upon this world by the new God. And Commander Falushir—she was the first to learn how to wield that blade.”
The Pope stepped closer, the chill emanating from him nearly freezing Nilo solid.
“Think, Nilo.”
The Pope’s voice dropped to a whisper, like a devil murmuring in the dark.
“When you can command an army of warriors who do not truly die through Missions, when you can manipulate hearts using something as simple as Favorability—how much meaning is left in the old concepts of Royal Authority, nobility, and Honor?”
“A king’s order versus a Mission that offers bountiful experience points—which do you think is more appealing to these outsiders?”
Nilo felt as if struck by lightning.
His face went deathly pale.
He understood.
He finally understood the Pope’s true intent.
Feink cared nothing for doctrine, nor for order, nor even the survival of the Kingdom.
What he saw was a brand-new system of power—one that could be fully quantified and controlled!
Falushir’s Sentinel Plan earned his approval not because it could save the Kingdom, but because it proved that outsiders could be driven by Missions!
He wasn’t praising Falushir; he was coveting the Rules she had discovered.
He wanted to be the one issuing Missions!
A massive fear gripped Nilo’s heart, making it hard to breathe.
“Your Holiness… Your thoughts… are too… shocking.”
Nilo forced the words through clenched teeth, his tongue nearly numb.
“Shocking?”
Feink shook his head, a sigh of disappointment echoing from beneath the hood.
“I thought you would understand, Nilo. Someone like you should see the truth beneath appearances.”
“The real world is constructed from Rules. Whoever understands the Rules, whoever exploits them, is the master of this world.”
He placed a withered hand on Nilo’s shoulder—a touch as cold and hard as the hand of a corpse.
“Falushir is an outstanding warrior, a perfect commander. But her heart still clings to too many useless things—like loyalty to the Kingdom, pity for the people. These things will become her greatest obstacles when she tries to wield that blade.”
“But you are different, Nilo. You are a scholar. What you value is logic and efficiency. I came here to tell you… Do not let your talents be bound by outdated emotions. A great transformation is coming. The wise must choose their side.”
With those words, the Pope slowly withdrew his hand, turned, and walked toward the shadows by the door.
“Think it over, Instructor Nilo.”
His voice drifted from the entrance like a final judgment.
“When the gods begin to write the Rules themselves, clinging to the old laws becomes a form of… blasphemy.”
The door closed softly, and the suffocating chill faded with it.
The tactical simulation chamber returned to its usual silence, as if nothing had happened.
But Nilo felt as if all strength had been drained from him.
He staggered back a step, barely keeping himself upright by grabbing the cold edge of the sand table.
Cold sweat drenched his back.
He gulped for air, as if he’d just crawled out of a drowning nightmare.
He looked again at the sand table—at the solitary, resolute blue light representing Falushir.
He suddenly realized that the enemies Falushir faced were not limited to the visible monsters of the Demon Domain.
A greater, more unpredictable shadow had already spread its fangs silently from the heart of Arslan—the Lishen Church Headquarters.
And this monster named Feink was watching Falushir and the razor-sharp blade called ‘player’ in his hand with morbid interest.
—
Enormous fungal caps stretched across the rock walls and ceiling, emitting an eerie blue and yellow-green phosphorescence.
The ground was layered with thick, soft Fungal Mat, elastic underfoot—each step felt like treading on the organs of some living creature.
At the center of the operation, Falushir’s “Silent Icefield” hummed steadily.
Centered on her, a domain of pure sky-blue radiance expanded outward, spanning over ten meters.
Within the field, the air temperature plummeted below freezing.
The sweet, cloying odors were swept away by the chill, replaced by the clean, killing cold of a post-snow morning.
Colorful Fungal Mat on the ground was coated with crystalline frost, and the restless Spore Capsules trying to breach the surface froze instantly, turning into fragile ice sculptures.
“They’re coming. Left front, three.”
The voice of [Shadowfang Breaker] rang out, carrying a trace of ease.
He crouched in the shadows like a hunting leopard, the twin blades “Shadowshow” and “Broken Fang” gleaming with faint enchantment in his hands.
As he spoke, three Swamp Megalizards, their bodies twisted by spore infestation, burst from beneath the Fungal Mat.
Their once-brown scales were split open by warped fungal growths, exposing pink flesh and tiny parasitic fungal caps.
Their eyes were milky, filled only with primal hunger for warm life.
Roaring, they dragged their heavy bodies into the range of the “Silent Icefield.”
But their charge stopped the moment they crossed the boundary.
The cold struck them like invisible venomous snakes, racing up their limbs.
The slime coating their scales crystallized into ice first.
Their movements slowed, grew rigid, as if they’d fallen into a bog of time.
In three seconds, three rampaging monsters became ice statues—each frozen in its final frenzy.
“Cleanup time.”
[Shadowfang Breaker] let out a light chuckle, his figure flickering from the shadows.
He moved without a sound, leaving only a blurred afterimage.
Twin blades traced silver arcs, slicing cleanly through the statues’ weakest points.
“Crack!”
The shattering was loud in the silent cave.
Three massive heads fell from their bodies, cuts smooth as mirrors—no blood spilled, only shards of ice.
The beasts collapsed with a crash, scattering into sparkling fragments.
“Good efficiency.”
Zhao Yingyue stood beside Falushir, spear “Dragon’s Breath” in hand.
She scanned the darkness warily.
“But don’t get careless. These are just appetizers.”
“Got it, beauty.”
[Shadowfang Breaker]flicked ice from his blade, posture casual.
“But honestly, the Divine Favored Leader’s Domain Magic is too convenient—stand still and it AOE-clears the field. It’s basically an auto-farming cheat skill.”
Falushir ignored the banter.
Her eyes were closed, long lashes coated with fine frost, like an ice goddess untouched by mortal air.
Maintaining such intense Domain Magic was a huge drain, even for her.
She felt her magic draining rapidly, cold sweat beading on her forehead, freezing in the chill she herself produced.
The Purification Plan was proceeding perfectly.
The Silent Icefield neutralized airborne spores; then the highly mobile [Shadowfang Breaker] swept up the mindless monsters, minimizing resource consumption as they advanced steadily toward the depths of the Mycelium Mother Nest.
But just then, a completely different presence appeared.
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