The more she looked, the more familiar the maids beside the two bishops seemed to her.
At that moment.
The door to the meeting room was pushed open, and Annie, still covered in spots of mud, walked in panting.
Her expression was far from pleasant.
Left behind by Sislia in Fos Town and forced to mix cement all afternoon—she would have to be crazy to enjoy it.
She pouted, then pulled out a photograph from her clothes.
“Here, Your Holiness, this is what you needed.”
Sislia, seated at the main seat, reached out and took it.
She then used her other hand to ruffle Annie’s hair.
“Good work, Annie. I’m giving you a week off. Have a good rest.”
“Paid leave.”
Annie’s face instantly lit up with energy, her eyes brimming with tears like little pearls.
“Lady Sis! You’re the best!”
Sislia casually waved Annie off.
She placed the photograph on the table.
In the photograph.
A person clad in blood-red battle armor was about to step into a rather silent church.
But only their back was visible, as if the picture had been taken in secret.
Seeing the puzzled faces of Ilena and the others, Sislia took the initiative to explain.
“This is a photo of someone from the Church of War entering the Church of Procreation.”
“Of course, I had someone forge it for me.”
Naya’s red lips parted in surprise.
“This is a photo? And it can even be faked?!”
Ilena was the same, though she looked a bit more composed than Naya.
“Calm down, Naya. Don’t forget, the camera was invented by Your Highness.”
Sislia smiled gently. “By tomorrow, this photograph will be all over the streets and alleys.”
“Adding more fuel to this Plot of Light.”
***
Far beyond the two empires, at the Fallen Holy Mountain.
This holy mountain, soaring tens of thousands of meters high, is said to be the place where a god once fell.
It is also where the War Fortress stands.
And what is called the War Fortress is, in fact, the mountain itself.
Within the church.
There are many arenas, Gladiatorial Arenas.
Believers are constantly fighting and battling inside.
With a loud bang, the entire Fallen Holy Mountain quaked.
In the most sacred temple of all.
War Pope Sadam slammed his palm down in fury, shattering the round table.
“Damn Sislia! How dare she do this!”
“And that Goddess of Fertility, always hiding—she’s clearly just a feeble lower god, yet she dares to offend my lord like this?!”
“When has my Church of War ever been looked down upon like this?”
A legendary Supernatural, seeing this, hurriedly tried to console his pope.
“Your Holiness, there’s no need for this. It’s just a minor incident.”
But as soon as he spoke, he regretted it.
The pope glanced at him coolly, and just that glance made his whole body freeze, as if falling into an ice pit.
It felt as if the tip of a long spear was pressed right to his forehead.
“If it were just this, of course I wouldn’t care.”
“What truly displeases me about the Goddess of Fertility and the Church of the Dawn is that they have ended the war between the two empires.”
Sadam stood up, his seemingly sturdy body covered in scars on his back.
“Could it be… the Dawn Goddess faked her fall because she saw through my lord’s intent to stir up a continent-wide war…”
His brow furrowed, and his eyes, as sharp as a hawk’s, flashed with a blood-red gleam.
“Only my lord, the God of War, myself, and a few half-gods in the church know of this.”
“How could the Dawn Goddess know? Unless there’s a problem within?”
“It’s impossible for me. Bert is utterly loyal, Vili gave his life for my lord, and the rest have all been vouched for. That leaves only—my lord…”
Sadam suddenly trembled all over, startled by his own thoughts.
Just then.
A furious voice echoed from outside the holy mountain, resounding in the ears of every Church of War believer.
“Sadam! Get out here!”
“You shameless, brainless fool—why did you send the Destruction Dragon Fingris to attack my Church of the Ocean?!”
Sadam froze, his brow creasing even deeper.
That fierce voice was all too familiar—Paris, the Pope of the Church of the Ocean.
“What is this stupid woman doing, causing trouble at a time like this?”
Sadam’s mood was already foul, and Paris’s shouting only made him even more irritable.
He led his high officials out of the fortress quickly.
Paris, Pope of the Church of the Ocean, had brought her Supernaturals and was clearly here for trouble.
Behind them was a group whose strongest were only legendary Supernaturals.
“People from the Church of Procreation?” Sadam frowned slightly.
He had a vague sense that something was odd about these Church of Procreation folk; their auras were rather gloomy.
But remembering how the God of Procreation had been withdrawn lately, he paid them no mind, merely staring at Paris coldly.
“Paris, what gives you the courage to behave so rudely before the Church of War?”
“Are you hoping my lord will pay a visit to your lord’s God Kingdom of Atlantis?”
Paris’s skin was pure white, her long wavy blue hair perfectly smooth.
“Heh, you send the Destruction Dragon to attack me and the Church of Procreation, and now you’re trying to threaten me?”
“My Church of the Ocean and the Church of Procreation both had believers witness the Destruction Dragon running toward your side.”
“And who doesn’t know your God of War has close ties with the Destruction Dragon God?”
“Raising a Destruction Dragon is only to be expected.”
Sadam snorted coldly.
“Hmph! Arrogant!”
“Even if my Church of War really did have a Destruction Dragon, what could you do? Hold us responsible?”
At these words.
Paris’s expression hardened, her eyes growing ever colder.
She took two deep breaths.
“It killed four of my legendary Supernaturals and severely wounded a half-god.”
A legendary Supernatural from the Church of Procreation chimed in.
“It ate three of our legendary Supernaturals as well. The loss to our Church of Procreation is immense.”
However, this legendary Supernatural’s voice was extremely hoarse and heavy.
“I’ll say it once: My Church of War has no Destruction Dragon.”
“Don’t you know what the Church of the Dawn has been up to? At this time, you’re attacked by the Destruction Dragon, and you come causing trouble for me?”
Paris sneered, the trident in her hand radiating a deep blue aura.
“I know. But, Pope Sadam, do you really think—”
“With just the current Church of the Dawn and that little Church of Procreation, they could possibly tame a Destruction Dragon?”
Sadam said no more.
Now that things had come to this, there was nothing more to discuss.
Paris was obviously intent on continuing to make trouble.
As both sides’ killing intent began to rise and the atmosphere grew increasingly tense—
A black-robed figure quietly slipped out of a small Space Rift.
He simply stood behind Sadam, his presence perfectly concealed.
But a vast, dense aura of malice gathered around him, continuously pouring into the bodies of the Church of War members.
Paris’s eyes widened, her pupils trembling.
Zorg gently removed his mask, revealing an unnaturally bewitching face.
He put a finger to his lips, signaling Paris to keep quiet.
Then, like a magician, Zorg pulled out a Black Chopper from his robe.
The tip was a dark green, emanating a terrifyingly corrosive aura.
He thrust forward, the blade tip naturally piercing into War Pope Sadam’s body.
But it only went three inches in before going no further.
Without hesitation, Zorg withdrew the blade and stabbed Sadam in the shoulder.
Then his figure flickered.
Along the way, he stabbed several legendary Supernaturals of the Church of War.
Dealing with them was easy, like stabbing through tofu—utterly effortless.
A dozen or so wet splats rang out in succession.
Only then did Sadam come back to his senses.
He had never expected anyone to lurk near the Church of War and ambush him now.
A wave of numbing, stabbing pain spread from the wound across his whole body.
But his half-god physique and mental power allowed him to react swiftly.
He swung out a fierce punch, a Blood Wave smashing through the spatial barrier.
But that brief moment of delay was enough for Zorg to escape.
The massive crimson fist, imbued with irresistible Divine Might, crashed down on the Fallen Holy Mountain.
Sadam looked grimly at the dozen or so felled Church of War members.
He touched his own wound.
“What a strange Poison—and such a polluted aura as well.”
At the side, Paris looked down with a complex expression.
She saw—
Between her cleavage, someone had placed a Note.
“Paris, it’s been a long time — Zorg.”
“You bastard, still so eager to get yourself killed.”
***
In an unknown otherworldly space.
Zorg staggered, suddenly coughed, and spat out a puddle of black-gold blood.
“The War Pope is indeed a very difficult half-god to hunt.”