Ice Vapor Goddess

Chapter 76 Refraction as a Blade
The third holy site in Siren was half-completed from the day the church chairs were dismantled and a bonfire was lit, but it made no further progress thereafter.

It looks like a bonfire, but its core meaning is "to use sacred ritual items to comfort people's suffering," and "even if it goes against the teachings of the scriptures, it does not go against the original intention of helping those in distress."

Behind him, four complete holy sites unfolded, and the newly appeared third one was an empty church and a large bonfire, with thousands of people gathered around the bonfire, wearing warm clothes and holding food in their hands.

Siron sat between them, but the cross was stained with blood.

He cut down church chairs to keep people warm, distributed church supplies to refugees to help them get through the winter, and punished evildoers to maintain order. He even violated the teaching that one should not kill, and personally executed a person without trial by a religious court.

He committed several heinous crimes, yet he saved countless lives.

What's even more darkly ironic is that the world or the gods acknowledged his actions, transforming them into a complete holy relic.

This holy site is the kind that would be debated by theologians for decades even in Florence, becoming a topic of endless debate among fundamentalists, conservatives, reformers, and other factions, generating countless graduation theses, and earning a place in books many years later.

Sacred Site: Shepherd's Campfire!
“What is divine magic?” Mathilde asked.

"Is there light?" Siron countered.

Mathilde immediately activated [Radiance], a divine spell she had recently learned.

But then Xilun gently touched the ball of light, and it rippled, shimmering like a reflection.

Then, with a slight twitch of his finger, the light was flung out—stretched into a thin streak, like a golden meteor streaking across the sky, landing on the snow at an extremely fast speed, piercing a small but very deep hole in the snow.

“Refracting light into a blade,” Xilun said. “No incantation is needed; it can be used directly—light can be fired as a blade. The stronger the light, the greater the destructive power. The speed is so fast that no one can react in time, but it is still not as lethal as a bullet.”

This sacred miracle spell perfectly inherits the unorthodox nature of sacred miracles. First, it does not require incantations for endorsement, and then the concept of "using sacred light as a weapon of slaughter" is very pragmatic.

"How agile!" Mathilde exclaimed. "It can be used as long as there is light, and it's very fast. If you aim accurately, you could even use it for assassination, right?"

Xilun thought about it and realized it was true. It didn't require a heavy sniper rifle, was silent, or extremely fast. All he needed to do was light up the [light] and flick his finger. The lack of lethality wasn't a problem; the human body has many vulnerable yet deadly parts.

However, he didn't know how she made the connection so quickly; his first reaction was simply, "She has gained an additional combat ability."

"Probably?" Xilun replied vaguely.

“Next time I’ll teach you which parts of the human body are vulnerable. If you hit them, a few beams of light can completely incapacitate them,” Mathilde said, a hint of envy in her eyes.

"Where did you learn that from?" Siren asked.

“You’ll understand once you fight a lot.” She smiled. “We didn’t have tea parties or sewing books where we were. When we were little, our parents worked in factories, and we would roll around in the mud. Nobody cared if you were a boy or a girl. If you couldn’t beat someone, you could only cry. If you could beat someone, you were a brother. If you could beat everyone, you were the king of the kids—and you could even be the captain of the soccer team.”

Xiren became a little curious: "So you're the leader of the kids?" "Yes." She nodded matter-of-factly, "No one can beat me. I take the kids on patrol in the community every day. But unfortunately, after my father went to prison, I wanted to lead them in a prison break, but no one was willing to come with me."

She seemed a little downcast: "So I was very angry. I felt that they only became my underlings because they thought it was prestigious to follow me. But when I really needed them, no one was willing to stand up for me. So when I left there, I didn't feel any reluctance. When I jumped onto the Northern Throne, I guessed that I would most likely be exposed and die, but it didn't matter anymore."

Siren paused for a moment, then suddenly said, "When I was studying in Florence, I heard someone say that there was a prison called the Bastille in a more distant place, which imprisoned all those who opposed it. One day, people were so angry that they took up guns and overturned it, which later became a great event that many people commemorate."

“That would be great,” she said. “I wish I were in that group.”

“There’s no chance now,” Celen chuckled. “But if the Bastille were to stand in our city again someday, I’d go with you to break it out of prison—and who knows, we might even tear it down while we’re at it.”

“I believe you will.” She stood up and walked towards her steam tractor. “—We’ve rested enough; it’s time to get going.”
-
Five enormous tractors lined up on the tracks, gleaming with runic light, their heavy carts making the rails creak and groan.

Not far away, people wrapped themselves in their newly acquired winter clothes, warming the food with their body heat, and looked gratefully at the people inside those heavy machines.

Green and the newly selected twenty-odd people formed the basic management team, responsible for guiding people to Speyside smoothly.

Behind them, Aldridge's headlights flashed three green lights again, signaling that they could begin their operation.

Heavy snowplows pushed aside the snow in front of them, while roller snow sweepers cleared away the remaining snow.

Further back, Kyle and another rider carefully inspected the condition of the tracks, immediately dismounting to repair or replace them if they encountered any breaks or obstacles.

The condition of the railway tracks was not optimistic. After being buried in snow for more than ten days, the steel structure was even more fragile. The flatbed cart behind it was a behemoth weighing nearly 100 tons, and every step it took made the steel emit a tooth-grinding groan and an unsettling cracking sound.

The progress was slower than expected, and Kyle and his team were forced to keep getting off to make repairs. Even the last few people got off the vehicle. In comparison, the refugees were moving much faster.

Green was about to come over and ask if he needed help when he saw several burly men emerge from the refugee line, along with some middle-aged men and even elderly men with gray beards.

Under Kyle's astonished gaze, the strong young man shouldered the steel, while several experienced blacksmiths or steelworkers pointed and commented on the rails.

Several women also came to the car and asked if it was possible to bake things on the hot mercury reactor. After getting permission, they heated the bread and canned food there briefly and delivered them to the construction site.

The refugees took complete control of the rail maintenance, and Kyle simply took on purely manual labor.

The old workers and refugees who had worked as designers gathered together to discuss the matter, wrapped in winter coats printed with the Messianic cross.

In the vast snowfield and the perpetually frozen blizzard, the great fire of Red Mercury was extinguished, but a new fire was lit.

(End of this chapter)