Today, they too are going to their deaths.

On the outskirts of the city, royal agents are assembling.

They arrived sporadically, and most of them seemed somewhat reluctant.

Normally, they're happy to beat up ordinary gangsters, cultists, and low-level superhumans that they could easily defeat. Even when faced with tasks that deviate slightly from their regular jobs, they're not stingy with their efforts for the sake of their own compensation.

But facing a formidable enemy that even the hunter had to call for help is a different story.

This can really kill you.

Only young people who have just entered this profession will feel that they are the pillars of the country, an important force protecting civilians, and are willing to give their lives for the kingdom.

After a period of time, and after experiencing those sordid trials, the foolish young people will realize that they are merely maintaining stability.

Unlike other ordinary jobs, the rewards of being a royal agent are wealth, privilege, and most importantly, extraordinary power.

But being stronger than others is not a reason to die.

On the contrary, this gave them the opportunity to escape.

They are probably the only ones who can escape from this city that is about to be destroyed.

Even standing on the edge of the city, the agents could sense the expanding spirituality in the distance and perceive the anomalies throughout the city.

A ritual powerful enough to destroy the entire city has begun. As time goes by, everyone here may die. Unlike ordinary rituals, this time they cannot find the key point or the symbol.

The enemy's strength was so high that they couldn't even comprehend it. It wasn't a question of whether they should risk their lives, but rather that such a sacrifice would be utterly meaningless.

Therefore, Alice gave them a reason to fight to the end.

"I just briefed Prince Charlemagne, and he demanded that we fight to the bitter end, or he will torture all the surviving agents' relatives and friends, including your dogs!"

The agents' eyes all turned to Alice, who was wearing steam-powered armor. Their anger and hatred were almost overflowing, but Alice didn't care about such things at all. She just continued, "Inside the city, someone needs to stop the possible unrest and unite all the forces in the city."

"I have already sent messengers to inform the nobles, government officials, workers' representatives, and followers of the Serpent Worshippers to prepare. Those of you skilled in dealing with illegal assemblies and routine violence, stay in the city."

"Outside the city, we need to establish a ceremonial position, and at the same time, we need someone to contact the military to direct the artillery fire and the steam behemoths."

"Torn, Booth, and Valois—these three bear the mark of my direct connection, and I've already instructed them to call for reinforcements from the army base. So, the only task left for the rest is ceremonial warfare. We must keep the enemy outside the city and prevent them from using the city's population resources to expand their advantage."

"The local snake worshippers, led by Ms. Doreen, will cooperate with us temporarily."

"My plan is as described above. Do you have anything else to say?"

Someone raised their hand and said, "I want to stay in the city. I'm very good at sniping insurgents."

Alice stated in an unquestionable tone, "Sean, as the local head, I have the right to access the identity files of every support agent, including your work reports. You are skilled in close combat and defensive magic, and you once missed a crucial opportunity to protect yourself, almost causing the disaster to escalate."

"You shouldn't have stayed."

"Villon, Walker, Demuel, Hassa..."

Alice read out the names of one agent after another that she believed were capable of handling the city's affairs. Each person called out involuntarily straightened up, recalling how they were during their training.

"I think it's the best choice for you to stay. Anyone else have any objections?"

The other agents shook their heads repeatedly, with Sean, who had just been mentioned, shaking his head even more vigorously, but Alice was not satisfied.

She roared, "Answer me loudly! Do you accept orders? Are you fighting to protect the lives of others, to uphold the promises you made?"

This posture was so solemn, it was as if she really regarded those oaths as a responsibility she had to bear, rather than a job, that some agents wanted to question Alice: Is it necessary to put on such an act?

Then they saw the helmet of the steam-powered armor pop open, revealing a young yet resolute face.

She scanned each person intently, as if trying to see into their very souls, and repeated:

Answer me!

Royal agents don't have connections; at most, they can accumulate more power before graduation by relying on family inheritance.

As far as they know, every promotion for a Royal Secret Service agent is based solely on merit.

Normally, a young woman cannot rise to a high position based on seniority alone, unless she works very hard and perseveres even after realizing the true nature of the job.

What had she gone through to finally reach this high position? The agents didn't know the answer, but looking at that young face, they seemed to see their past selves.

We once swore an oath to protect the kingdom, the royal family, and the people, and to serve our duty with all our might, giving our lives and honor.

"No objections!" The shouts rose and fell, but in just a few breaths they merged into a unified voice.

It was as if they were still on the training field, facing the instructor who had deceived them for the first half of their lives, repeatedly instilling in them a sense of responsibility, honor, and self-sacrifice.

Alice wasted no more time; she simply said, "Then, let's begin!"

With that, she boarded the steam-powered troop carrier first.

She didn't want to be slower than those bastards who worshipped the snakes.

Unfortunately, she overestimated the organizational capacity of the local snake worship cult.

On a high ground outside the city, Doreen, who had come alone with sixty blood coins, was setting up a ceremony by herself.

If royal agents don't feel they should risk their lives for their jobs, then the current cult of snake worship has absolutely no concept of protecting civilians.

If it weren't for the fear of retribution from the mentor, most of the believers would have already run away, leaving not even blood coins behind.

But since they have already left behind blood coins and almost exhausted their spiritual energy for it, losing their ability to fight, it is reasonable for them not to provide personal support.

However, there are also those who are fanatically loyal to their mentors.

Having used refined blood money, Emil not only donated the extraordinary materials he had plundered from other death believers in recent days, but also claimed to send the scourge a serpent's curse before disappearing without a trace.

After receiving a large sum of money from Emil, Captain Jack the Pirate declared that this was a battle to uphold the honor of their faith, and that he would bring out his most prized possessions.

Doreen was even a little worried that the pirate who treated money like a religion might accidentally disrupt her plans.

Doreen activated the Light-Eating Lamp, plunging the area around her into darkness. Then, she grasped a long nail made of ice and pierced the sun bear's heart, chanting softly in the language of the ancient serpent:

"I crucify the sun and light, and shatter order, and in this I call upon the great serpent."

"You are the enemy of the sun, the destroyer of order, the seventh son of the serpent god. You have devoured seven moons, causing a thousand nights of darkness."

"Shadows are your body, death forges your scales, you move where I cannot see, killing enemies who wish to harm us for the followers of the serpent god."

"I beg you, fight to protect this land."

"Amarionga!"

Back in the era before the Serpent Cult became the strongest supernatural organization in the Kingdom of Albion, Doreen was forced to learn some extremely powerful summoning spells.

Doreen understood the essence of this kind of summoning magic better than those who completely believed in the myths compiled by the Serpent Mother and the sons of the Serpent God.

It does not pray for the sons of the serpent god to send a clone to the mortal world, but rather gathers a certain abstract power with specific symbols, releases this power through action, and ultimately shapes the power through language.

Without changing the main body, the state of the summoned creature can be fine-tuned by adding descriptions.

Doreen had intended for Amarionga to restrain his power so as not to harm others, but this summoning seemed to be amplified by some power, becoming somewhat abnormal.

The blood money she had prepared for the ceremony was consumed in an instant, and then something flickered in the shadows in the distance.

Then, she saw a cross-shaped pupil as big as her head.

Doreen held her breath, frozen in place, not daring to move an inch.

The thing that was definitely not Amarionga watched her silently, displaying utter curiosity. But soon, that curiosity withered away as quickly as a corpse being dried by the wind, leaving only a cold, mechanical presence.

Doreen only came to her senses and began to breathe heavily when the surrounding shadows had completely disappeared.

After tidying herself up a bit, she got on the motorcycle next to her and rode towards the city along with the serpentine train that was approaching from afar.

She has done what she could, and the slums still need her.

Hopefully, the other people in the city won't make any mistakes at this time.

Factory area.

Menov, who was discussing things with the other workers, suddenly felt that something was wrong.

The other people's voices seemed a bit too loud, and they looked at each other as if they were enemies. Just restraining their emotions and sitting together seemed to have exhausted their patience.

Even he himself felt a little uncomfortable.

Just like the day he hit his wife.

But at this moment, there was no alcohol, only a maddening atmosphere spreading in the air.

Those engulfed by this atmosphere were like people who had drunk a lot of strong liquor that brought a burning sensation. As a result, intoxication outweighed reason, anger overcame kindness, and a wild, beast-like madness began to throb in their bones and blood.

If this continues, something that no one wants to see will definitely happen.

Changes must be made.

But what can he do? What can release this madness?

Menov thought about what he had done while drunk that time.

He was disoriented by loss, yet rose up because he wanted to change.

Give everyone a "goal," a small one that can be accomplished right now, a goal that is enough to grab attention, and perhaps that will be enough to fight against this atmosphere.

"Listen to me, everyone!" Menov stood up, his gaze sweeping over each of his fellow workers whose faces contorted in rage. A raging fire burned within his soul, so intense that his eyes shone like the flames of a forge.

He said, "Let's have another march!"

Doing something like this at a time like this? Are you out of your mind?

The arguing people looked at him, their anger turning in their direction, about to burn him, but Menov was not afraid at all, and instead became even more impassioned.

"Friends, we have proven that we can also have power. Those powerful people have yielded before our strength, and the royal family has personally vouched for us. All of this is wonderful, but we have forgotten to celebrate this good thing."

"Let's march in the streets, let everyone who wants to join us celebrate this day, and give the machines and us a break."

The others wanted to berate Mennov for daring to celebrate victory prematurely, to question his intelligence and mental state, and to teach him a lesson with their fists, but before they could even raise their hands, Mennov grabbed their fists and raised them high.

"Let's go, let's go! Bring the wine, let's march! Let's sing! Let everyone hear our voices."

"We workers have power! Hey!"

Normally, they would never have paid any attention to such foolish behavior, but at this moment, the raging anger in their hearts became the catalyst for their folly.

"Build railways! Dig coal mines! The hammers pound away, shaking the heavens!"

One of the workers couldn't help but join in Menov's singing.

The initially angry crowd suddenly started singing. Each voice tried to outdo the others in volume, and their loud singing carried across several streets and even reached other people's ears.

An unplanned march thus began abruptly.

It wasn't to rebel against oppression, nor was it simply a celebration; they moved forward as if they wanted to prove something.

People who had already started fighting and even knocked out several teeth suddenly stood up, holding onto each other's shoulders, and joined the parade; people who were having a no-holds-barred family fighting competition with their windows tightly closed suddenly opened the windows and leaped into the crowd; even people who had exchanged several shots and were about to die stood up and sang as if nothing had happened.

If Andrew saw this scene, he would probably be amazed that he could see a Dionysian festival again in the Kingdom of Albion, and it even happened to coincide with the very method he originally planned to use to massacre the city.

It was as if his homeland and his closest friends were trying to stop his atrocities.

This special act, when applied to his spirituality, has an effect far exceeding that of ordinary rituals, forcefully overriding the frenzied power and transforming it into a blessing for the procession.

Andrew, who is currently locked in a fierce battle with Cui Xun, can only admire the agents.

"What excellent agents! They were able to discover my ritual in such a short time and even find a way to break it."

"Then I'll have to try another method."

"O souls slumbering beneath the earth, continue your unfinished march, and offer the bones and blood of your enemies as a sacrifice to your spirits!"