After being forced to step down, the once-annoying nun eloped with me.

He sighed in distress, and under everyone's gaze, gently pulled Lord Lalumia, who was making an inviting gesture, over. He then continued to give everyone his report on today's work.

In the parish.

Saint Cecilia sensed something strange about herself... but she didn't think much of it.

After all, the undead, who act as a natural barrier, are rapidly disappearing.

The invasion of Peter the Great was also imminent.

Chapter Six: 4/6 Ysgard's Rear Entry - 8K

On May 15, while in the central Roman Empire confronting the Khuttod Khanate and completely unaware of the secret operations of the Issugard colonial army.

The Protestant Church, led by Saint Cecilia, is preparing for the impending invasion by the Old Church.

To be honest, the undead that had once troubled her so much about how to deal with had now become a line of defense for them. As the undead dwindled and Peter the Elder's cavalry appeared more and more frequently in the distance, Cecilia quickly realized that she was about to face the same dilemma that Yang Hao had faced.

Firstly, the Protestant residents desperately needed to relieve their mental stress—they had been assisting the nuns in cleaning up the corpses of the living dead for quite some time, and if they didn't rest, it would be a question of whether they could continue to survive, or even maintain their mental state.

Secondly, there's the increasingly significant threat from the Old Cult... They seem to be planning an attack while the undead are dwindling and their forces are exhausted. And to make matters worse, Cecilia lacks both the resources and the financial strength to train an army capable of matching the Old Cult's power...

Perhaps Cecilia wouldn't be inferior to Bishop Peter in terms of powerful clergy like the ascetics—but in terms of conventional combat strength, the difference in numbers is simply too great...

Not to mention...

"What exactly was that feeling just now?"

She took a bite of the sour bread, muttering to herself about her recent feelings. Meanwhile, the witch Priscilla shrugged as she flipped through her magic book.

"Perhaps someone did something to you... but I didn't feel any change in magic, nor any visible physical change—in other words, the only possibility is that there's something wrong with your faith."

The witch pointed to Cecilia's chest. Cecilia shook her head in response.

"If it was the work of the God of Light, I naturally understand... but the problem is, it's something that's both strange and familiar to me... I don't know how to explain it..."

"Then there's no need for explanation. Let's deal with the problem at hand first—the predicament we're facing right now is no ordinary one."

"...Um."

Cecilia nodded, looking at the various reports laid out on the table, and sighed heavily once again.

What were we just talking about? — Right. Cecilia is now facing a dilemma.

In short, it's either die immediately or delay suicide.

The direct death would naturally force the people to give up resistance, allowing them to rest for a few days before being annihilated by the Old Church's army—everyone would be doomed then, with the most likely exceptions being the nuns and Cecilia who might manage to escape... Needless to say, the Protestant Church would be completely destroyed, and Peter the Elder would regain control of the diocese and once again attain the supreme status of St. Petersburg.

Delaying suicide means keeping people in a state of extreme exhaustion to continue preparing for the impending invasion by the Old Church, allowing them to perish completely in either internal strife or the invasion—Celicea couldn't be sure if this was gambling on the last sliver of possibility, but at least if she chose the latter, it seemed she still had a chance.

Priscilla's only thought was that this seemed similar to Yang Hao's frantic attempt to boost the Roman Empire's industrial strength. After all, the Roman Empire seemed to have faced a similar predicament back then, didn't it?

It's either die immediately, delay your death, or gamble on a slim possibility—so what about Cecilia?

What's your choice?

Faced with Priscilla's question, Cecilia remained silent for a long time before shaking her head:

"...I'll take a gamble. I have no other choice but to take this gamble."

"I thought you would be like people in other places, thinking about running for yourself first."

"...I am, after all, a saintess—though I may indeed have...failed greatly on the level of the Roman Empire. But at least...I am a saintess. I must grasp at this last hope."

After saying that, Cecilia fell silent.

Seeing this, Priscilla simply shook his head and sighed before beginning his own arrangements.

As the most powerful mage in the Roman Empire, Priscilla might be able to lead one or two parish wars, but with the Old Church launching massive, multi-pronged attacks, the parish's magical reserves remain a serious concern...

In order to better counter Peter's army, Priscilla's first preparation was to utilize the [Magic Residue].

(After all, the amount of [Magic Residue] in the Roman Empire seems to be increasing recently... If we could find a way to utilize it like the demons in the forest, it would definitely be a good thing.) She muttered to herself. (But how exactly to experiment... I'll have to try it myself. However, to avoid alerting them, in Cecilia's predicament, I can only consider... testing it in actual combat?)

She had an idea. But this idea was only theoretically validated—in Priscilla's conception, [magical residue] was something that could be [pushed away] and [exploded] upon strong stimulation. If she could push a large amount of magical residue in the area in advance towards the direction the Old Cult might attack, perhaps she could deliver a major blow to Chief Peter when he attacked: and this blow would consume almost no normal magic power.

The problem is, it's like a child throwing a tantrum and playing a prank on an elder. It might be effective once or twice, but by the third time, the Catholic Church will be able to see the problem... If you conduct the experiment beforehand and it is observed by Catholics, then the effect of "once or twice" may even become completely useless.

While it's not impossible to use night magic to conceal the surrounding area, wasting local magical energy before a major battle is undoubtedly putting the cart before the horse...

...well!

The witch sighed. But just then, the saintess suddenly spoke:

"...Moreover, there seems to be increasing activity in St. Petersburg... Ever since the God of Light took control of the city, he has been engaging in strange behavior—our scouts say that terrifying screams seem to be coming from within St. Petersburg from time to time..."

"Perhaps it's another [Corpse Angel] made from who-knows-where? Aside from a few die-hard believers, how many people are unaware of the God of Light's necrophilia?"

"...What I care more about is what exactly is making that sound. They said it couldn't possibly be a scream from a human-sized creature?"

"That might be even larger, or even the product of piecing together corpses—after all, there's strength in numbers, and that might be true for corpses as well."

"But the problem is, what kind of bodies are St. Petersburg bringing in now?"

The saintess's question silenced the witch.

indeed.

Starting from the moment the God of Light issued his divine decree and directly controlled the entire city of St. Petersburg—starting from the moment the golden mist spread across the ground and turned countless living people into the living dead.

There shouldn't be any fresh corpses left inside St. Petersburg...

Where exactly did the God of Light find the body?

The two looked at each other, puzzled.

But soon, the witch had a guess:

The current St. Petersburg is a city that has risen nearly fifty stories from underground, making it undoubtedly a "city in the sky." However, historical records from the diocese indicate that much of St. Petersburg's underground space, originally partially buried, remains unexplored...

Those places might be sealed off, hidden in some passageway, or, more importantly, many looked like cemeteries, so practically no clergy would examine a bunch of skeletons...

in other words...

"I guess they're doing some kind of research using skeletons from hundreds of years ago," the witch shrugged. "But skeletons from hundreds of years ago... might be too brittle to use now—after all, I personally think those angels might send fresh corpses back from other places... to places we can't see."

"...That's true."

"So instead of this, let's focus on getting through the imminent crisis, okay?"

"Ah."

They fell silent once more. The brush scribbled and drew on the rough paper, accompanied by Cecilia's series of orders, much like the industrial development Yang Hao had undertaken for the Roman Empire, which had provoked widespread resentment. The Protestant Church was about to begin experiencing what the Roman Empire had gone through—but Cecilia and her companions had no choice but to gamble. Just as Yang Hao had gambled to prevent the Roman Empire from being invaded.

In the United Nations, Yang Hao no longer needed to worry about this situation of "gambling on the brink of death".

He was, as always, relaxed in Lalumia's arms. He wondered if it was just his imagination, but he felt he was spending more and more time alone with Lalumia, while Teresa and Finn were spending more and more time away from work. What was going on?

If Lalumia really wanted to answer, she would probably chuckle and explain with, "I've already used divine magic to make them work properly and not disturb your rest." But Lalumia knows Yang Hao's character very well.

Since Yang Hao arrived in this world, the deity who had been constantly observing this otherworldly being knew very well that Yang Hao was the type who, once he understood the situation, could no longer enjoy life with a clear conscience...

In order to allow Yang Hao to get a proper rest and make up for the hard work of the past few years, and incidentally to ensure that some unknown [Gaia] won't collapse from exhaustion and die prematurely, while leaving her only little nun widowed... Lalumia really needs to work hard.

Even if this is a form of deception in some sense, it doesn't matter.

The gentle goddess sighed inwardly, and with her slender hands clad in white silk gloves, she smoothed the hard lines on Yang Hao's face as they gradually relaxed. Then, she heard the man in her arms mumble this question in his sleep:

"Lalumia, are you really sure that the poison will work its intended purpose when it's supposed to?"

His question made Lalumia tilt her head, and after understanding what it meant, she smiled and sighed, saying:

"What do you think? Do you think I would neglect the maintenance of their weapons like the Romans, my child?"

"will not."

The man wanted to shake his head, but because his head was sandwiched between the two peaks, he could hardly move and could only make a slight movement to mess up the neat white shawl on the nun's clothes.

Lalumia patted Yang Hao's forehead, who was restless, and then, after adjusting her shawl, sighed, reinforcing Yang Hao's confidence in the upcoming mission:

"That's right—so you can rest assured... As long as Constantine really absorbs that poisonous faith, then Constantine's collapse will be imminent... After all, it's a [poison] transformed from my power."

Just like how humans who eat too many of their own brains develop a fatal disease... Constantine will definitely die in the end. I guarantee it.

"Um..."

Just as every human being becomes suspicious when about to embark on a major project, or just as everyone carefully selects and chooses when they have saved enough money to buy a house, Lalumia knew very well what Yang Hao was worried about.

After all, god-slaying is a once-in-a-lifetime event—they must succeed, or they will be dragged into a quagmire by Constantine, and when facing the dual attacks of the northern and southeastern demons, they will also have to consider the parish as an opponent.

To avoid getting bogged down in a three-front war and ultimately failing, and also to reclaim Lalumia's power so she could play a greater role in the war against the demons... this operation to kill the God of Light, Constantine, had to succeed; failure was not an option. Under these circumstances, Yang Hao was naturally very worried about whether Lalumia's [poison] would have the desired effect.

But for Lalumia, the only possibility that the poison was ineffective is that the God of Light did not absorb the faith from the Saintess at all.

(After all, that was poison I personally administered... Not to mention the complicated process that took several days to prepare, in principle, it's more like a "poison" that causes internal rot in the absorber... Once absorbed, death is certain, only the duration varies depending on the deity's constitution...)

In other words, once Constantine absorbs it, he is destined to die—the only question is whether this death will be in a few days or months? (That's another story.)

Lord Lalumia muttered to himself, "In a sense, this is like a man having sex with a woman during her prime pregnancy. If you don't use any protection and it all happens inside her, will the outcome change whether you find out she's pregnant a few weeks later or give birth a few months later?" Of course not...

Once Constantine absorbed faith, his fate was already sealed.

So while Lalumia could understand Yang Hao's concerns, she truly didn't understand why he needed to worry when everything was fine...

Ugh!

This just goes to show the limitations of human beings. It just goes to show that this child lacks self-confidence.

Lalumia gently rubbed Yang Hao's cheek again. Finding that Yang Hao was actually fast asleep, she finally felt relieved.

Just as Lalumia was enjoying herself, the door to the lounge was suddenly opened from the outside.

Looking up, Lalumia saw Mother Teresa with an expressionless face.

"Theresa? I reminded him outside that he needs to rest well."

The deity gestured for the nun to shush. The expressionless nun merely scoffed, then tiptoed back to close the door before carefully sitting down near Yang Hao.

Then, the nun questioned her deity with her eyes:

What exactly do you want to do?

"Literally—I just wanted him to get some rest."

"But are you really behaving like his mother? It's not that I can't understand your thoughts, and I'm willing to understand and accept what you told me before... but why do you have to be alone with him to let him rest properly?"

"Hehe. Theresa, have you ever seen a grown man properly resting outside of being alone with his mother? The only place a strong and upright man can finally be affectionate is in his mother's arms, isn't it?"