Chapter 61: I Believe in the 800mm Gustav God~
When Mitia stood at the city gate, the mottled walls of Hendak Territory already bore the Astal flag.
A large number of soldiers marched past her in neat formations, heading into the city.
“It's over~”
Mitia sighed.
Ripples of light shimmered beside her, and a petite figure materialized from illusion into reality.
Sherria flicked her twin ponytails and circled Mitia twice in the air:
“It ended faster than I expected, but still a bit slow.”
Casting a sideways glance at her inexplicably missing personal secretary, Mitia tugged unceremoniously on her ponytail: “So, you were willing to come back?”
“Ouch, don’t pull! That hurts~ I’ll tell you something fun.
These past days, I’ve been watching a rather interesting fellow.
Tsk tsk, Ivdien must be so mad right now her chest hurts.”
Mitia’s curiosity was piqued: “What?”
“Tsk, a prospective Saint Spirit broke free from Ivdien’s control, and even desecrated her. This kind of thing might not happen even once in centuries of the Church’s history.”
Sherria shook her head with mock pity, but in her rose-violet eyes it was easy to see the unmistakable glint of schadenfreude.
“Ivdien... the Magic Goddess. How dare you... address her by name so casually?”
“What’s there to fear?”
Sherria looked utterly nonchalant: “She’s not yet at the level where she can sense every time someone mentions her name. Even if she really heard it, mm~ she can’t do anything to us.”
Seeing Mitia’s curious expression, Sherria continued:
“Theoretically, there are many so-called Magic Goddesses. But the true Magic Goddess has no name. The Great Witch Miranda once tried to search for the Magic Goddess, because in theory, we are all children of the Goddess.”
“But after gathering all the information, the answer was that the true Magic Goddess had already become the source of all elements in this world. She is everywhere.”
“Nowadays, many gods behind churches are actually just powerful magicians from the past.”
“They pioneered another cultivation method—using oaths and contracts to make their believers continuously and freely offer part of their power. As exchange, the believers get to use a portion of their abilities.”
“So there are many gods like Ivdien. If you respect her, you can call her the Magic Goddess or the Goddess of Light. If you don’t, calling her a false god isn’t exactly wrong either.”
“As for Saint Spirits, they’re the highest-quality beings in the Church’s hierarchy. These people are born with an innate, effortless resonance with certain elements.”
“If ordinary magicians are servants of the elements, then we are marshals, while Saint Spirits are the best friends and companions of the elements.”
“Their contributed energy is clean and pure, absorbed by gods at one hundred percent. They can even serve as vessels in the mortal world. They’re extremely rare, each one a treasure.”
After hearing Sherria’s explanation, Mitia became even more curious: “Since they’re so important, why not focus on them more—perhaps even keep them under strict guard or imprisonment?”
Sherria spread her hands: “Who says they don’t? But just like our awakening, they probably have a protective mechanism.
Before reaching a certain threshold in strength or mindset, they’re indistinguishable from ordinary magicians.”
“Ivdien is a Light-element Magic Goddess. Her Church usually gathers anyone with a Light affinity and raises them in complete isolation. The gifted ones are trained as quasi-saints and given special education. That way, no matter what, they’re already in her bowl.”
“But you—you were just too unruly. The Papacy couldn’t resist making a move against you~ and in the end... well, to me it’s all full of drama~”
Mitia: “.....So it’s my fault?”
“Of course!”
Sherria covered her small mouth and giggled: “Whether this Eastern Expedition against you wins or loses, the Pontiff has no way to explain himself to Ivdien. He’s probably going to lose his seat.”
“Is it really that serious?”
“That’s already the lighter outcome. If it weren’t truly an accident, the Pontiff would likely be branded a traitor lurking within the Papacy and burned at the stake—ascending in flames to atone personally to the Goddess.”
Sherria smiled meaningfully: “This mistake shakes the very foundations of the Papacy. Gods... were once elemental Saint Spirits themselves. In a sense, an uncontrolled Saint Spirit is a god walking among mortals.”
“One is an unseen god. The other stands right before your eyes. If it were you, which would you believe in?”
“Me? I believe in the 800mm Gustav God~”
“Gustav God? What is that supposed to be? You’re spouting nonsense again!”
With Sherria chattering away, the two of them followed the army into the city.
All resistance along the way had already been wiped out.
Mitia happened to catch sight of an enemy minion, his legs bloodied, being carried off on a stretcher by two medics for emergency treatment—her army fully carrying out its humanitarian principles.
As for enemies hiding in houses, the Astal soldiers never even entered.
Instead, they simply leveled the houses with field artillery from the outside—an extremely effective tactic.
And oddly, the further they advanced, the fewer Papal troops they encountered.
Only scattered Hendak soldiers emerged here and there to kneel and surrender.
Receiving her subordinates’ reports, Mitia exchanged a glance with Sherria.
Mitia looked up at the highest point of Hendak Lord’s Manor.
There, a white silhouette was also watching in her direction.
She smiled: “I just remembered a saying—I wonder if it fits this moment.”
Sherria: “Huh? What saying?”
“Mm... even a bird trapped in a cage will still dream of the blue sky.”
This time, the Astal army entered the city with no welcoming ceremony.
Along the way, Mitia only saw civilians peeking secretly out of windows, and large groups of refugees huddled together, trembling.
In a sense, Marquis Hendak was impressive.
He had squeezed every last bit of potential from his territory.
When Mitia reached the Hendak Lord’s Manor, she found Astal soldiers already standing off with Papal troops across from them, muskets raised, the tension palpable.
Mitia looked with a cheerful smile at the blonde girl who had just descended from the watchtower: “Perhaps we could sit down and talk?”
The girl hesitated, then nodded and walked to the center of the battlefield, just as Mitia did.
“Miwei Saint Montenegro.”
“Mitia Ackerman Astal. You don’t seem surprised to see me here?”
“No... I didn’t expect you to come. I just... wanted to tell you something before leaving. If you’re here, that’s even better.”
Mitia raised a brow: “Oh? You seem rather confident about being able to leave. Don’t forget—we and your Papacy are enemies.”
The inscription on Miwei’s forehead glowed faintly: “We have already broken away from the Papacy! All the Papal soldiers here now are members of the Holy Light Church.”
“I don’t care who you are. Hendak Territory is now, in fact, occupied by us. Guilty or innocent, whether you can leave or not—all must be decided by the laws of our territory!”
“Lay down your weapons, cease resistance, and accept inspection and judgment. Only then will there be room for negotiation.”
As Mitia’s voice fell, the Astal soldiers behind her opened a path, rolling in several armored tracked vehicles.
The black muzzles of their machine guns pointed straight at the Papal troops across from them.
Many Papal soldiers glanced at those iron boxes, encased in steel plates, then looked back at the tiny barrels of their own guns—and couldn’t help but swallow hard.