Industrial Revolution of the Mage Lords

Chapter 221 Extraordinary Secret War (End of this Volume)

Not long after the sun set over the mountain, curfew alarms began to sound in Blackrock City.

This is a nighttime ban only for civilians living in the city, and does not restrict the large number of spellcasters and church inquisitors living in the city. As the offensive of the demons weakens, even ordinary nobles and wealthy businessmen doing business here can move freely in the city after the curfew with the passes they have purchased.

The main stronghold of the Church of Light in Blackrock City is the diocese where the Blackrock Cathedral is located, and the Vatican barracks where the Army of Inquisition is stationed. These two areas are separated from the mages where spellcasters live by a central street, and on the surface they seem to have nothing to do with each other.

In addition, the church also established several small churches in the market area where taverns and shops are lined, the administrative district where the coalition headquarters is located, and the lower streets and city gate areas where civilians live, for the city's large number of believers to pray daily and worship weekly.

The high-ranking priest Tyrion White serves as the chief priest of the Lower Street Church in Blackrock City. He is responsible for leading the priests and deacons in the church and spreading the faith and glory of the God of Light to the general public in this area.

This is an extremely coveted and lucrative job. If Tyrion were not a close confidant of Bishop Franklin of Blackstone Cathedral, he would not be able to get involved in the civilian living area with the most believers in the city. Moreover, he does not have to leave the city to assist the Inquisition in fighting the demons day and night. It can be said to be a comfortable home suitable for retirement.

After all, Tyrion is already an old man in his sixties. A priest like him is not qualified to be promoted to a high-level position compared to the combat priests in the Church who are more proficient in offensive magic. It is only because of his decades of being very good at scheming in dealing with people that he successfully climbed up the big tree of Bishop Franklin.

"Lord Tyrion, the children sent by Baron Potter have been sent to the Archbishop as you requested..." The deacon leaned close to his ear and reported softly with his waist bent.

Tyrion nodded with satisfaction. The ones with pretty faces and fair skin among this group of children were selected by him personally, and they would definitely satisfy Bishop Franklin.

“It is an honor for these children to meet His Eminence the Archbishop in person and listen to his teachings and prayers…May the light of our Lord always shine upon them.”

The deacon placed his hands on his chest and bowed, then added in a low voice, "The child named Rody has been sent to your villa in advance..." After that, he bent down, took a few steps back, turned around and left the study.

Tyrion raised the corners of his mouth and chuckled inaudibly, then stood up from the soft sofa and poured himself a glass of wine as crystal clear and pure as a ruby. This was the "Holy Blood Wine" specially supplied to the Blackrock City Diocese by the winery under the name of the church. Ordinary priests and judges were not qualified to enjoy it at will, and of course a high priest of Tyrion's rank was not included.

Apart from regularly performing his duties to His Eminence the Bishop of Blackstone Cathedral, he rarely left the diocese he was in charge of. On the one hand, this was because he had no mission to go out to fight, and on the other hand, it was because he was content with enjoying himself.

As long as the Holy See continues to compete with the Federation in Blackrock City, his church will never lack nobles and wealthy businessmen who will come to visit. If they want to manage their own power and industries in the Evil Moon Mountains and Blackrock City, it is much easier to seek help from the church than to deal with those wizards who are not familiar with worldly affairs.

……

Tyrion White is not an ascetic combat priest, so he does not live in the church on a daily basis. Instead, he owns a comfortable separate residence nearby. However, when he occasionally wants to relax and enjoy himself, he prefers to go to another courtyard away from the church.

It seemed that as long as he stayed away from the church, he could avoid the gaze of the gods he believed in and slightly alleviate the guilt and shame in his heart caused by indulging in desires.

On the carriage that led from the church to the courtyard, the personal deacon asked him in a low voice, "Sir, regarding the matter of Baron Potter's fiefdom...how should we deal with it and give him a response?"

Tyrion leaned back against the carriage seat, squinting his eyes as he pondered for a moment, recalling the valuable offerings Baron Porter had sent him. He paused before speaking, "The Baron's temporary tax increase due to a poor harvest shouldn't have been our business... but since believers are involved, we... have no choice but to step in and help him out."

These low-ranking nobles, whose fiefdoms and properties were not very rich, were always so short-sighted and greedy. They kept their eyes fixed on the meager profits produced from their own small plots of land all day long, and would try every means to make up for the slightest loss from other sources.

Last winter, a snowstorm in the western border delayed spring plowing, and most of the fields of the small nobles faced crop failure and tenant farmers’ rent defaults. However, at this time, the noble lords had to temporarily increase taxes to make up for the output losses of their own private fields.

It would have been fine if it was just ordinary untouchables gathering to cause trouble, but in Baron Porter's fiefdom, there happened to be several small landowners who were retired knights who took the lead in resisting taxes, and for a time, the public outcry was so intense that it seemed impossible to suppress it.

"Send a team of Inquisition knights to individually address our lord's faithful knights. Cooperate with the local priests and pastors to mediate and prevent them from being coerced by the common people into openly confronting the nobles... We can use extraordinary measures if necessary."

During the conversation, they soon arrived at the villa on the lower street. The young deacon consciously returned to his own room and no longer disturbed the chief priest from enjoying his private relaxation time.

After bathing and changing his clothes with the help of the waiter, Tyrion came to the luxurious master bedroom suite on the second floor. When he opened the door, he saw a boy wearing a pure white priest robe and a hemp rope tied around his waist, representing his ascetic status, standing next to the sofa in the living room. He was looking at the high priest who pushed the door open with trepidation.

The boy had pure black hair that was slightly curly, and a fair and handsome face. The priest robe he was wearing was obviously not well-fitting and was a little too big.

Tyrion narrowed his eyes, walked to the sofa and sat down, then asked gently, "Child, how old are you this year?"

The boy replied timidly, "Your Excellency, I... I just turned thirteen."

"Haha, kids these days grow so fast. They're so tall at such a young age..." The officiant exclaimed with a smile and waved to the boy, "Come here, sit at my feet... and chat with me."

A trace of barely perceptible disgust flashed in the boy's eyes, but he still walked to Tyrion's side and sat cross-legged on the carpet in front of the sofa, forcing himself to endure the other's skinny chicken claw-like palm slowly stroking the thick curly hair on his head.

"Child, where do you live? Which priest baptized you?"

The boy's voice was clear, but he was a little confused. "Your Excellency... I, I have not been baptized, and my parents are not believers. We... we didn't live in the parish before."

The old priest paused, then slowly lifted his hand from the boy's head. A barely audible chuckle rang out from his throat, tinged with a hint of excitement. "Really? You and your family have never been blessed by the glory of our Lord? Tsk, tsk, tsk, what a pity..."

He stood up and took out two things from the bookcase in the living room. He turned and looked at the boy sitting cross-legged on the carpet. "Then, let me complete the missionary baptism ceremony for you..."

The boy then saw that he was holding a thick church book in one hand and a wooden ruler in the other.

"Recite the scriptures with me and feel the glory and grace of our Lord. But you must be careful. If you mispronounce a word, you will be punished with a ruler... Do you understand?"

After saying this, he walked forward, placed the long ruler against the hemp rope around the boy's waist, and chuckled, "Now, you need to take off your robe and bare your body. Be completely honest before my Lord and don't resist at all."

The boy's mouth twitched, and he stood up and backed away repeatedly, shaking his head like a rattle.

Tyrion's gentle demeanor suddenly changed. With a cold expression, he said in a deep voice, "Be good and obey me. Don't let me use force. If you don't obey, I'll send you to the basement later. Hmph, you'll suffer even more."

As Tyrion spoke, he loosened the belt of his nightgown, revealing his thin, old body as he slowly approached the boy huddled in the corner.

But suddenly, he heard a rhythmic knock at the door of the living room, which immediately interrupted his extremely exciting forced game. He couldn't help but frown and shouted angrily: "Who is it? Didn't I tell you not to disturb me?"

A waiter responded from outside the door, "Lord Tyrion, I've brought you some holy blood wine and hot tea to help you sleep..."

The officiant hurriedly fastened the belt of his nightgown and walked to the door, muttering, "I don't remember asking you to bring me some wine..."

When he opened the door, he saw the face of a strange man. He was not wearing a waiter's uniform, and he was not holding any drinks in his hand. Instead, he was holding a shining crystal gem, which immediately captured Tyrion's attention.

The Soul Stone… Oh no! Tyrion only had time to think this thought before he sank into a daze. He stumbled two steps and fell to the ground, watching helplessly as a strange man sidled into the room and quietly closed the door. He ignored the fallen priest, not even a glance at the boy cowering in the corner. Instead, he quickly walked to the window and flung open the shutters. A sudden gust of wind swept a figure into the room.

The man holding the Soul Stone then slowly walked over to Tyrion and squatted down. He held the stone in front of Tyrion's eyes and chuckled softly. "Good evening, Sir Tyrion," he said. "We apologize for interrupting your evening missionary activities."

Tyrion tried to concentrate his mind, but found that his body was gradually becoming cold and stiff, and it seemed as if a piece of ice was stuffed into his throat, making it extremely difficult for him to even speak.

"You...you are spellcasters? Why...are you attacking me? Was it the Federation...instructed?"

Another black-robed man, swept into the room by the strong wind, sneered, "Union? Spellcaster? No, no, no, the Church won't find any traces of an attack by a spellcaster in your room. After the Soul Stone searches your soul, you'll just become an idiot old man who can't even control his excretion. You might choke to death in your own vomit before anyone finds you at dawn..."

Tyrion's eyes flashed with panic, and he squeezed out angry words from his throat again, "Damn...damn evil wizards! How dare you...openly attack the church's high-ranking...high-ranking priests in Blackrock City, and even use the Soul Stone without authorization...which is banned by the Union. It's...truly blasphemous!"

The man squatting beside him curled his lips, put two fingers together and pressed them against his eyebrows, and began to recite a spell quickly and silently. He stared into Tyrion's eyes, and his pupils quickly turned into a rapidly spinning vortex.

Tyrion's whole body was shaking violently, his eyes rolled up, and white foam began to flow out of his mouth and nose uncontrollably. At the critical moment of life and death, he finally controlled his stiff fingers, pressed hard on a tiny spike on the ring, and pierced the rough fingertips.

A blazing white light suddenly flew out from the ring and hit the mysterious man who was almost face to face with him. After a buzzing sound, the illusory shield that instantly appeared around the man shattered, forcing him to interrupt the spell and step back several steps.

The lights in the room were dim, and the darkness in the corner in front of the door suddenly began to move as if alive.

The mysterious man standing in front of the window waved his hand and a wind blade suddenly flew towards the dark corner of the wall. However, the wind blade disappeared silently like a drop in the ocean, and instead caused the darkness to spread rapidly.

A figure suddenly emerged from the creeping and spreading darkness, as if separated directly from the darkness, emerging and condensing without any warning.

The figure bent forward and took a step forward, leaving behind a shadow. In his hand, he held a sharp dagger that shone with silver light, and stabbed it fiercely at the throat of the man in black next to Tyrion!
His terrifying speed allowed him to cover a distance of less than five meters almost instantly and approach the attacker. The dagger he thrust out with one hand pierced the opponent's larynx without any deviation.

The figure did not feel the tip of the sword piercing his skin, nor did he see the blood suddenly gushing out, but instead sensed a sudden surge of stagnant magical power.

The man who was stabbed by the dagger instantly shattered like a glass mirror, breaking into several pieces.

Intermediate arcane magic "Mirror Defense"!
Two more wind blades flew straight towards the figure in the darkness, forcing him to roll and dodge. He was forced to escape from the thick darkness behind him, revealing his true figure and appearance. It turned out to be the young acolyte who served Tyrion.

"A high-ranking knight of the Judgment Army who has awakened his dark bloodline is lurking around the head priest of a church who isn't even a combat priest... Haha, this is really interesting!"

After shattering like a mirror, the man reappeared in a corner of the room and sneered.

Matthews, who was standing by the window, said nothing. He controlled the wind blade in his hand to continuously slash the target, gradually compressing the space for him to dodge, and slowly retreating back to the corner.

The young deacon frowned slightly, swung out three identical short blades from his waist, quickly extinguished the few candles in the room, and his body quickly blurred and faded as he tried to blend back into the darkness.

Matthews' mind moved, and he stopped controlling the wind blade. He clasped his hands together and pushed forward, and a gust of icy wind swept across the entire room.

Intermediate elemental magic "Breath of Extreme Cold".

The young deacon's figure, which had just disappeared into the darkness, reappeared in an instant, staggering. The wind and waves blew against his gradually stiffening body, making his movements as slow as if he were stuck in a quagmire.

Unable to get close to these spellcasters, he would be unable to use the dark blood's most powerful ability, "annihilation". It seemed that he had no choice but to give up High Priest Tyrion and find a way to escape from the attack of the two high-level spellcasters alone, and go to Blackstone Cathedral as soon as possible to warn His Excellency the Archbishop.

He tried hard to maintain his dark form, raised his hand and crushed a shining amulet hanging around his neck. A soft sacred light descended from the sky, completely enveloping him, and his body briefly regained consciousness.

But the holy light also repelled his dark blood, and an intense burning sensation came from his skin, but he endured the pain and rolled over and over again to get closer to the window. The chance of escape was right in front of him.

Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his waist and turned around in shock. The young boy who had fainted against the corner of the window suddenly woke up at this moment, grinning grimly as he thrust a dagger gleaming with cold light into his waist, and twisted it cruelly while they stared at each other.

The young deacon finally couldn't bear it any longer and let out a miserable howl. He loosened the dagger in his hand and pressed his palms towards the boy's neck with difficulty. He wanted to use the blood talent of "annihilation" and die together with this despicable backstabber.

But before he could make physical contact with the other person, the boy's hands holding the dagger on his waist suddenly burst out with a dazzling electric light.

Silver-white electric light burst out and exploded, as if real plasma was running around in his body. Before he could let out a final scream, his entire body suddenly exploded, and the charred and dry flesh shattered to the ground, without even a drop of blood splattering.

The plasma did not seem to stop because of this. After losing the support of flesh and blood, it quickly spread throughout the room, turning the luxuriously decorated bedroom into a terrifying battlefield filled with electricity and flames.

The two fellow spellcasters cast spells repeatedly and put powerful defensive spells on themselves, but they could not withstand the violent lightning range attack. Their bodies were charred black and their hair stood on end. They could not help but curse.

There were strange crackling sounds all over the young boy's bones, and his body deformed, twisted and swelled at an extremely fast speed, returning to his original tall and strong appearance.

It turned out to be the high-level elemental mage Phil Holden!
He tugged at his ill-fitting priest robes and chuckled awkwardly, "Damn it! This is my first time using this technique, and I couldn't control the power and range. I'm so sorry..."

"Storm Walker" Matthews, whose face was burnt black by the explosion, twitched his mouth. He took out a parchment scroll from his arms and threw it to his companion who was disguised as a waiter at the beginning, asking him to start arranging the scene as soon as possible.

Fel Holden grabbed the broken hemp belt of his robe and pointed at the lifeless High Priest Tyrion White lying on the ground, afflicted by the spell. He muttered unhappily, "Can't you find me a pair of pants first? I don't understand why I had to disguise myself when I could have just assassinated this guy. And in such a disgusting identity..."

Matthews rolled his eyes in annoyance. "If not for this, how could we have lurked the Dark Knight lurking beside him? If you hadn't lost control of the magic, we could have spared Tyrion's life and forced the truth about Duncan's case out of him! Now everything is messed up!"

Phil Holden chuckled sheepishly, scratching his head as he watched Matthews' companion pierce Tyrion White's chest with a sharp knife and use the blood that had not yet cooled to draw on the wall.

"Is this the method you came up with to disguise the scene? What's the use of this ghostly talisman?"

Matthews leaned over to Fell and whispered, "Through Mr. Kel'Thuzad's introduction, I obtained a demon summoning ritual pattern from Mr. Mind Hunter. With some on-site arrangements, we can redirect the Church's investigation to... the demon sacrifice incident they encountered not long ago in the Evil Moon Mine."

Fell was stunned and asked in disbelief, "What? How is Mr. Kel'Thuzad connected to demonic sacrifice? Is that forum member named Mind Hunter actually a demonic cultist?"

As the magic circle drawn with blood was gradually completed, a strong smell of sulfur began to fill the air, mixed with some strange panting sounds. It seemed that some living creature was slowly wriggling in the darkness, which made people feel chilling.

The remaining magical fluctuations from the various spells in the room quickly dissipated, leaving behind only the priest's corpse with a blade stuck in his chest and the charred remains of the Bloodline Knight scattered on the ground...

(End of this chapter)