Industrial Revolution of the Mage Lords

Chapter 683 Practicing Faith
Simmons was in a semi-conscious state due to the persistent high fever.

His muddled mind was filled with fragments of memories filled with bizarre and fantastical scenes... At times, he seemed to return to the holy city of Goris on the eve of its destruction, leading believers in morning and evening prayers outside the still towering Cathedral of Divine Grace.

At times, they found themselves atop the crumbling city walls, watching helplessly as their comrades were torn to shreds by the spears and claws of the alien calamity.

The dream's scene ultimately froze on the city of grace, which had been completely razed to the ground. He stood beneath the crumbling city gate, looking up at the sky, but could no longer find the sacred sun that represented the place of his faith.

Although he did not receive the call of God and enter His Kingdom of Heaven as he had imagined, Simmons did not feel discouraged. Even as his life was coming to an end, he felt that he had lived a devout life without regret.

I only hope that this torment will end soon and that I will finally reach the eternal peace.

"Simmons! Simmons... wake up!"

In a daze, it seemed as if someone was calling his name in his ear. Then, his body was supported and half-floated up. His chapped lips came into contact with drops of cool liquid, which instantly triggered a survival instinct in him. He opened his mouth with difficulty and swallowed in small sips.

"Alright! He's responding. After the malaria injection, he'll take some extra herbal medicine and wake up soon."

This is... it's High Priest Donovan's voice!

The high priest is personally feeding him medicine and keeps calling his name!

With his emotions churning, Simmons struggled to open his eyes, only to find that the ceiling above him was shaking rhythmically, causing the bed he was lying on to creak and sway.

"High Priest Donovan...where are we? Has there been an earthquake...?"

He was speaking when a violent wave of dizziness suddenly struck him. The weakness caused by being bedridden for a long time since falling ill made him unable to hold on any longer, and he lay down again with the help of the high priest.

The elderly high priest, whose hair was slightly gray, touched his forehead and comforted him gently, "Don't worry, there was no earthquake. You are just feeling unwell because you are weak from illness. You will get better soon."

He paused, then slowly explained, "We are now on a constantly moving alchemical wheel."

An alchemical chariot? A magical creation!

Simmons snapped awake and forced himself to turn his neck to look around. He found himself in a small but fast-moving enclosed carriage. Through the gaps in the curtained windows, he could vaguely see the outside scenery rushing past.

"Wait...we're not in the Holy City anymore? Why...what happened?"

"The destination of this alchemical chariot is... Starfire City, located in the Northern Wasteland. You have been in a coma with a high fever due to the plague for almost a week. In order to help you recover as soon as possible, I have to bring you along... so that we can get the special medicine from the Saint Valen people in time to save your life."

Simmons opened his mouth, but felt as if something was blocking his throat. After a long pause, he finally managed to say in a hoarse voice, "The Saint Valenians... are they going to take us to their capital for trial? What kind of cruel treatment will we suffer? Will we be publicly tried and then executed?" The old high priest gave a bitter smile and reassured him, "No, we will not be tried. His Majesty the Emperor has summoned us to the battlefield in the wasteland to assist his soldiers in fighting against the calamity from the northern barbarians."

Was he drafted to the battlefield?

Simmons was completely stunned. Didn't they used to regard the Papacy as an irreconcilable enemy? Why the sudden change in attitude?
Moreover... priests like myself and High Priest Donovan had never studied any divine arts that could aid in combat. While they weren't exactly powerless, they certainly didn't have much fighting ability.

Could it be that the war with the alien races has become extremely disadvantageous for humanity, leading the magic emperor to choose to send a large number of innocent people to the front lines as cannon fodder?

Thinking of this, Simmons felt his will to survive, which had just been rising, was completely shattered by his even more desperate situation. His eyes were somewhat vacant as he lay back down, and he said in a somber tone, "High Priest, there is no need to pray to the Saint Valen people for the potion for me anymore. Anyway, going to the front line will not be far from death. I really can't bear to see you suffer any more unwarranted humiliation from those heretics."

Donovan shook his head helplessly, and was about to explain the whole story to him in detail when the door at the end of the swaying carriage was suddenly pushed open.

"You're almost half dead, yet you're still so tough..." The intelligence officer Beetle, dressed in a black uniform, walked in with a cold smile on his lips. "If you don't want to live anymore, that's simple. I'll have the soldiers lift you up and throw you out of the car in a moment, so you won't suffer any more ruthless humiliation from us heretics."

"you you……"

Simmons recognized the terrifying figure secretly known as the "Warden" by the exiled believers in the ruins of the Holy City. He was both shocked and furious, but dared not utter a word in rebuttal, fearing that he might completely anger the other party and implicate the old high priest who had been looking after him.

Donovan quickly tried to smooth things over, speaking somewhat humbly to the intelligence officer, "Sir, please don't mind his rude remarks. This child has been tormented by the plague for too long; his mind is already muddled..."

The beetle waved its hand dismissively and sneered, "His Majesty, with a benevolent heart, has chosen to forgive and pardon you fanatics for the many sins you committed in Saint Valen. He has also given you enough trust to summon you to the front lines to fight alongside the brave soldiers. Haven't you always boasted that you bear the heavy responsibility of saving the people of the South and resisting the calamities of the North?"

He paused, then said, "What? Now that you hear you're being sent to the front lines, you're finally showing your true colors as a coward? What a bunch of hypocritical charlatans!"

Simmons, enraged by this blatant fabrication and taunts, was so enraged that his eyes turned bloodshot as if they were about to spit fire. He no longer cared about offending the other party and retorted sharply, "Nonsense! Even if I were not a battle priest or a knight of the Judgment Army, I would still be willing to stand on the front line against the alien race in order to protect the Southern Territory and save the mortal people! I would never do anything cowardly or cowardly!"

The intelligence officer snorted twice, deciding not to argue with the young, inexperienced priest any further. He handed Donovan a vial of medicine in a crystal glass bottle, then turned and left without looking back.

Simmons took two heavy breaths and turned to the old high priest, asking, "Lord Donovan, how many cultists and knights of judgment did they recruit from the Holy City? Did they distribute protective gear and weapons to us?"

Donovan pressed down on his shoulder and, without a word, made him lie back down on the stretcher. Then, he patiently explained, "Don't be impulsive. We're not going to the front lines to fight alien races, but to use our mastery of healing magic to help heal the mortal soldiers who have been wounded in battle."

At this point, the old high priest's expression also showed a hint of confusion and bewilderment. "It's just that their target selection is very strange... They only accept priests and clerics from the lower classes to apply, while showing disdain for noble priests and high priests who are clearly of higher rank and strength. As for the knights of the Judgment Army... not a single one of them was recruited."

Simmons was completely stunned... Could it be that sending this group of people to the front line was really just to treat the wounded?

(End of this chapter)