I reign supreme in the Western fantasy world for eternity.

In the last second before his consciousness was shattered, Saint-Hert thought he had won.

Boundless holy light shattered the opponent's attack like a storm, then pierced through the opponent's body. The aura of the evil god almost dissipated under the destructive impact of the holy light.

The holy light contains the power of faith, which can effectively prevent evil gods from regaining power through the faith of believers.

Everything went as planned, and he should have been the one to decide the final outcome.

But the next second, something forced its way into his consciousness.

Countless images, formulas, drawings, gear meshing angles, steam pressure values, and the rhythm of each process on the assembly line... flooded in, overwhelming everything.

That was the ceaseless roar of the industrial age, the resonance of thousands of machines operating simultaneously.

Saint-Heter's consciousness seemed to have been thrown into a shredder. Memories that did not belong to him and information that did not belong to this era rampaged through his soul, tearing his thoughts to pieces.

He saw himself standing in a factory in the North, his hands covered in machine oil; he saw himself hunched over a desk, calculating the optimal eccentricity of the crankshaft; he saw himself repeating the same action on the assembly line, day after day, year after year…

Those scenes were so real that he could hardly tell who he was—the fourth sage of the church, or an ordinary worker swept up by the times.

"I####!"

He clutched his head, and the Holy Spirit Scepter slipped from his hands. The holy crystal at the top of the scepter flickered, as if it were making a final struggle against some irresistible force.

The god of industry slowly withdrew his right hand, his double-gear eyes devoid of any emotion.

Knowledge itself is a curse, let alone the redundant knowledge of the industrial age.

He looked down at the hole in his chest that was slowly healing, and felt that the recovery was too slow. He decisively abandoned his original divine body and resurrected amidst the faint roar of the factory machines.

The main reason was that He was still wary of Ji Tian launching a shameless sneak attack from not far away, and He had to deal with it at full strength.

After his resurrection, He bent down and looked at Valentine, who was in a state of confusion and trembling.

[Your holy light is indeed very strong, but my divine body is immune to the power of faith within the holy light!]

Valentine knelt on one knee, pressing his hands tightly to his temples, veins bulging, and it took him a while to wake up from the reverie.

Valentine's original consciousness, which had absorbed a small portion of the mental attack, surfaced amidst the chaos, uttering a weak voice: "Great...Great Sage Senior..."

"Shut up, I have my own rhythm!"

Saint Heter gritted his teeth, staggered to his feet, and reached for the Holy Spirit Staff on the ground.

The gears in the pupils of the god of industry turned slightly.

[Not bad, they actually managed to hold on; that's beyond my expectations.]

As soon as he finished speaking, his figure disappeared from the spot.

Saint Het's pupils contracted sharply, and he instinctively raised the defensive relic in front of him, but the hand made of pure light had already passed through his defenses, its five fingers like knives, precisely slashing at his right arm that held the relic.

The arm holding the round shield tumbled a few times in the air before landing on the ground with a dull thud. The runes on the shield flickered violently a few times before falling silent.

Valentine's body trembled violently. He did not cry out in pain, but only looked down at his empty right shoulder, and then looked up at the god of industry.

He was holding the severed arm in the air, taking the sacred object from his stiff fingers and casually merging it into his divine body.

Valentine, with blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, grinned and said, "You wouldn't dare kill me because you're afraid of my lord's revenge, would you? You don't even dare take these two more precious relics."

Valentine himself, who was possessed, was terrified.

He even felt that he would probably be heading to the Kingdom of God with "Saint Het" today.

The god of industry's double-geared eyes stopped turning and fixed on Valentine's face.

The memory of the two attacks that severely injured the Father God by the Triad God before they were fully integrated is still etched in His mind. It is a psychological shadow that He can never forget, even though He also possesses the status of the Father God.

He certainly didn't dare kill the church's high-ranking officials. Heaven knows how powerful the merged Triad would be. If the other side felt threatened and interrupted the fusion to descend directly as a god, He would have nowhere to cry.

As for whether or not to avenge the Father God?

Do not make jokes.

He is a natural follower of God, and the reason and divinity that arise from this are always paramount. Before His authority is secure, He will never have any direct conflict with the local gods.

Moreover, in His world, there is never any fatherly love and filial piety between the Father and His servants.

The reason why the Father God did not possess me was simply because His soul was locked by the three gods, so possession would have been useless.

Why do you think He divided God the Father's inheritance into seven parts?

Out of divine majesty, He neither acknowledged nor denied, but simply watched quietly as the old man, who still managed to laugh even with only one arm left.

After a long while, He finally spoke, declaring His victory:

How boring! I'll probably forget about you tomorrow.

Having said that, He turned and prepared to go to the Northern Factory District, where He would slowly consolidate His authority.

Unfortunately, the [Holy Spirit Scepter] and [Scales of Order] both retain the aura of other deities, so they cannot be taken away casually.

Just then, Saint Het's voice squeezed out from deep within Valentine's throat again, "Merlin! You old bastard...come out here! I know you're around here!"

The god of industry has stopped.

Ji Tian turned his head to look at the other person.

The Minister of the Interior, the Commander of the Imperial Guard, the Deputy Commander, and the elders of the Mage's Association all held their breath in unison.

That name—without a doubt!

The youngest archmage in human history, a great sage, the founder of the Mage's Guild, the guardian of the kingdom, the teacher of the first king, the creator of the modern human magic system, a legend who disappeared thousands of years ago...

Merlin!

His life and existence are nothing more than a legend.

Is he still alive?!

The crowd waited a while longer, and the night wind swept across the capital, but all was still silent.

The atmosphere became somewhat awkward.

Saint-Hert's face darkened completely.

He anxiously asked himself, "Who is the current headmaster of the Royal Capital Magic Academy? Why doesn't he open the wardrobe?"

Valentine's consciousness, in its confusion, managed to squeeze out a sentence: "The Dean has been missing for a long time, and as for the wardrobe... what's so special about it?"

Saint-Hert collapsed to his knees.

It seems that in this day and age, very few people know about that wardrobe.

That was a magical storage cabinet that Merlin had personally crafted when he was young, containing his most prized spatial teleportation array.

He knew that the Academy and Merlin had made an agreement: if the capital were to face an insurmountable crisis, Merlin would rush back from any corner of the world as long as the wardrobe was opened.

Now, the wardrobe is closed, and the dean has disappeared.

That old geezer either can't get out, or he simply doesn't care.

Or perhaps, both are possible.

"Damn it..." There was no thunderous speech. Saint Het simply laughed and cursed, his body went limp, and the Valentine he possessed fainted.

There was dead silence all around.

The Minister of the Interior's lips trembled, but no sound came out; the Commander of the Imperial Guard gripped his sword hilt tightly, his knuckles turning white; the old magician looked down at the dim crystal ball in his hand and sighed deeply.

[Heh, that's it?]

The newly born god of industry made a couple of sarcastic remarks, then prepared to leave.

The Archbishop of the Church, the only one of the three major powers in the capital willing to intervene, was defeated.

Just then, a voice came from behind, "Wait."

Without a moment's mourning for the defeated cardinal, the next to join the battle was—

Ji Tian!