This heretic cannot be burned, he must be hung up and whipped!

"Honestly, our planes can't even fly at 40,000 feet. How can we possibly reach the stars so easily? The Strategic Prophecy Committee has been brainwashed by the future He showed us. I will find a way to stop this project."

The Dominican swordsman saluted him. "A wise decision, Reverend Father Benedict. We must learn from this lesson. The Strategic Prophecy Committee is completely loyal to God. The current technical department has essentially become a puppet of the Strategic Prophecy Committee. The decision on what technology can be researched and what technology is blasphemous lies entirely with the Committee—no, it is entirely in His hands!

We can’t go on like this! We’re the only ones you can rely on.”

Benedict was a little worried: "He must know our purpose. What if He refuses to provide us with a prophecy about the future, or even provides a distorted future to mislead us?"

"Then let's create a God of our own! The Mendel Cult almost succeeded. Their technology can create demigods like us Paladins, so why can't they truly create another God? Humanity's faith must be in its own hands!"

"It's too risky! If He finds out, who will we rely on to expel the next plague of the Lord of Flies?" Benedict didn't dare to gamble on the possibility. At that time, God could not interfere with and observe the world on a large scale. The Mendel Order took this opportunity to secretly clone seven bodies that were closest to Christ and created demigods like Dominic.

If God hadn't reacted in time, perhaps the Mendel Order could have really created a miracle...

“Beep! Beep!”

The alarm suddenly rang out, and Dominic drew his sword and pushed the door open a crack.

"The Strategic Prophecy Committee has received new instructions from the Supreme Lord,"

When the young man whose skin had completely disappeared pushed the door open and walked in, he was followed by several soldiers wearing helmets that looked like binoculars.

The boy's eyes had been sealed by the machine, but he could still accurately face her position. The mechanical synthesized voice in his throat carried an unquestionable divinity:

"Saint, the Lord has revealed your destiny."

Benedict's frost formed into a dagger in his palm, but was stopped by Dominican before it could reach the boy. The boy turned to face the Pope and knelt on one knee in salute.

"Your Majesty, Benedict, the Supreme Lord has revealed the future to us. The Lord of Flies has once again released the Black Holy Grail in Slovenia. Among the many visions of the future, only the Dominican Saints can lead us to repel this plague. Saint Dominic, please set out immediately. The Kingdom of the Lord has opened a passage for you."

"Give us a little more time. We need to discuss the number of supporting troops." The new Pope frowned and stared at the boy's eyes that had been replaced by mechanical instruments.

"According to the prophecy of the Supreme Lord, only Saint Dominicana is needed to expel the Black Holy Grail. Please set off immediately, Saint." The young man had no hesitation on his face and ordered Dominicana to leave in an imperative tone.

"I am the Pope! Don't you understand my orders? Get out!" Benedict's face was so gloomy that water could drip out of it. The young man put on a smile at the corner of his mouth and slowly retreated.

"How come they are not affected by this soulless person?"

Dominica touched the soulless person who was kneeling in the middle of the room, and the soulless person fell straight to the ground.

It's already hard, it looks like he's been walking for a while.

"...a sinkhole might hold a few buckets of water, but it can't hold a whole ocean," she said.

The Soulless Man's body suddenly twitched violently, and asphalt-like tentacles extended from his eye sockets. The whisper of the Supreme Being of the Aether Sea echoed through this body into the secret room:

"...Naughty lamb, do you think you can escape the shepherd's whip by hiding in this shadow?"

"He guessed it? What should we do? What should humans do?" Although it was a question, his bitter tone had already revealed the answer.

The body of the soulless man melted in a holy light, the temperature of the room suddenly dropped, and a gap in reality bursting with holy light appeared out of thin air - that was the passage to the ether sea.

"It seems that He is a little anxious. This just proves that we are moving on the right path, respected Holy Father." Dominic's tone revealed pride, and he did not feel sad or despair about his destined ending at all.

"It seems I must go first, Holy Father."

Dominica stood at the edge of the rift between the aether sea and reality. The fierce wind from the cavern lifted her cloak, revealing the mottled scars on her armor. Her fingers gently stroked the oath engraved on her breastplate. It was the oath she swore when she became a paladin, every word soaked in blood and faith.

Her thoughts went back to that morning a hundred years ago, when the young girl knelt before the altar of the temple, her hands tightly gripping the long sword. Her voice echoed in the empty hall, firm and fiery:

"I, Dominican, do hereby solemnly swear:

I will protect the lives of innocents with my sword and shield.

Use your flesh and blood to build an iron wall to resist the darkness.

No matter how evil or hopeless we face,

I will never give in, never back down.

I would like to use my soul as a candle to illuminate the path forward for mankind.

I will use my life as fuel to burn away all the haze that blocks hope.

Even if the flames of hell burn my body,

Even if the glory of heaven turns to vanity,

I will still hold high the banner of hope.

Until the last breath, the last drop of blood!"

The echo of the oath, across the centuries, roared in her mind. She turned, and the gaze behind the iron mask pierced Benedict's soul.

"Please don't give up hope, Holy Father," she said in a low, firm voice.

"In the hundreds of years I've spent battling Hell, I've witnessed countless darknesses in human nature. The temptations that lead to depravity, the prophecies of a hopeless future, the threats and inducements of heretics have never wavered me."

Her fingers gently brushed the blade, and the scriptures on the sword illuminated one by one, as if answering her oath. Her eyes swept across every inch of the secret room, as if to engrave everything into eternal memory.

"The future of humanity may be dark, but hope has never been extinguished," she continued, with a barely perceptible tremor in her voice.

"We may not be able to defeat God, but we can choose not to surrender to Him. We can choose to define faith in our own way and choose hope."

Her figure gradually blurred in the vortex of the aether sea, ice flames and darkness intertwined to form her battle robe. Her last words dissipated into the air as she disappeared, but they ignited a faint flame in Benedict's heart:

“Remember, Holy Father, hope is not a gift from God but a creation of man.”

Benedict stood still. The power from God had strengthened him to the pinnacle of his earthly strength, but he could not disobey any of His will. Frost spread beneath his feet, forming the final word of the Dominican oath—hope.

He raised his head, his eyes penetrating the stained glass window, as if he saw the truth behind the starry sky.

"Hope..." he repeated in a low voice, tightening his grip on the crown.

"Yes, I hope."

PS1: After writing this transition chapter, the next chapter will be Saving Private Neos (laughs)

PS2：180推荐票票下一更4.5k喵...1刀片/月票/100打赏等于20票票喵......喵.....

PS3: py with friends "Roman's Second Life Seems to Have a Bad Future"

He was summoned and won the 2004 Holy Grail War together with Malinyi Siwujiu Shijiujiu and Jjiu Risbili and made a wish to become a human.

This should obviously be a wonderful thing, but the daily necessities of life and the endless support of beautiful idol girls drained away the wealth that he could never accumulate due to his repeated jumps on fx.

In order to survive in the human society and to have enough money to pursue his romantic dream, Roman, under the seemingly ill-intentioned arrangement of his old friend, went to Antarctica for a high salary and began to survive as a worker.

The introduction is weak, it's just a funny story about anime with Roman playing around, I hope the main story can attract everyone

Rising Flames: 1914: Chapter 14: Alas, Can Reconciliation Be Possible? (6k)

A monastery in the center of an abandoned town on the Slovenian border

Archon Barut stood on the broken cross in the bell tower, his twisted flesh wings trembling in the wind.

The human face on the left was gnawing at its lower lip with its sharp teeth. Dark red blood was dripping down its chin, corroding the charred bricks and stones, producing wisps of green smoke.

"What is the mission? I've forgotten a little bit."

It didn't understand why it was suddenly sent here by the demon nobles in the territory to complete that very vague order—

"Kill and sacrifice all living creatures in the area."

He has served the nobles for decades, from being an insignificant squad at the beginning to being able to lead an army that is almost a war band. He has completed every task in his career perfectly, but the Lord of Hell always tells him:

"When you make a significant contribution to me, you will be promoted and receive a drop of my blood as a reward."

"Screw God's contribution!" He spat out a bloody piece of flesh from his left cheek. "What 'significant contribution'? I slaughtered ninety-seven towns for them, and this is the result? I was exiled to this place!"

The right cheek suddenly bulged out, trying to bite the lip on the left cheek: "Shut up! If you complain again, I will eat you first!"

The two faces tore and writhed against the skull, tendons wriggling like earthworms. Barut's brain roared in agony, "Once we get that drop of blood, you can have a proper fight. Now shut up!"

"I've already given every living thing in this town to the lord. The only problem now is that damn church! Why can't the synthesizer destroy it? This isn't the power of Jehovah the Tyrant! Think of a solution quickly. If you fail, we'll all be thrown into the flames!"

It stared intently at the church in the distance. Its windows glowed an eerie blue in the setting sun. This church, standing forever, was God's ultimate mockery—some power protected it, a power that even the runes of Hell could not decipher.

Barut's regiment had suffered heavy losses. Two of the latest "Hell Claw" tanks, fresh from the Fourth Ring of Hell, had been destroyed by the Shrine Hermit. Of the dozen or so Plague Knights, only two remained. He hadn't brought much heavy weaponry with him on this trip to the mortal world, but if he returned to Hell for help, the most horrific thing would happen...

failure.

As losers, the best ending for these consumables is to be thrown into the flames of hell and burned to death, but more losers are used by the Lords of Hell to unleash their "genius creativity".

One of his unlucky colleagues returned to Hell to seek reinforcements because his attack was frustrated. He was then identified as a failure by the Lord of Hell. Under the horrified gaze of all the archons, the Lord crushed the unlucky guy into a ball of meat paste, repeatedly compressed and shaped it, and stuffed him into the Hell Armor to suffer eternal torture while he wailed in pain and despair.

"Barut, has any consul ever truly received the highest level of honor? In the hundreds of years I've served the lord, I've never seen a consul receive a 'rebirth'.

More Archons have fallen at the last moment than I have teeth! Before leaving for the mortal realm, I warned you not to withhold the full strength of the Chapter just because it was a small town. Now it's our turn to pay the price for your choice!

The one on the right! Don't bother me while I'm thinking! "

Before Balut could say anything, the right side of its face began to chew its fleshy wings, and the crunching noise was unbearable for its left face.

"In the battle where the last bastion of Byzantium was taken, and in the Battle of Gibraltar, all the consuls present were reborn, and then—"

"They will shed their armor and their status as Archons. The Hellsmiths will use iron tongs to remove all mortal remains of their flesh, leaving only the purest demonic entity. After being reborn, they will have their own territories, their own names and armies, and even join the royal court."

Barut repeated this sentence over and over again, as if a lie could become the truth if repeated countless times.

In fact, this unattainable reward is like a carrot hanging in front of a donkey, driving the donkey towards a vague goal that can never be reached.

"Alright, both of you, stop arguing. Now, count the troops and weapons. If the synthetic beasts can't break into this church, then units with a higher concentration of Hell bloodline won't be able to enter either. Wizards! Prepare for the next round of attack!"

Governor Barut stood on the bell tower which he used as his temporary headquarters. He could clearly see the extremely conspicuous tall building. Under the wizard's spell, he could even clearly see the figures of human soldiers moving in the stained glass windows of the church.

"Wizard!" Barut turned to the floating monster. It was stroking a stone slab with three arms at once, ignoring the Archon's call.

Zuo Yan suddenly let out a nervous shrill laugh: "Look, our 'subordinate' is still studying his broken stone slab! If it were me, I would tear off his arms one by one and stuff them into--"

"Silence!" Barut cast a spell, and both of his secondary faces twitched and collapsed simultaneously. "Tell me, why can't even the fires of hell burn through that barrier?"

The wizard's arm lazily pointed toward the church spire. There, a pale blue film of light rippled like water. Mortal soldiers were unharmed when they collided with the film, but any creature with demonic blood would be kept out.

"This isn't a trick of God's tyrant," the wizard's voice sounded like nails scratching glass. "This is more like a curse... a curse directed at us."

The wizard did not look up, concentrating on interpreting the stone tablet in his hand, as if this small tablet was more important than the battle that concerned the life and property of the Archon.

"No matter how powerful the cursed one is, he cannot match the might of the Lord of Hell! Wizard, if you cannot lead our army to victory, you will never learn the whereabouts of the other stone tablet!"

The Archon's angry voice came from the left side of his face, and the muscles in his wings behind him twitched, suppressing the urge to slap this guy to death.

"Hmph, after you fail, I will ask the lord to cast you into the Hell Armor. If you want a quick death, you will then naturally tell me the clue to the new stone tablet."

"you--!"

The wizard floating on the ground put down the stone tablet engraved with blasphemous symbols in his hand, stretched out an arm, and cast a spell accompanied by hellfire to cover all the heretic soldiers. The faces of the heretic soldiers were wrinkled under the gas masks, and their pupils revealed madness and pleasure. The weapons in their hands ignited flames, and the mortals on standby in the pigsty suddenly screamed in extreme pain.

“Ahhhhh——!”

Several mortals melted like wax in the flames. Strips of grayish-white light flowed from their molten bodies and condensed in the wizard's hands. The wizard once again recited the cruel poem of hell. The horns on his head and the stone slabs on his arms radiated a scarlet light. All the soldiers, except the archon, showed fanatical expressions. Several mortals were unable to dodge and were directly grabbed by the soldiers and torn to pieces amid screams!

"Listen, scum!" the Archon roared, and all the mortals fell to their knees and twitched. "Storm that damned house and slit the throats of every living thing! The scum who survives will be spared the 15-day punishment!"

He was met with a series of whimpers. A mortal suddenly screamed and dashed in the opposite direction, only to be split in two by the yoke demon's axe the next second. Brains spurted out from the shattered skull, and the yoke demon licked the axe blade with its long tongue, growling with satisfaction.

"Attack!" Barut's three faces roared at the same time.

—yue〝　漿潇濌qi死witch诌I〢V贴@玐)————————————

"Saint! Those triangular wings and spring-loaded intestines are coming back!"

The loud shouts from the church's stained windows made the muscles on the Archon's face twitch. Although he knew that this title had a long history, this was probably the first time he had been shouted at in such a way in front of a group of lowly mortal soldiers.

If possible, he even had the urge to grind those lowly mortal soldiers into meat paste bit by bit.

But he could only endure it. The fate of these creatures had already been determined, which was to be offered to the supreme Lord of Hell, using their lives as lowly as ants in exchange for the Lord's momentary pleasure.

"Deploy into battle formation! Attack!"

Seeing that the other party had discovered his actions, the consul simply ordered his three mortal teams to stop hiding their bodies and approach at full speed.

These poor mortals, from soul to body, have not a trace of belonging to hell. They often act as suicide troops - compared to the opposite church that is willing to give prisoners a martyrdom bomb, hell is not even willing to provide them with a decent weapon.

They were not even qualified to stand in the same trench with the heretic soldiers. On weekdays, they were toys for the soldiers to take away at will for fun and torture, and consumable materials for the spells of wizards and other dark sorcerers.

They are the portrayal of the working people in the occupied areas. Under the attack of the forces of hell, those who did not have time to evacuate with the church fell into the hands of the heretic troops. These people were used as a kind of currency, and many heretical priests used this form of human flesh to pay taxes to their demonic rulers.