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

PS: The above long list is the full title of the Pope, which is used in very formal occasions such as sacrifices.

Benedict nodded and walked quickly into the General Staff Headquarters with a nervous look on his face.

The Pope gently pushed the door open a crack, and a chaotic wave of sound rushed in, shaking the chandelier hanging from the dome.

"Clap! Clap! Clap!"

Hurrying civilian secretaries ran by with documents in their arms, shuttling from one doorway to another. It was the connection between these "worker ants" that brought a touch of life to this Crusader's nest.

The monk holding the telegraph accidentally knocked over the potted plant at the Pope's feet, and the silver utensils rolled into the pile of armor in the corner. The cleaner came in a hurry and didn't even notice the Pope's arrival.

"Make way! Quick! Urgent!"

The cleaner in front of the statue of the Virgin Mary suddenly threw away the mop, and the wet cloth drew long marks on the black and white checkerboard tiles - three telegraph operators were rushing past on the water stains, with copper keys of telegraph machines hanging around their necks, and the back collars of their military uniforms were soaked into dark gray by sweat.

Intermittent dripping sounds seeped out from the iron boxes under their arms, mixed with the roars that erupted from the crack of the door in the distance:

“Ljubljana—Ljubljana is in danger!!”

"Holy Father... defeat... defeat everywhere" "Can we still contact the Saustani regiment?!" "Heretical troops have landed in Trieste!"

The secretary holding the wax letter box stopped suddenly under the window, and the parchment scroll slipped from under his arm, covering the mosaic of The Last Supper on the floor tiles.

"Naples—where is the report from the Naples front?"

Two deacons carrying a sand table model stepped on a fallen potted plant, and the sand table hit the Pope, causing him to stagger.

"I need artillery! Shells! I need more shells! There's no ammunition—"

A sudden roar erupted from the west side of the hall, freezing everyone in their tracks. Behind an oak door inlaid with an ivory cross, a general's sword struck a map of the Kingdom of Slovenia nailed to the wall.

"The heretic troops have crushed my troops like cracking walnuts... The trenches have been breached on a large scale, and I still don't know how many troops I have... Damn it! I don't know anything, I want to go to the front!" "General! The airport is full of flights!"

"Then use a hot air balloon—a train. I have to get to the front. The heretics are coming in faster than my troops can retreat! If I wait any longer—"

The roar was suppressed by the heavy door panel and turned into a vague curse. Incense wrapped in the smell of gunpowder seeped out from the crack of the door. The iron spikes of the thorn crown hanging on the lintel rustled and vibrated in the quarrel.

"Ljubljana must be defended! If we lose it, we'll be left with the vast plains, and Venice will be completely defenseless!" "What? It's already been lost?! Who's defending it?"

The moment the Pope's staff touched the hall door, the buzzing of a telegraph machine, mingled with the stench of cigarette smoke, filled the air. The argument in the command room had turned into a brawl, with two generals clashing before a battle table filled with generals, and an ashtray piled high with cigarette butts slammed down.

"Crack!" "Asshole! You should go to the front and be buried with your regiment!" "I don't even know what's happening on the front line, where the hell should I go?!" "Boom!"

A metal rack piled high with telegram manuscripts was knocked over, and with a clatter, wax pellets containing encrypted war reports rained down on the Pope's shoulder. The Crusade flag, inserted diagonally into the sand table, suddenly toppled over. Inside, the flags representing the heretical forces continued to advance.

"When was this battle report?"

The Pope frowned and looked at the sand table. Even though he didn't know much about military affairs, he could tell something from the performance of the people in the staff.

"Your Majesty, this is the battle line from an hour ago."

He kept a close eye on the battle report. The heretic army attacking from Slovenia was turning to Italy, intending to join forces with the heretic army in southern Italy.

"Is Rome in danger?" he asked the question he wanted to know most.

"This...you have to ask the Chief of Staff...Sorry! Your Majesty!" "Bang!"

The wooden door was pushed open again, the hinges creaking under the weight, and the telegraph operator and the (nine)ling in his arms rushed in with the cold wind, the sound of the telegraph machine buzzing, followed by Chief of Staff Bernard.

"Your Majesty, the situation is bad, very bad."

Bernard's eyes were bloodshot, and his gold-rimmed glasses could not hide his haggard face.

"The heretics' new weapons have breached our trenches, and almost all of our secondary lines of defense are being breached. We can still hold our main line of defense, which we're focusing on, thanks to a large number of artillery pieces. But if this continues—they'll be surrounded by the heretics!"

Chief of Staff Bernard didn't have time to wait for the Pope's questions. He stepped over the mess on the ground, holding a pen and staring at the map.

"Budapest was lost too? Once the front line of the Hungarian Plain is lost, it will be difficult to defend it..."

His hoarse voice drowned out the rustling sound of electricity. Another clerk was scraping off the solidified wax on the envelope with a blade. He tore it open and read for a few seconds, then threw it casually into the pile of papers on the ground.

The civil servants ignored the courtesy of superiors and subordinates and directly pulled down the Crusaders' flags around Budapest and replaced them with the flags of the Heretic Legion.

"The Black Grail is primarily spreading to Hungary. Sulfonamides are ineffective on a large scale. This is a new plague—we can't see any pathogens under a microscope. Could it be that Beelzebub has sent another Black Grail overlord?"

"Is Budapest still there?" the chief of staff asked without turning his head. The quarreling command room fell silent for a moment.

"Not lost."

A series of sighs of relief were heard.

"But if there is no vaccine or effective medicine, there will be no soldiers left in Budapest who can fight in less than three days."

"Send a telegram to the Holy Roman Emperor, asking him to organize a crusade to rescue all the soldiers in Budapest." The chief of staff's pen moved along the contour lines of the map.

"Bang!!" The door was knocked open again.

The messenger rushed in and knocked over the water dispenser by the door. Benedict picked up the soaked telegram paper, and the wet ink spread through his fingers:

"The Strategic Prophecy Committee claims that sacrificing troops in Budapest can provide a solution to the Black Grail Plague."

"No sacrifice! Four hundred thousand troops are trapped in Budapest. That's the most important army group that the Crusaders can use to maintain their combat effectiveness in Eastern Europe. If everyone dies, how can those pilgrims alone stop the attack of the heretics?"

"Bullshit! Save 400,000 patients? Aren't you afraid the plague will spread to the rear and infect more people?" "You don't feel bad that it wasn't your regiment that died, right?!" "Hasn't the Tech-Priest figured out the type of plague yet? Trash! Trash!!"

The sudden quarrel among the staff startled the crows roosting outside the window and caused the glass to buzz.

"Quiet! Can someone tell me what the battle situation is like?"

The Pope asked, but the Chief of Staff was already lost in thought, staring at a map. He clutched his hair in agony, a look of faint despair on his face. No one paid any attention to the Pope. This man at the pinnacle of secular power was less important to the General Staff than even a new unit.

Seeing that no one paid any attention to him, the Pope said:

"I still have a warband in my hands, and all the equipment is newly equipped. Where should I use it?"

The command room was silent for a moment. The clacking of the transmitter keys suddenly became frantic. All the operators stood up simultaneously, and the generals' voices forced out fragmented calls. Upon hearing that new troops were coming to support the front, the staff immediately contacted the frontline troops.

The veins on the back of the general's hand bulged as he grabbed the telephone handle, and the chief of staff dug the tip of his pen deep into the oak table. No one could give the Pope an immediate answer.

They were being attacked everywhere and needed help everywhere. Although the newly recruited "troops" in the Pope's hands were pilgrims who had undergone some training, any support would be good at this time.

The Pope stood there quietly for a few minutes, even though he was extremely anxious and felt uneasy watching the troops heading straight for Rome. But he knew that if he panicked, the other generals in the command room would also lose their backbone.

"How many people do you have?" The chief of staff finally raised his head from his thoughts.

"The Lord commanded me earlier... The Lord revealed to me in a dream that I should organize the Sixth Crusade. I organized a group of pilgrims in advance—they have already arrived in Rome, and there are probably more than 5 of them."

"How many of you are capable of fighting in the battlefield? I want veterans!" "Give me anyone who can pull the trigger! I need them the most!" "Sort out the technicians and give them to me!"

While the generals were still arguing, the door was thrown open again. This time, a group of observers wearing iron helmets and several teenagers walked in. The observers followed the teenagers. The moment the teenagers entered the command room, all the generals stood up and knelt on one knee in respect.

"Marshal Samuel, the Lord has revealed to me that your regiment can survive by breaking out to the northwest." "But that area is completely defenseless..."

The Chief of Staff's questioning did not shake the Marshal's resolve. He immediately replied:

"Yes! Follow the revelation of the Supreme Lord!"

"Your Majesty, you look uneasy."

Although the boy couldn't see and his mouth was filled with machinery, Benedict could feel that he was smiling.

"How can I feel at ease when the war situation is not optimistic?"

"The Lord has given me a revelation. As long as you follow His instructions, the plague of the Black Holy Grail can be easily resolved."

"Revelation? Your Majesty! Please follow the Lord's instructions immediately. I will... I will try my best to draw out another reserve force--" Several generals persuaded.

Benedict's face was stern. He didn't even glance at the young man from the Strategic Prediction Committee. Instead, he stared at the Chief of Staff and asked:

"Where is support most needed? My loyal Chief of Staff, I will organize the Crusade to carry out your plan. Please do not let me down."

He uttered these words almost word by word.

The chief of staff looked at the Pope in confusion, then stared at the map in a daze, picking up and putting down the pencil in his hand repeatedly. He gently took out a small Crusader flag from the box, looked at the map showing that the battle line was almost in crisis, and wanted to find a place to put it.

Everyone's eyes were on Chief of Staff Bernard, with confusion, ridicule, hope, pessimism, despair...all kinds of looks almost crushed him.

These few seconds seemed like a whole century.

He tremblingly put down the pencil and chess piece in his hand, slowly turned his head, and gave Benedict a wry smile.

"Follow the Lord's instructions, Your Majesty—

Man cannot defy God’s will…”

PS1:当前法案：前期动员——220推荐票票下一更4.5k起步！1刀片/月票/100打赏等于20票票嗷！

PS2:py "Catastrophic World Chat Group"

Introduction: A tragic young man accidentally traveled through time while fighting against personality disintegration due to an electric shock, but traveled through time. Although it is a Cthulhu-like worldview, at least he has the Star Key and can live a carefree life.

Until he received a pop-up window from a chat group, and when he opened it, he was shocked.

Now walking towards us is the warp existence world Warhammer 40K, which is worse than animals and has four delayed answers!

A piece of foundation literature about someone who is either destroying the world or on the way to being destroyed every day!

And a world where the population has dwindled to only one city

"Wow, everyone really has something wonderful to offer!"

In Flames: 1914: Chapter 20: War Keeps Women Away (6.5k)

An abandoned town on the Slovenian border

"Can we find new people today?"

Neos took a pen and wrote and drew on the book.

"From what the soldiers said yesterday, there should be more people coming."

Dominica, dressed in a battle robe and armor, once again concealed her face behind an iron mask. Behind her followed another group of hungry and ragged soldiers, their bodies emblazoned with the insignia of the Crusaders.

"Mr. Saint Neos! Thank you—thank you for taking us in!"

Several soldiers came out from behind Dominica and knelt on one knee to salute Neos. Neos waved his hand skillfully, asking them to stand up.

"Which chapter are you from? Or which nation do you belong to? Where are the heretic troops marching to?"

Valentine stood up, holding a map that was blackened by artillery fire. He had found it in the ruins of the town's school.

The heretic troops arrived too hastily and were killed too quickly by the Dominicans who came alone to carry out God's orders, resulting in only the people in the town being killed, and most of the things were still intact.

"We are a local force stationed in Zolokomar and are not part of the Crusaders' organization."

A middle-aged man who looked like an officer stood up, took the pen from Valentine's hand, and pointed to the map - it was a city between Slovenia and Budapest, the capital of Hungary.

"Two hundred kilometers! How did you escape?!"

Neos leaned over to examine the map. The Hungarian territory was now completely covered in red markers representing heresy. Although Slovenia had been attacked by the heretics' new weapons, according to the intelligence gathered by Dominicans during their recent outings from the church—no, while leading search teams to gather supplies and gather up the fleeing soldiers—the main target of the heretic army's attack was Hungary!

"Why? Slovenia is also easily breached. As long as we cross this mountain range, the heretic legions can raid Rome from northern Italy!"

As a military novice, Neos was a little confused about the operations of the Heretic Legion.

Dominica turned her head and looked at Neos. Although her expression could not be seen through the iron mask, everyone who knew her knew that the swordsman must be very speechless at this moment.

"Neos...you are destined for great things. You'd better learn some command knowledge and strategic thinking from me now. Do you understand?"

"Me? Doing big things?" Neos laughed bitterly, pointed at himself, and then pointed at Dominica:

"Whether it's combat prowess, vision, or knowledge, you're already far superior to me. I'm more suited to being a tool that can neutralize the power of God and Hell—

You are putting me on the fire by pushing me to the position of leader now!

To use a saying from my hometown, it means one's virtue is unworthy of his position!"

Dominica picked up the stick, tapped the map Valentine had just spread out on the wall, and walked up to the podium. Neos pursed his lips and picked up a pen to take notes.

"Come here and listen! You will all become Saint Neos's original team. Your current abilities are no match for your respected Saint. Come here!"

Seeing this, Priest Amos called on the idle pilgrims around to sit over and listen.

"Da da da!"

She clicked on the map of Hungary.

"Through our battlefield analysis over the past few days, we've learned that the heretics' new weapons—what Neos calls 'tanks'—can quickly penetrate barbed wire and mines. Unlike the War Wolf Assault Beasts that the heretics used to break through barbed wire, the tanks' thick armor can block all known firearms!

Rifles, submachine guns, heavy machine guns, and even small-caliber artillery were unable to destroy tanks! Facing our main defensive position, the Romanian Carpathian Mountains, the heretic tanks were unable to achieve good results due to the terrain and the large number of heavy artillery.

Therefore, they will inevitably choose to bypass it and attack the plains that are most suitable for tank charges - the Great Hungarian Plain, or the Middle Danube Plain."

Neos looked at the map carefully, thinking about something in his mind.