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

Neos' confused voice came from the surrounding space, and the cold blue-white little sun in front of him flickered with the changes in Neos's tone.

"What do you look like?" Valentine sneered.

"If you really think you're a god, get out of here right now, or I'll slap you twice to wake you up!"

This unexpected answer directly interrupted Neos's next tens of thousands of words of emo psychology draft. He lifted the psychic spell, and the cold sun returned to the ether sea. His surprised face just appeared in front of the campfire when he was kicked by Valentine.

"Bang!" "Hey hey hey!"

Before Neos could say anything, Valentine kicked him in the ass one after another.

"If you were really a god, what the hell were you doing?" "Bang!"

"Why do so many people have to suffer?" "Bang!"

"Fuck your original sin! What original sin did I commit that deserves to serve my sentence in the trenches?" "Bang!"

"How many more people have to die before this ends?!" "Bang!"

"Just because you know some weird magic tricks, you think you're a god?" "Bang!"

"You think you have the power and faith to become a god, and that you're superior to everyone else?!" "Bang!"

"People treat you like a god, but you don't have a mouth? You can only say 'I am not a god'? You are dumb and can't defend yourself? You won't tell them your scientific ideas and use your scientific theories to explain all this?

Why aren't you thinking about these theories now? I see you don't believe them at all. Are you still thinking about becoming a god and then building a kingdom of God, and preaching that only by suffering and serving a prison sentence can you go to heaven? " "Bang!"

"Fuck you, your strength comes from all of us. It's because of all of us trusting you that you are what you are today. Without our faith and hope in you, you are nothing. If you are nothing without these things, you don't deserve to be treated like a god!

You should be grateful to all of us, but now you feel powerful and proud, and you don't even want to say thank you to us!" "Bang!"

"How can you be so selfish! You're still pretending in front of me. In my eyes, you're just that weakling shivering in the bomb shelter. I'll let you, a weakling, fly!" "Bang!"

Finally, Valentine kicked Neos hard, knocking him into the barbed wire of the barracks next to him.

Fortunately, this wire mesh has no thorns and is only used to hang clothes, otherwise Neos would be disfigured.

“It hurts so much…”

Neos lay on the cold ground, holding his butt and groaning. The severe pain from his butt and the cold temperature of January woke him up from his previous state. When he was about to complain about why Valentine kicked so hard, he suddenly heard the sound of the bolt being pulled, which was ingrained in his instinct.

"Click!" The black muzzle of the gun blocked his forehead directly.

"No buddy!! Someone come! The sergeant is crazy!"

Neos ignored the pain in his butt and quickly called out to the pilgrims.

In a few seconds, all the pilgrims who heard the saint's call for support arrived. In order to protect Neos' safety, the headquarters of the legion commander and other high-ranking officials was next to Neos' tent. The garrison troops holding submachine guns and carrying light machine guns directly jumped over the barbed wire and rushed in!

"Protect the Saint--!!" "Saint Neos! Are you okay? Are you not hurt?"

Chapter Master Ogsger didn't even change his protective suit. He raised a long-handled axe, chopped open the door, and rushed to Neos, feeling Neos up and down to see if there were any missing parts.

Seeing that tangible hand was about to touch the unspeakable part, Neos quickly pushed the chapter leader away and explained that it was a pure misunderstanding. Unexpectedly, when he was about to slip away, he was stopped by the chapter leader again.

"Mr. Saint Neos, I think—we need to talk."

.....??I??Start$slip

The Chapter Master led Neos into a secluded corner of the command tent.

Inside the tent, the dim light flickered, casting a shadow on the rough canvas. Neos wanted to ask something, perhaps the latest situation on the front lines or the plight of the over 400,000 Crusaders trapped in Budapest, but a glance at the Chapter Master's almost frozen face made him swallow the words involuntarily.

"Sir Saint Neos, this is a secret letter from Rome, sent directly by plane, not by telegram. His Holiness Pope Benedict thinks you must see it."

Captain Ogsger broke the silence, pulling a piece of letter paper from a tightly sealed metal box and handing it over. The paper had a gold-rimmed edge and exuded a faint scent of ink, clearly not the crude paper commonly found on the battlefield.

"Is this considered an airdrop order from the rear to the front lines?"

Neos suddenly felt as if he had seen this scene before in his memory.

The scene is shown in the picture.jpg

Ogsger clearly didn't get the joke; his lips didn't even twitch. He explained, "Well, this letter is signed by the Pope and the Roman Crusade General Staff. No one from the Strategic Prophecy Committee is involved. We'll have to fight this battle entirely on our own."

"Prophecy? All by myself?" Neos' eyes widened, a little unable to believe his ears.

"No, have we relied on prophecies to fight wars for the past eight hundred years?"

He pointed at the letter, his tone tinged with absurdity: "You don't want me to command these 70,000 sick soldiers to fight a large-scale battle and rescue the 400,000-plus Crusaders besieged in Budapest while Hell has the upper hand, right?"

"That—actually not the case… We can still trust the Roman General Staff and the Chapter Command."

As he spoke, his hands unconsciously rubbed behind his back. Neos narrowed his eyes, thinking to himself: This action is clearly a cover-up. If the Chapter's staff were here, they would immediately know that the Chapter Master is lying.

"So what do you want me to do? I'm not like those demigod-like paladins. If I'm sent to the front lines, I'll have to dig trenches in heaven as soon as a bullet hits me. All I can do is dissipate the evil forces of Hell."

Ogsger was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on Neos. "Saint Neos, the current situation is that we can no longer even communicate with the power of God. During the days you traveled to the Aether Sea, commissioners from His Holiness the Pope came to us to inquire about your situation. These commissioners were members of the Pope's Royal Guard and the legendary Untouchables, whose purpose is to block certain people's precognitive abilities."

Neos had some thoughts. "So, it seems the Pope really dislikes the Strategic Prophecy Committee? After learning about my situation, he hopes that I can use the 'holy power' that I still have access to to communicate with God? Does he want me to replace the Strategic Prophecy Committee?"

He paused, thinking of his previous experiences, especially the incident in the Dominican Republic, and added cautiously:

"I think you need to be mentally prepared. That supreme being might—maybe not—"

"Hush..." Ogsger suddenly interrupted him, winked, and signaled him not to continue. Then, he lowered his voice and said:

"The Pope is also aware that our Chapter is one that leans towards the Pope, so I am the only high-ranking member of the Chapter allowed to know part of the truth. The Strategic Prophecy Committee is becoming increasingly powerful, and now the storm in the Aether Sea has severed their connection with the Supreme Being. His Holiness hopes that you can make good use of your status as a 'Saint' to completely eliminate the influence of the Strategic Prophecy Committee within our Chapter. I will unconditionally obey your plan."

Neos didn't answer immediately. Instead, he put down the letter and slowly walked to the tent window. He raised a curtain and gazed out at the moonlit camp. The regiment had lost nearly one-eighth of its members due to the enemy's plague.

Generally speaking, feudal armies could tolerate casualties of about 3% to 5%. That is to say, for an army of 10 people, the loss of a maximum of about 5000 combatants could lead to the collapse of the entire army.

Thousands of soldiers from these two regiments have died from the disease alone, thousands more are lying in hospital beds, struggling to survive, and thousands more are experiencing symptoms, causing widespread panic. This ratio is almost equivalent to an elementary school being hit by the virus, with an entire grade eliminated while still preparing for the college entrance examination.

This unit suffered one-eighth casualties and was seriously short of medical supplies. It was marching in an uninhabited area in enemy-occupied territory to carry out an almost impossible rescue mission. The fact that it did not collapse, did not suffer large-scale routs or camp bombings, and still maintained a certain level of combat effectiveness was a religious miracle in itself.

"What a miracle... a miracle... a miracle..." Neos muttered to himself, a plan gradually emerging in his mind. He yanked the curtains shut and turned to look at Ogsig:

"As long as I can eliminate those idiots from the Strategic Prophecy Committee, you will unconditionally obey my plan—unconditionally. I can do anything, right?"

Ogsger glanced down at the Pope's handwritten letter again. The gilded words on the back of the letter gleamed in the light: "As long as it is confirmed that the Saint does not believe in a supreme being and has not surrendered to Hell, then execute his plan. If the situation gets out of control, mobilize special forces to purge all committee members."

If we fail, or if the Supreme Being returns, it means the Saints have been bewitched by Hell, and we need to conserve our strength."

He raised his head and nodded solemnly: "As you wish, Mr. Saint Neos."

“Just go ahead and do it.”

------------

After one night, another group of soldiers died of illness.

In the makeshift chapel, fifty-seven bodies covered with sackcloth were neatly arranged, the pale sunlight casting the shadow of the Madonna statue on the hideous corpses.

"Their lungs die before people do."

Neos placed his palm against Private Paul's burning forehead, feeling the veins throbbing beneath his skin. A bluish-white glow leaked from between his fingers, and the festering wound on the soldier's neck receded like the tide.

“Thanks be to the Most High Lord…”

Paul's cracked lips moved, and his cloudy eyeballs reflected Neos' figure.

"No, the first thing you should be thankful for is that you chose to take medicine. It was those two aspirin tablets that allowed you to get through last night's high fever. Otherwise, you would have unfortunately died."

Neos ripped the blood-stained bandage from the private's neck. The smell of rust mixed with the sweet, fishy smell of pus made his throat tighten. In the corner, suppressed sobs came from another soldier who was closing the eyes of his dead comrade—the corpse's fingers were still in a prayer position.

"Oh no! Budapest——"

There was a sudden commotion at the entrance of the camp, and a messenger stumbled off his horse, his coat stained with mud and dark brown blood.

"The defenses on the west side have collapsed! Those... those dead... the Black Holy Grail! The Black Holy Grail is coming!!"

He was so frightened that he was incoherent, and in his excitement his mouth could only make ah-ah-ah sounds.

The messenger raised his mutilated left hand, blood seeping from the bite mark on his ring finger. "It's just as recorded in history—exactly the same! Those dead are tearing at the living like wolves... The front line... Yes, the front line!"

He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from his waist bag and quickly handed it to the Chapter Master. Ogsger stared at it for a few seconds, then suddenly shouted in an exaggerated manner:

"Damn it! Budapest is completely surrounded! The food has run out, and the situation in the city is dire... Damn it! Damn heretics! Damn demons!!"

The soldiers began to stir, some frantically making the sign of the cross. Neos noticed that the observers in the camp, who never took off their helmets, had suddenly gathered together.

Although these observers are not as capable as the Strategic Prophecy Committee in the holy city of Rome, and they cannot see future scenes and various possibilities given by God, they can listen to the guidance of the saints in God's kingdom, and they can also briefly glimpse a glimpse of the future during battle to anticipate the enemy's moves.

It is these observers who are firmly rooted in the grassroots of the Chapter that allow the Strategic Prophecy Committee to better grasp the major Chapters. Only in those Chapters that lean towards the Pope's faction do the observers exist only at the command center.

"but!!"

Ogsger waved the "dispatch":

"The Supreme Lord has sent down a miracle and given us a new prophecy. We will not go to rescue the 400,000 Crusaders in Budapest. We will go to the Holy City of Jerusalem. The Lord's prophecy says that our ancestors committed an unforgivable sin, and all of us will serve our sentence for that sin."

"All those who are sick are not allowed to take any medicine, because you are sinful, and the Supreme Lord wants you to suffer!"

"All those who are injured are not allowed to clean their wounds, because your wounds are the punishment imposed on you by the Supreme Lord!"

"All underage soldiers, send them back to Rome to be skinned and to hear the Word of God!"

...

The content became more and more outrageous and extreme as it was read. In the end, it was a complete competition between Neos and Ogsger's imagination about human suffering. All kinds of horrific tortures and punishments in the legends were read out word for word.

Neos carefully observed the expressions of the soldiers present. From the initial sadness and depression, they gradually turned into repentance, and then gradually became doubt and confusion. In the end, when Ogsger said that the healthy soldiers should send their families to "God's battlefield" to die in order to "ascend to the trenches of heaven to defend God's kingdom", more and more soldiers began to look at Ogsger with dissatisfaction.

At first, tens of thousands of people were discussing in low voices, but later it became completely silent. In the camp of tens of thousands of soldiers, only the voice of the captain echoed.

It was as if he was the only living person in the camp.

No matter how many living people were left in the camp, Ogsger felt like he was going to be dead.

After all, it was quite terrifying to have tens of thousands of soldiers staring at him with the same dead-eye look.

Neos nodded with satisfaction. Last night, Ogsger told Neos everything he knew about what the Pope had said to the top leaders about the current situation.

Neos had been wondering why there hadn't been a large-scale mutiny or uprising when the church was so inhumane. But after hearing, "His Holiness the Pope knows very well that the only reason the people haven't overthrown the church with pitchforks and torches is that hell is too inhumane. Although the church has put tremendous pressure on the front lines, the soldiers all know that as long as they make sacrifices, their families back home will suffer less," he smiled with relief.

"After so many years of fighting in the trenches, unable to return home for several years, the only thing that can support the soldiers to maintain their morale is definitely not patriotism or nationalism, but the softest part of their hearts.

My dear Chapter Master, our church's propaganda only gives them an excuse to comfort themselves. Under years of mental pressure, the soldiers use religion to numb themselves. When we puncture this bubble...

I think it will definitely arouse their anger.”

Ogsger trembled as tens of thousands of people looked at the dead man. His voice became softer and softer as he read the script, until it became as thin as a mosquito's.

The soldiers looked at each other, seemingly with no intention, and they all found the same solution in each other's eyes -

This is undoubtedly a heretical conspiracy. This so-called prophecy is absolutely false, and the person reciting it must have been corrupted and bewitched by Hell! The heretic who made this damned false prophecy must be burned at the stake immediately!

"Crack!" "Crack!"

Chapter Master Ogsger vaguely caught a glimpse of someone assembling something behind the wall of veterans.

"What are they doing?"

Luce, one of the new recruits, stood on tiptoe to see what the veterans were doing, but was pushed down by the commander, whose face was so gloomy that water could drip out of it.

"Child, this is what we'll use to judge the heretics who have infiltrated the chapter."

Ogsger had already spotted the device that looked like a burning stake. He looked at Neos for help, blinking his eyes.

"If you don't say something, I'm going to say that you were the one who made up that prophecy."

“Buzz————”

A blue-white light emerged from the crowd, and a voice from among the soldiers screamed:

"God has appeared! My illness is cured!"

PS: 240 votes, next update 4.5k...

In Flames: 1914: Chapter 30: Fellow Citizens! We March Forward!

"Om-"

Neos' forehead began to sweat, and the temperature of his body dropped sharply due to the extensive use of psychic energy. In just a few seconds, a layer of frost formed on his brow.

The halo spread across the camp like ripples, covering an area with a radius of more than 100 meters. The wounds of the soldiers lying on stretchers waiting to die healed at a speed visible to the naked eye, and their pale faces gradually regained their rosy complexion.

The radiant soldiers raised their hands tremblingly, touching their intact skin in disbelief, with Neos's calm face reflected in their pupils.

“Blessed—the Lord is watching us!”

A mechanical shriek echoed from the back of the crowd. Several observers, clad in blood-red cross robes, pushed aside the soldiers blocking their way and strode towards the platform where the Chapter Master sat. Their short spears gleamed coldly under Neos's blue-white psychic energy. The leader, Observer-General Samuel, raised his hands high and roared in a piercing, mechanical voice: