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

Beishen didn't expect Neos to do this to him in such a formal occasion. His body stiffened for a moment and he let out a low roar, but he didn't attack in the end.

"Thank you all for your farewell," Neos withdrew his hand, as if nothing had happened. His voice was clear to everyone, "especially you, Tezcatlipoca, the God of War of the North. Your people have made countless sacrifices for you. Now, it is time for them to fight for themselves."

"If, I mean if, the power of Hell once again erodes this land on a large scale in the future, or if you encounter any catastrophic disaster that you cannot resolve on your own—"

He pointed a finger at the crosses erected at the harbor. "Touch them, pray to them! Call my name, call Om Messiah! Tell me about your plight. The stronger your faith, the more people pray, and the clearer I can hear you, even across the vast void!"

The more people believe in him, the more voices of prayer to him there are, and the more difficult it is for him to distinguish specific needs from these thousands of voices.

After saying this, Neos did not stop, turned around and stepped onto the gangway of the Kilkenny.

Montezuma XIII took a deep breath and, along with all the officials and priests, bowed deeply to Neos' back. "Farewell, envoy of God! May the glory of Quetzalcoatl illuminate your voyage forever!"

“Praise be to Om Messiah!”

In the crowd, the newly promoted technical school students and factory workers spontaneously shouted, their voices not uniform but full of reverence.

The gangway slowly retracted, and the heavy anchor rattled as the capstan pulled it. The Kilkenny's engines began to roar low, and thicker white steam emerged from the chimneys. The massive ship began to slowly leave the dock.

Neos stood by the porthole on the bridge, silently gazing at the gradually receding harbor. He saw that not only the officials and soldiers, but also all the places around the dock where the giant ship could be seen were filled with Aztec people who had come to see it off spontaneously.

Among them were workers who had just finished their shifts, citizens in traditional costumes, women holding children, and even many students who were still young. Perhaps not all of them fully understood the significance of the changes brought about by Neos, but they had personally experienced the changes in their lives.

More food, safer shelter, and something more precious than gold and diamonds, called hope.

When he no longer needs to rely on violence and fear, blind obedience, brainwashing and fanaticism, but instead uses hope and the future to make people follow him, how can we say that he is not the Lord of mankind?

"Navigator, correct course. Our warp beacon is not in Rome. Preset exit coordinates: the western side of the Baltic Sea. Prepare to enter the warp!"

"Yes, Saint!"

--------

1 day later Baltic Sea Holy Roman Empire Peenemünde Coast

The ripples of the Warp subsided, and the laws of physics in the real world took over again. The cold Baltic water lapped against the hull of the Kilkenny cruiser.

"Saint, according to the preset navigation beacon, we have appeared on the west side of the Baltic Sea. We are inquiring about our specific coordinates from the radio navigation station on the shore."

"On the west side of Poland, I think there's a flag of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth over there."

Neos stood on the bridge, looking out through the reinforced observation window through binoculars. The coastline was hazy in the morning light, a gray-green pine forest stretching along the gently sloping sand dunes. It was only a little over ten kilometers from the Polish coastline.

However, just as he adjusted his sights and prepared to order the ships to find a port, an abrupt scene entered his field of vision. Not far inland from the coastline, on a cleared expanse of land, stood a silvery-white, sharp metal object, pointing straight into the sky.

It is too tall and too regular, and does not look like a building of this era at all.

"What is that?" Neos frowned and picked up a high-powered telescope.

The camera zoomed in, and the details gradually became clear. It was a huge, multi-level metal cylinder with a conical top and a metal skin covering the surface, reflecting a cold and hard luster in the sunlight.

Its base, connected by a complex network of trusses and pipes, rests on a massive platform. Scattered around it are low-slung factories, bunkers, and several towering iron towers. Men in white or khaki work clothes bustle around it like ants.

Neos' heart skipped a beat, and a word that had almost been forgotten deep in his memory came to mind.

"Oh my god—a rocket! It's definitely a rocket! Awesome, these Crusaders must have gotten the technology wrong!"

...

At this moment, at the Peenemünde rocket launch site, hundreds of top talents from various church research institutions are making final preparations before the launch of this behemoth named "Deep Space Eye III".

The air was filled with tension, anticipation, and an almost religious devotion—except that the object of their devotion was science and exploration itself, not the One in heaven.

Twenty-one years have passed since Pope Pius, a visionary (or desperate man looking for anything possible), launched the space program in 1894.

This is a journey full of setbacks, sacrifices and paranoia. The initial attempts were ridiculously naive.

Scientists attempted to use giant hot air balloons to launch observers and instruments into space, but this approach proved to be a dead end when the brave volunteers lost consciousness from lack of oxygen and hypothermia at an altitude of over 30,000 meters, and the balloon subsequently disintegrated and exploded in high-altitude winds.

The search team only found the pilot's terrified description of high altitude before he lost consciousness, and some broken instrument wreckage.

High-altitude balloons could not carry human ambitions, nor could they reliably deliver precision instruments to the required heights to explore the mysteries of the atmosphere at higher altitudes. Faced with this desperate situation, Pope Pius demonstrated his unique determination as a religious leader, blending theology with simple physics:

"Since we can't 'float' up, let's 'shoot' up! Launch first, and go as high as we can! According to the laws of atmospheric changes and the absolutely correct theory of universal gravitation, as long as the altitude is high enough, the atmosphere will become so thin that it loses resistance. The object we launch will be able to circle the Earth forever, becoming an eye of mankind that even God cannot ignore!"

This simple and crude yet to-the-point order, at a time when turboprop and jet engine technologies were still immature, forced the technological focus of the Church and the European countries under its influence to the challenging path of rocket engines.

More than 20 years of accumulation has brought not only breakthroughs in rocket technology, but its by-products have even profoundly changed the air combat landscape in Europe.

As the old, piston-engined biplanes were still taking their first steps, a strange and powerful new fighter emerged: the "Carrier Pigeon" interceptor equipped with a small rocket engine.

These interceptors sacrificed range and loiter time in exchange for unparalleled climb rate and terminal speed. When they were first deployed, Hell's air units, which relied on poor aerodynamics or magical flight, were caught off guard and routed by sheer speed and firepower.

Although its combat radius is only a very short 200 kilometers, the pigeon interceptor can often only conduct defensive operations over its own airports or important targets. It is nicknamed "airport defender" within the Crusaders, but its strategic value is unquestionable.

Now, the Holy Roman Empire Air Force has mobilized almost all of its precious "carrier pigeon" squadrons in the rear to Peenemünde, with only one goal - to ensure the successful launch of "Deep Space Eye III" at all costs.

The church's first large liquid-fueled rocket, which made its maiden flight in 1903, exploded after climbing to an altitude of only 9,000 meters, a height not even as high as some high-performance piston fighters. However, it proved the feasibility of large liquid-fueled rockets and ignited the fire of hope.

Since then, it's been a series of attempts and failures. Nine kilometers, thirteen kilometers, twenty-seven kilometers... Each launch has challenged the limits of engineering technology and tested human courage and perseverance.

The requirements for carrying payloads are also getting higher and higher: from the initial "as long as it reaches that altitude it is considered a success", to "it must reach the predetermined altitude under controllable conditions", and then to "it must be able to carry a payload and transmit the detection data back intact."

Failure is commonplace. Rockets explode on the launch pad, disintegrate in mid-air, stray off course, lose contact... Each failure means a massive loss of resources and lives. Yet, like a fascination, scientists persevere, determined to build a "Tower of Babel" that reaches the stars.

Their actions naturally aroused the vigilance and intervention of the Strategic Prophecy Committee. These human traitors who controlled the right to interpret the oracle believed that peeping into "Heaven" was blasphemy against God and would inevitably incur divine punishment.

As a result, the research team had no choice but to move from Rome to Paris, from Vienna to London, then to St. Petersburg and Warsaw, and finally settled on this remote Baltic coast. They were like a group of heretics being hunted, but the "heresy" they believed in was science.

As the rocket soared higher and higher, ever closer to the orbital altitude where "theoretically, the Great II (nine) qi翏酒一散气 (dispersed air) loses its resistance," even the silent heavens seemed to begin to feel uneasy. He couldn't directly destroy the rocket with lightning like he did in the legendary Tower of Babel (perhaps the war in Hell was too much of a distraction, or perhaps scientists' faith in modern technology exempted them from divine interference). But He could, like the destruction of the Tower of Babel in the Bible, disrupt people's hearts.

Researchers, engineers, and even management officials involved in the project began to see all kinds of ominous omens in their dreams: burning rocket debris falling to the earth, malicious whispers coming from the depths of the cold starry sky, loved ones separated, homes destroyed... Many devout believers were shaken and left the project.

Some residents around the launch site and research institute also became manic and restless under the influence of the dreams, and even attacked researchers.

Under this double screening from earth and heaven over the years, those who have been able to persevere until now, whether they are the white-haired chief scientist or the young worker tightening the last screw, have long had their deep faith in God replaced by the pursuit of scientific truth and disgust for interferers.

They may still follow church rituals, but that is more out of habit.

Ironically, Neos's previous fierce battle with the higher-ranking beings of Heaven in the depths of the Warp unexpectedly bought the project a precious respite. The power of Heaven seemed to have temporarily withdrawn from the real world, unable to interfere as frequently as before.

Taking advantage of this opportunity, the "Eye in Deep Space" project was rapidly advanced. Pope Benedict transferred a group of members of the Adeptus Mechanicus from Neos's base in the Carpathian Mountains to assist in the project.

However, these technical priests who worshipped "Oum Messiah, the God of All Machines" were instinctively excluded and wary of the scientists in Peenemünde. In the eyes of these scientists who were harassed by "divine revelations", any existence with the name of "God" might be a potential disruptor and destroyer.

Now, the Deep Space Eye III, a creation embodying the dreams, sacrifices, and obsessions of countless people, sits quietly on the launch pad, with final preparations proceeding in an orderly manner.

A massive fuel tanker slowly approached the launch platform, its thick pipes carefully connected to the rocket's fuel port. Technicians in white protective suits and breathing masks manipulated valves with the precision of surgeons, slowly injecting the highly flammable and explosive liquid oxygen and the highly toxic unsymmetrical dimethylhydrazine into the rocket's thin fuel tank.

Each step required checking instrument readings and multiple confirmations. The air was filled with the white mist of evaporating liquid oxygen and the distinctive, pungent odor of unsymmetrical dimethylhydrazine. Any spark could have catastrophic consequences. The refueling process was slow and oppressive, echoed only by the hum of the instruments and the calm commands on the intercom.

Meanwhile, in the launch control center and at various monitoring points across the launch site, engineers, facing complex dashboards, repeatedly checked every system on the rocket: navigation, control, telemetry, structural stress... Thousands of parameters were verified one by one. In another brightly lit room, several top physicists and mathematicians gathered around a massive blackboard, using chalk to calculate the final orbital parameters and flight attitude control equations.

Fine beads of sweat oozed from their foreheads, and their fingers were covered with white powder from long hours of writing, but their eyes were unusually bright. Every calculation result would be cross-checked with other groups to ensure that it was foolproof.

Before the advent of electronic computers, researchers had to rely on hand-cranked calculators. Partial differential linear equations could only be solved using matrices, with each research group responsible for calculating only one value in the matrix.

This is a veritable human computer.

"Fueling complete, pressure stable."

"The navigation system is normal."

"The signal is normal."

"Weather conditions: Good, wind speeds aloft below threshold."

As confirmations trickled down to the launch control center, Chief Scientist Hermann Oberth, a legendary space pioneer on par with Tsiolkovsky and Goddard, stood at the console, listening calmly to the reports. He had experienced countless failures and witnessed countless sacrifices, but this hadn't extinguished the fire of exploration in his eyes.

"All systems are ready, entering the final ten-minute countdown." Oberth's voice spread throughout the launch site through the broadcasting system.

Everyone held their breath, their eyes focused on the silver-white rocket.

However, at this critical moment, a shrill alarm suddenly sounded in the bridge of the "Kilkenny" far out on the sea!

"Radar contact! A large number of unidentified aerial targets have been spotted in the northeast direction, at a distance of 120 kilometers! The number... fifty - seventy - one hundred and twenty - too many! They are moving at an extremely fast speed and are expected to enter our ship's air defense circle in thirteen minutes. The altitude is decreasing! The heading is directly towards the coastline!" The radar operator's voice was a little distorted due to shock.

Neos' pupils suddenly contracted. So many? This scale and direction...

"It's heretics! Their target is the rocket!" Neos reacted instantly. Hell was obviously aware of the potential threat of this rocket, or simply wanted to destroy any attempt of mankind to explore upward.

"Send a telegram to Peenemünde Base immediately! Top priority! Warn them of the incoming massive air raid! Bearing northeast, estimated time of contact thirteen minutes!"

"Yes!" The communications officer tapped the keys quickly.

Almost at the same time the telegram was sent, the shrill air defense alarm at the Peenemünde base broke the tense and orderly atmosphere at the launch site.

"Air raid alert! Repeat, air raid alert! All non-essential personnel take shelter immediately!"

"Brake Squadron scramble! Intercept the heretic fighters!"

At the airfield on the edge of the base, ground crews frantically made final preparations for the bizarrely shaped rocket interceptors. The pilots rushed to their cockpits, and with a piercing roar and dazzling jets of flame, the "Carrier Pigeons" shot into the sky like arrows, leaving behind white contrails as they plunged relentlessly towards the northeastern horizon.

But this time, the heretic's determination was beyond imagination.

Kilkenny's radar screen showed the enemy aircraft, barely making any evasive maneuvers, swarming towards Peenemünde like a black mass of locusts. They seemed to be composed of a variety of twisted aircraft, some like grotesque creations of rotting metal and flesh, spewing unholy flames.

High in the sky, the Pigeon interceptors, leveraging their incredible speed, were the first to engage the enemy's vanguard. Tracer rounds crisscrossed the air in a barrage of death, while rockets, trailing flames, tore through the fragile structures of the enemy aircraft. Exploding fireballs burst into life-size succession, like fleeting yet brutal fireworks.

However, the enemy aircraft were simply too numerous. While the Crusaders achieved remarkable results, they also suffered losses. More importantly, the limited endurance of their rocket engines prevented them from engaging in prolonged dogfights. Even more terrifying, those heretical aircraft displayed an almost frenzied aggressiveness, completely disregarding their own casualties. Even when struck, trailing thick smoke and flames, they desperately rushed towards the launch site, even attempting to crash directly into ground targets, especially that striking silver-white rocket!

"Intercept! Open fire! Shoot them down!" the base's air defense commander roared at the top of his lungs.

The anti-aircraft guns deployed around the launch site roared, their flames spitting out sparse barrages in the air. The large-caliber machine guns mounted on bunkers and towers also fired frantically, trying to stop the fish that had slipped through the interception net.

Kilkenny also joined the battle. Although still far away, the anti-aircraft turrets on the ship had already begun to rotate, pouring heavy fire into the air, trying to provide long-range support for the base.

Despite the best efforts of the anti-aircraft firepower, some enemy planes still broke through the layers of interception.

"boom!!"

The first bomb landed in the woods outside the launch site, sending up a huge cloud of dust and flames. More explosions followed, closer and closer. One accurately struck a nearby warehouse, triggering a violent detonation. Fire shot skyward. Shrapnel rained down on the launch platform, making a clanging sound.

The atmosphere in the control center was extremely tense. Some base managers, dressed in officer uniforms, instinctively made the sign of the cross on their chests, their lips moving in silent prayers for friendly forces to perform a miracle and intercept all enemy aircraft.

However, Chief Scientist Hermann Oberth looked at the approaching explosion on the monitoring screen with an almost fanatical smile on his face. He slammed the console and shouted:

"Comrades! Don't panic! Regardless of whether it's hell or heaven, the more frantically they try to stop us, the more it proves we're heading in the right direction! The road to the sea of ​​stars is never paved with flowers!"

His words calmed the restless scientists around him and made them stand still.

"Boom!" Another bomb exploded less than a hundred meters from the launch pad, sending shockwaves trembling through the entire control center. The ground around the launch platform was already cratered, and several key auxiliary equipment had been destroyed.

Obert's face darkened. He knew he couldn't wait any longer. "No more waiting! Immediately proceed to the final launch sequence! Ignition!"

"But Doctor, the impact may damage the rocket! And the threat in the air--" an engineer shouted anxiously.

"There's no time! Even if we don't launch this rocket, it's going to be destroyed. If it explodes, it has to happen on the way to our exploration!"

Obert interrupted him, grabbed the nearby radio microphone, and shouted at the entire base and any friendly channels that might be received:

"Peenemünde Cosmodrome calling all units! Calling all units! We are under a massive air attack! 'Eye of Deep Space III' has been forced to launch prematurely! This is a crucial step for humanity into space! We request all possible air support! I repeat, all possible support! For the future of humanity, please stop those who seek to imprison us forever on Earth!"

Out at sea, Neos watched the dwindling number of friendly fire points on the radar screen and the steadily approaching enemy aircraft. He then glanced at the rocket on the shore, teetering on the brink of collapse amidst the explosions, his brow furrowed. The base's anti-aircraft firepower was rapidly being suppressed, and the remaining interceptors were running low on fuel. At this rate, even if the rocket launched, it would likely be destroyed during its ascent.

We cannot let it fail. This is more than just a rocket; it represents a possibility, a symbol of the indomitable will of mankind.

"Captain!" Neos turned sharply. "Notify the hangar and immediately prepare the remaining seaplane! Fill it with fuel and take me up!"

The crew members were stunned for a moment. The seaplane was mainly used for reconnaissance and communication, and its firepower was limited. It was almost a drop in the bucket in an air battle of this scale.

"But—" "Even if I crash, I can still come back from the warp! You won't die!"

“Get on the plane!!!”

PS: 260 votes, next update 4.5k meow... refresh every five minutes, add some pictures

Red Tide: 1921: Chapter ** The rocket's tail flame will burn away all ignorance and superstition

The cruiser's catapult deck was bustling with activity. A seaplane, with two huge floats hanging from its belly, was being pushed onto the catapult track by the crew. This was the only remaining Albatross-type seaplane on board, normally used to search for enemy ships or conduct offshore reconnaissance missions.

Its fragile fuselage and old piston engine seemed so insignificant compared to the twisted flying object roaring in the distant sky.

In standard configuration, the aircraft requires three people to operate: a pilot, an observer, and a gunner responsible for the dorsal rotating machine gun turret. At this time, Neos was sitting in the dorsal machine gun mount.