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

He couldn't fly a plane, but he could pull the trigger.

"Ready! Ready to launch!"

Three minutes, just three minutes, the crew completed all the preparations for refueling, checking the fuselage, and loading ammunition.

The pilot sat in the cockpit, his face flushed, his hands tightly gripping the joystick. The observer, experienced veteran Wolfgang, was checking the equipment in the cramped cabin, but his gaze was mostly focused on the machine gun mount behind him.

The catapult creaked, the gunpowder boost providing far more power than springs and hydraulics. Neos sat in the machine gun seat, feeling the plane's slight rocking on the track.

"Ready, Saint! Please give instructions!" The pilot's voice came out of his throat with incredible excitement.

He had flown this plane countless times, performing tedious missions at sea and escaping death in storms. He knew its limitations—its ceiling was no more than 4500 feet, and its maximum speed was a mere 390 mph, barely faster than the fastest bird. It had no dogfighting ability, and even evasion was clumsy.

But today, everything is different.

"catapult!"

"Yes! Eject!" The pilot pushed the start lever down hard.

"Bang!"

With a dull thud, the plane suddenly surged forward, its immense acceleration pinning the three men to their seats. The sea breeze whistled past their ears, and the massive buoys carved two long streaks of water on the surface. The plane climbed rapidly, clearing the water, and with a resolute gesture, it soared towards the sky shrouded in heresy.

"Sprint! Sprint!"

The pilot's face flushed red as he stared at the airspace ahead, shouting excitedly, "Saint! Where are we going? Just point out a direction, and I'll definitely fly to that location for you!"

The observer's body trembled slightly with excitement. They were about to plunge into a death vortex composed of hundreds of demonic aircraft. It was almost a suicidal act. But he felt no fear, only glory!

"Aren't you afraid with so many enemies?" Neos turned the machine gun turret, pointed the muzzle towards the northeast, and asked casually.

"Of course not!" the pilot said. "Before you came to this world, most civilians would likely work until they died. Year after year, day after day, doing the same thing, and in the end, they would probably just die on the battlefield."

The Observer nodded vigorously and added, "Yes, our lives are insignificant. We won't leave any mark in history. No one cares if we live or die—but it doesn't matter. Now that I can witness the Lord of Humanity unleash his divine power with my own eyes, even death is worth it!"

Their voices are full of sincerity and a sense of relief that comes from seeing through life and death. They are not brainwashed fanatics, but ordinary people who know their own insignificance but feel extremely honored to be able to participate in this epic moment.

"Alright! Let's have a good fight today!"

"Just fly the plane, and I'll take care of the rest!"

As Neos finished speaking, an invisible force surged into the Albatross's body like a tide, and the originally noisy roar of the engine seemed to become harmonious.

He summoned a mass of his own warp essence—a flame of blue, white, and gold woven from countless convictions and powers—and fused it with the swarm of machines.

The machine soul, which was originally just a vague consciousness produced by mechanical creations during long-term use, was instantly activated and sublimated.

"boom--!"

The piston engines on both wings roared with an unprecedented roar, deafening yet brimming with power. The pilot stared at the instrument panel in shock—the speed needle had long been stuck at the upper limit, yet the plane continued to accelerate! The numbers on the altimeter jumped wildly, instantly surpassing the maximum ceiling of 4500 meters, and the plane continued to climb!

The originally slow and clumsy seaplane now transformed into a blue-white lightning, rushing into the flames of war all over the sky at a speed and climb rate that completely exceeded its own design limits.

They charged past the desperately trying interception group of pigeon interceptors. These bizarrely shaped rocket planes, trailing dazzling flames like angry wasps, swarmed around the outer edges of the heretic group. Their pilots, equally fearless, used brief bursts of rocket power and machine gun fire to try to reduce the enemy's numbers.

And the "Albatross," no, it was no ordinary albatross. It was a celestial eagle, reborn under the power of the Lord of Mankind, darting through a rainstorm like a swift. Neos sat in the machine gun turret, needing no careful aim. His consciousness was completely connected to the machine spirit of the aircraft, to the power he infused it with.

He doesn't need to worry about fuel or engine power, he doesn't need to load or aim, all he needs to do is pull the trigger.

The loyal bullet will find its way to where it belongs!

"Da da da da da-"

The twin machine guns on the back of the aircraft spewed out long tongues of flame. The bullets were not simple metal projectiles, but were imbued with the power of the Machine Soul. If they struck the enemy aircraft, they would incinerate the heretic aircraft into a metallic waste of blue-white flames.

"boom!"

A demonic aircraft made of twisted metal and flesh was trying to bypass a carrier pigeon interceptor. The next moment, a series of burning bullets hit it. Instead of splattering disgusting flesh and blood, a dazzling light burst out, vaporizing it instantly, leaving no wreckage.

Another heretical dive-bomber buzzed toward the Peenemünde base. Neos swung his machine gun, and tongues of fire streaked through the air, intercepting it. The demonic metal peeled away under his fire, revealing its interior teeming with maggots and dripping with ichor—the Plague Lord intended not only to destroy the rocket but also the scientists.

Finally, it exploded with a wail of pain, turning into a foul black mist.

"For humanity! For the Om Messiah!"

The sky became a chaotic canvas. White contrails, rocket tails, tracer rounds, black smoke from anti-aircraft guns, exploding fireballs, and the twisted, hideous demonic aircraft all combined to form a frenzied yet magnificent spectacle. And amidst it all, the "Albatross," enhanced by Neos, reaped the lives of its enemies like the Grim Reaper.

Inside the Peenemünde launch base, the sound of the launch countdown came from the loudspeaker, but was soon interrupted by a roar full of determination.

"Ten—" "Nine—" "Eight—"

"Stop counting down! Everyone around the rocket has been evacuated. Ignite—launch!!!"

The people inside the base held their breath. The silver-white body of the "Deep Space Eye III," several dozen meters high, suddenly lit up with a dazzling flame against the backdrop of air defense sirens, explosions, and gunfire.

Boom——!

A deafening roar erupted from the base of the rocket, and its orange-red tail flames, like a roaring dragon, instantly engulfed the launch platform. The immense thrust slowly lifted the rocket off the ground, beginning its journey toward the stars.

The heretic aircraft suddenly gave up attacking other targets in the base, and even gave up fighting with the Crusader fighters. Instead, they gathered into a torrent and rushed straight towards the rising rocket! They had only one goal: to destroy this spear that humans used to pierce heaven and hell!

The Crusaders' pigeon interceptors and the remaining ground-based anti-aircraft firepower also desperately rushed towards the enemy group. The airspace hundreds of meters around the rockets instantly became a meat grinder. The shriek of aircraft engines intertwined with the roar of rocket engines, shrapnel flew, and explosions echoed one after another. At such a distance, the ground-based anti-aircraft artillery units dared not fire freely, fearing that they would accidentally hit the rockets.

Neos's Albatross darted swiftly through the chaotic battle, its bullets, blazing with blue and white flames, forming a barrage of death, clearing the path for the rockets. The demonic aircraft that attempted to approach were instantly disintegrated upon contact with the barrage.

The rocket's speed grew faster and faster, breaking free from the ground's gravity and soaring straight into the sky. Initially, Neos's plane was able to escort the rocket, but when it reached an altitude of 8000 meters, even the enhanced machine spirit began to struggle. The plane shuddered slightly, and its speed and climb rate began to slow.

"The machine spirit can't hold on any longer, Saint." The pilot's voice was filled with a hint of regret.

Neos nodded. Even he couldn't completely reverse the physical laws of the material world; his body's ability to withstand stress was ultimately limited.

"Go down," he said.

The Albatross shook its wings, as if bidding farewell, and began to slowly descend. Below, the remaining pigeon interceptors also gently shook their wings, paying tribute to this brave fighter. They were also running low on fuel, but they had successfully bought the rocket the most precious initial climb time.

Sitting on the descending plane, Neos watched through the chaotic airspace as the rocket shrank ever smaller, carrying humanity's hopes, breaking through numerous obstacles and hurtling towards the unknown sky.

"The tail flame of the spacecraft's propulsion will burn away all ignorance and superstition," he whispered. "Humanity should not stop because of these current setbacks."

The rocket continued to rise, its tail flame breaking through the clouds, becoming a dazzling point of light in the blue sky, leaving a brilliant trail. The fighting planes gradually fell behind, the sound of their engines growing increasingly distant. The ground, the port, the city, the river—everything was rapidly shrinking from view.

Inside the Peenemünde launch control center, although explosions and gunshots were still heard from the outer areas from time to time, the scientists and engineers in the core area had already focused all their attention on the radar screens and radio receivers.

“It has not deviated from the planned trajectory!”

"The first stage engine is working fine!"

"Keep tracking!"

Hermann Oberth stood in front of the main console, his eyes fanatical and determined. He watched the light representing the rocket on the screen climb higher and higher, his heart filled with excitement.

"In the myth, Icarus flew so high that the sun melted the wax of his wings and he fell. Then what happened? Those stupid religious lunatics said it was God's warning to mankind about greed." He said to his colleagues with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“But as scientists, we never see the story of Icarus as a question about the limits of human greed—we see it as a question about the limits of using wax as an adhesive, nothing more.”

The rocket continued to ascend, piercing the thinning atmosphere, its speed increasing. The first, second, and third stages completed their missions one after another, separating flawlessly according to the pre-programmed sequence. Each stage, carrying its depleted fuel tank, fell back to Earth or burned up in the atmosphere. The starry sky emerged from the darkness, clear and distant.

Finally, the Deep Space Eye III, a creation that carried decades of human dreams and countless sacrifices, quietly slid into its predetermined orbit. It had already left the atmosphere and entered the vacuum of space—a realm that none of its predecessors had been able to reach.

Following pre-programmed instructions, the rocket slowly began to rotate, its atop a 35mm camera pointed toward Earth. The shutter clicked crisply. This was the first time humans had photographed their home planet from space. Although limited by the technology of the time, direct transmission of the images was impossible, the specially crafted film was cleverly stored in a sturdy return capsule. This small box would later return to Earth.

The remaining payload, as Aubert had planned, was used to carry a simple radio. The battery life was limited, theoretically only lasting less than a week, but it was enough to complete its mission.

The radio was turned on under remote control from the ground signal station.

Inside the control center, the atmosphere was tense. Engineers adjusted the massive antenna, trying to pick up a faint signal from distant orbit. The radio was tuned to a preset frequency, and apart from the rustling of static, there was only silence.

One minute, two minutes, five minutes... the seconds ticked by. Some people grew restless, whispering about the possibility of failure. Hermann Oberth bit his lip, sweat dripping down his forehead.

"What happened? Did it fail?" a young technician asked in a low voice, his eyes full of frustration.

"No," Oberth shook his head, his voice hoarse but firm. "Calm down! The satellite hasn't yet flown over Europe. We need to wait for its orbit to transmit the signal back to our reception range."

A few more minutes passed, and still no signal. Doubt and frustration began to creep in.

At this moment, the rustling sound in the radio suddenly changed and became regular. Then, a slightly distorted voice with an electrical noise slowly came out from the speaker.

This was a speech recorded by Hermann Oberth himself, which would be broadcast from space to Earth for the first time in human history.

"...My fellow countrymen, no matter where you are or what you are going through..."

Although the signal is weak, it is stable and clear.

This sound crossed the void, broke through layers of obstacles, and illuminated the entire European continent like the first light of dawn.

Dedicated signal receiving stations in major cities have received the Pope's request to receive satellite signals and broadcast them.

In a luxurious living room in London, England, high-ranking aristocrats who were having a tea party were surprised to hear a strange sound coming from the radio. They put down their teacups and came over curiously.

In the study of an official residence in Paris, France, the civil servants who were reviewing documents stopped writing, looked surprised and puzzled, and listened attentively.

In the market square of Berlin, Holy Roman Empire, busy civilians stopped, attracted by the sounds coming from the shops, and looked up, as if they could see the source of the sounds in the sky.

In the dark, damp trenches of the Vienna front, exhausted Crusaders gathered to rest. When that voice came over the radio, their faces lit up with disbelief. They didn't understand the complex vocabulary about "space civilization" and "carbon-based life," but they understood the determination and hope.

"...I don't want other intelligent creatures living on distant stars to visit us one day and say with regret—"

The voice was a little heavy, but then became passionate:

"'We have discovered the remains of a civilization with carbon-based life. This planet is still in the early stages of spacefaring. Like a baby, they took their first steps towards the Milky Way, but the internal friction of their civilization has made them unable to move forward, and they have become a cold, dead planet, gazing up at our starry sky.'"

"Fortunately, nothing is set in stone yet. We still have a chance." The voice seemed to come from the distant sky, resounding across the earth. "My compatriots, believe in our future, believe in our hope. The mythical long night will never come, because the torch of exploring the unknown is in our hands!"

The whole of Europe seemed to have fallen into a brief silence at that moment. Then, there was a tide of discussion, shock, doubt, but more importantly, a spark of hope ignited in the tangle of war and religion for more than 800 years.

This is a human creation. Every part and every blueprint of it are made by people themselves, without relying on any divine technology.

Neos also heard the scientist's speech on the Kilkenny, and he looked at the calendar on the bridge again.

It is December 17, 1915. For the first time, humans have sent their voices into the stars and have let them echo in their own world.

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

Crimson Tide: 1921: Chapter 65 God... You're an imposter, aren't you?

Europe, December 21, 1915

The silver-white rocket, carrying humanity's hopes, broke through the atmosphere and entered its predetermined orbit, completing its mission according to the meticulously designed plan by Hermann Oberth and his team. The return capsule, carrying a special film, separated from the rocket with precise calculations and plunged back into Earth's embrace.

It passed through the thin upper atmosphere and then entered the dense atmosphere. The heat shield emitted a dazzling light due to the friction. Finally, this palm-sized metal box fell into the designated recovery area - a vast plain within the Holy Roman Empire.

The long-awaited recovery team carefully picked it up as if it were a treasure and immediately sent it to Berlin by the fastest means. In the darkroom there, this historic film was developed.

When the first photo was presented to the scientists and the supervisors appointed by the church, everyone fell silent.

It was a photograph of the Earth from a height never before seen. Not the divine panorama seen through the eyes of an angel in an oil painting, nor the foul distortions of a demon, but a pure, objective, cold and magnificent Earth—clouds covering the earth like a soft white velvet blanket, the ocean a deep blue, the outlines of the continents clearly visible.

There are no borders, no trenches, no scars of hell, only a blue planet suspended in endless darkness.

That evening, the front pages of all major newspapers across Europe published the same picture for the first time - not the Pope's decree, nor the battle situation on the front line, but this photo of the human home planet taken from space.

"We have been looking up at the stars for thousands of years, but for the first time we see the stars beneath our feet."

“The heights Ikaros never reached are not forbidden areas for the gods, but the boundaries we have touched with our own hands.”

"Our home has changed from God's battlefield to an ordinary planet in the universe. How amazing!"

The impact of this photo far outweighed any military victory or religious sermon. Even if Rome had burned heretics every day, burning the city brighter than the Astronomican, this photo would not have been as influential.

--------

The Kilkenny docked in a secluded port somewhere in the north of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth.

The hatch opened, and mountains of cargo were hoisted out: treasures from the New World—sacks of corn, potatoes, tomatoes, bales of tobacco, rubber barrels emitting a distinctive smell, and a variety of crop seeds and spices never before seen in Europe.

All the American specialties on board were unloaded. A small portion, marked by Neos as supplies bound for his base in the Carpathian Mountains, was loaded directly onto a pre-prepared, heavily guarded armored train at the port by the long-awaited Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth soldiers and railway workers.

The train was escorted by a regiment of elite soldiers sent by the Holy Roman Empire. It sailed south along the coast, bypassing the fighting on the front lines and heading straight for the heart of the empire. Its final destination was the Ruhr industrial region, known as the industrial heart of Europe.

There, these crops from the New World will be studied by scientists, rubber will be processed and utilized, and more important information and samples will be sent to scientific research institutions in various countries for more in-depth research.

Around the same time, governments around the world and the Roman Catholic Church received Neos's "Report on the Investigation of American Civilization." The report detailed the vastness of the American continent, its rich resources (particularly emphasizing gold, silver, prolific crops, and rubber), and, most crucially, the fact that the power of Hell, at least for now, seemed confined to the tiny island of Cuba.

Over eight hundred years of war had exhausted the nations of Europe. Human, material, and financial resources were nearly depleted. And yet, America, the reported paradise described as virtually untouched by war, possessed a vast and enticing war potential.

As long as the Atlantic route can be opened up, European countries will have a huge and continuous backing, allowing them to fight back in the protracted war with hell, and even gain a decisive advantage!