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

The current Jesus is no longer in the form of [Jesus who doesn’t eat coriander], but [Jehovah who doesn’t eat beef]!

He stretched out his hand and waved to the stunned soldiers and civilians on the street.

"Oh my god!" An old man rubbed his eyes. "That's our Lord Jesus Christ!"

Immediately afterwards, the tank's cover opened, revealing half of his body. He stood up straight and saluted the soldiers and civilians.

"Nyos! It's Marshal Neos!"

"The saints are back! The Lord is with us!"

After a brief silence, the city erupted in cheers of disbelief. People rushed out of their shelters, toward the city walls, and into the streets, eager to witness this miraculous scene with their own eyes.

The tank stopped in front of the ruins of the city's central square. Neos took a deep breath, and his voice, through the simple loudspeaker mounted on the tank, spread throughout the square and to every corner of the city.

"Warriors of Ottricoli! Citizens of the Papal States! All unyielding fellow human beings!"

The voice carried an undeniable power. The square gradually quieted down, and everyone's eyes were focused on him.

"I know what you've been through. I know you've lost your homes, your loved ones, and the pillars of your faith." Neos looked at those suffering faces. "Rome has fallen, the Pope has died, and the enemy surges like a tide, threatening to drown us completely. Darkness shrouds the earth, and despair gnaws at people's hearts."

Flames rose in the streets not far away. Some soldiers and civilians covered their mouths to suppress their tears, but more people had rekindled flames flickering in their eyes.

"But!" Neos changed the subject.

"Look around you! Look who's standing behind me! Jesus has never abandoned us! He is with us, He will witness our battle, and He will bless our revenge!"

Jesus, no, God, nodded slightly and, like countless Roman soldiers, raised his right arm 45 degrees upward to show his determination to fight to the end. Even more enthusiastic cheers erupted from the crowd, and many people knelt on the ground, devoutly making the sign of the cross.

The original Bible was altered by the Warp Demon eight hundred years ago. The current Bible only has one sentence:

"Be loyal to God, be loyal to faith, and fight to the end!"

"Does the enemy think that by destroying Rome, they can destroy our will? Do they think that by killing the Pope, they can extinguish the faith in our hearts? They are wrong!" Neos waved his hand violently, pointing in the direction of the Hell Legion's line in the distance. "They underestimated the tenacity of mankind! They underestimated our desire for freedom! And they underestimated our determination for revenge!"

Wild Flag - Neos The hissing wind blew the tattered flag behind Neos.

"Yes, we have lost a lot. But we have not lost everything! We still have each other, we still have weapons in our hands, and we still have unyielding spirits!" Neos' voice was full of infectiousness. "From this day on, the return of the Holy Christ will be the clarion call for our counterattack!"

"I, Neos, promise you! We will take back everything we have lost! We will avenge our fallen brethren! We will drive those bastards from Hell back to their homeland and burn down their gates to Hell!"

"We will win! Because we must win! Because behind us lies the hope of millions! Because fighting alongside us is the divine will!"

God cried out, "Victory!"

The whole city shouted: "Victory!"

Just as Neos's passionate speech resounded through the sky, outside the city, the heretic legions that were about to launch the final attack on Otraricoli stopped.

The commander of the Envious Legion sensed the sudden surge of divine energy within the city of Otraricoli. The Hell Legion outside the city began to slowly retreat. The siege artillery fire dwindled, eventually ceasing completely.

Neos and God worked together to cast a spell, reflecting the scene of the enemy retreating outside the city onto the clouds, so that everyone in the city could see it.

"They're afraid!" Neos' voice rang out again. "They feel our wrath! They foresee their own end!"

He drew his sword.

"Now, tell me! What do you want?!"

"revenge!"

Deafening shouts erupted in the square, on the city walls, on every street, and in every corner.

"revenge!!"

"revenge!!!"

----------

Afterwards, Neos went to the TV tower in the city and reconnected with the outside world. In order to ensure that as many people as possible knew that he had returned, he used subspace sensing to send a message to all his believers, and all believers knew of Neos' return in their minds.

Dominica, who was far away in the Valley of the Holy Word, immediately summoned the officials of the European Association and delivered the message to them himself.

"Call all EU officials above the ministerial level!"

A moment later, representatives from various EU member states, military generals and senior advisers hurriedly gathered in the simple conference room.

Dominica sat at the head of the conference table, her body slightly leaning forward, her eyes tightly closed. When she opened them again, a dazzling blue-white light burst out from them.

"Everyone."

Neos' voice echoed through space. He passed through the subspace link, using Dominica's body as a medium, and descended directly into the meeting.

"I am back, Christ is back, and now we need to bring back something, victory or revenge."

Some officials who were slower to react wanted to speak, trying to tactfully raise their opinions on front-line supplies, troop movements, or internal coordination, but Neos interrupted them directly.

"I'm not here to listen to your difficulties and suggestions."

"I'm telling you to immediately formulate a revenge plan against Hell that will be the quickest and most painful for them, in order to boost morale."

He paused, a blue-white light flickering in Dominican's eyes. "Christ's power has declined significantly in the previous battle. He won't be able to appear as frequently as before to protect the entire army. Therefore, we need to silence all doubters and pessimists with an irrefutable victory before the rumors about the fall of Rome and my disappearance spread completely!"

The officials looked at each other.

"Generals, experts, you heard it too," Neos said, turning his voice to the uniformed generals. "I need a plan, and I need it now. Let's start discussing it now."

After a brief silence, the generals and military advisors began to discuss in low voices. Maps were spread out, and various data were quickly exchanged among them. They knew that this was not just a military operation, but a high-stakes gamble concerning morale and politics.

Half an hour later, an elderly general stepped forward. He was one of the most experienced strategists in the Holy Roman Empire.

"Your Excellency," he said, bowing slightly to Dominica, "considering our current strength and the enemy's deployment, a large-scale strategic bombing of the important cities in the rear of the heretics may be the most effective solution to achieve the effect you mentioned in the short term."

"Which cities can we choose?" asked Neos.

"According to the intelligence we have, Budapest, Belgrade, Alexandria, and—Constantinople—are all within the range of our bombers. These cities are important distribution centers for supplies and transit points for troops for the heretics. Devastating attacks on them will severely weaken their war potential and greatly destabilize the areas they occupy."

"Why is there no Jerusalem?" Neos asked.

The old general hesitated for a moment and glanced at the air force staff officer next to him. The young staff officer answered with a stiff upper lip:

"Your Excellency, Marshal—our aircraft don't have the range. Even our longest-range HP50 Martyr heavy bomber, the one we currently have, has a maximum range of only 1640 kilometers. The closest air base to Jerusalem, still under our control, is on the island of Malta, which doesn't have the range.

The HP50 has a bomb load of only 1700 kg, so we can't destroy the war hub with dozens of bombers from such a distance."

“How far is Malta from Jerusalem?”

An expert quickly measured with a ruler on a huge military map and reported, "The straight-line distance is approximately 1880 kilometers, Your Excellency, Marshal."

"Then find a way." Neos' voice was unquestionable. "Remove unnecessary armor and equipment to reduce weight, install auxiliary fuel tanks, and improve the aerodynamic shape of the aircraft until it can bomb Jerusalem." He glanced at the map, and his eyes seemed to penetrate layers of obstacles and fell on the holy city.

"Maybe... maybe we can consider taking off from the secret airport in northern Romania?" an official suggested in a low voice.

"That would require crossing too much enemy territory, and the risk is too high," the Air Force staff officer immediately rejected the idea. "Our Martyr bomber has a practical ceiling of only about 7000 meters and a speed of only 300 kilometers per hour. Fully loaded with bombs, it's not much faster than a bird, making it easily intercepted by enemy anti-aircraft fire and flying demons. By comparison, flying over the sea is much safer. And... uh..."

"And what?"

The Air Force staff officer wiped the sweat from his forehead and mustered up the courage to speak: "Your Excellency, 1640 kilometers is the maximum flight range of the bombers, not the combat radius. This means that even if we do everything we can to get the planes to Jerusalem, the pilots carrying out the bombing mission—they can't come back. This is a one-way mission."

A dead silence fell in the conference room. Everyone understood what this meant—a suicide attack.

Neos's gaze remained fixed on the map. After a moment, he slowly spoke:

"Then let them bomb Jerusalem, then fly north and land in the Principality of New Antioch. We still have forces there. Any other problems? Have New Antioch's interceptors take off to escort the bombers."

The New Principality of Antioch, the last bridgehead of the Crusaders in the East, was not close to Jerusalem, but it at least provided a glimmer of hope for survival, or in other words, a more strategically significant "martyrdom" site.

The officials and generals in the conference room fell silent. They knew that there was no point in opposing it.

"...No more, Your Excellency Marshal."

"Very good." The blue-white light in Dominica's eyes slowly faded, and Neos' voice faded away. She leaned back in her chair wearily.

After a moment, Duoyao0bashiqiwu6yue-yi Minijia opened her eyes again and regained her composure. She looked around at everyone and said:

"Everyone, you've heard it. Act immediately. We need to make Hell pay for their arrogance as soon as possible!"

"The meeting is dismissed!"

PS: 260 votes, next update 4.5k meow... refresh every 5 minutes, added the aircraft setting map, the martyr bomber map also comes from the B station up "don't want to give it for free 22"

Red Tide: 1921: Chapter 77: Codename: Armed Pilgrimage

After the order was issued, the European Association's technical department immediately sprang into action. A special team composed of top-tier aviation engineers and mechanics began the ultimate modification of the Martyr bomber.

The biggest challenge facing the experts is weight reduction. Every kilogram of weight saved, every improvement in aerodynamic efficiency, can mean the difference between mission success or failure, and the pilots' slim chance of survival.

"The wind resistance created by the bulky fixed landing gear under the wings is too great!" The aircraft designer pointed to the bomber's structural diagram, frowning. "Since the aircraft has no intention of landing at the original airport after bombing the target, and is not even sure it can land safely at New Antioch, the landing gear only needs to meet the needs of a single takeoff."

"What about the pilot?"

"They can parachute over the New Antioch. Besides, this plane isn't much faster than a bird, so there's a chance of survival even if it makes a hard landing."

"Then let the pilots do their parachute jump training."

This bold proposal was immediately met with a response. The heavy fixed landing gear, along with its bulky supporting structure, was ruthlessly removed. In its place were two simple, lightweight training wheels that could automatically fall off after takeoff.

During takeoff, the aircraft would taxi directly on these training wheels. Once airborne, the wheels would remain on the ground, no longer a hindrance. This single change saved the Martyr bomber nearly 100 kilograms of valuable weight.

Next, the experts turned their attention to the aircraft's aerodynamic shape. With the advice of a fluid dynamics expert, they meticulously optimized the bomber's wings. The originally rugged, square wingtips were modified into smoother, rounded shapes, reminiscent of the Zero fighter, renowned for its range. The overall wing profile was also fine-tuned to minimize drag at high speeds. These seemingly minor changes, when added up over long distances, would result in significant fuel savings.

The weight reduction efforts continued, with the bomber's three 12.7mm heavy machine guns, originally installed for self-defense—located in the nose, belly, and dorsal turrets—also becoming targets for optimization.

"Since this is a one-way raid, the emphasis is on concealment and speed. Excessive defensive firepower would simply add unnecessary weight and wind resistance, and distract the crew," explained an officer in charge of weapons systems. "Furthermore, the real threat comes more from anti-aircraft fire from the ground; machine guns are merely a comforting factor."

Ultimately, after intense discussion and meticulous calculations, the experts decided to retain only the dorsal turret's machine guns as a last resort against pursuing enemy aircraft from above and behind. The nose and belly machine guns and their ammunition feed systems were completely removed. The resulting ammunition storage space and structural weight saved the aircraft by hundreds of kilograms. This space would be used to store more fuel.

The cabin interior was not spared either. Non-critical steel components, such as some seat supports, bulkheads, and even some "unnecessary" instrument panel casings, were replaced with lighter materials—such as plastic and aluminum alloys—or removed altogether. Every mechanism was reevaluated, and every structure was optimized for lightness while ensuring basic safety.

The personal equipment of crew members is also strictly restricted. Apart from flight necessities and the most basic survival tools, no additional items are allowed.

The pilot's survival kit consisted of only a small bag:

A Shinra-produced Luger P08 pistol, a silver cross produced by the Carpathian Base Cathedral, a small dose of martyrdom potion, and a multi-functional dagger.

Pilots may carry up to five kilograms of personal belongings.

After days and nights of intense work, countless calculations and tests, the modification of the first Martyr bomber was finally nearing completion. It sat quietly in the center of the hangar, its exterior still retaining the basic outline of the prototype, but the details were filled with compromises and sacrifices made to achieve extreme range. It looked thinner and simpler.

The chief engineer of the technical team took the newly calculated range data and reported to Dominica and several core military generals:

"With all the aforementioned improvements, and taking into account flight at optimal cruising altitude and speed, the Martyr's theoretical maximum range... can barely reach the point where, after bombing Jerusalem, the remaining fuel is enough to support it to reach the border of the New Antioch."

"Reluctantly?" Dominica caught the word sharply.

"Yes, esteemed Dominica," the engineer sighed. "There's virtually no margin for error. Any unexpected weather change—such as a thunderstorm, a navigation error, or a change in altitude or speed due to an enemy interception—could prevent the aircraft from reaching its intended target. Furthermore, even if everything went smoothly, landing in New Antioch would be an extremely risky emergency landing."

The conference room fell silent again. This wasn't just a test of the aircraft's performance, it was also the ultimate test of the pilot's courage, skill, and luck.

But the arrow was on the string and had to be released. Neos's will, and the entire Europa's desire for victory, did not allow for any retreat.

"Prepare the first batch of martyrs," Dominic pulled out a thick document from the table, "Select the best pilots and tell them the whole truth about the mission. Their dedication and sacrifice will be remembered forever."

On the cover of the document, the code name of the operation - Armed Pilgrimage - was written in a striking Gothic font.

Outside the window, the cold wind from the Alps whistled past, making a whimpering sound. Inside the room, the only sounds were the monotonous ticking of the old clock and the sound of her breathing.

She has made this choice countless times in her life. A life of hundreds of years has been a torment for her. The endless sacrifices, countless betrayals and ideals have finally turned into a huge weight, pressing on the tip of her pen, pushing another batch of new chips onto the gambling table of this game.

The tip of the pen dipped lightly in the ink bottle.

Her hands were steady, without the slightest tremor.

At the end of the document, in the blank space where her name was required to be signed, Dominica wrote her name stroke by stroke - Dominica.

When she finished the last letter, she gently put down her quill. The ink, still not yet completely dry, shone with a deep luster in the dim light.

"May our Lord Neos bless their souls." Dominican prayed silently in his heart. Now all they could rely on was their iron will, meticulous planning and determination at all costs.

She took the 7-4 document, sealed it with special wax, and stamped it with the seal representing the highest military command of the European Union.

Dominica said to the messenger waiting outside the door: "The armed pilgrimage plan has been launched."

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