feiniaonovel Chapter 708 - 707: Warsister Battalion
Chapter 708 - 707: Warsister Battalion
The priestess, dressed in a brand-new nun’s robe, stood in the open space at the front of the team. The cold wind of late autumn swept across the square, lifting her pale golden long hair and the skirt hem decorated with black lace. She focused her attention on the distant target, listening intently to the superior’s instructions.
"Prepare——"
Following the superior’s instruction, the nun responsible for the demonstration raised the magic wand in her hand and, with a clean and tidy motion, placed it horizontally by her side. One hand gripped the middle of the wand, and the other grasped the handguard wrapped with scripture cloth at the front end. A low and pleasant buzzing sound emanated from the mechanisms at both ends of the wand, and a faint holy white light began to flow through the gaps in those mechanical structures and magic symbols.
"Release!!"
The seemingly slender fingers pulled the trigger, causing the priestess’s body to tremble slightly. A burst of white light erupted from the opening at the front end of the wand—this blazing holy light energy swiftly flew towards the distance, exploding into a blaze of light on the purple steel enchanted pillar serving as the target.
After completing a beautiful shot, she followed the instruction to extinguish the blaze in the focusing crystal, placed the "Angel of the Gospel" back beside her, and turned to return to the team.
"This is the weapon improved by the Magic Guide Technology Research Institute and the Design Bureau according to the needs of female priests," Wright nodded to Veronica. "Although it looks like a fully metallic wand, it actually has weight-reduction runes inside, making it much lighter than it appears. The attack method is essentially the Holy Light Impact Hand Cannon used by the White Knights, but it’s modified from double-shot to single-shot, thus halving the weight. The wand design also considers close combat—you mentioned it correctly before, priestesses aren’t suitable for wielding the White Knight’s mechanically powered warhammer, the protective wand is a more appropriate weapon..."
"I... actually feel you might have misunderstood... no, never mind," Veronica, for some reason, felt a bit tired, swallowing her explanation halfway through. She hadn’t felt this way in hundreds of years, yet now she even couldn’t help but sigh. "Great Shepherd, it seems these nuns have received combat training?"
"They’ve been trained—although it was just preliminary training, it’s quite effective," Wright said, "Princess Rebecca and Aunt Heidi provided some guidance..."
"They provided guidance?" Veronica was a bit taken aback, finding it somewhat hard to understand. "Why did they guide this?"
"The Cecil Clan has always been martial-oriented, possessing many quick-acquisition combat techniques, especially Aunt Heidi, who is quite adept in wand protection techniques," Wright explained. "Of course, they only guided a few instructors, and the subsequent training was completed by the instructors."
Veronica thought for a moment, feeling it was best not to delve further, but she still had many questions she couldn’t help but ask: "Then what’s with their gauntlets? Why do nuns need gauntlets?"
"They are more lightweight and flexible fighting weapons, which can further enhance their survival ability in close encounters. Moreover, combat is traditionally a strong suit of the new church clergymen, regardless of gender. Additionally, their gauntlets aren’t just weapons; they also contain a single-dose ’Redemption’ mixture inside, which can save lives on the battlefield."
"...this sounds like weapons tailor-made for the battlefield," Veronica tried to maintain her smile, "but... isn’t it a bit excessive?"
Upon hearing this, Wright’s expression immediately became serious. He looked into Veronica’s eyes, speaking very earnestly: "We live in an unsafe era. Clergymen are supposed to be prepared to enter the battlefield."
At this point, he paused slightly and shook his head: "I know that for many years in the past, the Holy Light Church enjoyed wealth and power. The strong Church Knights and the convenient divine arts made clergymen forget how the missionaries of the dark ages managed to survive...
"The original missionaries trekked through the wild, accompanied by beasts, hardships, and death, lacking improved convenient divine arts or knights to protect them, nor did they receive the aid of aristocratic support. It was under these conditions, struggling to survive, that missionaries honed themselves, using immature Holy Light to protect everyone they encountered on their journeys, spreading the initial Holy Light concepts of light, redemption, and shelter...
"Today, we are fortunate not to wear tattered equipment to pioneer the wastelands, nor face the shadow of hunger and beasts at all times. But the King once said, ’If people have no foresight, they will suffer immediate worries’—in the long future, in this vast world, dangers always await us. And since we have chosen ’Holy Light’, we must fulfill the responsibilities brought by the Holy Light."
Looking at the serious and earnest Great Shepherd, Veronica felt somewhat emotional—being a defier herself, today she was actually being instructed by a "young" ordinary person. She found it comical, but upon seeing the faint Holy Light around Wright, she still smiled.
He indeed has the qualification—he broke through the mental Steel Stamp with his own willpower. This achievement alone grants him the right to stand shoulder to shoulder with any defier.
Wright also realized he had unintentionally entered a professional preaching mode, quickly changing the topic before the awkwardness spread: "Of course, not all clergymen are incorporated into the White Knight Brigade or Warsister Battalion. We do retain the civil service clerics, and even these armed nuns will engage in normal church duties in non-combat situations—receiving believers, listening to confessions, comforting the injured, these are all part of their daily work. The White Knights also have similar daily tasks but are more inclined towards manual labor.
"Additionally, whether armed nuns or White Knights, they must study the Holy Light Scriptures and learn various new knowledge, which is both their right and duty. They should neither deviate from the path of the Holy Light due to worldly distractions nor become resistant to progressive knowledge, transforming into conservative thinkers fixated on the teachings.
"The entire southern church does not foster idle mediocrity."
"Not just the southern church," Veronica smiled, "The northern churches will also undergo similar transformations, and from a legal standpoint, there’s no distinction between ’southern church’ and ’northern church’ anymore—we only have one New Holy Light Faith."
"I know, but that’s only legally. The real divide still exists," Wright said quite earnestly. "We’ve implemented an extremely thorough church restructuring in the south, but a similar ’restructuring’ approach doesn’t apply in the north. I’ve received reports from many regions, old-school clergymen have been finding ways to obstruct and delay reform progress, especially serious in the western border region. They superficially comply with the new church center but engage in various silent actions."
"...Leave this part of the work to me," Veronica nodded after a brief pause, "Collaborating with you on the new religious reform is part of the agreement between me and Gawain Cecil."
Wright stared at Veronica for a moment before speaking, "I’m curious, are you really doing these things for us just because of your deal with His Majesty?"
"...In many cases, ’deal’ is the most stable form of cooperation." Veronica looked deeply at Wright with her gentle yet cold eyes, leaving this sentence behind as she picked up her ever-present platinum scepter and slowly walked away.
...
Several days later, in the eastern region of the Plains of the Holy Spirits.
The dry, cold wind brushed against their faces, carrying a faint burnt smell. The once lush and fertile land had turned into a war zone’s wasteland, stretching endlessly to the distant horizon. On either side, the ruins of villages and charred remnants of forests retreated into the distance. Throughout the long journey, similar scenery continuously appeared, repeating over and over.
Bard Wendell awkwardly closed the window, shutting the dry, cold air outside the magic-guided vehicle. Beside him, an old and somewhat irreverent voice spoke, "How about it? Seeing this plains turned into a wasteland by your meddling, what do you feel?"
Bard turned his head and saw the old druid named Pittman looking at him with a half-smiling expression, leaving him momentarily unsure how to respond.
This plain-looking and somewhat sloppy old man was actually a big figure. Holding the title of Imperial Chief Druid and Alchemy Engineering Administrator, he had a position and power that commanded respect in this vast and youthful empire. But after overlooking his dazzling titles and spending some time with him, Bard realized that this old man’s personality was so malicious it was almost reprehensible—he seemed capable of uttering a flood of choking words to provoke the victim’s mood at any moment. However, unlike Princess Rebecca who shared a similar gift, this old man did it deliberately...
The greatest problem Bard faced was that he couldn’t retaliate against this old man—not because there were soldiers watching or out of following the virtue of "respecting the elderly," but because he was certain that even if he accidentally touched the old man, Pittman would immediately lay on the ground and then swindle the last copper coin out of his pocket.
Why does Pittman always target me?
Bard couldn’t figure it out for the moment, so after a briefly awkward silence, he simply shook his head, "I don’t want to make excuses for myself—but I wasn’t in Anzu when they launched the operation on the Plains of the Holy Spirits. At that time, I was sent to the eastern continent to make contact with the Sons of the Storm."
"Ha, it’s just committing mischief somewhere else," Pittman chuckled, "The Sons of the Storm... So, do you know what those guys are up to? Are they planning to return to the continent?"
"...I don’t know their plans. They focus almost all their energy on the deep sea. Even the Oblivion Association and Eternal Sleepers from the dark sects find it hard to communicate with them now," Bard admitted frankly, "I stayed on a nearshore island in the eastern continent for a long time, mostly wasting time. I helped them gather some supplies, but spent more time dealing with their limbs mutated by the influence of the deep sea, working like a doctor..."
"Limbs mutated by deep-sea influence?" Pittman raised an eyebrow, "Interesting... I’m intrigued now. What exactly?"
"They’re fixated on occupying some areas controlled by the sea demons but don’t let other members of the dark sects participate in their frontline battles. I don’t know exactly what they’ve done or experienced. I only know some of the returned Sons of the Storm have grown fish scales and fins, and they mutter ’Eva is calling’ during high tide..." Bard shook his head, "To be honest, the mutations happening to them seem scarier than many of the dark rituals I’ve seen from the Oblivion Association. The deep sea... the deep sea hides too many incomprehensible things, and who knows what those Sons of the Storm are drawn to in their obsession."
"...Well, keeping you, this cultist, around might still have some extra utility."
Pittman muttered, then ignored Bard, whose expression had slightly changed, turning his gaze instead to the vehicle ahead.
In the magic-guided vehicle in front, Gawain had just finished his routine communication with the Administrative Office. After closing the Magic Web Terminal, he couldn’t help but sigh, "Wald’s engineering team has built two additional Magic Obelisks between Sorinburg and the Fertile Woods. The communication issues in the southeastern Plains of the Holy Spirits and the southern borders have been partially resolved."
"Recently, the Rocky Ridges Fortress has been sending engineering teams up north non-stop, either rebuilding the King’s Road or constructing infrastructure on the Plains of the Holy Spirits, or assisting the United Reconstruction Group. Some say Wald’s Second Legion is becoming a roads and bridges construction team," Amber leaned on the backrest of the front seat, muttering, "Thinking back two years ago, the Rocky Ridges Fortress was still a defensive barrier. It’s like a dream..."
While muttering, she moved her head, glancing at Gawain, "Speaking of which, it’s surprising you decided to come and see the situation yourself... and it’s quite impressive you could leave with peace of mind."
"The Governor system and the existence of the Administrative Office ensure that even when I leave Cecil Castle, the entire Empire can still operate normally," Gawain said casually, but his gaze couldn’t help but drift towards Sorinburg, "Moreover... the occurrences here really concern me. After all, it’s the den of the Oblivion Association. All the immense changes and turning points this country has faced over the past two years almost all brewed from that den. How could I not come to see it personally?"
"Ha, I’m impressed with your ability to come up with a bunch of reasons even when you’re sneaking out for a break," Amber said in a tone that conveyed no fear of being smacked against the wall (because there was no wall here), then suddenly sat up straight before Gawain could smack her head, looking far ahead in surprise.
"Oh my..." she exclaimed, eyes wide open, "The report calls that thing... a ’tree’?"