With the three priests—more accurately, with three Cardinals armed by Linen—the situation improved at a visible pace.
A Cardinal, even in the Holy Kingdom where clerics gathered like clouds, sat near the pinnacle. Back when gods still walked the earth, only the earliest and most devout pilgrims could earn such a title, and even at their height there were only around a hundred.
Now that the gods had left the mortal world, Cardinals were even more exalted. With enough believers behind them, a top-tier Cardinal could work miracles with a mere gesture, as if the god they worshiped had returned to walk among men.
They wielded divine arts and miracle spells, converting faith into strength. If clerics had one weakness compared to conventional Arcana Mages, it was their pitiful offensive output.
Everyone on the continent knew it: clerics were short on killing methods.
Even a behemoth like the Church of Holy Light had to raise knightly orders to ensure military strength, and smaller churches fared even worse.
For a gentle god like the Earth Mother God, most of her priests' strongest "attack" was to spam healing on an enemy until they puked milk and died.
So priests who swore off Arcana and refused to touch the Weave generally carried firearms for self-defense.
Unfortunately, this world's firearm development was laughable. Against high-Ring protective magic and Grand Knights' bodies tempered over countless years, a personal pistol shot felt about as threatening as a mosquito bite.
It was the one blind spot gods of blessings and "miracles" couldn't reach.
But now, the "miracle" Linen brought shattered that common sense.
Relying on years of firearm use, the three priests needed only a brief touch to "understand" their weapons.
Use your hips. Set the stock. Still your mind. Aim.
Then squeeze the trigger.
And with divine power lending its hand, blessed rounds carrying holy light would "send" the monsters ahead to their final rest.
Yes—send them.
When the three priests fired like maniacs while loudly chanting holy words, it wasn't just because it looked cool and dramatic. They truly fought with a mindset of "redemption."
For Mana Spirits—forever in pain, forever twisted—stripping them of life was a blessing, like escorting them to heaven.
That was why the three worked so hard. Every bullet they fired was basically the sweet sound of merit +1 landing in their account.
And after witnessing the priests' overwhelming martial "virtue," the soldiers behind them—who'd been teetering on despair—finally rallied.
"So cool, Father! I almost wanna believe in that… what was it, Desire Mother God!"
"Don't use this to advertise an evil god!"
"This is great—if we keep this momentum, plus the city-grade barrier, we can hold the position!"
Hearing the cheers, Linen—who'd been watching in silence—turned back, eyes ice-cold.
"Hold? Your goal is only to hold here? Do you even know what's supporting this barrier?"
The soldiers who'd been celebrating fell instantly silent, unease flickering in their eyes. Some didn't even understand the second question.
After the city-grade barrier activated, everyone cheered—yet everyone had unconsciously avoided thinking about how it had been raised.
Linen reached out and placed a hand against the red barrier within arm's reach. To the outside, the Red Dragon screen burned like searing flame; to those it protected, it felt only warm.
He let out a quiet sigh.
"Looks like you truly don't know who's holding it up. I'll tell you. It's Her Majesty."
"Her Majesty…?!"
The soldiers went pale. Zijinghua might be a nation without gods, but the words Her Majesty carried more weight than any divine name.
"Yes. Her Majesty—who isn't even a pure Arcana class—is using everything she has to sustain this city-grade barrier. She's trying to guard us. Protect us."
Linen swept his gaze over the Mana Spirit tide still slamming against the barrier outside.
"She's fighting all of them alone."
Then he turned and scanned the line, his voice flat and cold.
"So tell me—are you satisfied being nothing but a pack of losers huddled under Her Majesty's wings until she runs dry? Until the barrier collapses? Until you can only watch as you and Her Majesty are torn apart by those crazed monsters?"
He pointed toward the distant sky beyond the barrier. A dark hole floated there; tar-like shadows and shadow-plane creatures spilled from it, surging toward the castle.
"Gentlemen—this is war."
"And we're going to strike back."
"See that singularity? That's the one weakness even the Shadow Queen can't hide. I can open a gap in the barrier. If we can reach that point—if we can break that weakness—we can crush this monster tide."
"We can win."
The soldiers—who'd been blazing with morale—went dead quiet.
These troops were not the Red Dragon Legion.
The Red Dragon Legion was the Empress's most elite force, yes—but a legion belonged to the state.
These men—whether Shadow Knights or regular soldiers—were the Empress's personal guard. From the day they enlisted, they had one purpose: to die protecting Her Majesty if they must.
And now they were being protected by the very person they were meant to protect—like a pack of useless trash.
Even if you only looked at the line itself, it was the priests doing the heavy lifting while the soldiers stood behind them like idiots cheering.
Every soldier clenched fists and weapons in humiliation. Even Novie drew a soft breath, her hands at her sides loosening—then tightening again.
She knew Brother was trying to light a fire under them.
But the helplessness still tasted awful.
Strike back. Strike back.
Easy to say.
Who the hell wants to be useless? Who the hell doesn't want to strike back?
Everyone wanted it. Everyone would gladly offer their heart for Her Majesty and the empire, but… but—
"But, Your Highness… we're too weak. We don't have the power…"
Someone spoke first, voice hoarse, threaded with despair.
For someone with pride, admitting uselessness was worse than death—especially for the empire's finest Shadow Knights and the Empress's personal guard.
But when the question came, Linen only smiled—softly.
The red barrier's firelight lit his handsome profile, making him look like the devil from myth, coaxing mortals toward ruin.
"Yes. You have no power. You're all just mortals. Even the elite among the Shadow Knights are only around the Third Ring. And those monsters—born from the Shadow Queen's eternal agony—even the weakest are Third Ring. The elites could be Fourth or Fifth. Compared to them…"
He let the words land like stones.
"You're trash."
Then his gaze sharpened.
"But you… have me."
Linen looked to Elena, who had followed him here.
"Miss Elena, the thing Master Holly told you to bring me—take it out."
Elena, who'd been silent at his side, nodded and drew a storage ring from her clothing, passing it into Linen's hand.
"Miss Elena," Linen asked, "when Master Holly had you deliver this to me, did she say anything else?"
Elena hesitated. In an atmosphere like this, she'd planned to tell him later—but since he asked, she could only say it.
"Teacher said… she really doesn't have even a single drop left."
"…"
Elena hesitated again.
"Teacher also said she'll be absent from this banquet, but she'll be waiting for you in the old place. She didn't tell me where the old place is—or what you're going to do."
Linen smiled. Some things were better left unknown to Elena.
He took the ring—
And crushed it in his fist.
Space twisted. The contents stored within erupted like a geyser, spilling into view.
Dozens of huge black leather cases, stacked in neat rows.
The moment the soldiers saw them, the despair in their eyes ignited into a light they'd never had before.
They'd seen those cases before. Last time, Your Highness Novie had kicked the locks open like a war goddess, bringing the priests who turned the tide—and firearms no one had ever seen.
They'd assumed weapons that terrifying—power like that—had to be rare, precious, reserved for the strong.
And now those cases sat before them like naked beauties, ready for the taking.
In the soldiers' eyes, even a hundred beauties couldn't compare.
"Over there," Linen said, "are firearms like the priests'."
He produced another spatial ring.
"And here—enough Mana Stones for everyone."
"With Mana Stones for power, you won't have to worry about running dry. Use them as much as you like." His tone turned faintly amused. "But mana isn't divine power. Those creatures have been steeped in corruption for years—they're highly resistant to magic rounds. You won't one-shot them. They might even walk through your bullets and tear you apart."
He paused, then smiled as if it meant nothing.
"So—if you're not afraid to die, come take them. Those with firearms training get priority. Not because I care whether you live or die—these things are valuable. I won't have them wasted."
Novie's heart hammered.
As an imperial princess, she'd attended plenty of banquets and speeches. After joining the Shadow Knights, she'd also heard rebels and heretics whose words were dangerously persuasive.
They spoke in honeyed temptations, lips and teeth soaked in sweetness and wine—intoxicating, beautiful. They painted bubble-dreams and never mentioned the costs.
Linen wasn't like them.
He laid out the worst-case scenario from the start.
Wouldn't that backfire? Wouldn't it crush morale?
Silence fell again.
Novie stared anxiously at Brother's profile. His face was taut, expressionless.
But in the silence, the answer was already there.
A first hand reached for the stacked cases and took one.
Then a wordless scramble erupted. The surviving soldiers lunged for the cases, then went to Linen to receive fistfuls of Mana Stones of astonishing purity—the very stock meant to support the barrier's deployment.
Even faster than Linen had expected, the cases and Mana Stones were all distributed.
His expression didn't relax. It grew colder.
"Seems there are more people with guts than I thought."
"My final order: do not point your barrels at your comrades."
"Relieve the priests first. Prioritize clearing the Mana Spirits that made it into the castle. After that, I'll open the barrier."
"With Her Majesty's deterrence, even the Shadow Queen can't spare the attention to strike at you. Your only threat is the Mana Spirits themselves."
"I'm counting on you."
Linen bowed deeply.
"Then—may you be blessed with victory."
The soldiers who'd secured weapons said nothing. They began slotting Mana Stones into their guns.
Then more gunfire erupted. The pressure on the three priests eased, and they gradually fell back, panting, finally able to rest.
Even as Cardinals, without believers to empower them, they were already nearing their limits—running on stored divine power and sheer will.
And the three reinforced Gatlings tailored for them had barrels glowing like red-hot iron. Even if the priests could keep going, the guns were about to give out.
As the soldiers took over the firearms, they began to understand just how terrifying the priests had been.
What three men had formed into an airtight net of fire now took dozens to barely maintain.
Fortunately, many of the soldiers had some firearms foundation. They slowly adjusted to the difference between the "lion" in their hands and the "kitten" they were used to.
The first to recover was Anel, the Earth Church Cardinal.
This big old man strode up to Linen, his shadow swallowing the prince and making Linen look unnervingly small.
"Your Highness Linen," Anel said, "you didn't tell the truth."
"Anel, you idiot whose hands move faster than your brain—get back here!"
Eris grabbed his fellow priest, but couldn't budge that mountain of muscle. Even among the three musclebound priests, Anel was the strongest.
Linen raised a hand, stopping Eris, and looked up at Anel with calm indifference.
"Then tell me, Father. Where did I lie?"
Anel said, "You told those children that if they reach the singularity and destroy it, this Mana Spirit tide will stop. That's not correct."
"Yes," Linen said evenly. "I lied."
Eris, who'd been trying to shove Anel back in panic, froze—and fell silent.
Destroying the singularity would indeed end the flow of shadow-plane matter into reality. Linen hadn't lied about that.
And it was also true that the Mana Spirit Queen Mordiana couldn't spare attention for small bugs like them.
But—
The soldiers' weapons couldn't destroy the singularity.
The Cardinals—skilled with firearms and divine arts—had quickly learned the heavy weapon's temperament.
Stamina. Experience. Judgment. Coordination. Individual skill.
You needed all of it.
That was why three of them together could match what took dozens of soldiers with the same weapon.
And for the same reason, they'd also quickly identified the weapon's ceiling.
Hold the Mana Spirit tide. Build a defensive line. Possible.
Concentrate power and destroy the shadow world's singularity in reality?
Not possible.
Not even with holy-light rounds—let alone the weakened magic rounds.
Linen's shameful lie—meant to send soldiers to their deaths—had been seen through and exposed with ease by Anel, who couldn't bear watching them march to slaughter.
And at that moment, Linen wore a smile that made Eris uneasy—quiet, satisfied, as if things had gone exactly as planned.
"True," Linen said mildly. "Those weapons aren't enough to destroy the singularity. And from what I've observed… even your holy power isn't enough either, is it?"
Anel fell silent.
In the Holy Kingdom, with holy relics, miracles, and believers' faith, a Cardinal could shine as if a god had descended. Purifying a small stain from a shadow world wouldn't be difficult.
But this was Zijinghua.
No miracles. No holy relics. No believers. No faith.
To fight Mana Spirits here, the Cardinals could only rely on the firearms Linen brought.
Perhaps, with divine arts, their rank, and a few sacred relics carried on them, they could still save their own lives.
But to purify a singularity personally set by an Eighth-Ring powerhouse—the Mana Spirit Queen?
Far from enough.
The priests had originally had two choices.
They could pretend not to know, do their best, then slip away.
Even a compassionate god wouldn't force their servants into salvation that was likely to get them killed—a demand too unreasonable.
But once Anel exposed the lie, that option vanished.
Now, there was only one choice left.
Eris let out a long sigh. The noisy, clownish Cardinal slowly drew in his usual expression. A flicker of pity and helplessness crossed his eyes.
He looked at the young prince before him—smiling as he watched.
"Your Highness Linen Norton," Eris said softly, "congratulations. You got what you wanted."
"And now…" His gaze sharpened. "Tell us what you truly want."
Linen lowered his head. With a devotion that bordered on humility, he spoke his request.
"I want the three of you to bless me. The protection of the gods you serve."
"What?!"
Even prepared for Linen to demand something outrageous, Eris still reeled.
"Your Highness Linen—do you understand what you're saying? You're asking for the blessing of three gods."
"In any church, to believe in multiple gods at once is heresy."
"The Inquisition, the Hound Sisters, even His Holiness the Pope—none of them would tolerate a fanatic blessed by three gods!"
His beard trembled as he stared, furious and baffled, at the young man who had seemed like a holy child descended to earth—only to drift closer and closer to a devil.
And the young man, after being rejected with such severity, slowly and firmly straightened his spine.
"I don't care."
---
T/N: oughhhh sorry if translation has errors im like asleep translating this i blinked and suddenly we are at war what happened :sob:
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