Trenches, Guns, and Magic

Inside the Church of Santa Maria la Nova, the purification ritual had been underway for some time.

Three bishops stood at the core nodes of the magic circle. Guided by them and the other clergy, golden holy power circulated continuously through the runic circuits beneath their feet.

The other clerics within the circle spared no effort to stabilize it. Dozens of golden light streams converged from all directions, flowing along the runic grooves toward the stone sarcophagus in the center.

Inside the sarcophagus, the heartbeat had shifted from its initial surging awakening to a sporadic, struggling thump.

The blood-red light seeping through the gaps in the lid was fading. For every ounce the magic circle's golden suppression strengthened, the heart's activity dropped.

"Keep going! Don't let up!" the old bishop's voice echoed beneath the church dome.

Just as everyone focused entirely on the ritual, the first roar of an explosion echoed outside.

Boom!

Having completed spotting, the first 12-inch high-explosive shell from the sea finally smashed into the protective magic circle above the church.

The golden barrier completely blocked the blast's fire and smoke, but the entire church trembled violently. Dust showered down from the ceiling.

With the Inflexible's four twin-mounted 305mm main guns firing a broadside salvo, every volley sent six high-explosive shells screaming in from the sea.

As these heavy warheads slammed into the barrier at over 800 meters per second, the resulting blast waves shattered the windows of all surrounding buildings.

"Everyone, hold steady!" The old bishop slammed his cane heavily onto the floor.

But endless naval bombardment immediately followed, hammering the church's protective circle.

From outside, the golden barrier flickered under the relentless shelling. Every hit sent water-like ripples across its surface.

The barrier held, but its flickering grew faster, as if it might shatter entirely in the next second.

Meanwhile, the coastal defense facilities of Naples Port initiated a counterattack.

To be honest, these coastal batteries built in the mid-19th century hadn't seen real combat in years. Their main weapons were early fortress guns with calibers no larger than 180mm. By 1915, they were completely obsolete.

These things were fine for scaring off near-extinct pirates and smugglers, but against a modern fleet, they were purely "for show."

Nevertheless, seeing Britannian warship fire blanket the city, the Church garrison manning the batteries racked their bolts.

The vintage coastal guns let out muffled roars, hurling shells toward the fleet at sea.

However, most of these shells landed harmlessly in the water near the advancing protected and light cruisers. The flagship captain didn't even bother lowering his binoculars.

"Those returning coastal guns... what's their caliber?"

"Judging by the water plumes, no more than 180mm." The executive officer flipped through the Military Intelligence dossier in his hands. "Intel indicates Naples Port has three coastal batteries equipped with Krupp 170mm fortress guns purchased by the Papal State over fifty years ago."

"Then let the cruisers and destroyers handle them," the captain waved a hand. "Capital ships continue the shore bombardment. Don't waste main battery ammo on those antiques."

Following the order, while the destroyers continued driving off patrol and torpedo boats, the two cruisers at the front of the formation turned. Their main and secondary batteries simultaneously targeted the coastal forts. The new rapid-fire guns poured a hail of shells onto the exposed batteries at a rate of fire those onshore antiques couldn't hope to match.

The firepower gap was too vast.

The coastal guns didn't just lack caliber; their rate of fire was abysmally slow.

In less than five minutes, the fort closest to the shore took seven or eight direct hits. The stone parapets and gun emplacements blew to pieces. The 170mm fortress gun barrel skewed skyward, incapable of firing again.

In the rear, the Inflexible and Goliath continued their unopposed bombardment of the Church of Santa Maria la Nova, entirely undisturbed.

305mm shells pounded the protective circle one after another, each explosion escalating the violent tremors inside the church.

Clearly, the protective circle wouldn't last much longer under this bombardment.

Just as the young cleric predicted before the ritual began, the problem lay in the power supply system. The protective circle and the purification ritual shared the same energy core—a design flaw stemming from when the Holy See built this facility centuries ago.

Back then, no one anticipated this place facing external military strikes and conducting internal rituals simultaneously. Because its greatest defense was supposed to be its "secrecy."

Only a tiny fraction of Holy See top brass knew Vlad III's heart lay sealed here. To the outside world, this was just the religious center of Naples.

But today, that secrecy clearly failed.

This meant that when the protective circle operated at maximum intensity against 12-inch naval guns, the energy allocated to the purification ritual inevitably dropped.

As power to the purification circle dwindled, the heartbeat of Vlad III grew louder again. It struggled against the purification, seizing any chance to break free.

"Hurry! Make up the difference manually!" the old bishop ordered decisively.

He stepped up his own holy power output first, his aged body trembling slightly from the overexertion. The other two bishops followed suit, increasing their output. The remaining Paladins and clergy within the circle dropped to one knee, converting their "power of faith" into golden energy and feeding it into the purification circle.

The golden light inside the church regained its proper brightness. The purification ritual resumed its progress, and the cracks on the heart's outer shell inside the sarcophagus continued to spread.

However, everyone supplying power began withering at a visible rate.

The old bishop's face aged visibly in just a few minutes. His fingers gripped the head of his cane tightly, his condition reaching a point where anyone could tell he was physically failing.

The purification ritual entered its fifteenth minute.

The outer shell of Vlad III's heart inside the sarcophagus shattered extensively. Dark red light leaked through the cracks, but its intensity waned continuously.

But everyone inside the magic circle also reached their limits.

The Paladins and clerics kneeling in the front row were deathly pale. Yet, their lips mechanically chanted prayers. Golden particles continuously streamed from their bodies, tracing the circle's lines to the central node.

The old bishop leaned heavily on his cane, his breathing ragged.

"Hold on for five more minutes... five minutes at most..."

As he spoke, another 12-inch shell detonated on the barrier. The church violently lurched as if struck by a massive hammer.

A slab of plaster broke off the ceiling and smashed to the floor. Nobody flinched. Risking the next shell breaking through into the church, everyone desperately kept the purification circle running.

At this moment, every eye focused on the heart being slowly suppressed inside the sarcophagus.

Including the young bishop who had been the most resolute when the ritual began.

He stood at a node to the old bishop's left, golden holy power pouring from him like everyone else... At least on the surface, he looked no different from his peers.

But in reality, his right hand quietly brushed against the scroll tucked inside his robe. He knew the moment he was waiting for had arrived.

The young bishop's mind instantly turned utterly calm.

He scanned his surroundings. Everyone's attention was locked on the sarcophagus and the circle. The old bishop rested almost his entire body weight on his cane, and the other two bishops maxed out their holy power output.

The Paladins were all kneeling to provide energy; no one was on guard.

The church's protective circle originally included an "anti-magic field" unit that severely disrupted any spells cast inside it. However, that unit had been shut down because it would equally disrupt the purification ritual itself.

All conditions were met. The young bishop's fingers gripped the scroll.

9th-circle spell scroll, 【Time Stop】.

Scrolls measured in years of production time were exceedingly rare. Even the Britannian Empire's Highland Mage Council had only a handful in reserve. To deliver this scroll into the young bishop's hands, the Britannians deliberately exposed several "moles" inside the Vatican to distract the Inquisitors.

The young bishop took a deep breath. During the tremor from the next shell striking the barrier, he finally made his move.

The instant he drew the scroll from his robe, he injected it with his holy power.

The runes on the parchment flared instantly, transforming into a sphere of white light that enveloped him.

The world came to a halt. The scene inside the church froze in an eerie instant.

The previously flowing holy light revealed its true form. The golden particles, structurally identical to magic, hovered mid-air, looking as dreamy as bubbles trapped in amber.

The old bishop and another bishop kept their mouths half-open mid-sentence. The kneeling Paladins and clerics maintained their prayer postures. Even the folds of their robes, shifted by the tremors, froze at unnatural angles.

The young bishop stepped off the circle's node, walking briskly through the frozen crowd. Passing the main doors, he looked up at the sky.

Three 305mm shells hovered mere meters outside the golden shield of Santa Maria la Nova, clearly reaching that spot right as the scroll took effect. Peering closely, the young bishop noticed the massive shells still spinning at a speed nearly imperceptible to the naked eye.

In other words, time hadn't completely "stopped"; relative to his current speed, the movement of these shells was negligible.

"Perfect timing..." The young bishop muttered to himself, turning to sprint toward the courtyard behind the church.

He withdrew his gaze, turning to walk briskly toward the plaza outside the church. His target was the Paladin convoy that transported the equipment earlier.

Amidst the inconspicuous supplies and ritual gear sat an equally inconspicuous iron box. The box looked exactly like any other storage crate, bearing no special markings. The bishop didn't know who placed it there; he only knew he needed to retrieve it at this exact moment.

It was a portable containment device. The inner walls of the special sealed compartment were etched with magic-isolating runes, enough to temporarily contain a legendary supernatural artifact.

Carrying the box back inside, the young bishop stepped up to the sarcophagus and looked in.

The heart inside was smaller than he expected, only about the size of a fist. It looked like a candle in the wind, covered in cracks.

The purification was mostly complete. In a few more minutes, this heart really might have been completely purified...

Without hesitation, the young bishop pulled the heart from the sarcophagus and quickly placed it inside the containment device. However, he didn't close the box right away. Instead, he pulled out a second scroll hidden in his robe: 【Dimension Door】.

Because he knew that although 【Time Stop】 was a prestigious 9th-circle spell, it came with many practical limitations.

Whether causing damage, affecting the actions of others, or leaving the spell's 500-meter radius, any of these actions would immediately end it. Therefore, once he closed the containment box, disrupting the purification ritual would immediately break the 【Time Stop】 effect.

Taking a deep breath and ensuring he could activate 【Dimension Door】 instantly, the young bishop snapped the containment box shut.

The moment the box closed, the "frozen" time snapped back to normal.

The three "hovering" shells outside slammed into the protective circle. Three deafening explosions boomed in quick succession. The entire church shook violently under this salvo.

And it was amidst this chaos that everyone simultaneously noticed the figure standing next to the sarcophagus who shouldn't have been there.

"You—!!" The old bishop's pupils contracted sharply.

He had just seen this young man kneeling at the eastern node. How did he reach the sarcophagus in the blink of an eye? Furthermore, the blood-red light on the sarcophagus vanished—meaning the heart undergoing purification was gone!

"Stop him!!"

The two closest Paladins reacted fastest. Despite their weakened state from maximizing power output, the moment they saw this, ingrained training instincts took over. They drew their swords almost simultaneously, slashing golden-glowing blades at the young bishop.

The old bishop and the other bishop raised their hands simultaneously, trying to cast 【Silence】 to interrupt his spellcasting.

But everyone was a beat too slow.

The tremors from the shells, the chaos of the interrupted ritual, the lag from switching abruptly from power output to combat readiness...

These factors stacked together, giving the young bishop an incredibly brief but sufficient window. He activated the 【Dimension Door】 scroll in his hand.

An oval portal of light opened behind him, and the young bishop simply fell backward into it.

Two golden-glowing swords slashed empty air. The Dimension Door snapped shut just as the blades arrived, leaving only a faint trace of magical fluctuation.

This sudden event plunged the church into silence. The old bishop, nearly coughing up blood, was the first to react.

"Pursue him! The teleportation range of Dimension Door is limited... He can't have gone far! All Paladins, fan out and search!!"

The Paladins stationed inside and outside moved the instant the order was issued. They poured out of every exit, scattering in all directions.

The rest of the clergy firmly demanded the remaining two bishops evacuate to prevent the group from being wiped out by a stray naval shell, which would be an unbearable loss...

Before leaving, however, the old bishop and the other bishop went to the sarcophagus, harboring a sliver of hope. Only upon seeing the empty interior did they fully accept reality.

"How did he do it? It felt like the blink of an eye..." the other bishop spoke first.

"To do this right under our noses... it could only be 【Time Stop】." The old bishop hesitated before answering, his voice noticeably hoarser than before the ritual. "I watched him grow up in the seminary with my own eyes... Angelo, he received his education at the Monastery of St. Mark from the age of eight..."

"Then there's only one possibility," the other bishop said heavily. "He is an 'apostate' too."

Meanwhile, when the young bishop tumbled out the other side of the 【Dimension Door】, he landed in a secluded alley in the Naples port district.

He scouted this location the same day he arrived in Naples with the main group, using an excuse to briefly slip away. It was a straight-line distance of less than four hundred meters from the coast.

The young bishop scrambled to his feet without hesitation. Confirming he still held the containment box, he immediately cast 【Fly】.

This 3rd-circle spell was one he had mastered himself, requiring no scroll.

A pale blue light enveloped his feet. The young bishop lifted into the air and flew toward the sea.

Clearing the alley and nearing the beach, he immediately dropped his altitude. Plunging out over the ocean, he hovered mere meters above the surface; a slightly higher wave could easily splash his robes.

A sea-skimming escape via 【Fly】... this was the exfiltration route he had rehearsed beforehand.

At this height, it was nearly impossible for anyone looking from the land to spot him... The reflections on the water and the rolling waves made a human-sized target skimming the surface extremely hard to discern.

The city of Naples rapidly receded behind him, but the young bishop didn't completely relax. Glancing back, he saw several golden dots rising from the direction of the church. Church mages were using 【Fly】 to give chase.

But their flight altitude was too high, and they were quite a distance away. Looking down at the sea under these conditions, a target skimming the water practically blended into the waves.

The young bishop maintained his extreme low-altitude flight, protecting the box strapped to his body with both hands as he rapidly approached the Britannian fleet on the sea.

After a short flight, the silhouettes of the destroyers on the fleet's perimeter appeared in his vision.

The young bishop slowed down and cast 【Prestidigitation】. Under his control, this cantrip flashed a pre-arranged sequence of signals in the air—his agreed-upon identification code with the fleet.

Ten seconds later, a long horn blast echoed from the Inflexible battlecruiser further ahead.

They received the signal.

Seeing this, the young bishop decelerated and flew toward the flagship's foredeck.

As his feet touched down on the Inflexible's foredeck, a ring of people immediately surrounded him.

Several Royal Marines held their rifles at the ready, muzzles half-raised toward him. In front of them stood three heavy infantrymen in plate armor, forming a security line with longswords and enchanted shields.

Right in the middle of bombarding the Papal State, a man wearing a Vatican robe flies down from the sky onto the deck of a warship... That was certainly enough to put ordinary sailors on edge.

Soon enough, an order from the bridge defused the standoff. Though hesitant, the soldiers lowered their rifles.

An officer briskly descended from the superstructure, gesturing for the young bishop to follow him.

The young bishop remained silent. He simply smoothed out his wind-tousled robes and followed the officer up the stairs to the bridge.

Inside the bridge, the captain stood by a porthole, looking ahead through binoculars.

The young bishop walked in. After picking up the box and locking it to his wrist, he stepped next to the Inflexible's captain.

"The operation is complete."

The young bishop spoke coldly. His Britannian clearly carried an accent, but it was intelligible. "The most important item is in here. What we need to do now is return to the homeland at maximum speed."

The captain's gaze shifted from the bishop's face to the iron box, then back again.

"So we went through all this trouble rushing to the Mediterranean... just for this box?"

The young bishop looked at him, saying nothing.

There was an uncomfortable edge to that silence—not hostility, but an attitude of "someone at your paygrade doesn't need to know more."

Knowing his place, the captain ultimately let it drop.

"Forget it. My mission orders do specifically state 'extract designated personnel and ensure safe return'... Fine."

He turned to the executive officer and ordered, "Cease bombardment. Send a light signal to coordinate the fleet's turn."

"Yes, Captain."

The order was relayed down the brass speaking tubes. The Inflexible's main guns quickly ceased fire. The massive turrets slowly returned to zero, their elevated barrels dropping back down.

The Goliath behind them received the signal and ceased fire almost simultaneously.

The entire formation swiftly began to turn, breaking away at full speed toward the Strait of Gibraltar.

The captain waved a nearby officer over. "Take this gentleman to the prepared cabin."

The young bishop gave a curt thanks and left the bridge, carrying the box.

Once the bishop vanished from sight, the captain jutted his chin at his executive officer. "See that? Doesn't matter what country they're from, these spellcasters are all the same. So high and mighty..."

The executive officer shrugged noncommittally.

Not long after the attack on the Church of Santa Maria la Nova, an urgent telegram was dispatched from the Naples Church communication station. It had two destinations: Vatican Headquarters and the Papal State Mediterranean Fleet.

The message was brief: Sealed artifact stolen, suspected work of a Britannian-aligned "apostate." Suspect fled westward with the target aboard the Britannian fleet.

The Papal State Mediterranean Fleet Command received the telegram quickly via secure landlines. However, there was nothing they could do. Their main naval force had already merged with the Saxon and Austro-Hungarian navies; they couldn't turn back in time.

Of course, even if they could, they wouldn't get the chance.

Because at that same moment, an armored airship conducting reconnaissance over the Mediterranean finally detected the signal of a massive fleet.

The Royal Navy warships were practically smokeless, making them notoriously hard to spot early from sea level. But for an armored airship in the sky, their line of sight was vastly greater.

Plus, a large fleet churning up the sea wasn't exactly subtle. Not to mention, the magitech detection equipment on the airship could pick up the magical fluctuations from the cores of that many warships.

The "hunters," who had been waiting a long time, received the coordinates from the airship. They immediately corrected their intercept course and sped toward their prey.

Bucharest, Old Royal Palace Ruins.

Twenty minutes earlier, Morin was the first to notice the shift during a lull in the fighting.

He had just sent two high-tier Blood Thralls trying to flank them flying with the 【Thorn of the Sacred Remains】. As he turned, he caught sight of the massive blood-red meat mountain in the center of the ruins out of the corner of his eye.

The flesh that had been steadily expanding suddenly began to violently... convulse.

Its previously steady, rhythmic pulsation collapsed. The entire mass jerked between rapid expansion and contraction. The surface veins bulged out and then withered away frantically.

"Cleric! The situation's changing!" Morin yelled to Cristiano, who was currently decapitating several Blood Servants with a wide sweep of his sword nearby.

Hearing Morin, Cleric Cristiano looked up at the central meat mountain. A smile finally broke across his face beneath the hound-faced helmet.

"Excellent! The team at the seal has made their move!"

The blood-red pillar shooting into the sky began to flicker, like a desk lamp with a loose connection.

Every time it dimmed, all vampires in Bucharest exhibited visible reactions.

Blood Servants charging the defense lines suddenly stopped dead, convulsed a few times, and collapsed to the ground. Though not directly collapsing, many more Blood Thralls and Servants grew noticeably disorganized. The entire vampire mental network was suffering a "system failure."

Seizing the chaos, the Saxon soldiers desperately pushing deeper into the city accelerated their advance. Morin, meanwhile, pulled his focus back to the meat mountain.

Another fifteen minutes passed. The pillar's flickering sped up... Soon, the intervals shrank, and the brightness dimmed further.

"Colonel Morin, our opening is here!" Cleric Cristiano called out again.

"That's the second time I've heard that phrase this battle!"

Morin's tone carried a clear hint of complaint. The very next instant, the blood-red pillar piercing the heavens over Bucharest finally extinguished.

Above Bucharest, the blood curtain that had hung over the city for who knew how long rapidly receded. While a faint dark red hue still tinted the sky, the clouds were at least visible now.

Concurrently, the giant meat mountain in the center of the ruins ceased pulsating the moment the pillar died out.

Then, it began to swell uncontrollably. Surface veins ruptured, spraying dark red fluid everywhere. The entire biomass shifted from a vibrant dark red to a sickly, rotting dark brown.

Boom——!

Reaching its absolute limit, the mass of flesh burst from the inside out, much like a rotting elephant carcass on the savanna or a whale carcass exploding at sea.

Copious amounts of gore and tissue fragments splattered in all directions. A pungent stench combining thick blood and scorched flesh assaulted their senses.

Morin sidestepped a large, flying chunk of tissue, raising his sleeve to shield his face. Even he found this grotesquely "appetizing" scene hard to stomach.

"Now!!" Cleric Cristiano's roar tore through the blood mist.

Morin didn't hesitate. The abundant power granted by Paradise Potion No. 3 surged through his veins. As he sprinted, the golden flames on the 【Thorn of the Sacred Remains】 flared to new heights.

The cleric appeared to his front-right almost simultaneously. The holy light clinging to his white heavy armor evaporated all the blood mist around them.

Tearing through the blood-red fog, the two laid eyes on the center.

Ferdinand I... if this thing could still be called Ferdinand I. He had utterly become a monster.

The twisted abomination stood about four meters tall, its proportions grotesquely deformed. The upper body was shriveled and warped, its overly long arms dragging on the ground. Its spine arched at a deeply unnatural angle.

Its skin was covered in the remnants of dead, carbonizing flesh flaking off in chunks. Yet upon that mangled face, Ferdinand I's features were still discernible.

Having suffered a massive backlash mid-fusion, the "phase transition" had clearly failed...

Ferdinand I neither completed his transformation nor died. Instead, he was stuck in a half-finished, deformed state.

Multiple prompts popped up sequentially on Morin's system [Information] interface. But having already closed the distance to Ferdinand I, he didn't care.

"Take him down!"

Morin and the cleric swung their swords at the deformed giant simultaneously.

Yet even in this state, Ferdinand I hadn't entirely lost his reflexes. His two overly long, deformed arms jerked up, a longsword clutched in each hand.

Morin recognized them instantly.

The Dark Sword of Vlad III in the right; Queen Marie's broken sword in the left... except the broken ends had been glued back together with dark red fleshy tissue, looking profoundly perverse.

CLANG!!

The twin longswords collided with Morin's 【Thorn of the Sacred Remains】 and the cleric's greatsword at once. Just like before, Ferdinand I blocked successfully. However, his deformed body visibly buckled upon impact.

Its strength had plummeted.

Morin clearly felt it. The opponent's blocking force wasn't remotely on the same level as their clash inside the main hall.

Bolstered by Paradise Potion No. 3 and the Holy Sword's might, Morin actually held the upper hand in the clash.

"This is the real opening!"