The Vastness of Magical Destiny

"Welcome, Saint Iliana, on behalf of our Homer People, I offer our heartfelt thanks for your and your companions’ arrival. I will bear in mind the support of the Church of Light, and Homer will forever be a faithful diocese of the Church of Light."

Although Philip’s face was covered in smiles, he cursed the others internally. These damned outcasts of the church, only now do they arrive at such a late time, letting the entire Busen Plain and Odessa fall into the hands of the inferior races, and having to bear such harsh conditions himself, it was unimaginable that they were the high and noble representatives of holiness. The gods are blind to have chosen such rubbish as their representatives in the world of mortals.

"Your Highness, please believe that if your heart is true, the God of Light will bless you. Demons and heretics may be arrogant for a moment, but under the supreme divine light of the God of Light, all filth will be cleansed!" The melodious voice of the Veiled Saintess rebounded in the air, as if it were a hymn praising the gods, entering the ears of all present, making it irresistible to bow down in worship.

Lecler coldly surveyed the almost theatrical scene. Unlike Bronin, he was not a devout follower of the Church of Light and did not hold much reverence for the Church in his heart. However, he conceded that indeed, the Church of Light was filled with talent. He had objections to the compromise with the Church of Light this time, but he could only agree as the dire situation in Homer could no longer be delayed. Relying solely on Homer’s own strength was indeed difficult to contend with the forces of the inferior races from the South. It was a sad affair–that a sovereign of the first rank in Nicosia had been driven to retreat by a rabble of barbarians and Half-Beastmen, stirring endless lament in Lecler’s heart.

Carl Libukneisi watched the scene before him with complex emotions. The high-and-mighty demeanor of the other party was distasteful to him. Although he was not a Homerite, Duke Philip had been gracious to him, and he had to repay the Duke with all his ability. As for the performance of these church members, it held little importance for him. He just needed to do his own duty well.

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Onia noticed that Saint Iliana’s behavior did not seem to win the favor of those present. The supercilious attitude made it difficult to gain the approval of these people. Onia also felt somewhat embarrassed; although he was the chief mage dispatched to the Royal Court Magicians by the Church of Light, he spent more time dealing with these local power-brokers to maintain local interests while striving to consolidate the Church’s foothold and expand its influence in these regions. Especially now, when the Kingdom of Nicosia was in a state of disintegration, these local factions needed to be courted even more. He did not want this discordant atmosphere to affect future cooperation.

"Gentlemen, the war that Homer is waging against those inferior races from the South is actually a key battle for us mortals to resist the invasion of inferior races. The Church of Light has always been the guardian messenger of mortals. We cannot tolerate such blatant provocation against the rule of our mortal world. This time, we will use our real power to teach these insolent inferior races a lesson, to show them that the Cordillera Wilderness is their true place. If they dare to trespass, they must pay the price in blood! This time, the Church of Light has dispatched its strongest contingent to help the Duke defend our interests in Homer and the honor of mortals. Trust me, we will join hands to completely eradicate this pack of foes from our sight!"

Seeing that the mood among those present was not very good, Onia had to use this means to divert their attention.

If they harbored resentment against each other in the face of a formidable enemy, then this war would be indeed perilous. The opponent was not as simple as they verbally claimed. Onia’s memories of Lord Komer were fresh. He was now certain that Malone’s death was his doing. Thinking of how this man was not only skilled in Dark Magic but also had the methods of an assassin, Onia felt an immense pressure weighing on him. The opponent must know that the arrival of his forces was enough to change the course of the battle, yet they dared to accept this challenge, which meant they must have something to rely on. However, Onia’s worry could not show; a time like this called for morale to be boosted, not sapped. Moreover, Onia was confident that whatever move the opponent had, it would disappear like mist before the combined might of himself and the three Saints.