At that time, Pietro Yogdis, Cardinal of the Roman Orthodox Church and its highest-ranking spokesperson, picked up an ornate French press and poured himself a cup of hot coffee. Leaning comfortably into a leather armchair beside a Baroque-style window, he quietly admired this city of God they so revered.
Even though a world war had recently broken out and the Papal Palace in Avignon, France, had been destroyed, Vatican City remained as calm and peaceful as ever tonight.
This was the Vatican—the city favored by the Lord Himself. It could not be compared to the Avignon enclave in France.
Recalling the path that had brought him here—from a destitute childhood, struggling for wealth, to entering the Church, rising from cleric to priest, priest to bishop, and finally to Cardinal—Pietro Yogdis had clawed his way up every step of the ladder.
Now, he held the greatest authority among the fourteen Cardinals and 141 archbishops within the Roman Orthodox Church. The position of Pope, seemingly so far away, was now just within reach.
He desired it more than anything.
"Pope Reese... you are old. Too much mercy is weakness," he muttered silently.
Pietro Yogdis knew well that colluding with Fiamma of the Right would only further erode the Pope's authority. Even if they triumphed over Academy City, the Vatican would likely become nothing more than a mouthpiece for Fiamma. His own power wouldn't grow much beyond what he currently held as a Cardinal.
But... as long as it benefited him, what did anything else matter?
He already considered the Vatican his domain and had grand plans to remake it in his image.
As long as he became Pope—yes, that was the key—Fiamma of the Right might control the real power in the Roman Orthodox Church, but he had little interest in mundane affairs. He would remain the shepherd of billions of believers.
The Roman Orthodox Church would become even greater under his leadership!
Pietro Yogdis believed it with all his heart.
"Pope Reese still refuses to take the reins?" he asked aloud.
"After His Holiness declared war on Academy City in the name of the Roman Orthodox Church, he locked himself in the confessional at Saint Pietro's Basilica," said a cleric in a plain-colored intermediate priest's robe—one from Pietro Yogdis's own faction. "His Holiness said he must atone before God for his sins and failures, and pray that the faithful will return safely, and that war and vengeance might end soon. Also..."
The priest hesitated.
"Speak."
"His Holiness also told us to stop pretending to care. Since you've already secured the support of the Cardinal Assembly, just go ahead. Whether you ascend to Heaven or fall into the deepest pits of Hell, he said he's an old man bound for Satan's damnation and is already useless."
The priest spoke carefully.
"I see. Leave us. And don't send anyone else to nag the Pope," Pietro Yogdis replied after a long silence. His old, wrinkled face remained devoid of emotion.
"Yes, Your Eminence."
I will be the next Pope. That has already been decided. It won't be your turn to take the stage, Pope Reese. Once we secure the future of Christendom, you can retire in peace.
Pietro Yogdis averted his gaze and stared silently at the porcelain cup. After a moment, he picked it up and downed the contents in one go.
Just as he turned to handle other matters, a knock came at the door.
"Enter," he said without looking.
The door opened. A middle-aged Caucasian man, around forty years old, also dressed in a white zucchetto and ceremonial robe befitting a Cardinal, stepped inside holding a parchment scroll.
"Things... don't look good," he said. "The Russian Orthodox Church's operations in the Far East were all noise and no impact. We can't count on our allies."
He spoke with a frown.
"Biagio Busoni ran into trouble before even entering the Pacific. He's requested reinforcements. According to him, he was attacked by all of Academy City's Level 5 espers. The fleet took heavy losses."
"All of them?"
Pietro Yogdis let out a mocking chuckle. "Hmph, exaggeration! Our sources in Academy City report that Selene is still there overseeing operations. She even appeared at the science-side alliance meeting just now. 'All of them' my foot."
"Tell Biagio this: he possesses our Church's treasure, the 'Queen of the Adriatic Sea,' has the support of knight orders and a substantial number of magical combat forces, and even the naval backing of Italy and several South Asian countries. After all that, he still hasn't advanced?"
"He has shamed the Lord," Pietro Yogdis said with visible irritation.
Even if Selene and Fiamma of the Right hadn't made a move, and the Roman Orthodox Church's trump card rituals hadn't been activated, Biagio's incompetence sent the wrong message. Were they saying that without Fiamma, the Roman Orthodox Church was powerless?
Blocked for hours by a farcical mix of godless tin cans, shameless battlefield scavengers, and a bunch of greenhorn kids? Were they implying the magic side was inferior to the science side?
"What about our people heading for Vienna?"
Frowning, Pietro Yogdis unrolled the parchment and began reading the magical script, cursing the greedy Slavs under his breath without even looking up.
"Failure. All the magical combat units we sent are missing. No word from any of them. The only confirmed intel is that Brauchitsch von Habsburg has not left Austria."
"Then keep a tight watch. He must not leave Europe. Dispatch the knight order. He is our key to counterbalancing..."
"Enemy attack!!"
A shrill scream ripped through Saint Pietro's Square, so piercing and sudden it made Pietro Yogdis jolt. His hand trembled, sloshing coffee across the table.
Who was it?!
Pietro Yogdis shot to his feet. At that moment, armored Templar Knights clad in airtight silver plating from head to toe stormed in, steel boots clanking.
Suddenly, a loud hum of disrupted airflow and surging energy echoed above. The blood-red moon tore through the night and cast its light across Rome. The moonlight was unnervingly cold, utterly devoid of warmth.
Pietro Yogdis looked up.
In the crimson-tinged sky, beams of silver-white light descended like divine wrath.
BOOM! BOOM BOOM—!!
The deafening roar of impact exploded in everyone's ears!
From the points of impact, shockwaves rippled outward like tidal waves. The square's neatly laid black stone tiles sank and shattered, blasting chunks of stone skyward as smoke and dust billowed.
In an instant, the three grand corridors formed by two semi-circular marble colonnades screamed in protest. Between and atop the pillars, opulent marble statues and glassworks shattered instantly.
Instinctively shielding himself, Pietro Yogdis raised his arm in front of his face and shut his eyes and mouth to block the oncoming debris and smoke.
Suddenly, Saint Pietro's Basilica, the Apostolic Palace, Saint Pietro's Square... the entire Vatican City lit up as if awakened. A gentle, pure white radiance appeared. An invisible "wall" materialized, shielding Vatican City and keeping the roaring shockwave at bay.
"Who is it?!"
Pietro Yogdis glared at the streaks of light racing across the sky. The scope of the assault seemed to cover all of Rome. Even from this distance, the glowing, writhing masses embedded in the earth radiated a suffocating sense of dread.
Manual activation... The defensive magic array covering all of Vatican City hadn't triggered automatically. That meant this wasn't magic—not even any known human weapon they had recorded. There wasn't even detectable malice.
The glowing orbs that struck the ground began to bubble, boiling with an eerie foam.
The next moment, towering humanoid forms emerged from within. As the radiance faded, colossal knights nearly four meters tall stood clad in silver-white armor, each with four immense, semi-transparent wings unfurled behind them.
Their faces were obscured by mask-like mirrors, but everyone who saw them instantly understood: these were not human.
"Their appearance... Angels? Damn it! Is this a provocation? A blasphemy... sacrilege! This is the highest insult to the Father! Who dares?! Who dares to encroach upon the domain of God?!"
The moment Pietro Yogdis got a clear look at those manifested knights of light, he exploded in hysteria.
Real or not, it didn't matter. Whether these "angels" were genuine or fakes, someone had dared to attack the Vatican using beings made in their likeness. Regardless of what Roman Orthodox believers might think, he, the soon-to-be Pope, absolutely could not allow this insult to stand.
Clang!
Before his horrified eyes, the massive "angels" began to move—some wielding enormous glowing swords, others giant radiant spears or titanic warhammers. Then, they unleashed indiscriminate destruction upon everything in sight.
Pietro Yogdis's eyes bulged in fury.
"Guards, defend the Vatican!"
Not that they needed his orders. Members of the knight order clad in airtight silver armor, along with nuns and priests in standard Catholic vestments, all sprang into action. Those with magical combat ability took the front lines. The rest formed chanting units to cast group attack spells or buffs.
This was the Vatican—the headquarters of the Roman Orthodox Church, the birthplace of Christendom. Those who remained in Vatican City at this hour were the most devout of believers.
"Blasphemers, you will burn! Satan's inferno is your only fate!"
A Templar Knight raised his great cross-shaped sword, now brimming with firelight. As he chanted, waves of blazing flame burst forth, forming a massive fireball that floated above his head. With a shout, he hurled it toward the nearest silver-white angel—one wielding a hammer, currently smashing the base of the Saint Pietro's Obelisk.
The giant angel didn't flinch. With a swing of its warhammer—as large as a man's upper torso—a surge of violet-red Honkai energy erupted, corroding and splitting the air.
BOOM!
In an instant, the monstrous blaze consumed both figures.
"Activate all of Vatican's defensive formations! The attackers are prepared for war. Gather all knight order units! The Swiss Guard is to protect the Papal chambers! Exterminate the invaders! Ready the Gregorian Choir! Mobilize the Roman garrison to suppress the heretics—"
"Don't bother. Aside from Vatican's standing defenses, you won't get a single reinforcement."
Just as Pietro Yogdis was urgently issuing command after command, an icy, arrogant female voice interrupted him—like polar seawater crashing over him, bringing an invisible chill that pierced to the bone.
"Who is it?!"
The blood moon loomed high.
In its thick crimson glow, dark lights shimmered ominously, arcs of light twisting. And from that ominous void bloomed a radiant, divine set of six angelic wings.
Pietro Yogdis froze. Everyone who turned toward the voice fell into stunned silence.
Backlit by the blood moon, standing high in the sky beyond the reach of light, a beautiful woman descended gracefully with her hands clasped behind her back. Though she walked through empty air, each step landed with a crisp, audible tap tap.
Silver-white hair cascaded down her back. Her skin was pale and smooth, almost unnaturally fair. Above her delicate nose, her crimson blood-red eyes glowed with golden diamond-shaped crosses resembling angelic halos—radiating cold indifference and subtle mockery.
She wore a white and gold ceremonial battle dress. The fabric shimmered faintly with a layer of radiant light, and under this glow, the skirt's golden embroidery of holy lilies seemed to come alive, dancing with the swirl of that luminescence amid the darkness.
She was stunning. But every person present was a devout follower of the Roman Orthodox Church, handpicked for their unwavering faith. These bishops and Cardinals were all aged men, most well past their forties and fifties. Without enchantments or charm spells, mere physical beauty wouldn't so easily shake them.
What truly left them awestruck was the being's six platinum-white angelic wings. As they fluttered, golden feathers rained down, accompanied by stardust-like motes of light—as if the heavens themselves were crumbling.
If the silver giants before were imitations of angelic form, then this was no imitation. This was an angel.
Of course, if you took the Old Testament—the Book of Isaiah or the Book of Ezekiel—as the reference, it would be a different matter entirely.
Those angels, as described, were bizarre, twisted entities: bodies covered in fire, six wings each, eyes growing inside and out, or four wheels stacked together with rims full of watching eyes...
Judged by modern standards, Old Testament angels were like Lovecraftian horrors. Angels? No, more like Cthulhu.
"No...!"
Even with halos and wings, Pietro Yogdis recognized her—silver hair, red eyes.
"It's you! Selene von Habsburg, the most violent heretical esper in Academy City!"
There was no doubt. Selene was the attacker.
"Heretic! Blasphemer! So Academy City has been conducting sacrilegious research that defies the teachings of the Cross! Fortunately, we discovered it early and struck preemptively. Otherwise, we would have been destroyed by Academy City eventually!"
His eyes widened as he screamed at Selene, voice hoarse. "Children of the Father! Our Holy War is righteous!"
"Born in Central Europe, the Lord's pastures, and yet you lend your power to the enemy... Selene! If you were to convert to the Roman Orthodox Church, turn from darkness to light, we would pardon your desecration of the Holy Land. We could even name you a Saint of the Cross."
He stepped out onto the balcony, spreading his arms as he shouted to the heavens.
The words sounded sincere, but his eyes—shifting, filled with fear and anger—betrayed him. He was buying time.
"Heh..." Selene's lips curved into an elegant smile. "Forgiven, named a Saint... how enticing."
Suspended several hundred meters above Saint Pietro's Square, Selene hovered mid-air, her six divine platinum wings the only flicker of light beneath this blood-drenched moon. But only she knew the truth: what she brought wasn't merely darkness, death, or a string of terrifying words. It was something even more blasphemous. More monstrous.
"But unfortunately..."
Her slender fingers, tipped with soft-pink nails, danced lightly in the air. A violet-red blossom twirled between her fingers, shimmering dimly in the moonlight.
She didn't release the Honkai Energy from the flower—didn't let it glow in purple light—even though that would have matched tonight's ambiance perfectly.
Pietro Yogdis saw it clearly. With every flick of Selene's fingers, rifts tore open around her. From within those cracks, countless violet-red particles spilled out. They were the source of the crimson sky—particles condensing into silver-white beams that rained down from above.
At the same time, numerous Templar Knights, either resting or patrolling, had now assembled in front of Saint Pietro's Square. With fear and vigilance in their eyes, they watched Selene closely, waiting for her next move.
"Ah... aaahh, AARRGH—!"
Just then, a non-human shriek of agony rang out, piercing the tense silence.
One of the knights who had first clashed with the silver giant suddenly fell to his knees. He dropped his cross-shaped greatsword, pounding the ground in agony before ripping off his helmet and slamming it down.
"Jeffrey! Hey! Jeffrey! What's wrong? Priest, quick, check—what the—!"
A fellow knight who rushed to help froze mid-reach. The knight named Jeffrey had ceased screaming. Violet-red tendrils now pulsed through the veins of his neck, and the light in his pupils dimmed—replaced by a soulless violet hue.
Whoosh—he stood up.
Dozens more knights, nuns, and clergy who had previously fallen in battle—whether wounded or dead—also began rising. Corrupted by Honkai energy, their eyes quickly turned purple.
All of them turned in unison—facing Pietro Yogdis.
"It's already too late."
In those divine, terrifying eyes, a gleam of mockery flashed. Selene tilted her head slightly—and then—
ROOOAAAR—!
One after another, inhuman howls rang out.
A nun tending to the wounded had no time to react before her former comrades leapt upon her. They clawed and bit—within moments, Saint Pietro's Square became a gory battlefield. The Vatican City garrison's newly formed defense lines shattered instantly.
"Dylan, stop! It's me, Luke—aaagh!"
"Stay back, Grace! Stay back—I don't want to hurt you!"
"Barbie, you're a devout believer! Wake up!"
Dead Apostle Conversion.
Selene had lifted the benevolent restriction on Honkai Energy in this region.
This was the earliest manifestation of Honkai Energy's chaotic nature: corpse reanimation, infectious spread through bodily contact, and dead apostle conversion.
Even Pietro Yogdis, no stranger to grotesque sights, froze at the horror before him. Was this vampiric transformation? Ghoul infection?
"You... you you you—"
"The moment you laid eyes on my father, you were already a dead man. There is no compromise. I will destroy the Roman Orthodox Church and raze Vatican City to the ground. One Pope, fourteen Cardinals, and one hundred forty-one Bishops—all will die for your decision."
"Too bad Fiamma of the Right isn't here. Without your large-scale magic arrays, your resistance is no more than an ant's defiance."
Bathed in an aura of despair, Selene no longer had any interest in watching the wails of dying dogs. The pale flower at her fingertip suddenly flared with purple light.
"Die."
BOOOOM—!
In what had once been the sacred, solemn Saint Pietro's Square, an explosion erupted without warning. A fireball more dazzling than the sun lit up the entire Roman sky as if it were day.
Even Laquila, Perugia, and Florence—tens or hundreds of kilometers away—felt the tremor. A blinding flash and mushroom cloud shot skyward.
When the smoke cleared, Saint Pietro's Square had vanished, leaving a ten-kilometer-wide vacuum crater. All of Vatican City was gone.
Except for one thing...
"So the older the magical mystery, the stronger it is, huh."
Despite the surrounding ground, buildings, and trees being uprooted by the blast, the main structure of Saint Pietro's Basilica still stood. Selene couldn't help but admire it.
Built atop the tomb of Saint Pietro, first among the Twelve Apostles, the Basilica's defensive spells were unmatched.
"Look what you've done. An angel's face, a devil's heart. God gave you boundless blessings, gifts beyond mortal reach—and this is how you repay your Father? Massacre and destruction... Heretic! Blasphemer!"
A raspy voice, like a night owl's croak.
"O Lord, if I am guilty, why must others bear my punishment?"
Draped in papal robes, gripping a crucifix staff, the old man with snow-white beard and hair stood tall in front of the ruined Basilica. The sacred defenses were on the verge of collapse, their power sources severed.
The Pope looked at the few survivors lying paralyzed before him, his heart bleeding with grief and rage.
If only he hadn't been so indecisive, too merciful. If only he hadn't locked himself in the confessional. If only he had deployed the "Fish of the Last Supper" spell and summoned the Gregorian Choir at the start of the war—perhaps it would already be over.
Even Vatican's buildings, capable of becoming massive divine artifacts, had been destroyed simply because he hadn't activated their powers in time. If only he hadn't run away...
But reality held no ifs. It was too late.
Though many members of the Gregorian Choir survived, they could no longer fulfill the casting conditions. As for the "Fish of the Supper"—it was completely out of reach. Nearly every bishop stationed in the Vatican was dead.
Many had barely woken from sleep before being turned to ash.
"Selene, I—Pope Matthai Reese of the Roman Orthodox Church—as the Lord's earthly representative, will not permit the existence of any who profane His light. By the power granted to me by God, in the name of the Pope, I hereby declare holy war upon you!"
"We shall not die until—"
"Go."
Selene had no interest in hearing the old man's babble. Resting her chin on her hand, she waved.
SPLURCH—!
Blood sprayed. The world spun. Up into the sky, Pope Matthew saw his own headless body. His final sight: a pair of radiant, holy eyes...
The devil wears an angel's face.
That was his last, silent thought before eternal darkness took him.
CRASH—BOOOM!
A sharp crack, and the stretched Subspace Ribbons swept across Saint Pietro's Basilica. A black flash. The last remaining structure shattered into segments of broken rubble.
Selene, uninterested in any final words, drove a Subspace Lance through the old Pope's skull and strung it up.
Now it was time to claim the inheritance.
"Inject. Corrupt. Analyze. Imprint."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
40 Advanced Chapters Available on Patreon:
Patreon.com/DaoOfHeaven