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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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A week had passed since the incident at the Sanctuary.
During that time, nothing had happened in the Hohenberc marquisate.
It was odd.
The Holy Kingdom, having suffered such devastating losses, should have declared a holy war.
Could something have happened to the Earth Mother?
Ludmilla returned to the Imperial Capital twice a day to gather information. But even with the intelligence agency’s resources, she couldn’t find anything related to the Innocent Calamity. The Holy Kingdom was clearly concealing the fact that the Innocent Calamity had descended upon the Sanctuary.
‘Why? Edanant von Hohenberc is a monster who has embraced the Calamity of War. He betrayed his faith and attacked the Sanctuary, despite receiving an oracle from the benevolent Earth Mother. If the Pontiff and the cardinals were to unite and declare a holy war, I would be trapped in an impossible situation…’*
She didn’t understand.
Why was the Holy Kingdom maintaining its silence?
Zebeline, too, couldn’t offer a plausible explanation.
“I’m going to unleash maximum firepower, so stay alert.”
He extended his right hand, clad in the Calamity’s gauntlet, and spoke. Focusing his divine power, the gauntlet shifted and expanded, transforming into a heavy machine gun.
Heavy Machine Gun.
He wielded an M2 Browning heavy machine gun in his right hand.
Bellatiel, facing the unfamiliar weapon, tensed, a wary look in her eyes. But, as if to flaunt the Demon-Subduing Shield’s absolute defensive power, she raised her head, standing her ground.
“Here we go.”
With a roar like thunder, the muzzle flashed.
Thick smoke billowed.
Spent cartridges clattered to the ground.
A merciless barrage of bullets, capable of turning its target into mincemeat, rained down on the seraph.
The heavy machine gun’s power became immediately apparent as its bullets struck the Demon-Subduing Shield. Hundreds of rounds hammered against the barrier conjured by the divine artifact. A look of shock crossed Bellatiel’s face.
‘Damn it! Humans possess such weaponry?! What insane power…!’
The shield remained intact.
The problem was the relentless, rapid fire.
The Demon-Subduing Shield, faced with the continuous barrage, overloaded, its greatest weakness revealed. Bellatiel, knowing this, felt a surge of fear at the relentless stream of bullets.
These bullets could tear through steel armor like paper.
And they were further enhanced by the Calamity of War.
Blazing projectiles that pierced through steel.
The dark bullets, relentlessly striking the divine artifact, pushed it to its limits.
“Phew.”
The shield, its radiant light flickering, began to scream.
This was merely a test. He had no intention of destroying the Earth Mother’s divine artifact.
So, he lowered the overheated heavy machine gun, ceasing fire. Confirming the weapon’s power was a sufficient result for now.
‘I’ve encountered several difficulties in using modern weaponry… but ever since I deployed the missiles and railguns at the Sanctuary, the restrictions have lessened. Does that mean my divine power has grown? Considering I’ve faced near-death experiences at every turn, it’s not surprising.’
The heavy machine gun was just the beginning.
He would soon be able to wield even more modern weaponry.
‘What weapon should I try next?’
He mused, his gaze fixed on the seraph, armed with countless divine artifacts.
“Edan.”
He was conducting a small-scale mock battle in the northern forest of the Hohenberc estate when—
A girl with flowing silver hair approached, a sullen look on her face.
“It’s past teatime. Did you forget?”
“Ah, right.”
The Valtarian Empire, the Gael Holy Kingdom, and other nations across the continent placed great importance on teatime. That was why he had frequently indulged in teatime with the Empire’s beautiful princesses.
Wasn’t teatime at 4 PM?
He pulled out his pocket watch. The hands pointed to 4:20.
He was late.
Twenty minutes late.
Zebeline’s displeasure was evident. After all, failing to appear for teatime without any explanation was an insult, a blatant display of disrespect.
“Sorry I’m late.”
“Hmph, you were probably too busy spending time with your milk jugs!”
“Hardly. I wouldn’t miss teatime with our beautiful Saintess for anything.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere.”
The flat-chested witch who embodied Famine,
Zebeline Albion Russell.
Bellatiel, observing Zebeline’s sullen demeanor, realized that she and Edanant were romantically involved.
‘That despicable man.’
‘He seduced the Witch of Famine with his honeyed words.’
‘And he seemed to be involved with the vessel of Tyranny… Could it be an affair? To openly engage in infidelity despite having a fiancée… What a deplorable human being. And to think I, a Seraphim, was humiliated by such a philanderer!’
A love triangle.
It was a dramatic trope she had often encountered in the romance novels her mother enjoyed reading.
An unfaithful male protagonist.
And the villainesses, bewitched by his whispers.
He would string them along with his lies and infidelity, only to eventually be punished by the scorned women. She remembered the ending vividly: the villainesses, cradling his severed head, sailed into the sunset, disappearing beyond the horizon.
“Let’s go have some tea.”
“Why would I have tea with the likes of you…? Don’t pull on me!”
When he invited her for tea, Bellatiel responded with her usual hostility.
Edanant sighed and tugged on the Subjugation Chain.
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Reduced to a slave, forced to obey the Calamity’s every whim.
Bellatiel gritted her teeth, seething with resentment, and vowed revenge.
‘Mother will descend.’
‘The Supreme One’s power will surely break this Subjugation Chain.’
Bellatiel bided her time, patiently observing Edanant’s every move, searching for a weakness. Like a spy infiltrating enemy territory, she meticulously gathered information.
“I am Ludmilla Drake Valtarian, Second Imperial Princess of the Valtarian Empire. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I know we don’t have time for pleasantries, but… I thought a greeting was in order, considering you’re an emissary of the Earth Mother.”
“……”
Polite and courteous.
Her etiquette was impeccable, befitting the Empire’s Second Princess.
Ludmilla welcomed Bellatiel with the same grace and courtesy she would show a visiting dignitary.
It was a surreal experience.
To be treated as a guest of honor by the Apostle of Tyranny.
Bellatiel, accustomed to the barbaric treatment she had received from Edanant and Zebeline, was taken aback by Ludmilla’s polite greeting. Finally, a civilized person.
“But… I thought Archangels had wings? Where are yours?”
“…They are stored in the armory.”
Elizabetta asked, holding her teacup.
Bellatiel replied curtly.
‘Armory… Is that the name of a subspace where they store their divine artifacts? I never knew wings could be detachable.’
He had restricted Bellatiel’s access to the One True God’s divine artifacts unless she was given a direct command to fight. It was a safety measure, a way to control the righteous Archangel.
Perhaps due to the Subjugation Chain’s influence, the Hohenberc household staff simply saw Bellatiel as “the Second Young Master’s mistress.” They were blissfully unaware that she was the great Archangel Bellatiel, a figure of myth and legend.
Ludmilla and Zebeline sat down and began sipping their tea.
Edanant did the same.
He took a sip of tea with a cute little Luinong perched on his lap.
To casually enjoy teatime in the presence of a Seraphim from the Celestial Realm… Bellatiel, still slightly dazed, sat down and joined them. She took a sip of the warm tea, quenching her thirst.
“It seems I won’t be returning to the Imperial Capital for a while.”
“Indeed. If the Holy Kingdom declares a holy war, you’ll be confined to the capital.”
Now was the time to observe the Holy Kingdom’s movements and await their next move.
The news would arrive soon.
That the monster who had devastated the Sanctuary had escaped their grasp, despite their numerous forces.
The One True God’s sanctity and authority had been trampled. The fanatics who worshipped the Earth Mother wouldn’t tolerate the one responsible for the Sanctuary’s destruction.
“I’d like some milk tea, but… there’s no milk.”
Edanant casually remarked.
Bellatiel’s face flushed crimson. She instinctively covered her chest with her hands.
No,
He hadn’t meant to tease her.
Well, not entirely.
Ludmilla and Zebeline’s gazes sharpened, fixed on Edanant. Having witnessed his previous indiscretions, they immediately misinterpreted his innocent request.
“I-I’m the one who wanted milk tea! I asked Edan!”
“My, my, Rue…”
Rue, who had been munching on cookies, raised her hand and spoke.
Ludmilla sighed, her suspicion dissipating.
“Hmph. Why would a grown man ask for milk? Are you still breastfeeding?”
“Don’t worry. I would never ask you for milk.”
Zebeline’s sharp jab earned her a sarcastic retort from Edanant.
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