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From the outcome, the White Oak Battalion had narrowly escaped disaster.

The lieutenant breathed a sigh of relief.

However, before he could contemplate how to write the action report for this operation, another scout brought him news that made him lose his appetite for breakfast.

“Lieutenant, sir, the fog of war spread by the Circle Tower Spirit Mages has completely dissipated, but we’ve discovered that the Transians have left some ‘things’ at the border!”

The scout’s tone was rather peculiar, as if he had been somewhat frightened, which surprised Lieutenant Frayzer.

The scouts of the Pioneer Army were among the finest warriors, rarely displaying such emotional turmoil.

“Open the Computation Bead’s projection, let me see what it is with my own eyes.”

The lieutenant sent a message, and moments later, a blurry long-distance spirit projection was activated. After the scout adjusted the angle, a sight that made the lieutenant’s hair stand on end appeared before his eyes.

Human heads!

Precisely 600 heads were stacked together, forming a bizarre “tower,” with a broken stone slab nearby, inscribed with a line of Transian text written in fresh blood:

“This magnificent death is offered to the Night Mother! The Crimson Hand always repays blood with blood!”

“This…”

Lieutenant Frayzer took a deep breath.

He realized this was the message from the Count of Kadman to Circle Tower, but it felt more like a direct, concise, and blunt “declaration of war.”

Circle Tower had nearly wiped out Kadman City and nearly caused the extinction of the Blood Vulture Clan. In retaliation, the vampires had cleared the Circle Tower’s hunting squads in a single night, leaving behind this “fallen artwork” that exceeded the bounds of warfare.

This was not the end.

This was the beginning of a new cycle of hatred.

“Ah, Transia indeed produces barbarians and vampires! The common trait between these two is that neither will submit to violence, and neither is a good thing!”

Lieutenant Frayzer rubbed his brow, his head aching.

He knew that once this combat report was submitted, it would undoubtedly cause a significant uproar. Considering that this incident might be viewed as a provocation from Transia against the Goldflower Kingdom, the lieutenant decided to have a private discussion with his former classmate, who had recently been promoted to Crimson Regent, before writing the report.

As the eyes and ears of the king, he needed to ascertain the true intentions of the opposing lord, as well as confirm the future development of the White Oak Battalion in Transia for General Loren.

The general was a man who valued loyalty and honor.

If he could receive news of the safety and well-being of his old friend’s offspring and followers, the general’s feelings of guilt over his “dereliction of duty” would likely dissipate.

With this in mind, the lieutenant opened the spirit communication amplifier before him and sent a message to Lady Miriam.

——

“Hooray! I got the ‘Iron Warden’ manufacturing blueprint!”

In the Blood Vulture Halls of Crimson Citadel, Little Sword Saint exclaimed joyfully, clutching the firearm blueprint in her hands.

This was the “special reward” for her quest.

In addition to this blueprint commissioned by Lieutenant Frayzer and delivered through Captain Natalie, Little Sword Saint also received a profession-related note from the old hunter, Grandma Marianne.

“The formidable and dashing Gunner Grandma told me that only Dwarven and Halfling gunsmiths can craft such complex firearms!”

Little Sword Saint treasured the manufacturing blueprint in her hands, turning to her elegantly tea-sipping friend, Fatal Orchid Huahua, and saying, “Should we try to find any Dwarves or Halflings around here?”

“Don’t bother,” Huahua replied, savoring the unique flavor of the vampire’s red tea with the poise and grace befitting a world traveler. “I asked the NPCs, and there hasn’t been any trace of Dwarves or Halflings in the Transia region for a hundred years. This place is an utter otherworld. I think instead of searching for them at this point, it would be better for you to switch to the engineering profession and make it yourself.”

“Ah? Make it myself?” Little Sword Saint scratched her head, grimacing. “But this gun requires Grandmaster-level engineering to craft. When will I reach that level? Besides, we don’t have any engineering instructors here.”

“There weren’t any before, but now there is,” Lumina hummed as she polished her beloved instrument, then added, “The Grandma Marianne you just spoke with is a gunsmith. I heard from Niuniu that he saw Grandma Marianne handcraft gun barrels at the Pioneer Fortress.

However, you might need a certain level of personal reputation to learn engineering from her. And your blueprint only states that Grandmaster-level engineering can produce a Masterwork Commander-grade Iron Warden. It doesn’t mean that you, as an apprentice, can’t make one.

At most, the Quality will decrease.

At most, it will be a blank equipment without additional attributes, but even a blank high-level weapon like that would undoubtedly be far superior to any recruit-grade musket you could find now, right?”

“Don’t you have money?”

Sister Pomegranate, lying on the table humming and pretending to be “injured” with a bandage on her face, rolled her eyes and said:

“Just have Grandma Marianne do the manufacturing work! That old hunter could tell the details of this firearm at a glance, which means she should be able to make it too. It’s just a matter of how much money.”

“Oh! Then I’ll go ask her. You all wait for me.”

Little Sword Saint hopped off the chair, grabbed the manufacturing blueprint, and flickered away with shadow steps out of the Blood Vulture Halls.

“Say, aren’t you two planning to undergo the Black Iron Trial?”

Sister Pomegranate gazed at her newly refreshed Character Attributes and three new close combat talents. She sipped the red tea she had purchased with silver coins from a vampire server and said to her two best friends:

“There are more and more trial methods being developed now. You two better hurry up. I have a feeling the situation in Transia won’t remain calm for long.”

“Soon, I’ve already contacted Leading Pigeon,” Fatal Orchid Huahua elegantly set down her teacup and played with her hair. “He’ll make a batch of special Combustion Oil for me. I’ll complete the trial in the sewers tonight. What about you, Lumina?”

“I’ll follow little Ashina’s lead,” Lumina packed away the instrument she had just polished and made a gesture of aiming a rifle, patting the precisely calibrated demon-hunting rifle beside her.

Although the style was old, the Quality was extremely high. A standard Commander-grade hunting rifle was likely one of a kind in the current game.

This was a weapon she had just obtained by spending two “keys” from a Witch Hunter’s “War Chest.” It was a special weapon with a yellow descriptor, and according to the description, it was supposedly the relic of a Grandmaster Witch Hunter who had sacrificed themselves on the battlefield.

She confidently stated, “I don’t like sewers and ghouls, they’re too disgusting. I plan to search the surrounding area for elite creatures, Astral Realm beasts, or gnoll chieftains.”

“And you, Pomegranate? Now that you’ve undergone the trial, what are your plans? Turning into a vampire?”

“Hmm,” Sister Pomegranate poked her cheek and said, “I’ve consulted Lady Adele. She can teach me the Blood Vulture Clan’s assassination martial arts, but she suggested I learn the more superior midnight assassination techniques of the Thorn Clan. That assassination style includes advanced blade techniques, which suit me perfectly.

The Count of White Mountain, representing the Thorn Clan, will also stay in Crimson Citadel. Once I turn into a vampire, I can start gaining reputation with the Thorn Clan.

Are you sure you don’t want to become a vampire? Murphy values you highly.”

“NO!” Lumina snorted and rested her chin on her hand. “I’ll wait for the elf race to be unlocked. It’s bound to happen eventually! I’m certain of it! What about you, Huahua? Enjoy being a vampire?”

“No, I think being human is quite nice,” Huahua smiled and patted her shield. “Based on my guess, the human racial traits might be enhanced in future versions. Hmm, most likely enhanced! I consider myself a traveler, and if I only seek strength without experiencing more landscapes, that wouldn’t align with my life’s attitude.”

“Ah ah ah ah! The chest turned black again! Damn! I knew this blind box wouldn’t have anything good! Don’t stop me, I’m going to demand an explanation from those Witch Hunters! Everyone opened the same treasure chest! Other people got equipment they could use, but why did an Oak Apprentice like me get a physical shield?

Are you kidding me?”

Meow King’s ghostly wailing echoed from the upper halls, causing the three girls to exchange glances before bursting into laughter.

Meow King’s bad luck had struck again, it seemed. This was probably beyond remedy.

However, a few minutes later, little Ashina came running back, her twin tails swinging merrily as she said to her three sisters:

“Done! Grandma Marianne charged me 200 gold coins as a processing fee, but I have to provide the materials myself. She promised to finish the manufacturing within half a month and guaranteed the Quality would be above Veteran Masterwork! I’ve already posted a material collection thread on the forum.

Oh, and I brought you a gift to help you with the Black Iron Trial, my dear Huahua.”

With those words, little Ashina pulled out an exquisite wooden shield made of sacred oak with beautiful inscriptions engraved on it from her spirit bag and slammed it onto the table. Huahua immediately spat out the red tea she was drinking, all grace forgotten.

Wiping her mouth, she said in bewilderment, “Don’t tell me this shield is the one you bought from Meow King?”

“Eh? How did you know? Uncle Meow gave me a 50% discount, he’s such a nice person. I don’t understand why everyone says he’s cunning.”

“How much money have you spent buying gold coins from other players in this game? Don’t your parents monitor you? You and Feel You Poor, you two troublemakers have driven the gold coin price up to 1:20!”

“Hmph, it’s my own allowance, they don’t care. I’m their little darling. It’s not just about equipment, if I wanted, buying the entire Crimson Citadel as a birthday gift for me wouldn’t be a problem.

Never mind that. Let me tell you some good news: After my persistent persuasion, Lady Aqua has finally submitted an application. She’ll probably join us soon.

Hooray!”

——

“This is the church district assigned to us by the lord. Although it’s dilapidated and we need to clear it and build the sanctuary ourselves, it’s a good start. My fellow believers, I firmly believe that our God has brought us enlightenment through Murphy’s name.”

At this moment, in the desolate inner city district above the Blood Vulture Halls, the kind-eyed Sister Jules was leading two veteran hunters who had arrived first in Crimson Citadel, guiding them to the future site of the Avalon Sanctuary.

This area was once the vampire residential district of the inner city. However, those magnificent yet eerie buildings had been razed to the ground during the Astral Realm invasion, leaving only ominous ruins and rubble, concealing sinister Astral Realm shadows.

Of course, to Grandma Marianne, who had dealt with such things her entire life, the Astral Realm shadows were insignificant, she knew at least twenty-seven ways to swiftly dispel them.

What truly concerned Grandma Marianne was the rift in the sky above, like a gash in the heavens leading to the Astral Realm.

Although invisible to the naked eye, Grandma Marianne could still sense the continuous flow of Astral Realm essence passing through that wound and entering the material world.

“The environment here will be permanently altered, even affecting the life forms residing here, but such changes in life forms are long-term. If we can build the Avalon Sanctuary, the solace from nature’s spirit will restore some vitality to this land.”

Grandma Marianne smiled and offered an explanation to Sister Jules.

The two women’s identities were worlds apart. When the Avalon Church still existed, Grandma Marianne could be considered a high-ranking priestess, while Sister Jules was merely an ordinary traveling missionary at that time.

But in the present era, Marianne and Jules were among the few remaining human followers of Avalon, their identities no longer differing.

As for the more devout Old Eugene, he was far more excited than the two grandmothers.

Standing there, gazing at the vast area before him, he seemed to envision a magnificent natural sanctuary rising from the ground. It was as if he had returned to the parish on Glamo Island, strolling along the shaded paths lined with natural deities, allowing his soul to find tranquility in such beauty.

He silently invoked the name of the deity, walking forward to inspect the layout, hoping to better plan the ideal form for the first newly established natural sanctuary in ten years.

Not only was he a devout believer and outstanding White Silver hunter, but he was also an architect specializing in theology and faith.

However, just a few steps in, Old Eugene noticed a wooden carving placed on a table, accompanied by carving knives, clearly in the process of sculpting an Avalon deity figurine.

He turned to the plainly dressed Sister Jules and asked softly, “Is this your offering?”

“Yes, after Lord Murphy agreed to allow me to rebuild the sanctuary, I resumed making offerings to my God, as recorded in the scriptures. Avalon of Nature abhors grandeur and extravagance, wooden carvings made by believers’ own hands bring Him joy.”

Sister Jules spoke in a gentle tone.

Old Eugene’s expression turned solemn as he said, “Then allow me to make an improper request! Preoccupied with war, my bloodstained hands have burdened my soul. In my brutality, I am unworthy of offering gifts to my God. It has been nearly ten years since I last made an offering. Please permit me to complete your unfinished work.

I hope this will signify the end of my years of warfare and mark my return to being a servant of God, offering my first natural prayer from a wanderer who has found his way home.”

“Of course, my fellow believer, you should cleanse yourselves of the dust of war here and allow your souls to return to our God’s embrace,” Sister Jules gestured in invitation.

Old Eugene took a deep breath, carefully washed his hands, and then picked up the carving knife.

He was evidently skilled, completing Sister Jules’ unfinished carving in just a few minutes, revealing a lifelike wooden sculpture of Avalon of Nature bestowing blessings upon the believers.

As he had said, Old Eugene sought to break free from the anguish of war completely. He knelt on the ground, removing all his weapons and armor until he wore only a simple linen robe, praying to the sculpture using the most basic of apprentice prayers.

It was clear that Old Eugene was not merely speaking empty words but truly intended to “start anew” in offering his faith to his God.

Seconds later, to the astonished gaze of Sister Jules and Grandma Marianne, emerald green specks of light began circling the ordinary wooden carving.

At first, it was just flickering fragments carried by the wind, but soon, a verdant spirit wind blew through the ruins, enveloping the three believers and allowing them to sense the comfort and protection of being in a forest.

“My God… my God has responded.”

By now, Old Eugene’s eyes were wide open, as if struck by lightning.

This was the first time in ten years since the collapse of the old church that he had felt the will of nature so clearly surrounding him, like the gentle caress and encouraging whispers of the deity.

“My God!”

The sincere believer wept at this moment.

This aged yet steadfast and resilient man prostrated himself amidst the ruins, kissing the wood-strewn ground. Under the purple glow of the Astral Realm rift, the old man cried out in joy and sorrow:

“My God!

We, Your children who have wandered far from home, have trudged through the desert of hardship. We, Your displaced kin, have crossed the vast sea of war. We, Your redeemed descendants, have traversed the peaks of time.

My God!

Your most loyal children have finally returned to Your side!”

Amidst these lamentations and fervent cries, all the inhabitants of the Crimson Citadel ruins looked up at that moment.

They felt a cool breeze blowing at noon, and dark clouds rolled in, shielding them from the oppressive sunlight. Then, amid the pitter-patter of gentle raindrops, a soft rain fell, quickly forming a curtain, as if an invisible hand swept across this land of profound suffering.

On September 17th, Year 1111, the second full month since Murphy’s arrival in the otherworld, the first autumn rain fell upon Transia, and the protection of the God Avalon descended once more upon the human believers.