War of Faith

When Pat arrived in Pelasa, the ground war with the Nephilim had already been going on for ten days.

Instead of immediately joining the war, he went to the Primarch's command base to report to his father.

Nimrod listened to Pat's report and nodded slightly.

[Malcador is using the powerful and influential to express his stance and test the waters.]

"Filter out those that resonate most strongly with us."

"Kill them." A cold glint flashed in Nimrod's eyes, revealing his attitude within a limited scope.

He wanted to make those nobles understand that there would be a price to pay for targeting them and the "Shadow of Order."

He wanted to make Malcador more cautious in formulating policies during his brief term as leader of the Council of Terra.

"Share in the profits with families like the Payack family."

Within the Imperial Palace, there are thousands of noble factions, hundreds of bureaucrats and military officers plotting, each with their own agenda.

The existence of factions targeting him inevitably leads to hostile factions and emerging bureaucrats and military officers eager for power.

Dividing the Cake among them would both keep the impact within a certain range, making it acceptable to Malcador, and also win over a group of allies.

Pat the deeper meaning in his father's words, and after a few seconds, said, "As you wish."

"I am satisfied with your performance during your time as 'Shadow Guard,' and I would like to appoint you as Chaplain." Although Nimrod had established Chaplain within the legion, there was still no suitable person for the position of Chief Chaplain, Pat was one of the top candidates.

"Of course, it's my honor." Pat straightened his chest, like a priest on a pilgrimage.

The "Mentor of Disorder" activated his Spirit Sight, and compared to the past, he saw more clearly, seeing his own seamless, almost transparent spiritual body.

You have mastered the power I have given you.

"Yes, Father," Pat said confidently.

"Go find the Lord of the Forge; he has the scepter prepared for you," Nimrod instructed.

"Come back to see me after that."

"Yes, sir." Pat accepted the order and left the Primarch's temporary office.

He surveyed the command center, recognizing its resemblance to the Terra noble mansion from the massive circular glass windows, the gilded etched paintings on the walls, and the ornately decorated hydraulic doors.

Following the rune prompts, Pat passed through several gates and headed towards the buzzing area.

Amidst the rhythmic sounds of the mechanical pumps and pulley systems operating, he walked toward the Lord of the Forge, whose Mechadendrite swayed behind him.

Rosicky Czech turned around and saw Pat.

"Come with me."

He led Pat to the weapons rack and picked up a scepter.

"This scepter was made by Lord Vulkan," Rosicky said, gently stroking the jet-black shaft. "I believe it was Lord Vulkan who challenged his own skills to create this scepter."

"As per the agreement, they were sent to the Legion in exchange for Bastion-class Energy Shield services provided by Tech Sergeant in a world fraught with environmental dangers and Xenos attacks."

"After I received it, I made some minor decorative modifications to it."

Pat received the scepter from the Lord of the Forge and found that, apart from the skull at the top of the scepter, which was the same as the Scepter of Truth, its appearance was very different.

The golden wings are reminiscent of the wings on a father's back, and the spikes on them are reminiscent of a legion's emblem.

"Like the Scepter of Truth, it can attack both ranged and melee targets."

"The intensity of the projected energy field can also be manually set to stun the enemy without killing the target."

"Lord Vulkan, it utilizes part of the principle of Thermal Diffraction Field, providing both defense and enhanced stun capabilities, making it ten times more powerful than the ordinary Scepter of Truth."

The "Mechanic Expert" finally turned his attention to the spikes, which were made from materials granted by the Black Emperor.

"This is a special design of mine; it's not only sharp, but it also amplifies your voice and enhances the effect when you speak."

The Telepathist noticed the hidden pride in the Lord of the Forge's words.

Your forging skills are amazing.

"Lord Vulkan is renowned for his forging skills; his creations are so perfect that even minor improvements are extremely difficult."

"You not only improved it, but also added functionality."

"All thanks to my Lord," Rosicky said.

The new Chaplain then said, "Praise be to our Lord."

Rosicky turned to the furnace, "Besides manufacturing supplies, they're also putting the finishing touches on our lord's armor here."

"Lord Vulkan, outside of the agreement, personally crafted a set of armor for my lord."

Pat nodded. "We will remember Lord Vulkan's kindness."

A moment later, Pat returned to the Primarch's office.

Pat saw his father push a slightly golden-yellow bottle of medicine toward him.

When he picked it up, the liquid rippled, like a giant pupil, its gaze able to penetrate the pupils of the heart.

"Thanks be to my Lord for this."

The cool, golden liquid tasted like champagne to Pat.

Tiny bubbles rise and burst continuously, bringing a slightly tingling sensation.

Pat's hearing suddenly expanded, taking in the sounds of the entire command base.

Pat felt as if he had dissolved, turning into ethereal gas, merging into the ocean of consciousness of those around him.

He calmly looked down at the golden scales slowly growing on his skin, showing no fear as he skillfully meditated, suppressing the overflowing power of the potion.

Pat's mind returned to his body, the golden scales disappeared, and his hearing also subsided.

"Thank you, my Lord, for this gift. I will certainly make good use of the power you have given me," Pat said respectfully.

Pat left the command center and immediately joined the battle.

As soon as he arrived at the front line, he noticed tens of thousands of people before him, loudly singing hymns of praise.

They looked up at the giant walking among them, their faces filled with tears of joy, as if they were not at war, but on a pilgrimage.

"Faith." Pat chewed on the taboo word of the Imperium of Man, looking at the giant walking among humans.

The blue giants, as a whole, moved as if they were swimming in the ocean, unusually slowly.

It has no neck; its spherical head grows directly onto its shoulders, and a ring of depressions resembling eye sockets and nostrils surrounds the surface of its skull.

Pat raised the scepter in his hand, and blue light surged up, projecting an invisible force field.

The blue Nephilim's body trembled, a wisp of smoke rose, and then he collapsed with a thud.

Three people were knocked down, one of them hitting his head on the ground, his blood staining the ground red.

The eyes of the people around them were filled with sorrow.

They frantically huddled around the blue giant, reaching out their hands only to pull them back in.

After several attempts, I still dared not touch it.

Pat lowered the force field output power. His father liked all sorts of strange creatures, and offering the Nephilim to him would surely make his father happy.

Like the Rock crashing into a lake, the blue giants in the crowd simultaneously lunged at Pat.

The Shadow of Order raised their Bolter, aimed at the blue figure, and pulled the trigger.

Once the Blue Nephilim started moving, they displayed a swiftness completely different from their bulky blue bodies.

The Shadow of Order unleashed a barrage of bullets, sweeping past the obese "swarm of fish" and blasting those around them into clouds of blood mist.

Only the legionary Warrior, whose armor bore the insignia of jet-black eyes, fired their explosive projectiles into the rippling blue.

They were the 11th Chapter's best archers, earning the Marksman Badge.

When the Blue Nephilim attacked, they were calm and cautious.

They Shriek, their voices trembling with chanting, raised their weapons, and fired Shriek pulses.

The servants surrounding them, like the sea, acted as human shields, transforming themselves around their deity.

The "Psychiatrist" strode forward, his dark eyes lightening as if they were vertical, and an invisible wave surged forward instantly.

Hundreds of people ran wildly in all directions.

Dozens of people fled aimlessly.

A dozen or so people were spinning in circles, wanting to escape but forcibly restraining themselves.

Several people stood stiff and trembling around their god.

The "Psychiatrist" took in the behavior of many people and thought to himself.

The effects of the "Dragon Might" usually lie in the will of the target, but for these Nephilim believers, the deciding factor was faith.

The least steadfast runners sprint, the most steadfast flee aimlessly, the more steadfast spin in place, and the most devout believers stand stiffly.

Their faith, too, is not unbreakable.

As the "Psychiatrist" pondered, his golden eyes fixed on the rapidly approaching Blue Nephilim.

The Blue Nephilim trembled as the Shriek pulses swirling around the hammerhead whistled past him.

Pat swung his scepter and smashed it down on the round head.

With bloated arms, he raised a heavy hammer, attempting to block it.

The excruciating pain in the Blue Nephilim's mind intensified, and his arm swung slower and slower until it suddenly veered off course, failing to stop the incoming scepter.

Bang!

With a flash of light, the blue body crashed to the ground.

Pat strode forward and saw a Green Nephilim running and roaring, spewing out Shriek waves.

Blood seeped from the helmet of the Shadow of Order, and he was immediately struck on the head by a strange scepter.

"My brothers, we have come in accordance with our father's will," Pat's voice was firm and resolute.

His voice pierced through the speakers of his helmet, amplified by the spikes of his scepter, drowning out the hymns sung by human servants and their terrifying Shriek.

"The Nephilim wicked and cruel, living off the plunder of others."

"We bring the flames of wrath, to inflict the punishment of destruction."

The Chaplain's voice touched the Shadow of Order, his unwavering will instilling itself in each and every one of them.

The Shadow of Order roared in unison, following Pat as they attacked the enemy.

The "Psychiatrist" strode forward, his "Dragon Might" causing the surrounding believers to flee in Frenzy.

The deafening roar of the bombs drowned out the hymns of human servants, and the dazzling force field tore apart the false gods.