The spacious room was brightly lit.
A humanoid figure with a huge head, dressed in a loose white robe, glared furiously at a row of phantoms standing not far away.
"Is there something wrong with your fucking brains? You were only supposed to spread the faith. If you can't even handle something this simple, what use are you to me?"
"The deadline is a month away, and you've only completed 36.742% of the task. I fucking... I trusted you so much. I gave you money, power, and manpower—I held nothing back. And this is how you repay my trust?"
"Useless! Useless! You're all fucking useless!"
Spit flew across the room.
Nanton, captain of the Layas Civilization's Seventh Missionary Team, was about ready to explode with rage.
When the Apostle Holy City invaded the Layas Civilization, he'd been one of the first to defect. In return, he'd landed the cushy job of leading a missionary team.
His work was simple: convert every Layas native in the region assigned to him by the Apostle Holy City into a devout follower of its god.
His duties might have been limited, but his authority was considerable. Even the colonial governor of his region had to cooperate without complaint.
To repay the Apostle Holy City for its trust, he'd made a solemn pledge to one of its influential figures: he'd finish the task in half the time it took anyone else.
But a year had passed, the deadline was fast approaching, and he hadn't even completed half the task.
If that influential figure heard about this, not even ten lives would be enough to save him.
He'd been wrong. He should never have hired these Layas natives out of a sense of kinship.
He'd shown his fellow natives the utmost leniency, standing up for them