With the two factions now unified, the Arad continent could no longer hold out. Katie and the others had already pushed the Delos Empire past the point of acceptance, and now the two envoys were leaning on them together. Arad's fall was all but guaranteed. By this point, Huttonmar had joined the faith entirely, and Katie herself had been named a national priestess, spreading the religion among the common people.
That day, the sky over the land grew dark. With Celia's departure, the massive ancient magic circle beneath Belmar naturally collapsed, and Herder descended onto the world of Arad together with Casillas. Skadi and the others, seeing Herder's arrival, dropped to one knee at once.
"Greetings, Chief Priest."
"At ease. I hear the people beyond the Snow Mountains, under the Delos Empire, still haven't chosen to join the faith."
"Yes. The people beyond the Snow Mountains are stubborn stock. And the Delos Empire went half-mad a few months back over what happened to Di Ruiji — it seems they mean to lean on that power to buy themselves a seat at the table."
Katie had already learned the details of the arrangement between the two sides through the temple, and now delivered her report directly. At present, her only remaining task was to strengthen ties between the Huttonmar principality and the Night Elf Empire. Both territories had already become strongholds of the faith. If Herder hadn't shown up in person, Katie had been prepared to invite her rival over to the Netherworld herself.
Casillas smiled with open contempt. "Then I'll head for the Snow Mountains. A pack of barbarians trying to resist the power of God — how quaint."
"Good. I'll take the Delos Empire myself. Let's see what they're really made of."
With their roles divided, Casillas shot into the air at once, streaking toward the snowy reaches of the Ston region like a falling star. It took him barely thirty minutes to arrive. The moment the Bantu clansmen saw him descend, they dropped to the ground one after another — that powerful frame, that overwhelming presence, the energy coiling visibly around his body. Everything about him screamed a being beyond their reckoning.
Hearing the roar shaking the earth, Buwanga, who had been hiding deep in the snow-capped mountains, charged out at once with his blunt weapon in hand.
"Who dares invade our land?!"
His furious roar rang out across the sky. But the instant he got a clear look at Casillas's face, he went utterly silent, cold sweat running down his back. An apostle. Casillas himself, here in the flesh. They were finished.
"Well now — isn't this Buwanga, the so-called Four Sword Saint? I've heard all about your deeds from Katie's reports — leading the Bantu clan in defiance of God's will. Well, the old man's here now. Are you ready to fight? Resist my blade and survive, and the Bantu clan lives. Fall to my blade, and the Bantu clan dies with you."
Casillas's words were as cold as they come — cold as the frost of the highest heavens. The young warriors who had once stood firm against the faith's advance now didn't dare utter a single word.
Shing.
The sound of steel leaving its sheath rang out, and a dragon's roar tore loose from Casillas's body. The entire snow region shook with it. That violent surge of pressure shattered every tent within a hundred miles.
"This is what contempt for God earns you, Buwanga. Take my blade!"
"Ultimate Thousand-Flower Slash!"
The blade came down. It split into a thousand strands at once. Buwanga never even had the chance to react before he and his own men were shredded apart under that storm of an attack. But Casillas didn't kill them all — a number of the younger Bantu warriors were spared.
"Listen well, the rest of you. Join the faith, and it will spare you from death — but you'll need to atone for your arrogance."
"We're willing! We're willing to atone for our sins!"
Thousands of young Bantu tribesmen came stumbling out of the snow, kowtowing madly toward Casillas.
"Hmph. Good enough. Get up. I'll teach you a set of swordsmanship myself — be grateful to God for it. If I hadn't feared drawing his displeasure, these snow-capped mountains would already be gone."
Casillas was a blunt, straightforward man who never cared much for idle talk. He didn't much care for Herder's methods, if he was honest with himself, but he also understood that some things simply couldn't be avoided.
Sensing the disturbance rippling through the air, Herder — still on her way — shook her head. "That man moves fast. Should've just left him in the Demon Realm. Well, no matter — let's pick up the pace."
A surge of spatial power rippled outward. Ten consecutive space shifts later, Herder arrived above the skies of the Delos Empire's capital — the golden city veil of Talun. The city gleamed magnificent, perched high atop a mountain, and whenever sunlight touched it, it shone bright and pristine. Looking down, Herder could see countless researchers quietly studying the wreckage Di Ruiji had left behind. With Shilock's departure, the Lancer had been rendered completely inert — a bitter pill for an empire that had always prized raw military force above all else.
"Heh. Quite the ambitious little empire, turning down God's grace like this. It should be erased."
Herder's voice was calm and even as a ball of violet-red energy took shape in her palm. Only at that very moment did anyone within the golden city veil of Talun finally detect the surge of overwhelming power above them.
"Not good — there's an enemy in the sky!"
"Who is it?"
"The Second Apostle. Tears — Herder!"
"This is bad! Prepare defenses at once!"
In barely five seconds, sixteen massive defensive barriers rose up to shield the golden city veil of Talun. Among those watching, Emperor Leon Heinrich III stared up at Herder hovering in midair, his face twisted with dread. She had arrived far too fast. He wasn't ready. Not even close.
"Hear me, people of the Delos Empire. As payment for your blasphemy, you may vanish from this world. The new age has no place for the likes of you. Fade quietly into the dark, forever."
Herder pronounced their sentence, and the energy ball in her palm swelled without warning, brushing aside every one of the defensive barriers as though they weren't even there. It swallowed the golden city whole. There was no chance to plead. No chance to argue. Defying the will of God was already an unforgivable crime — and destruction was the only fate that awaited them.
Emperor Leon Heinrich III was the last of them to die. In his final moment, watching the golden city collapse into that consuming dark energy, all he felt was regret — regret that he'd ever listened to the counsel of his elders. If he hadn't been so greedy for power, he wouldn't be dying now.
In ten seconds flat, the once-mighty capital of the Delos Empire was wiped from existence entirely.
That very day, word spread across the continent: most of the Bantu clan in the Snow Mountains had been wiped out, and the golden city — capital of the Delos Empire — had vanished completely. The terror of the faith had made itself known once again. Countless people whispered of the Eternal God's cruelty. But Huttonmar and the Night Elf Empire pushed back against that talk at every turn — because under the rule of the faith, their own two nations were living better than they ever had before. Wasn't that proof enough, all on its own?
———
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