The God Punishment Conversion Ceremony is a sacred knowledge that the Pope must master. When Maine received the God Punishment Codex from the Obelaine Crown a year ago, it was tantamount to securing the succession to the next Pope.
Mein had memorized the book's contents like the back of his hand. The God Punishment Army required sacrificing a Witch's life, blending her blood with the God Punishment Stone before infusing it into the Inquisition Army. Though refined over centuries, the ritual's core remained unchanged—the Witch's sacrifice determined the army's maximum size, while the Inquisition Army's will dictated the conversion success rate.
After studying this sacred text, he finally understood why the Church took in so many underage girls each year. The witches appeared without warning—before the Magic Power began gathering, they were indistinguishable from ordinary people. But once the power started accumulating, their bodies, organs, and blood would undergo irreversible changes. Thus, the only solution was to expand their numbers.
This is why he agrees with Heather's reasoning—what they've done is utterly evil, every high-ranking figure is bloodied, and they've slaughtered more witches than any executioner. But to defeat the Devil and save humanity from destruction, they must keep going.
Only the victors are worthy of God's favor.
...
The two members of the Inquisition Army lay on the transformation platform. Mayn recognized them as Daleen from the Vanguard Battalion and Tucker Thor from the Holy City Guard, the latter also serving as a presiding judge.
Although both wore smiles, Bishop could still detect their tension from the tensed muscles and clenched fists. He patted their shoulders and said, "Relax, I believe you can do it." "Sir, will it be enough to just endure the pain then?" Daelion couldn't help asking.
"Exactly, just get through this," Maine chuckled. "You're Daleen, right?" "You actually remember my name," he exclaimed excitedly.
"Of course, you're members of the Vanguard Battalion who fought in the previous year's Hermes Defense War. Our captain is... Airexia, right?" "Exactly," Daelion nodded repeatedly. "Our unit suffered catastrophic losses in battle—half our members perished at the hands of hybrid demonic beasts. At that moment, I thought to myself: If only I could eliminate those monstrous hybrids. So, sir, I wish to become a God Punishment!" "It's noble to grow stronger to protect your comrades," Meen encouraged, then turned to the Judge. "What about you, Tucker Thor? Why did you decide to become a God Punishment?" "To defend the New Holy City, sir," he declared firmly. "The God Officials warned that demonic beasts would grow stronger each year. The last time they breached the Holy City walls, the cathedral might have been destroyed without the God Punishment. I too aspire to be a shield against these beasts, a spear piercing through their ranks." "Excellent. You are both the pride of the Church." Meen followed the ritual procedures outlined in the scriptures, easing their tension through conversation. Seeing their spirits rise, he waved to continue the ceremony.
Guard covered the two men's eyes and secured their limbs to the transformation platform with handcuffs and leg irons. Then Witch was carried in and laid flat between them.
As a Witch raised by the Church, she spent most of her life in the Old Holy City Monastery. Upon awakening, she was sent to the Secret District as material awaiting transformation. The day before the sacrifice, she was infused with a large amount of dream water—a herbal infusion made from sedative ferns and winter flowers—to ensure no sound during the ritual would disturb her.
"Number, age?" "Number one, eighteen years old," the guard replied.
This was a standard ritual inquiry. Only the blood of an adult Witch could satisfy the requirement to simultaneously transform two God Punishers. After double-checking the Witch roster, Main declared the ceremony commenced.
A delicate silver needle was inserted into the witch's arm, and reddish-brown blood flowed through the leather tube wrapped around the needle, converging into the crystal basin beneath her. The basin's bottom was lined with a layer of pale blue God's Stone of Punishment, which gradually soaked up the blood until it filled the entire basin.
Soon, the God's Stone underwent a transformation. Through one side of the basin, it was observed that the blue stone was absorbing blood. Approximately half an hour later, the stone gradually melted and disappeared, and the turbid blood became clear to the bottom, with its color transitioning from reddish-brown to a sky-blue hue.
These seemingly simple procedures were developed through tens of thousands of trials to establish a complete and reliable protocol. For instance, the estimation of blood volume for witches of different ages and body types, the crafting of silver needles and leather tubes, the optimal insertion points for bloodletting and blood transfusion, as well as the selection criteria for the quality and dosage of God's Stone of Punishment... The ancient texts meticulously document the failures and refinements of past experiments, while also elucidating the fundamental principles of transformation.
After being transformed by Magic Power, the Witch's blood gains the ability to enhance organs and tendons. Direct use would instantly kill the recipient. To infuse the blood into a transformed individual, the God Punishment Stone must first be soaked in the Witch's blood to neutralize its "unexplained power." Even then, this blood still damages the recipient's God will, gradually eroding their emotions and intellect until only instincts and a fragment of strong will remain. Surviving God Punishment soldiers attain superhuman strength, and even without the God Punishment Stone, they can wield demon-repelling effects.
It's truly a remarkable combination. Witch's Blood can kill humans, and swallowing God's Stone of Punishment will also be fatal. Yet when these two elements are combined, they paradoxically minimize these adverse effects.
As the blue liquid trickled down the leather tubes into the bodies of the two Inquisition Army members, their veins bulged at the arms and necks, their faces contorted in grotesque expressions as if enduring excruciating pain. Daelion was the first to cry out, writhing on the platform with his fingers clenched and fingers outstretched, his limbs paralyzed. Within moments, a fine sweat began to drench his entire body.
Tucker was no better off either. He let out low growls, blood frothing at the corners of his mouth as his whole body convulsed.
The liquid in the crystal basin slowly receded. As the surface neared the bottom, Daelion's voice turned to a wail, and he began shouting nonsensical words. His skin began to dissolve, and white smoke rose from his body. Judging by the descriptions in the scriptures, his transformation was nearly complete. As Meen hesitated whether to observe further, the Pope pressed his shoulder from behind, "Enough. Let him be." A Guardian stepped forward, drew his short sword, and cleanly thrust it into Daelion's neck. With a swift twist of the hilt, he ended his suffering.
After a grueling wait, Tucker Thor's convulsions subsided, his breathing gradually stabilized, and his skin transitioned from rosy to pale blue. Maine knew he had survived the transformation ritual.
One triumph, one defeat—such was the outcome that the Lord sighed. In just twenty-five minutes, the Church had lost a devout member of the Inquisition Army and squandered half of the Witch's Blood.
Yet sixty more members of the Inquisition Army await conversion, and he must ensure the ritual proceeds.
...
When the ceremony was over, Main nearly lost his balance. He stumbled off the stage and leaned against the hall wall, almost in a gesture of disrespect.
The Pope slowly crossed over and stood before him. "Honestly, your performance surprised me, child. When I first presided over a ceremony, I was far worse than you. That year I was exactly forty-five, and the overwhelming stench of blood made me vomit right on the altar, nearly wasting an entire basin of blood. The previous Pope even gave me a severe beating, but after that, he ordered me to return to the altar and continue presiding." "..." Mein opened his mouth, but found himself at a loss for words.
"So, don't think about anything—just go back and rest for a day." "Yes, Your Grace." Bishop took a deep breath, knelt to bow, and was about to leave when he suddenly remembered his purpose. "Oh, right, you summoned me to the Secretariat to..." "Ah, look at my memory," Oberlin shook his head with a self-deprecating laugh. "I came to you to deliver a new poison developed by the Mechanism Secretariat." "Poison?" The Mechanism Secretariat had specialized units researching God's Stone, such as the Cold-Dispelling Pill, Fluorite, and Madness-Inducing Potion. Once results were achieved, they would be distributed to Bishop. But he had never heard of them working on poisons. In Maine's memory, that was the domain of alchemists.
"They say this discovery was purely serendipitous," the Pope murmured. "It only needs to be sprinkled on decaying corpses to exert long-term effects on nearby people, unlike conventional poisons that require ingestion. Without a specific antidote, it's virtually incurable. For specifics, you may consult the Master of Crow Eyes. I believe it might prove useful in battles against the Four Great Kingdoms." Maein immediately recalled the long-impregnable Fort Broken Teeth and the frustrating stalemate at Graycastle. Suppressing his excitement, he bowed again: "If this poison is truly as effective as the Master of Crow Eyes claims, it would indeed be a great help to me."