While Elo was quietly planning his grand adventure, time never paused for him.

  On the battlefield, the two sides remained locked in a tense standoff.

  The priest, after hearing the cold retort—"The devil can quote Scripture for his purpose"—still wore a calm, gentle smile on his face.

  Next, he abandoned his earlier use of Chinese and switched to his native tongue.

  Though his tone was deep and soft, it felt like an invisible dagger, slowly and precisely piercing the other’s heart:

  "The devil can indeed use anything, including the Bible, and even the human heart."

  He paused for a moment, his gaze calm, before continuing:

  "But there is one thing I must ask you—why did the devil appear?

  Is it because someone has already turned this world into a hell?"

  Those words were like a massive stone thrown into still waters, creating invisible ripples.

  The air seemed to grow heavy in that instant.

  A subtly complicated expression surfaced on Elo’s face—

  (ー'`ー) …

  The attacking side, turning around to accuse the defenders, shifting the blame for the "devil" onto them...?

  In other words—

  In the priest’s view, everything they were doing now—including those nearly insane “devilish deeds”—was caused by the actions of the defending side.

  It was the defending side that had first committed unforgivable deeds, dragging the world into the abyss, and forcing the attackers—or at least many of them—into becoming devils.

  Of course, Elo knew well in his heart that this was merely the priest's perspective.

  Whether it was the truth or not remained to be seen.

  The leader merely let out a cold laugh in response—

  a smile so frigid it seemed to crack the air itself.

  His gaze, sharp as a blade, locked directly onto the priest.

  His voice was low, but carried a chill that cut to the bone, filled with undisguised mockery and simmering rage:

  "If those words had come from the mouth of an ordinary person, maybe I could've pretended not to hear.

  After all, that’s exactly what you’ve been teaching them—exactly how you’ve been brainwashing them."

  He leaned forward slightly, like a beast coiling before the strike.

  The smile on his face grew ever more chilling, his tone rising with each word, killing intent laid bare:

  "But you—you dare say that to my face? Do you really take me for a fool?

  Or do you think I’m like those poor souls you tricked into dying for you—blind, deaf, and too dumb to see the truth?"

  Suddenly, his voice dropped—

  like a blade slowly sliding from its sheath, every word laced with icy menace:

  "Listen well.

  Whatever you do, Heaven is watching.

  You may fool your own people—but not everyone.

  Everything you've done—we remember.

  An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth.

  We won’t leave a single debt unpaid."

  Elo stood off to the side, watching the tense, on-the-brink atmosphere between the two sides, a trace of helplessness in his eyes.

  In truth, he couldn’t say he didn’t understand the leader’s words—“An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.”

  After all, in the face of such brutal slaughter and oppression, who could truly let it go?

  And yet, reason kept reminding him: if hatred is met only with more hatred, then—

  —Will this conflict ever truly come to an end?

  A bitter smile surfaced in his heart before he could stop it...

  There was so much he wanted to say—but he knew he had no right.

  —Because he wasn’t the one who had lived it.

  Those memories of blood and fire, the loss of family, homeland, and life—he had never experienced them himself.

  So even if, deep down, he felt a quiet resistance to this endless cycle of vengeance,

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  in this moment—all he could do was remain silent.

  The priest’s smile remained unchanged, but within that smile, there seemed to be a trace more sincerity.

  No, it wasn’t sincerity—it was gentleness, like an elder patiently teaching a younger one.

  “An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth? Well said…

  Perhaps, the simplest and most fair truth in this world is that very phrase.”

  His gaze swept over the black-clad figures one by one, and he sighed softly, his voice carrying a hint of gravity.

  “But—

  it is precisely this very saying that has brought us to stand here today.”

  Elo froze upon hearing this, unable to stop himself from muttering inwardly:

  —Huh, you actually know that? Now that’s a surprise.

  The leader let out a cold laugh, not interrupting, merely narrowing his eyes as if waiting for him to finish.

  The priest seemed not to notice the cold laugh.

  His tone remained calm, as though recounting a long-forgotten memory:

  “When I was young, I too thought repeatedly—how can we truly end this cycle of hatred?

  Eventually, I found the answer—by making every person in this world bathe in the love of God.”

  He spoke gently, almost like a dreamer.

  “If everyone could treat each other as brothers, even if conflicts remained, it would not lead to rivers of blood as it has now.

  So, I’ve been living by this belief, up until today, up until this very place.”

  Elo stood aside, his face written with confusion.

  —Forcing the citizens of enemy nations to carry bombs to blow up the city walls, is this your version of ‘love’?

  —This guy must think everyone is an idiot.

  The seven black-clad figures’s eyes were as sharp as blades, filled with disdain and contempt—clearly, their thoughts aligned with Elo’s.

  However, the priest, upon seeing their gazes, seemed to notice nothing at all, even smiling more gently.

  In that smile, there was an almost pitying sorrow, as if he were looking at a group of misguided children.

  He lowered his head for a moment, as if conversing with his inner self, or perhaps offering forgiveness to those who didn’t understand.

  Then, in a voice as calm as water, yet unwavering in its certainty, he said:

  “I know you won’t believe me—many have never believed.”

  He took a small step forward, as though walking into the eye of a storm, unafraid.

  “But I will still do it!”

  His voice grew a little deeper, as if confiding, yet also carrying the weight of judgment:

  “Because love is not always gentle.

  Sometimes, it is because we cannot bear to see more people die that we must—make some die.”

  He paused slightly at this, his gaze slowly sweeping over the seven black-clad figures, calm yet as sharp as a blade:

  “If we do not end this hatred, you, we, everyone—will eventually die in each other’s hatred.

  So, I must do this—

  even if it means being spat on by everyone, even if they call me a devil.”

  His voice remained calm, carrying an otherworldly determination, as if stating an unchanging truth of the heavens.

  He spread his arms wide, as if to embrace all the world’s anger and hatred, his voice soft yet each word resonant:

  “So, even if you hate me, I will not stop.”

  As the words fell, not only did the seven black-clad figures’s eyes show unmasked disdain and coldness;

  But even the companions standing behind him—the two mages and five knights—couldn’t help but furrow their brows.

  Even the hidden boss, lurking in the shadows, couldn’t help but darken his expression.

  At this moment, his mind was coldly thinking—

  —This bastard might actually be more tolerable as an enemy.

  However, the boss quickly suppressed that dangerous thought in his mind.

  He knew he couldn’t do that.

  Because he understood that what the priest represented was not just his own madness.

  Behind him was an entire vast group.

  These people were not just common folk, but also elites, nobles, church high-ups, and certain "big figures."

  They might not be as extreme as the priest, but—extremism is exactly what has a market.

  Only extremism can make people believe in the resolve of "salvation," and only extremism can give the discontented masses an outlet for their emotions.

  Besides that, there was one more thing that pissed the boss off:

  —This lunatic actually dares to spout this twisted crap in an international setting?!

  —Do you have any idea how outsiders are going to see us after what you just said?!

  —You're turning us into full-blown villains, right here, right now—on purpose!

  —Can’t you just say it outright—that they were the ones who started the massacre?

  —They slaughtered until rivers of blood ran, until countless people were blinded by hatred—and that’s how we ended up here!

  —Even those who wanted to stop it… couldn’t.

  —You fucking idiot! Goddamn it!

  BOSS: (艹皿艹 )

  This displeasure coiled like a venomous snake in his chest, lingering and impossible to shake off.

  Because he understood:

  —Not everyone agrees with this twisted logic of "evil for the sake of love."

  —Not everyone is willing to be dragged down that road paved with blood.

  There were still those among them who were clear-headed and rational, who longed for true peace, not endless hatred and slaughter.

  But it was this kind of madman who, at the critical moment, stepped out to shout "God’s will," pushing everyone toward the abyss.

  —Bastard!

  Elo keenly caught the fleeting cold glint in the Boss's eyes, along with the deeply hidden thoughts beneath.

  In that moment, Elo couldn’t help but feel a slight stir within himself and silently give the Boss a mental nod:

  —At least there’s someone who can see the situation for what it is, someone who won't drag everyone down into the abyss.

  As Elo’s gaze returned to the priest, he looked at the almost saintly smile on the priest's face and felt even more helpless.

  This man before him was perhaps not just a mere hypocrite.

  He truly believed that all the “evil” he was doing was for the sake of so-called “love.”

  To be honest, Elo tried to understand this man's thoughts, to try to think from his perspective.

  But in the end, the conclusion he reached was chilling and brutal:

  This man had been soaked in “faith” and “sacrifice” since childhood.

  The education he received, everything he went through, had long embedded the logic of “evil for the sake of love” deep into his bones, flowing in his veins.

  In this man’s world, “love” was never a gentle gift; it was a strict law soaked in blood and sacrifice.

  To achieve “love,” even if the methods were brutal, even if the world cursed him, even if he had to create more suffering with his own hands—he would not hesitate.

  In his worldview, “humans” might only refer to those who believed in his god.

  And everyone else—the heretics, the nonbelievers, or even those born into the enemy camp—

  —were not considered “human.”

  If that was the case, everything made sense:

  —Forcing civilians to commit suicide charges didn’t feel cruel, because they weren’t “human.”

  —Sacking cities and burning villages didn’t feel like a crime, because it was “purifying heresy.”

  Elo silently watched the priest’s gentle yet determined smile and suddenly felt that this man was more dangerous than any enemy.

  —A madman isn’t scary. What’s scary is when a madman also has faith.

  And this priest before him was not only a madman obsessed with faith to the extreme, but also a madman with transcendent power.

  But what concerned Elo even more was a deeper question—

  What exactly were those “big figures” hoping to achieve by deliberately cultivating a group of lunatics like this?

  And yet, what truly gave Elo a headache wasn’t the quarrel in front of him—

  It was what was happening inside the Ark Empire.

  He didn’t know much about the “god” the priest spoke of, but he knew all too well what the Ark Empire’s “god” was.

  —Because Elo himself was part of that very “god.”

  Involuntarily, words flashed through his mind—concepts that defied all common sense:

  Eternal youth. Resurrection after death. The Fourth Scourge. Ark Little World. Cross-world travel......

  If that group ever truly lost their minds—

  God only knows what kind of hell they'd turn the world into.