Why Did You Summon Me?

No one knew if Grant’s soul could be saved in the Void by the Voidwalker that was currently asleep. However, it was a fact that the Church had felt the impact of the Voidwalkers’ ‘sucker punches’. One of the three was not precisely anticipated — not even by the most calculating Voidwalkers.

More bad news came to the Pope’s attention, almost causing the man to suffer a cardiac arrest. If he had not received many years of religious training, the man would have already lost his cool and flown into a rage.

Even if he did lose it, could he be blamed for that? The Church had just lost a fifth of its supplies; its fort, which was not even a day old, had been destroyed; its armories and a good number of its soldiers had been decimated in a lone wolf terrorist’s suicide attack. The Church had suffered massive losses. Most of its mercenaries, which its noble allies had hired, were dead, and to add insult to injury, the Church had yet to meet its enemies in a frontal clash!

The Church was now caught between a rock and a hard place. Should its forces retreat, advance, or just wait?

If its forces chose to advance, how would they avoid loses more soldiers? Waiting seemed to be the best option, as they could just hold out till the angels arrived. When the mighty beings arrive, the Voidwalkers’ tactics would become nothing more than parlor tricks.

In two days, the angels would grace the realm and commence a cleansing. The Church would have no trouble being on standby for two days.

However, angels could only stay in a mortal realm for three days at most. It would already take half a day to fly from Canningham to Arfin, so the angels would only have two-and-a-half days to battle. Could these powerful angels slay the ‘demons’ in such a short time? What if the ‘demons’ come up with a ploy to waste the angel’s time, all the while making good use of theirs?

The Church had obtained intelligence that the Voidwalkers were adamant in saving the exiled angel, Noirciel, who the Pope believed was the target of their allies in the divine realm. What would happen if the Voidwalkers decide to leave Noirciel in Arfin City, thus throwing the angels off their scent, only to slither back to their hidey-hole that is Da Xue? If that happened, the angels would complete their mission and happily return to heaven, leaving the Church to defend itself against a then-vengeful Voidwalkers!

The Church’s fate, from this point on, now depended on what the Voidwalkers did to the exiled angel. This was an irony that did not escape the Pope.

“We should just disband the nobles’ mercenaries. They’ve been weakened so much that they are of no use anymore,” said the High Priest.

“Do you think Sir Aaron, a war veteran, has not already reached such a conclusion?” The Pope growled. “Do me a favor: do not make any more trivial reminders like that.”

“There’s something else to consider,” the High Priest said, handing over a parchment containing names written in scarlet, unbothered by the reaction as he handed a parchment filled with names written in blood-red. “The Archbishop of Canningham and I have signed in support, but it’s ultimately you that decides how this goes.”

As the Pope read, his brows furrowed. He seemed hesitant, but after a minute of pondering, he signed the parchment. “You lot will do well to carry this out with utmost secrecy,” said the Pope in warning. “And, I want them to be handled with maximum care and propriety! If this blows up, we’ll be turned into public enemies instantly…

“For the members of the Church at the frontlines, recall them and investigate their intentions, but do not interrogate them. As for the citizens in the Holy City, gather them all so we may observe them closely,” the Pope said. “Frankly, this shouldn’t be happening right now, not at this time. It could sow doubt amongst the soldiers, weakening our camaraderie… However, circumstances force our hands, and this is the least harmful way to carry this out.”

The document contained the names of people that had favorable views of the Voidwalkers: students of theurgy at Da Xue, nobles with ties to the academy, and a few members of the Church, including the cleric that became Baiyi’s very first fangirl.

Grant’s rampage made the nobles that allied with the Church suspect one another of being double agents. This made the Church eager to do so internal cleansing. However, the problem with an operation like that was the discord it could cause, in a time when unity and a good public image was crucial. The Pope knew the risk involved in this, so he chose the least controversial approach: investigate and monitor; nothing more. This would prevent tensions from rising.

There should not be another Grant among them by now, but who could confidently rule out the possibilities of even more insidious double agents?

The Church would have liked to squeeze as much information as possible from these Voidwalker sympathizers, to get to the bottom of what happened to the logistics team and fort, but an aggressive approach was out of the question. No matter how influential the Church was, it could not afford to spite students, teachers, and nobles of high statuses, people that could easily sway the public opinion against the organization.

The Pope did not really hope to earn any useful clues from this approach. It was all, more or less, a show, done to appease upset nobles and fulfill all righteousness.

Still, as he watched the High’s Priest silhouette move down the horizon, he silently said, “I pray to the gods that this isn’t a prelude to public outrage against us…”

However, the day took an unexpected turn for the Church. The Pope gained some powerful allies despite suffering numerous setbacks.

When the Pope was visited by Master Haydyn Sr., former VP that was now the PR advisor of the Sorcerers’ Association, the current head of the Haydyn family, and grandfather to the late Haydyn Jr. who died by Grant’s hands.

He was red and seething with fury. “Haydyn Jr. was our pride, our shining star destined for greatness and to alleviate our family to new heights! Yet, his life — which was the family’s hope — was snatched away by that Grant, that rabid dog! Death to anyone that thinks we’ll let this go! The only way they can appease us is with their blood, and we’ll make them pay — no matter how much it will cost us, or who we’re dealing with!” The old man bellowed. “Even a legendary emperor of yore has to pay for the murder he committed through the hands of his lapdog!”

A family of sorcerers for generations, the Haydyn family was so entrenched and rooted in the Association that someone like the late Haydyn Jr. was allowed to ascend into a position far beyond his qualification. Grant had been one of the few forces who reined on their indirect puppeteering, but now that he was gone, the Haydyns had quickly seized upon both their rival’s and their own member’s death and declared their intention to join the war.

They were not without support from the Association. Grant’s last act of terror — blowing up the warehouse where precious spatial materials were stored — had caused an outrage that catalyzed the Association’s covert but unbound support to the Haydyns’ call for arms. Soon, a battalion of the sorcerers was formed from three hundred-odd members before being deployed to Shamshire at full speed.

There was also a silver lining in losing the noble-hired mercenaries as one of the Church’s manpower. Most of the Church’s own elite militia were unharmed, and now, it could fight without these subpar mercenaries holding them back. Not only was the army’s efficiency and reliability improved, but it also became easier to command, monitor, and take care of an army that was much smaller in size.

Haydyn’s death had not terminated the Association’s support but made them an even more willing ally, and in the Church’s eyes, their contribution vastly eclipsed any sorry aid those battle-unsavvy nobles could ever give. Now, the Church’s army was better than when it started, despite being mildly reduced, and the Pope secretly applauded Haydyn Jr.’s heroic sacrifice for the team. His death served more than his life!

With that said, the family’s support was not without conditions: fueled by their grief and fury, the Haydyns wanted to exact vengeance as soon as possible. This meant that the Church must mobilize their troops and press forward instead of standing by until the Angels arrived — a forced decision that was nonetheless appreciated by the dithering Pope. Though he wanted to minimize casualties on his side, he was also equally unwilling to give the Angels the impression that their mortal bedfellows were inept free riders.

At the end of the day, the Church’s frontal army, battered and bruised by two sneak attacks and one terrorist attack, were commanded to advance despite any anxiety or worry that may have blossomed in some of their hearts. Thankfully, it was at moments of adversity when the merits of a robust faith shine; the soldiers were mostly undaunted by their earlier setbacks and had remained stalwart and committed to their war as ever.

Two more days and the Angels would arrive.

When soldiers were having breakfast, the Archmage received news that their enemies were continuing their advance toward Arfin City. Mildly shocked, he exhaled. “Didn’t they endure triple threats from us just yesterday? Who in their right mind would think that marching onward right to the enemies’ home ground is the next logical step? Geez. Is this the power of blind faith?”

Unexpectedly, the Church had eschewed dividing their frontal army into battalions and sending them, one after another, to lay siege on Arfin systematically — a decision that was likely motivated by anxiety over the Walkers’ tricks. Instead, the army had opted to march towards the city all at once, in the form of a massive black wave inching closer and closer to Arfin’s city gate.

The paladins rode at the frontlines and were followed by crusaders on foot, whose other notable role was to protect the army’s supply depots stationed in the middle. The templars, reliable and versatile, were the Church’s mobile infantries crossing from the frontline to the rear however they saw fit. The sorcerers and the clerics, meanwhile, were tasked with upholding all kinds of protective barriers and theurgical enhancements over the army.

Watching them from the battlement, the Thane Walker jeered. “After millennia of warfare, the Church’s still using this antiquated formation? Talk about an exemplar of inefficient tactics! How scared are they of us potentially ambushing them from behind?”

A military buff from Earth would know that almost all improvement on war since medieval times — be it equipment, fighting skills, or tactics — could ultimately be boiled down to one end only: improving efficacy. Spies, satellite surveillance, and drones were used to enhance the efficacy of intelligence and information gathering; army bases were set up all around the globe to the effectiveness of army deployments; weapons were upgraded continuously to make leveling enemies more effective.

The reason why the Voidwalkers were so far ahead of the Church was because of their efficacy in virtually every aspect of war. Naturally, their upper hand was really an inevitable ramification of the Voidwalkers’ grasp of superior, futuristic knowledge and technology. Nothing — not even a change of battle tactics — from a backwater organization such as the Church could possibly ameliorate their disadvantage.

“Hold your weapons. We shall wait for our enemies to advance more closely before countering,” the Archmage commanded after taking a casual glance around the increasingly terrified looks on the defense soldiers’ faces. Then, a bit more quietly, he grumbled, “Goddamned it! Why are they so slow?!”

The Church began marching from Shamshire at midnight, yet by sunrise, the army was barely in Arfin city defenders’ line of vision — even though only twelve miles was the distance between Shamshire and Arfin.

To untrained eyes, a densely-packed wave of enemies coming from the horizon would incite stress and terror. However, the Voidwalkers, whose advanced powers granted them sight far enough to see the army from way back, the enemies could not be any slower. They were restless for holding back their retaliation since hours ago, but they understood that in order to have the troops witnessed their side’s superiority, the Voidwalkers had to wait until the enemies were close enough for the devastating effects of their attacks to be seen. Otherwise, the Church’s army would have been long obliterated before they could make it into the defenders’ line of sight!

“Oh? I see they’ve recruited more sorcerers this time,” the Archmage said. “Guess that’s the blowback from Grant’s reckless amok, huh?”

It was already noontime when the Church was finally close enough to its target. Under watertight protection from the mages, the logistics teams quickly set up depots for the siege weapons and temporary barracks.

After a quick break, the Church soldiers regrouped into battalions. They were not yet ready to lay siege on Arfin, but apparently, marching in a unified formation before a battle could be used as a morale-boosting exercise.

The sorcerers, on the other hand, realized they were already within the range of far-flinging magical attacks, so naturally, they began preparing to weaken their enemies before the rest of the army could follow up. Before they began, the sorcerers were cautious and savvy enough to erect layers of extensive barriers to account for any possible retaliation.

The first magical strike was to be unleashed by one Matthew Haydyn. He was Haydyn Jr.’s uncle and a Holy-level sorcerer with a bloody score to settle.