674

"Start the hearth!"

With a roar from Hillland, the atomic clock sped up, gears and levers working on each other.

Boom, boom, the metal body is as tall as a mountain, but such an object simply cannot exist, its skeleton will be crushed by its own weight and armor. Huge rollers tugged at the cables made of spiritual materials, moving the parts with a precision that would never have been possible with normal mechanisms, and they made a thunderous sound before a rainy night, working together to activate the willless spirit bodies.

"Not enough fuel! Your Highness! The Lord's body has already started one, and without the Lord's power, there is not enough fuel left to light the hearth again! ”

A sage wiped the cold sweat from his forehead in embarrassment, his qualifications and strength enough to name the church after him, but still acting like a stunned young man who had just entered the workshop before the sudden catastrophe of national destruction. Everyone was nervously busy in their places, and looked with fear at the heart of the hearth, which was getting brighter and brighter, but never reaching the breaking point. The Lord allows them to gaze at God's body as explorers with analytical and inquisitive eyes, but He does not allow them to make changes on their own—not to mention that they themselves do not have the ability to do so.

The huge underground building was filled with the sound of brackets, and the roar of metal clashing drowned out his shouts, and he could not leave his station, so he had to shout as loudly as he could: "Your Highness! Your Highness! Fuel reserves are rapidly decreasing! ”

Hillland was a middle-aged man with a serious and square face, with a strong body and a capable temperament, as if he were a professor of mechanical engineering at some university, and most of the people in the church of the god of steam and machines had the temperament of a craftsman and a professor at the same time.

He raised his arm and picked up a flat cuboid, the camera behind him projecting an image directly in front of him.

With a soft sound, the picture quickly outlined a young and handsome figure. His clothes and hair were soaking wet at the moment, and a huge alchemical matrix had been implanted in the earth, creating huge walls according to the principle of "equal substitution". The walls take advantage of the flaws of alchemy to constantly absorb the life force of seawater, constantly growing and prolonging. But there was still heavy rain pouring down from above.

If you look closely, it is indeed splashing water, because it is not rain, it is wave after wave of waves that have not been blocked by the high wall.

The picture is fully colored, 1:1 life-size, and translucent. If it weren't for the faint blue light of those sights and the Bonova Gustav that appeared in them, it would have made people feel that this was really happening here.

If a professor of the communications industry who knows nothing about the extraordinary were to appear here, he would be shocked by the scene before him - the "Russell Handheld Communication Device", which was thought to be incomprehensible and impossible at all, has long been technically realized by the Steam Church, and even more perfect!

Judging from the development of the second generation of the differential machine is still a manuscript, and the current most advanced communication equipment is still the telegraph, it is not an exaggeration to say that such a small prop like a palace mirror is even worth a city.

"Bonova, report the situation!"

Bonova Gustav opened his mouth, but a huge shadow fell on him, and a section of the alchemical collapsed, smashing huge amounts of seawater and pieces of metal the size of a house into the water, creating new whirlpools.

It took a full five seconds for the angel to emerge from the waters of tyrant coercion and rage, and climb a piece of driftwood.

Bonova looked to the west, and then said in a low voice:

"The waters of the Makai are spreading to the central plateau, fifteen meters above sea level, and have not yet surpassed the lowest one in the Hornachis Mountains."

Fifteen meters above sea level...... That is to say, it is enough to submerge most of the ground of Intis, and to leave only a few cathedral spires and the head of the statue of Russell the Great in Trier! Hillland suddenly felt that the whole large workshop was a little quieter:

"Report the scope of the disaster!"

"The north of the Hornachis Mountains is all submerged, and there are almost no survivors."

Hardly—Hillland's first thought was to rebuke the vague word Bonova, which could not contain ambiguous words such as "probably", "perhaps", "almost" in the artisan's dictionary, and that a centimeter or even a millimeter of error could lead to something drastic. The sound of materials and metal tools falling to the ground sounded in his ears, and several senior deacons of the "Heart of the Machine" who seemed to be from the north looked at him blankly, and also looked blankly at the projected image, as if they wanted to find some shadow of their homeland in it.

But there was nothing there, just a vast ocean, where angels stood on driftwood and drifted.

Hillland began to think that there might be some merit in such vague rhetoric again - there was hardly, and there was always a little hope that everyone knew it should be, "definitely not."

Bonova pinched his clothes and pulled a few drops of water out of his soaked sleeves. His body quickly began to heat up, and in less than five seconds he had dried all his clothes, and his hair seemed to be a little fluffier than before.

He kept the driftwood on which he was standing, and could see that there was a mess both above and below the sea.

Beneath the sea was the wreckage of a collapsed house, the relatively solid foundations still on the ground (or underwater), but the glass was shattered and the furniture was gone. There was a mess of debris and dead sea creatures floating on the surface of the sea, the waves were coming in waves, the water was muddy, Bonova saw a hand stretched out on the sea a few hundred meters away, as if to call for help, and then realized that it was just a hideous severed limb, the human body connected to the arm was all gone, and fresh blood continued to flow out of the fracture.

It was quite a scary scene, but Benova didn't react much.

"What is the Lord's will?"

"The Lord has not yet given the oracle, what is your choice?"

Facing the most pious angel, Hillland considered his words for a moment: "Guardian of Intis and the believers of the Lord." ”

"Then light the hearth, Shirlan."

The wreckage of steel piled up, providing material for the alchemical.

Bonova persevered against the waves to repair the broken metal wall in the water beneath his feet, allowing it to grow again, above sea level, to keep out the influx of water, even if it didn't help. As He heard the prayers, the icy waters poured into countless houses and people's mouths and noses, and before they could flee, they were blocked by the raging waters.

They drowned in lack of oxygen, turned into floating corpses one after another, reaching up to the ceiling, or floating out and swaying with the currents.

They began to gurgle water in their throats, and soon fell silent.

A large amount of negative emotions and the pain of death poured into the minds of the two angels, and they invariably frowned in unison, and in a short period of time, they were affected by strong emotions, causing them to feel like the gears were stuck.

"Igniting the hearth is the only way."

Bonova's tone was calm, like an everyday conversation, like a command: "Use me or you." ”

"You're too far away, rushing back now will cause more casualties, and it's the most efficient option for me to act as the hearth."

"Okay."

Concise and efficient conversation ending. Hillland replied, turned his head, and saw that the senior deacons, who were still at a loss just now, had adjusted their emotions, picking up the fallen documents and tools as fast as they could, making up for their mistakes.

"Maintain the stable functioning of the Holy Body."

He handed the communication device to the Sage standing beside him, and the ground beneath Hillland's feet gradually deformed and reassembled, transforming a simple piece of metal into a perfect, advanced foot-operated flamethrower levitation device. The surrounding saints and senior deacons suddenly looked straight in their eyes, and a group of craftsmen stretched their necks, wiping their glasses and wearing glasses, and some even asked the alchemy puppets around them to help record the whole process of modification.

Hillland reacted strangely to the people around him, and the moment he made his decision, his logic circuit immediately weighed the stakes.

He left an alchemy puppet of his own outside, as well as backup data and memories. In case something happens to you, it's not unacceptable to let that puppet continue to live as a new "self", but the person of the angel needs to depend on God's will.

The flame flying machine slowly rose into the air, and after rising dozens of meters, it reached the position of the huge metal giant's chest.

He continued to rise, to the position of his head, and then Hillland raised his hand, and the tightly knit armor plate on the metal giant's chest slowly moved a gap, and he floated up from the craft, stepping on the growing metal into the gap.

The intense heat hit in an instant, and Syllan's hair was blown upward by the hot wind one second, and the next second, along with his skin and coat, turned to ashes. His flesh took on a metallic sheen, rapidly turning a glowing red in the heat, as if it would turn into a red-hot skeleton in the next moment.

Shirlan's body began to melt, turning into liquid metal, all falling into the heart of the furnace in his chest.

Bang!

As authority enters, liquid metal and spiritual fireworks become entangled, burning and rising.

Under the awe-inspiring gaze of the Church of Steam and Mechanic, the giant as tall as a mountain shook, and both the shell and the interior renewed themselves with the infusion of authority, taking on a silvery-white sheen!

Hillan suddenly felt as if he had entered an extremely empty place, as if his whole body was burned by fire, he could not see anything clearly, and it was as if his limbs were firmly fixed to the ground, and he could not even feel a finger.

He immediately understood what was happening—a body prepared for God, not something that angels could drive. He is now like a baby in an adult's all-metal wetsuit, unable to reach out and touch the ends of his limbs!

Never mind...... Even babies can at least move their palms as long as they tuck their entire body into their sleeves.

Struggling to perceive his non-existent arm, meditating on his crumbling fingertips, Hillan "closed his eyes" and listened to the prayers of the believers, slowly, with difficulty, flicking his fingers.

"Bonova Gustaf, coordinates confirmed ......"

Suddenly, the fire in the heart of the furnace brightened, and the giant's body shook, shaking everyone standing on the metal connecting bridge.

The right arm of the metal shell made a grasping motion extremely slowly, and while the craftsmen held their breath, all the energy was transferred to this hand in an instant, and the right arm of the shell was raised high with difficulty and waved into the air.

The silvery-white walls, dozens of times stronger than Beaunova's alchemy, suddenly rose in the waves, shielding them from the waves.

……

By the time the god of steam and machinery noticed that Intis was being hit by a tsunami, the waves had already overflowed Tyris.

He subconsciously wanted to help, but as soon as his attention shifted to the first place, the primordial witch bound in his chest also moved her eyes, and the corners of her mouth were faintly hooked, as if waiting for him to relax his suppression.

Anger and chill instantly swept through most of the thoughts of the god of steam and machines, and he had to hold back for a moment, listening to the cries of the believers, while restraining his desire to descend, and continuing to devote all his attention to suppressing Chick.

In the opposing spiritual world, Chick stepped on the spider silk that covered the sky, and suddenly turned his neck.

He smiled at Medici, who was battling the endless corpses:

"The god of steam and machinery is about to overwhelm me, how long do you think he can hold it out?"

Medici turned the surging corpses to ashes once more, and his gaze slid over the dragon city of Levixid, which was bound and hung in mid-air by layers of spider silk, and a flirtatious smile was not missing from it.

"I really don't know where you have the face to regard the pale plague as your record, from your name to your record, does it have anything to do with you?"

"You're only left with a hard mouth, Medici."

The snake changed angles and attacked Medici, but Chick remained unfazed like a spider in the center of a spider's web:

"What you're proud of doesn't seem to be very strong, it's just bluffing. Sure enough, the record without witnesses and insiders is useless, and when you can't take the feast of betrayal, I should know that you are just bluffing. ”

"Hehe, the god of war, who once had an incomparably brilliant record, may not even be able to meet the requirements of the godhood ceremony, don't you feel very pitiful, Medici?"

"Hehehe, idiot."

Medici plucked out his ears with 120,000 disdain, and this behavior, combined with his current face, once again gave Chick an extremely bad impression: "Don't you even have a brain? Didn't you realize that my strength was more than just Sequence One? ”

He was thinking about how to retreat, and how to delay time, and his mouth was still insisting on output:

"And guess who, got me back to strength?"

Loftus-Cheek frowned, then stretched, "Does that matter to me?" ”

"Behind you is the Creator, everyone knows this, and who else will ......"

Before he could finish speaking, Cheek's obsidian-bright eyes widened suddenly, almost bursting out of their sockets. He watched as layers of gray mist suddenly erupted around Medici, and then a tall figure passed through the blockade of the god of steam and machinery, passed through his own spiritual barriers, and cast his gaze from an extremely high place, and looked at himself through countless spaces with a dull gaze.

Medici froze, too.

The moment he was touched by the gray mist, he suddenly had the idea that his body would lose control, so much so that he tensed his whole body at the first time and made a state of alert fighting.

This was quite a mistake, as if to say that he and his reinforcements actually didn't have a good relationship, but fortunately, the original witch didn't notice.

Medici reacted quickly, hiding his sluggishness well, and even continued to bluff twice, but the next moment he couldn't laugh with the Primordial Witch, as they both watched the ethereal figure of the gray mist move slightly, smiling meaningfully at them.

He then put a crystal-polished monocle on his right eye.

TBC

——————

Medici: 6.

Fool: I'm sorry, Medici, I'm really out of spirit, just look at ...... Yes?

(End of chapter)