When the phantom of a golden giant rises from the ground, everyone present realizes why it seems to contradict any tactical theory to "take everyone away from the front line while giving reinforcement to the army".

In this scenario, they need a means to prevent friendly damage from their allies.

The illusion is obviously not something that exists in reality, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have an effect on reality. It appears translucent and disembodied, as harmless as a holographic image projected in the air, but in fact, the majestic power from the subspace has crossed the curtain and landed on the right catalyst because of those few chants, imposing a reality that should not exist but exists in the physical universe.

It was a golden giant dressed in rudimentary armor—probably a layer or two of iron, with little protection and no additional functions—riding a tall horse that was also covered in some armor, and holding a knight's spear that could barely be regarded as a stick. In the eyes of the people of this era, this image is undoubtedly strange and ridiculous.

Although this image does not exist in all the accounts widely circulated in the Empire, and it is almost impossible for anyone present to tell from which era the old image originated, a visceral intuition tells them all:

That's the emperor.

Joljos - St. George, in this universe, is an identity used by the Emperor of the Immortals throughout the entire history of human civilization, at a certain time and place. As the same being in different universes, after a short discussion and request, Jolchos, whom Rika Fujimaru knew, generously agreed to lend his spiritual base data as a suitable way for the emperor to project his own power in this universe.

And this path was handed over by the emperor to his first champion.

Even a small piece of the emperor at a certain point in time, when its projection is imposed on reality, causes the earth to shake, the wind roars, and the impact of flying sand and rocks can easily break the objects set up for marked distances on the battlefield, and then fly all the way backwards, hitting the defense of the Righteous brought by the True Circle Gathering Oath Star, so that there are no casualties to the soldiers of the Empire - and this is only the power that can be "seen".

As for the unseen, perhaps the remaining demons who have not yet had time to escape, screaming and turning to ashes in the blink of an eye, can account for their tragic ends.

This is not the energy that anyone, not even the Curse Astarte, can withstand. The combination of Sigismund's own status as an Imperial Champion and Joljos' Psi data made the process safer and easier, but it was only relative. The aftermath of the giant's appearance has already reached a terrifying scale and influence, and the pressure on Sigismund is still unimaginable to ordinary people for those who directly carry this power in reality.

This is also why, obviously the same Lingji data loaded with Ortenus, other people's can access the power they bring anytime and anywhere, only in the case of the Emperor Champion, it requires the simultaneous approval of himself, Fujimaru Rika and the Emperor, and with the simplified summoning ritual to be established.

…… Although many times, the "simultaneous approval of the three parties" in this procedure is just a word of the emperor.

Although Fujimaru Ritsuka does have her own ideas, when it comes to life-and-death matters, she and the emperor often have the same opinion; And Sigismund ......

The Emperor's self-perception remains clear: he is a tool molded at the Emperor's will.

The tool itself uncomplainingly bears the unconscious erosion inflicted on him by the Emperor's violent psionic energy, and endures a pain that can be called bone-shattering. This power could have burned him to ashes in an instant, but with the conditions attached to the day after tomorrow and the support of Rika Fujimaru, it only turned into extreme torture - not intolerable, so not unacceptable. Sigismund thinks so.

He stood quietly in pain, looking forward with an almost indifferent feeling. Motarian, who had appeared to be huge and majestic in his own right, was dwarfed by the golden giant, and the corruption and pollution that he had carried on his body automatically burned under the light. The demon primordial endured the intense pain, and hurriedly flapped its wings to escape, but in the next moment, it was grabbed by a large golden hand, and was picked up from the ground like a child picking up a soldier's statue.

"You can't catch me!" Motarian shouted inwardly into the wind, "All you can destroy is my form!" Even if you burn my body with your blasphemous flames, my essence will remain—"

His wail was interrupted by a loud rumbling sound that filled the air.

"Motarian." The golden giant said, "My son." ”

Pity fell into the Emperor's golden gaze, and his rebellious son seemed to feel it, and in his instinctively raised head, there was a clear hint of horror in his cloudy gaze:

“…… No, you can't! You can't do that! ”

The Emperor was silent, and the screams of the Demon Primordial Body filled with pain and fear resounded throughout the plain. However, what happened next was very fast - a brilliant golden light erupted from within the phantom of "St. George", and whether the viewer avoided it or not, it literally robbed everyone present of sight and hearing. And after an unknown amount of time, the light gradually faded, and only the solitary figure of Sigismund remained in place.

Nurgle's army, the pollution of Chaos, the Illusion of the Emperor, and the Demon Prototype itself have all vanished from the plains north of Tyros. The place was silent for a while, only the faint sound of the wind, so quiet that it felt unreal.

It's as if the battle was just a nightmare.

——

"He shouldn't have done it! How could the cursed do it! No one can do it – He broke the rules of the game! ”

The vast, dilapidated and filthy chamber trembled with the majestic wrath of its master, and the living, rotting and flexible branches wailed and played the right music, trying to appease the plague god who was rarely furious. But the "music" that had always worked in the past, and the "music" that would have caused the minds of mortals who heard such sounds to decay in an instant, had not succeeded in soothing Nurgle's panicked mind this time—

The darling he had so deliberately snatched from the damned, the soul and essence of Motarion, who should have been firmly in his hands, was slowly burning under the golden flames.

- The emperor, who has been lending spiritual energy to Fujimaru Rika through the power of a contract-like contract for a long time, did not get nothing in the process. Just as the former was able to establish a direct connection with the demon through a simple name, although it is not so exaggerated, the emperor has now learned how to use his "fate" as the creator and the heir of the original body.

Motarian's soul and essence cried out in pain in the palm of his hand, while Nurgle tried to extinguish the flames in anger and panic. He puffed up his massive body, and the living walls and corrupt roofs screamed to make way for their creators and rulers. In a palace complex larger than the size of a planet, Nurgle himself had swelled to one-third of its size in an instant.

He lovingly held that part of Motarian in the palm of his foul-smelling hand, and vomited a waterfall of putrid pus from what might be called a "mouth" in an attempt to extinguish the Emperor's flames. At first, this seemed to be working, but then, those golden points of light resurfaced from the essence of the original body like appendages.

Nurgle was saddened to realize that as long as the "other part" of Motarian remained under the control of the emperor's psionic powers, the erosion of "that part" would not stop.

He had already suffered too many setbacks in this battle, and he really couldn't accept greater losses, let alone a primordial body. That's why Nurgle prepares to wrestle with the Damned—he wouldn't want to do it if he hadn't had to, but he'd lost his mortal forerunners, and if he lost another primordial, he'd be far behind in the great game of the gods.

Motarian's essence slowly dissolved in the palm of His hand. He knew that if these things were burned out, the subspace energy that composed them could be reborn under the will of the damned, just as He allowed the lifeless who had been scattered and exiled in the real universe to be reborn under His wing. The power of the Cursed is strong, but after all, it has not officially ascended to the throne, and if there is a tug-of-war here, then Nurgle thinks that he still has an advantage.

However, a subtle touch was transmitted from His garden to His chambers. As the master of the entire realm, Nurgle knew all the realms under his rule and came and went as he pleased. As soon as his mind moved, he already knew the source of this strange touch, and the source itself shocked Him:

Above his vast garden, a massive golden warship was hovering. The bow of the ship is carved with a golden eagle, and the towers and gun ports at the rear are also extremely carved, which is very luxurious. The entire ship is an undoubted giant among warships, but it still pales in the sky above the Plague God's scale beyond the planet. It wasn't its size or its firepower that alarmed Nurgle, but the fact that it was almost entirely forged by the Emperor's psionic powers.

He realized that he had to make a difficult trade-off between the soul and essence of the original body and his own territory.

Mi woo (leopard killed).

Woowoo...... Hiroshi Nagano...... (Crawling around in an ice cave)

(End of chapter)