The day after the city's all-night revelry.
"It looks like you had a good time last night."
York received the documents from Marcos's hands and smiled gently.
Marcos looked no different from usual, but York could see everything clearly.
Clearly, Marcos had not slept at all last night.
Thinking about the city's wild celebration, York mused mischievously.
Those who partied all night would definitely be yawning today and possibly getting their wages docked by their bosses.
Marcos, somewhat embarrassed, chuckled.
He indeed had not slept, fully engaging in the festivities.
Not just him, all clergy did the same.
They hadn't felt this happy in a long time. The state of total relaxation, not thinking about anything else, was addictive.
Marcos glanced at the bishop, knowing that all changes were due to him.
Thus, he and his colleagues decided to discuss with the city's administrators to make today a holiday.
A holiday for everyone to relax, commemorating last night's moment.
As for whether the city administrators would refuse, he hadn't even considered that.
The church had now taken over everything.
"Hmm?"
York was not concerned with Marcos's changes in expression; his focus was on the document before him.
Regardless, the format of a written report was never outdated.
In it, he saw the uproar online.
The other two cities had learned about Belst City through the internet and, combined with the sight of last night's giant light sphere, were strongly requesting his presence.
However, the citizens of Belst City were reluctant, as if defending their own.
The two sides ended up arguing fiercely.
This left him feeling a bit awkward.
It was as if he had returned to his previous life.
Of course, this was not a major concern for him, and York continued to the next page.
What he cared about was the situation on the front lines.
After all, last night's action had this purpose as well.
"Indeed effective..."
York squinted his eyes and looked up at Marcos.
"The demons haven't advanced?"
Marcos bowed slightly, "Yes, Bishop, people at the front have noticed that the evil spirits have stopped."
"It seems that the demons there have finally become aware of my existence."
York said calmly, "Let them speculate a bit, buying us some time."
Marcos bowed deeply in agreement.
"Yes, Bishop."
York continued to the next page. Since the demons knew of his presence and had seen last night's events, sensing his power, their hesitation indicated the effectiveness of his actions.
With this in mind, they needed to use this interval wisely and act swiftly.
Everything was interconnected.
He could see where the priests who had left last night were now and their estimated arrival times.
"Even with planes, they won't reach Blagrade City until the day after tomorrow?" York shook his head internally; although the three cities were neighbors, their territories were exceptionally large.
"Then we'll wait another two days."
York put down the document; he didn't look at the minor details.
Marcos nodded respectfully, "Yes, Bishop."
As he spoke, there was a change in his expression; he didn't leave immediately, prompting York to ask, "Is there something else?"
Upon hearing this, Marcos cautiously said, "The city administrators would like to meet you."
Hearing this, York shook his head and waved his hand dismissively.
"I won't meet them. I only deal with demons; you handle the rest."
He lazily delegated the liaison duties to Marcos, who, guided by his previous advice, would know what to do.
Marcos bowed deeply, resolving never to bring up the city administrators again:
"Yes, Bishop."
After speaking, he promptly left, exiting York's sight.
"Ah, fourteen days."
Seeing this, York lay back in his chair and sighed.
Truth be told, he was feeling homesick.
Mainly because he disliked the apocalyptic atmosphere here and struggled with the food.
Because of the infestation, one of the seven principles of demons was not to approach animals (as they were more susceptible to possession).
Thus, there was always little to no meat in their diet.
Imagine when meat becomes a scarce food, its taste...
Thinking this, York closed his eyes.
The first day passed uneventfully.
The only difference was an extra 0.5 attribute points.
News came that the demons had advanced further, conquering four more townships on the front lines.
Only sixteen townships remained before the demons' infectious march could reach the human core area: Blagrade City.
Ultimately, they had only gained one day's time.
Regarding this news, York, not being omnipotent, could do nothing but remain stationed in Belst City, waiting for the priests to arrive.
The second day followed.
York finally received news of the priests' arrival.
Another day passed, and the demons had advanced through three more townships.
Only thirteen townships remained to Blagrade City.
He was now ready to perform
a divine descent, crossing the vast distance to appear in Blagrade City.
...
Blagrade City.
The most remote town.
The arriving priests, without doing anything else, went directly to a prepared church under the guidance of the town's administrators.
"Father Makarov, isn't the Bishop coming?"
The experienced leader of the priests, Father Makarov, looked wearied as he glanced at the elderly man accompanying him.
"What, are we not enough?"
Compared to Marcos's amiable demeanor, Makarov always maintained a very tough and decisive manner.
His intense aura of iron and blood made the old man, Nikola, shiver.
"No, no, I was just..." Nikola hurriedly explained.
"I understand your concern."
Makarov didn't care how Nikola felt, cutting him off as he looked distantly at the church reflected in his eyes.
"But whether the Bishop comes is not for you to ask. All you need to do is cooperate."
Frankly, Makarov had become one of York's zealots and blindly devoted fans. Anyone inquiring about the Bishop was immediately deemed suspicious by him.
"Yes, yes!"
Nikola felt the priest was difficult to converse with and quickly nodded.
"The church is ready."
"Good."
Makarov nodded, leading the equally weary and iron-blooded priests forward.
At the church entrance, he met a colleague who hadn't been baptized, named Idrissa Mubarak.
The only cleaner from Blagrade City who hadn't been sent to the front lines.
Only because he had accidentally been attacked by a possessed spirit during a previous cleansing, resulting in the loss of his legs.
"The Bishop will see your efforts."
Makarov looked at Idrissa in his wheelchair, offering only that sentence.
"He will surely come!"
"Father Makarov."
Idrissa grinned, "I can't wait to meet the Bishop."
Makarov nodded seriously, remembering the Bishop's instructions, and walked past Idrissa expressionlessly, his words reaching Idrissa's ears.
"You will meet him."
Behind Makarov, a priest naturally stepped forward to push Idrissa's wheelchair.
They followed behind Makarov.
Upon entering the church, Makarov glanced around, somewhat pleased.
The church appeared brand new.
Pews, statues, floor-to-ceiling windows—all exuded the scent of newness.
It seemed they knew of their arrival; even the candle holders were lit.
The candlelight shone.
Makarov pursed his lips and closed his eyes.
He still remembered the Bishop's words.
Prayer is akin to summoning; the Bishop would hear everything.
Thus, as his thoughts settled, York in Belst City received Makarov's prayer.
"These words, however, are really..." York sat in a chapel he had created just for himself, his lips twitching.
He had come to realize what his fanatical followers looked like.
York glanced at the image of Jesus before him and shook his head.
"Blasphemy, blasphemy."
Without further thought, York responded to Makarov as if from nowhere, directly manifesting in response to his thoughts through a space akin to a rift.
Upon opening his eyes.
York finally saw Makarov and the group behind him.
He had crossed the vast distance and instantly arrived in Blagrade City.
However, Makarov and the others seemed unaware of his presence, continuing to pray in place.
York smiled, choosing not to reveal himself, but turned to look at the new church.
"Makarov, what is this place called?"
Makarov suddenly opened his eyes, tentatively asking, "Bishop?"
As he spoke, those behind him also opened their eyes, but they saw nothing, only the empty space.
"Yes, I'm right in front of you."
York scanned the area, his gaze eventually resting on the image of Jesus, and he continued without making a sound.
"Welcome, Bishop!"
But Makarov preempted him, suddenly kneeling with a loud voice:
"To the Bishop, this place is called Traken!"
His voice was deafening, and his actions were decisively swift.
This left York somewhat speechless.
"Welcome, Bishop!"
Makarov's actions prompted everyone behind him to kneel as well.
York sighed, waving his hand as a force emanated.
"Rise."
The words echoed in their minds, and an irresistible force lifted them all.
Meanwhile, their eyes widened as they saw a glowing figure appear before them, his broad back seeming to support the sky.
"Bishop!"
Compared to the administrators, who were astonished by the miracle, the many priests were excited, especially the fervent Makarov.
"Yes."
York nodded, particularly noticing the middle-aged man in the wheelchair, who was staring intently at him.
His gray hair seemed to express a despair that had lost everything until the moment he saw York, which sparked hope.
Using a hologram, York could see everything behind him without moving.
But a surge of holy power directly entered the man's body.
Idrissa in the
wheelchair was momentarily stunned, feeling a warm comfort inside him.
"This..."
Idrissa's eyes widened as he stared at the legendary Bishop before him, enveloped in a glowing aura.
"Be at ease."
A voice echoed in his mind, letting Idrissa know it was the Bishop's doing.
Idrissa opened his mouth, his lips curling slightly.
"Thank you, Bishop."
He watched the Bishop step forward, thinking to himself.
York also smiled, taking another step.
A ripple like burning flames emerged from the ground, spreading in all directions from his right foot to the statue of Jesus, stopping there.
Ten points of sanctity were instantly used.
The notification in his ear informed him that the church had been successfully sanctified.
"From now on, this will be called Traken Church."
York continued to name the local church after its location.
"Yes, Bishop!"
The deafening response came from behind, ringing in his ears.
York, feeling resigned, could only look at the virtual window that popped up.
[Traken Church]
[Level 2 Church]
[Sanctity Accumulated: 62 points]
[Number of Faithful: 2034]
[...]
As the situation developed to this point, Traken Church, as remote as Pluto Church, was immediately promoted from level one to level two upon its establishment.
"I look forward to further developments,"
York was certain that Blagrade City could skip the initial steps of accumulation and provide him with maximum power.
Thinking this, York squinted, saying,
"Continue to develop, accelerate the pace."
"Yes, Bishop!"
Again, listening to Makarov and the others' responses.
York waved his hand and vanished from the church, appearing above it, facing the direction of the front lines against the howling wind.
He could sense the all-encompassing dark power.
"Come on, let me see what power you hold."
With Traken Church as a base, he was now able to directly confront the demons on the front lines.
Makarov and the others' arrival in Blagrade City marked the day he would face the demons directly.
With Belst City as his support, York had no fear; he wanted to see the true face of the demons of this otherworld.
What he had seen so far were only demon seeds, and he was curious about what the fully hatched demons would be like.
Cthulhu? Dark monsters? Visitors from another world? Aliens?
___________________
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