Angelina couldn't understand how, in such a dire situation, this male student could remain so calm and composed. It was as if he was completely indifferent to the unfolding tragedy, casually stepping off the train, muttering while scribbling arcane inscriptions on a piece of paper.
Meanwhile, the "Pilgrim" machine, though capable of fighting thousands, was still outnumbered, appearing to be swallowed up by the mass of steam knights. However, this was merely an illusion.
The casualties among the steam knights continued to rise. Some were directly hit by energy cannons, their horses and armor blown apart, scattering fragments of metal and flesh. The debris from their armor, mixed with blood, danced in the air like a grotesque rain of roses.
The once-wide street had narrowed into a corridor for the Pope's armored carriage, as the knights and the worshippers on both sides crowded in, their retreat agonizingly slow.
"Where are you going?" Angelina grabbed Lo Po, who was edging closer to the battle.
"I have some confidence in arcane magic. I've done a lot of reading in the library, and I think I've figured out a weak point in that armor," Lo Po said, waving the paper filled with arcane inscriptions, a look of excitement on his face. But Angelina felt something was off—his eyes were as calm as an ancient, undisturbed well.
"You plan to stop that steel colossus? You're just a student, still in school. Even if you are loyal to the Church, it doesn't mean you should throw your life away."
What was he thinking? Going to interfere in such a battle? That machine could flatten steam knights with one blow. How could a mere student survive against it? Even if she didn't say it out loud, Angelina couldn't help but think he'd be crushed into the ground, beyond saving.
Despite her misgivings, she couldn't just let someone throw their life away, regardless of how much more valuable the Pope's life was compared to this strange student.
"It'll be fine," Lo Po replied with a smile that seemed almost like a martyr's.
Where did he get this confidence?
Seeing his serious expression, Angelina felt as if her efforts to dissuade him were like punching cotton—soft and ineffectual.
"Alright... tell me your plan," she relented, letting go of his arm. Lo Po took the chance to slip free.
"The weak point of this armor is in the engine on its right side. I think this metal fragment I bought from the steam market might be from the cover of that engine. When it charged earlier, I saw a small gap in that area. Also, when it uses its cannon, it takes about 1.5 seconds for the arcane inscriptions to activate. If I can use a high-level defense inscription, I should be able to block one of its strikes from the cannon. Then, during the gap when it charges its energy cannon, I'll have a chance to deliver a fatal blow to the engine."
Lo Po spoke quickly due to the urgency of the situation. Without waiting for Angelina's response, he grabbed his papers and dashed off towards the chaos.
...
The battle had lost all semblance of beauty. The violence and bloodshed overwhelmed the senses. The summer air was no longer filled with the scent of flowers, but with the stench of burning oil and blood. Metal debris and severed limbs formed a grim pathway of death, and steam and dust obscured the "Pilgrim" machine.
Under the desperate protection of the steam knights, the Pope's carriage was slowly retreating. But it was only a matter of time before the killing machine caught up. The knights' lances could barely scratch the "Pilgrim's" armor, and its worst damage was a slight dent in its left shoulder plate.
The driver of the armored carriage anxiously retreated, but as the steam knights were being obliterated like paper tigers, the machine's cannon pulverizing them into shards, he knew escape was futile. His hands shook, the windows rattled, and the glass shattered—along with his last hope.
He had to flee! The machine's target was the Pope, and staying in the carriage was a death sentence. In a panic, the driver jumped from the vehicle and screamed hysterically, "Forgive me, Your Holiness!"
But then his pupils dilated in horror. An energy cannon struck the ground near him, obliterating his body in an instant. Blood splattered across the giant silver crown adorning the Pope's carriage like a cruel brushstroke on a perfect canvas.
The now driverless carriage ceased its retreat, left abandoned in the middle of the street. Inside, the fate of its occupant remained uncertain amidst the violent quaking.
...
Amid the chaos, Lo Po deftly avoided several energy blasts, using a fallen steel horse as a springboard to vault onto the carriage. He ducked into the compartment.
"Your Holiness, I've come to save you," Lo Po announced with a smile, bowing courteously to the figure within.
Seated in the carriage was none other than Pope Eden VII.
A soft jingling sound filled the air.
The wind from the steam vents caused the bell tied to her hairband to chime. Her flawless face, framed by the pale strands of her hair, appeared dreamlike, her pale eyes unfocused as if she had just awakened from a deep slumber.
Contrary to what Lo Po had expected, Pope Eden VII was not an elderly man but a young girl, as beautiful and pure as a snow lotus. Her serene presence seemed completely detached from the violent carnage outside, as if she were a delicate doll placed in this metallic box—too ethereal to be real.
Her beauty wasn't the kind that provoked jealousy, but rather the kind that inspired admiration and reverence.
She raised her head slowly, her pale eyes calmly meeting Lo Po's gaze. A tremor ran through him.
No one, not even Lo Po, could have imagined that the Pope would be such a figure. She exuded an overwhelming aura that made her seem like a Pandora's box—dangerous and fatal.
It was clear that the Church's ruler was no ordinary person.
If the "Pilgrim" was an unstoppable killing machine, this girl felt like a "Pilgrim" disguised as a human.
But for Lo Po, it didn't matter.
The girl did not react to Lo Po's presence, simply staring at him like a crafted statue.
"Please allow me to protect you with my life," Lo Po said, bowing again, as gracefully as a gentleman.
The ground trembled, the carriage rocked violently. Lo Po held onto the railing to steady himself.
The clanging of metal footsteps grew louder. The steel colossus smashed through the remaining knights, its cannon gleaming as it swung toward Lo Po's face.
The machine raised its cannon swiftly, its end cutting a two-meter arc through the air like a silver spear aimed straight at Lo Po's right eye.
But the paper in Lo Po's hand, inscribed with arcane symbols, suddenly ignited, its brilliant light illuminating the machine's helmet. A blue flame seemed to burst from Lo Po's hand.
A high-level defense spell.
The arcane inscriptions rose into the air, forming a shield between Lo Po and the cannon. When the cannon struck the shield, it was as though a bomb exploded in Lo Po's ears.
In that brief 1.5 seconds, time seemed to stretch. Lo Po drew a short pistol from his coat, pressed it against the machine's engine, and fired.
The sound of the shot was almost drowned out by the surrounding chaos.
Steam erupted, engulfing the carriage. A heavy thud echoed through the street, signaling the end of the slaughter.
When the steam cleared, the killing machine lay on the ground in front of the carriage, its engine pierced by a single bullet. The heart of the "Pilgrim" machine had been destroyed.
Lo Po emerged from the carriage, wiping the blood from his ears and mouth with a handkerchief. Cheers erupted around him, people crying and embracing, celebrating as if a savior had appeared among them.
No one cared about the bodies scattered across the street or the devastation surrounding them.
Lo Po holstered his pistol, his voice slightly weak but still carrying a faint smile as he bowed towards the girl in the carriage, like an actor taking his final bow after a performance.
"Your Holiness, I apologize for my earlier rudeness."
All eyes were on him. No one remembered it was the Pope's birthday. They only remembered the young man who had taken down the killing machine with a single shot.
What no one realized, however, was that the young man who destroyed the "Pilgrim" machine had been controlling it all along.
The shot that destroyed its engine? Just a flourish, while he remotely deactivated it from his pocket.
Lo Po gently stroked the remote switch hidden in his coat, satisfied with his performance.