Support me and be 30 chapters ahead of webnovel:
patreon.com/Draco_
*****
"Backstream was actually captured? What methods did Academy City use?"
The Pope held the intelligence report from his subordinates, his expression filled with doubt.
In his view, with Backstream's strength, even if his mission had been exposed and he was besieged by Academy City's espers, he should at least have been able to retreat unscathed.
For him to be captured and vanish was something the Pope never expected.
Academy City was indeed a formidable force, developing so many powerful espers based on gemstones.
But in truth, the Pope never regarded them as too great a threat.
On the surface, the major churches of the magical world and Academy City of the scientific world appeared evenly matched. But in reality, the two sides were still worlds apart.
The only reason a balance of power existed was because the various churches of the magical world were never united, constantly scheming and competing, each wanting to bring the world under its own dominion.
At the very least, that was how every Pope thought.
"This only shows that Academy City's espers aren't entirely without progress."
At this moment, a man in a crimson suit with his hands in his pockets stepped out of the shadows.
The Pope's expression darkened when he saw him.
"Right-Hand of Fire, after scheming so much behind the scenes, what exactly are you trying to accomplish?"
"What do I want? Naturally, world peace and universal happiness.
My first plan is to subjugate Britain. The whole of Europe, aside from Britain, is already in our grasp.
Send word to the nations—cut Britain off at the root."
Right-Hand of Fire flicked his red hair arrogantly as he spoke.
The Pope frowned.
"Doing this won't seem to affect Academy City in the slightest."
"Academy City? Those espers? I've never paid them any mind. My true goal is to start the Third World War."
Right-Hand of Fire answered without hesitation.
The Pope's pupils shrank.
"Are you insane? Do you still call yourself a servant of the Cross?"
"What do you think, old man?"
Right-Hand of Fire smirked, laying everything bare without hesitation.
Because after today, all authority of the Roman Orthodox Church would fall completely into his hands.
Next, he would ally with the Russian Orthodox Church to launch the Third World War, seizing the spiritual weapon that controlled the Automatic Secretary held by the British Royal Family, and through it, gain control of Index and her 103,000 grimoires.
With that, he could enact the Bethlehem Project, fully liberating the power of the Right Hand of God, and achieve his ideal.
"You wretch! Do you think I'll allow you to act with impunity?"
The Pope roared in fury, tearing the supreme spiritual weapon—the cross—off his neck as he began casting magic.
As Pope of the Roman Orthodox Church, he could channel the faith of two billion Roman believers accumulated over two thousand years, summoning extraordinary power to seal enemies.
"Proclaim to the Twelve Apostles: our faith in the Lord is boundless. Power is rightly theirs who embody this fullness. I am the one who truly understands its meaning. With this strength, may I strike down my enemy!"
With the Pope's chant, immense faith transformed into golden light, sealing Right-Hand of Fire within the river of time itself.
"From now on, you will wander for forty years, reflecting in solitude upon your sins!"
"The one who should reflect is you!"
With a cold snort, Right-Hand of Fire suddenly sprouted a massive demonic claw wreathed in flames from his back.
With a mere wave, the faith that bound him shattered instantly.
"Die, old man!"
The crimson claw lifted, manifesting an enormous orange-red sword phantom nearly forty kilometers long, cleaving down mercilessly at the Pope.
The Pope was strong—immensely so. Even with the Right Hand of God, victory over him was not easy.
But this strike was aimed not just at the Pope, but at the entire Vatican.
If the Pope dodged, he would certainly survive, but the Vatican would be split in two, and countless believers would perish under the blade.
Knowing the Pope, even in death he would never allow the Vatican to fall.
Thus, he would undoubtedly take the strike head-on.
And if he did, even if he survived, he would be gravely wounded—no longer a threat.
"Boom!"
The enormous orange sword was blocked by the cross, but the Pope coughed blood and fell to his knees, while the residual shockwave reduced the grand cathedral to rubble.
"As expected."
When the dust settled, Right-Hand of Fire retracted his third hand, his face breaking into a triumphant grin.
"You truly are too kind, old man.
To realize true peace, sacrifices must be made. If you're unwilling to pay even this price, how can you lead the Church? It's time you stepped down."
He didn't finish him off. With the Pope's injuries, by the time he recovered, the plan would already be complete.
The Pope was an obstacle to his schemes, but not without merit. Unless absolutely necessary, he had no intention of killing him.
"Well then, my plan can finally begin in earnest!"
"Your plan won't begin at all."
At that moment, George, who had concealed his presence and observed from above, descended.
His invisibility magic was no longer as easily detected as before.
He had combined the Disillusionment Charm from the Harry Potter world, the assassination magic of Jacob, one of the Twelve Holy Shields, and various Daoist techniques of aura concealment.
Now, unless someone's power greatly surpassed his own, his stealth was undetectable.
Thus, neither Right-Hand of Fire nor the Pope had realized he was watching from the sky.
"And who are you?"
Right-Hand of Fire raised a brow at the figure descending.
"Who am I?"
George's eyes gleamed mischievously as he smiled.
"Trust me—I am God."
At this moment, he wasn't using Misaka Mikoto's form, but instead had transformed into his true Marvel body using Transfiguration magic.
Why change appearances?
It wasn't because he feared Roman Orthodox retaliation afterward—he had already struck their very heart, so why fear reprisal?
It was mainly for Misaka Mikoto's sake.
In this world, his body was a clone of Misaka Mikoto, and they looked identical.
If the Church's believers thought it was the esper Misaka Mikoto who had attacked their holy headquarters, they might seek vengeance on her. That wouldn't do.
"Seems you're looking for death!"
Right-Hand of Fire extended his hand, unleashing a torrent of flames at George.
George opened his mouth wide and instantly swallowed all the fire.
"Relying solely on angelic power is useless—it won't withstand even one strike from me. You'd better call out that roasted demon claw again.
That thing might hold a little longer."
"So you came prepared. Who sent you? The British Puritans?"
Right-Hand of Fire's expression grew grim as his third hand appeared once more.
The situation had gone far beyond his expectations—the intruder clearly knew something about him.
And to reveal himself immediately after he had defeated the Pope—this man must have real confidence in his power.
"I already told you, I am God. Don't believe me?"
George raised his hand, and a massive white magic circle appeared above him.
"I said: Let there be light!"
A pillar of light, condensed from the power of the sun, moon, and stars, descended from the heavens, striking directly at Right-Hand of Fire.
He was unleashing the supreme annihilation magic—Brilliance of the Fairy.
(End of Chapter)