The group consisted of Old John and the old friends—or rather, old comrades-in-arms—he had gathered.
Old John surveyed the scene. Among them were gaunt old men leaning on canes and wearing sunglasses, a fifty-year-old man with an eye patch covering one eye, and a disheveled fellow sprawled on the ground, smoking a cigarette and looking even more destitute than a homeless person.
Fewer than a hundred in total, these were Old John's only surviving friends—all Evolver soldiers who had enlisted during the same period and lived to see this day.
Their mission was simple: to raid a stronghold of The Eldritch Concord.
At this moment, nearly everyone's attention was riveted by Elysia's public address, including the cultists themselves. According to Old John's intelligence, the cultists were planning some kind of operation today, though he didn't know the specifics. This meant their stronghold would be at its weakest, with most forces likely deployed elsewhere.
In a way, this could be considered a "base trade." After all, it didn't take a genius to figure out that the cultists' operation was likely connected to Elysia's speech—perhaps a terrorist attack, or something else entirely.
Old John had unwavering faith in Elysia's abilities. If it was a terrorist attack, she would undoubtedly handle it. But if Old John and his team managed to raid the Eldritch Concord's headquarters, the potential gains would be immeasurable.
All the cult organization's secrets would be exposed.
"Let's move out!" Old John led the group away.
"Alright, alright. Who can argue with the highest-ranking officer here? Captain," one of the men teased.
In White Eagle, nearly all Evolvers called themselves "heroes." Everyone aspired to be like those legendary figures, to become a hero themselves. But these veterans were different. They weren't heroes; they were merely soldiers.
The departure of this group of nearly a hundred veterans was conspicuous enough to be noticed by the White Tower personnel present.
"What's with that group of old men? Doesn't something seem off?"
"It is a bit strange, but they're gone now. It's none of our concern. Just focus on managing the crowd."
The day after joining the Church of Elysia, Old John received a mass text message and set out alone to investigate the three locations mentioned.
Incredibly, he had barely arrived at the first site when a proselytizing cultist approached him, attempting to recruit him. Old John reacted swiftly. Clutching a bottle of wine, he staggered around drunkenly before collapsing onto the ground and feigning unconsciousness.
You can't wake someone who's pretending to be asleep. The cultist, naturally, couldn't deal with the "drunken vagrant" and eventually gave up and left.
In short, using his dual disguise as an old man and a drunkard, Old John thoroughly investigated all three locations and discovered... they were all strongholds of the Eldritch Concord!
Reaching an intersection, Old John announced, "The public channel on our radios is Channel Two. We'll split into three teams, each choosing their own private channels. After the operation, regroup here."
"Barton, you lead Team Two. Tony, take Team Three. Let's move out!"
At these commands, everyone present adopted grim expressions and replied in unison, "Yes, sir!"
Meanwhile, the scene shifted back to Elysia, who had already ascended the high platform and taken the microphone.
Since this was a public speech, not a video recording, she couldn't just speak off the cuff. She had prepared some talking points beforehand.
Looking out at the sea of faces before her, stage fright? Not a chance.
"Hi everyone~! Whether you're here in person or watching the live stream, Miss Pink Elf—super cute, invincible, and undeniably adorable!—Elysia wishes you all a very good morning~♡"
As she spoke, she winked at the camera, striking an utterly charming pose.
The content of her speech was straightforward: she discussed the current crisis facing White Eagle and outlined her plans to address these challenges now that she had joined the White Eagle Eight.
As she continued, several reporters raised their hands to ask questions. Elysia nodded in agreement.
The first to stand was a middle-aged man with a classic case of male pattern baldness, his face flushed with excitement. His words tumbled out like machine-gun fire as he blurted out:
"Lady Elysia, it's an honor to meet you! I was just an ordinary person asleep in the Martyr's Dream when I suddenly woke up and found myself back in this hellish world. I was in unbearable pain, utterly hopeless, and tried to end my life countless times. But then... I saw your blessing video on YouTube."
"Instantly, the world didn't seem so despairing anymore. I realized there was still beauty in this world. Thank you so, so much, Lady Elysia!"
Elysia was surprised that the reporter hadn't asked a single question, instead launching into a torrent of praise. After a brief pause, she responded with a gentle smile. "I'm so glad I could help you~"
"But 'Lady Elysia' sounds a bit too formal. I'd be much happier if you called me Miss Elysia or Miss Pink Elf~"
Unlike Old John, the seasoned veteran hardened by countless battles, this reporter was just an ordinary person who had lost his wife and children in the disaster. After the Martyr's death, countless people like him had awakened from the Martyr's Dream, drowning in pain and despair, nearly all suffering from severe depression.
It was a remarkable coincidence that Elysia possessed an inexplicable "magic power." Ordinary people who merely saw her or heard her gentle, endearing voice found their spirits lifted. As a result, countless individuals awakening from the Martyr's Dream found solace and healing in her presence.
While the reporter interviewed Elysia, two figures in the crowd below whispered intently to each other.
Wrath spoke cautiously, "What should we do? Are you sure you want to act now?"
Beside Wrath stood a man in a suit, wearing a monocle—a high-ranking member of the Eldritch Concord and the Sin of Pride.
Pride frowned deeply. "No, the plan is finalized, and everything is in place. Why are you getting cold feet now? With that kind of cowardice, you dare call yourself Wrath? You should change your name to 'Scaredy-Cat'!"