Chapter 39: Nothing Holy About You

"You... you’re the defective summoned one!" Father Corvin stammered, his trembling fingers nearly dropping his golden sun amulet into the dirt.

His eyes were wide with pure, unadulterated horror as he stared at John’s face.

Beside him, Grand Inquisitor Valerius struggled against the heavy boot pressing into his spine, twisting his neck upward to get a clear look. The moment his gaze locked onto John’s cold blue eyes, his arrogant expression completely unraveled into disbelief.

"John Smith..." Valerius gasped, his voice choked with dust and rising dread. "The E-Rank trash...."

A faint, amused smirk tugged at the corner of John’s mouth.

He didn’t recognize either of them. During the grand summoning ritual in the imperial cathedral, the massive hall had been packed with hundreds of gilded nobles, high cardinals, and royal guards. To John, every imperial sycophant bowing before Goddess Viona had looked like the exact same brand of arrogant fanatic. But hearing them immediately speak his name confirmed just how infamous his banishment had been.

"Well, look at that," John said smoothly, lowering his SCAR-H slightly as he took a slow step forward. "My reputation precedes me. I have no idea who either of you are, but it seems word of my exile traveled quite far."

"How are you drawing breath?!" Corvin shrieked, his fanatical composure shattering completely. "The Radiant Goddess herself cast you into the Abyssal Depths!"

It was an absolute decree of divine execution!"

"Then your Goddess needs to check her math," John replied coldly. "Because all she did was give me room to build an army."

Valerius gritted his teeth, his face pressed against the blood-soaked sand as he glared up at the modern warlord.

"You brought these unholy iron demons into our world..." the Inquisitor hissed, coughing up a mixture of bile and blood. "These weapons... these soldiers without mana... You made a pact with the ancient dark gods of the Abyss! You returned as an apostate to curse the holy empire!"

"What the fuck are you talking about clown?"

"What the fuck are you talking about, clown?" John scoffed, tilting his head with genuine amusement. "Dark gods? Unholy pacts? You people really can’t fathom anything existing outside your little fantasy religion, can you?"

John tapped the receiver of his SCAR-H with a gloved index finger.

"This isn’t dark magic. It’s called modern industrial engineering, chemistry, and ballistics. We don’t need prayers to build an assault rifle, and we sure as hell don’t need a goddess to drop high explosives on arrogant slavers."

Valerius choked on his own spit and sand, his face twisting into pure, impotent rage. "Blasphemy! Heretic! You dare insult the divine majesty of Goddess Viona—"

"Shut up," John cut him off flatly. He didn’t even raise his voice, but the chilling authority behind the words made both men freeze. "You came across the sea to butcher an entire settlement, enslave their women and children, and set up a staging ground for what seemed to be an invasion. And now that you’re face-down in the dirt, you want to lecture me on morality and divine will? "There’s not a single holy thing about you or your empire."

John continued. "You’re just common thugs in shiny tin suits, hiding behind the name of a goddess so you can feel righteous while you murder and pillage."

Valerius snarled through the grit in his mouth, his aristocratic pride refusing to break even as a heavy combat boot pinned him to the dirt.

"You speak with the arrogance of a heretic whose mind has been poisoned by the deep dark! The Holy Solarian Empire is the divine spear of Viona herself! We rule by celestial decree! Our legions number in the hundreds of thousands, our grand fleets could blot out the sun, and the true summoned heroes—the blessed S-Rank and A-Rank champions chosen by the Goddess herself—stand at the vanguard of our righteous army!

You might have caught our expedition off guard with your cursed noisemakers, but when the Imperial High Pontiff and the Hero Party learn of your survival, the full might of the Radiant Crusade will descend upon you! Those legendary champions will tear your little metal toys apart with true divine power, and you and every filthy beast here will be purged from the face of this continent!"

Father Corvin, trembling so violently his knees banged against the cobblestones, frantically nodded in agreement. "Listen to him, boy! Repent! Surrender your weapons to the church! The S-Rank and A-Rank champions summoned alongside you are already training under the grand paladins in the imperial capital! They wield true celestial miracles! If you strike us down, they will hunt you across every corner of this realm until nothing remains of your soul!"

John let out a dry, dismissive laugh that sent a cold shiver straight down the priest’s spine.

"Let them try," John said, his cold blue eyes locking dead-center onto Corvin’s wide, panicked pupils. "Sato thought he was an invincible demigod too. He thought his little shadow tricks made him untouchable. You saw how that turned out. A high-explosive missile doesn’t care about your rank, and a bullet through the skull doesn’t care about your cheat skills."

Corvin’s breath hitched violently. His eyes drifted involuntarily toward the smoking ten-foot crater at the edge of the street where the B-Rank assassin’s decapitated, mangled corpse lay rotting in the open air. The realization hit both imperial officers like a physical blow: to this man, the summoned heroes weren’t divine saviors or terrifying monsters. They were just targets waiting for a firing solution.

"And as for your grand crusade..." John stepped closer, his shadow falling completely over the fallen Grand Inquisitor. "Tell your emperor and your high pontiff that they don’t need to bother coming looking for me. As soon as I finish cleaning up this beachhead, I’m bringing the war straight to their front door."

John turned away, completely done wasting breath on the zealots. He raised two fingers and signaled the Delta operators standing behind them.

"Zip-tie their wrists, bag their heads, and load them onto the second Black Hawk," John commanded smoothly. "Transport them straight to the detention center on our island. Have intelligence start the interrogation process the second they land. I want a complete information regarding about their Holy Empire."

"Copy that, Commander," the Delta team lead replied with a crisp nod.

"Unhand me, you savage brutes!" Valerius bellowed as two heavily armored operators hoisted him roughly off the dirt by his gilded breastplate. "I demand treatment befitting an Imperial Lord! You cannot lock a Grand Inquisitor in chains like a common slave!"

"Goddess Viona will judge you!" Corvin shrieked hysterically as flex-cuffs bit into his wrists. "You will burn in the eternal fire of the heavens! You will—"

THWACK.

An operator drove a rifle butt firmly across the priest’s jaw, cutting off the fanatical tirade in an instant. Black canvas hoods were shoved down over both men’s heads before they were dragged away across the gravel toward the waiting transport helicopter.

"All units, this is Eagle Actual. AO is secured, all air assets return to base."