Chapter 253: Go All Out

A Few Hours Ago.

The night sky above the Northern Hashian Mountains was a tapestry of cold, indifferent stars.

Pale starlight bathed the sharp, slate rooftops of the inner sanctum within the Glorious Mythical Sect.

Roy sat alone on the highest gabled roof, one leg propped up, resting his elbow on his knee as he held a delicate porcelain wine cup between his fingers.

He had departed from the boisterous, wine-soaked banquet room of the elders only minutes prior, right after feeling the distant, soul-bound connection ignite within the four human disciples at Mount Laobao.

He had imprinted his divine will directly into Naen’s spirit, laying down the groundwork for his anchors inside the Emerald Purity Sect.

Now, surrounded only by the quiet whistling of the night wind, Roy tipped his cup back and swallowed the clear liquid, then took a long, direct swig from the aged wine bottle he held in his other hand.

His dark eyes stared blankly into the vast expanse of the Eastern Continent.

‘How quickly a simple mission unravels,’ Roy thought, a dry, self-deprecating smile touching his lips.

When he had first set foot upon the Jura Eastern Continent, his objective had been straightforward: liberate the brutally enslaved beastmen tribes, establish a foothold for his people, and quietly spread the divine gospel of the God of Beast. It was a clear, focused path.

Yet, step by step, the political landscape had spiraled into a tangled web of catastrophic proportions.

He had become deeply entangled with a massive, ancient religious empire—the Church of the God of the Sky.

The God of the Sky, Makane, had caught scent of a rising divine competitor.

The sheer, terrifying aggressiveness displayed by the Holy Church—the deployment of three thousand Holy Paladins, fifty Martial Generals, ten Martial Lord High Priests, and a Martial Saint Cardinal—was not merely a routine anti-cult crusade.

It was a preemptive strike by a jealous deity seeking to strangle a rival god in its cradle.

And worse, that paranoia had drawn in a far more dangerous anomaly: Mauresis, the Angel of Dawn.

An celestial entity forged directly by the hand of a King-tier True God.

Roy squeezed the neck of the glass bottle tightly.

He had the absolute power to step out into the sky this very second and obliterate Mauresis where he stood.

The Angel of Dawn was formidable, but against Roy’s full, unbridled might, the construct would be reduced to cosmic dust in seconds.

However, doing so was a trap.

Slaughtering an Angel of that caliber without absolute operational secrecy would instantly blow his cover, revealing his location and true identity to the high pantheons watching from the celestial realms above.

To protect his identity and keep his followers safe, Roy had been forced to tread lightly, playing a delicate game of shadows, hiding behind disguises, and manipulating the regional sects from behind the curtain.

Yet, every cover-up, every calculated retreat, and every proxy play seemed to complicate matters even further.

The web was growing tighter, and the continent was burning around him.

Roy exhaled a long, deep sigh, watching his hot breath vaporize in the mountain air.

He raised the bottle to his lips once more, taking another deep gulp of the burning spiritual alcohol.

“It is utterly pointless to drink while sober, you know.”

A smooth, melodious voice sounded from directly beside him.

It did not carry the sound of footsteps, nor did it cause a single ripple in the surrounding air currents.

“A divine spirit—or a True God, for that matter—cannot truly get drunk on mortal wine,” the voice added softly. “You are merely washing your throat with fermented fruit.”

Roy scoffed softly, not looking surprised in the slightest.

He slowly turned his head to see a familiar, elegant figure standing beside him at the edge of the roof, hands tucked casually behind his back.

It was Telvanus, the God of Information—or rather, the mortal avatar he was currently possessing.

The avatar wore simple, flowing gray scholar robes, its eyes shimmering with a faint, iridescent glow that contained the sum of infinite knowledge.

“Why are you here, Telvanus?” Roy asked, leaning back against the roof tiles and taking another casual sip from his cup.

“Did you come all this way just to criticize my drinking habits?”

Telvanus offered a faint, enigmatic smile, his eyes reflecting the starlight above.

“Hardly,” Telvanus replied smoothly, turning his head to look down at the dark valleys below.

“I came because the little religious war you are waging with Makane is beginning to draw the eyes of other True Gods across the higher planes.”

Roy’s eyes narrowed slightly, the relaxed posture in his shoulders stiffening just an inch.

“You must bring this conflict to an end as quickly as possible, Roy,” Telvanus warned, his tone dropping its casual edge into something far more serious.

“The balance in this sector is fragile. If this proxy war escalates any further, even I will no longer be able to directly shield your presence from the grand diviners of the High Heavens.”

Roy nodded slowly, internalizing the grave warning.

He set the wine bottle down on the slate tiles beside him, running a hand through his hair as he looked up at the divine scholar.

“Tell me about that thing,” Roy said, his voice dropping into a cold, focused register. “The Angel. What exactly am I dealing with?”

“Mauresis,” Telvanus answered instantly, without a moment’s hesitation. “That is its designation. It is not a natural celestial entity born of faith, nor is it a servant of Makane. It was personally crafted by the God of Dawn—a high-ranking, King-tier True God belonging to the divine Sun Pantheon.”

Roy gently ran his fingers through his hair again, a low, frustrated growl escaping his throat.

His dark eyes flickered with a sudden, dangerous crimson glint before he suppressed it.

The underlying problem was crystal clear. Mauresis was not just a powerful soldier; he was a literal piece of a King-tier True God’s personal authority.

If Roy casually annihilated Mauresis in open combat, the God of Dawn would instantly sense the destruction of his creation, trace the divine energy signature back to its source, and descend upon the Jura Eastern Continent with the full wrath of the Sun Pantheon behind him.

Roy growled out loud, running a hand over his face. “Tch… One problem after another.”

He turned his gaze back to the God of Information. “You always have a vantage point on everything in existence, Telvanus. What’s your advice?”

Telvanus remained completely silent for a few minutes.

The wind blew past them, carrying the distant scent of pine and old stone, as the divine entity processed countless variables, future timelines, and informational threads across the cosmic web.

Finally, Telvanus shifted his posture, looking out toward the southern horizon.

“First,” Telvanus spoke, his voice carrying a sharp, decisive clarity, “you must force the Church of the God of the Sky to withdraw their military forces from these lands. You cannot allow them to freely hunt your people under the guise of a righteous crusade.”

“And how do I force a fanatic army to retreat?” Roy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“By stripping away their moral armor,” Telvanus replied, a cold, brilliant light flashing in his eyes.

“The absolute brutality, the senseless massacres, and the horrific bloodshed caused by the Holy Church in the Northern Mountains must be thoroughly exposed to the public eye. Every major hub, every independent territory, and every super-sect on this continent must see the slaughter for what it truly is.”

Telvanus turned to face Roy directly, his expression solemn and commanding.

“Involve the other super-sects,” Telvanus instructed. “Force the Myriad Heaven Sect, the Crimson Key Sect, and the Soul Ordination Sect out of their comfortable neutrality. Make them realize that Makane’s church is not here to preach peace—they are here to devour the Jura Eastern Continent whole. Destroy any chance the Church of the God of the Sky has of assimilating this land… and make this continent yours.”

Roy listened intently, the calculated strategy forming inside his mind like pieces of a grand chessboard falling into place.

“It is time, Varanus,” Telvanus said, his voice echoing with a profound, hypnotic gravity.

“It is time the God of Beast and Men makes an official, undeniable appearance in this world.”

Roy let out a low breath, looking down at his hands. “And what about the True Gods watching from above? The moment I make a move as a God, won’t they notice?”

Telvanus let out a soft, amused chuckle, waving his hand dismissively.

“You do not need to worry about the True Gods investigating your identity,” Telvanus revealed smoothly, a subtle smirk playing on his lips.

“In their eyes, the grand cosmic realm is currently experiencing endless anomalies. They simply believe you are merely one of the thousand ‘Players’ who went rogue and ascended using unconventional methods in the lower realms. They view you as an unpredictable wild card, not a targeted threat.”

Telvanus stepped back into the shadows of the roof, his form beginning to dissolve into shimmering particles of light and pure information.

“You have a green light, Feral Primordial,” Telvanus whispered as his avatar faded entirely into the night air.

“You can go all out.”