Chương 73: 73：Clash of Authorities

Victor accepted the order with a solemn, formal mage's salute. Soren watched him become fanatically immersed in the materials and sighed inwardly. Actually, his original plan was for Victor to find a few seedlings with magical talent among the refugees, train them as apprentices, and expand their magic-user roster. But recently, after activating his [Talent Appraisal] skill and scanning the entire village, he realized the harsh truth.

In this low-magic world, finding someone with magical aptitude was rarer than panning for gold dust in a desert! Even in the mighty Silvermoon Kingdom, there were only a few hundred mages in total. Expecting to casually sweep through a group of ragged refugees and pick up magical geniuses was pure fantasy. For now, the magical foundation of the territory rested entirely on Victor's shoulders.

After finalizing all the arrangements, the soldiers were led to the training grounds by their respective commanding officers to begin their daily drills. It was exactly noon. Soren walked alone to the deepest part of the village, arriving at a dry cave built directly into the cliff face. This was his top-secret weapon storage. Soren raised a torch, the flickering firelight illuminating the cavern. Lined up in neat, uniform rows were one hundred pieces of pitch-black, heavy machinery.

They were the [Geared Heavy Repeating Crossbows]. These were the ultimate lethal weapons captured from the orcs earlier. Their prods were soaked and crafted from a special wood, while their bowstrings were tanned from the leg sinews of Twin-Headed Demonic Crocodiles. Their internal mechanisms were incredibly complex, utilizing a precise interlocking design of gears and axles.

Once drawn and the trigger pulled, their terrifying destructive power could easily pierce the dark iron scale armor of a Black Iron Orc from a hundred and fifty paces away! This was Soren's greatest regret. He had already completed a three-tier melee defense system: frontline heavy infantry, a wolf-cavalry guerrilla unit, and a Macedonian phalanx for holding the line. But he severely lacked a ranged crossbow unit! No matter how formidable the sharpshooter Ein was, a single bow could only kill one enemy at a time.

Meanwhile, these mouth-watering hundred repeating crossbows could only sit here gathering dust. There were no bolts. To ensure the bolt's trajectory wouldn't deviate under such immense muzzle velocity, these geared repeating crossbows required high-spec, custom-made mechanical bolts. Even a one or two-millimeter tolerance error in the fletching or the shaft would cause the gears inside the receiver to jam and shatter upon firing.

Currently, Greywater Village lacked the technology to process such precision ammunition. Old Blacksmith Cook was indeed a forging genius; he could melt down the orcs' dark iron and grind out razor-sharp dark iron arrowheads. Because Soren possessed the [Eagle Eye] trait, and his [Windwhisper Bow] relied on wind-attribute runes for enhancement, he could use his own physical control to adjust the trajectory of slightly uneven dark iron arrows.

But a repeating crossbow, a weapon heavily reliant on mechanical precision, allowed for zero margin of error. If only I could find a way to manufacture precise crossbow bolts... Deep ambition flashed in Soren's eyes. Once these one hundred heavy repeating crossbows were fully equipped, he would have a truly comprehensive military unit system. So what if a massive orc army came? More than half of them would be slaughtered on the charge before even reaching his lines!

Soren blew out the torch and slowly walked out of the cave. In his ears came the synchronized, roaring drills of soldiers in the short spear phalanx, the panting of direwolves running through the mud, the rhythmic clinking strikes from the blacksmith's forge, and the lively sizzle of peasant women chopping meat at the stoves. Regardless of the hurdles, he had come a long way.

From initially being exiled here with only twenty-five Crimson Moon recruits who could barely hold their swords steady, to now having an initially formed, coordinated combat system. He finally possessed the capital to dominate the Misty Swamps and expand outward. In the eyes of the high nobles of the Silvermoon Kingdom, the Crimson Moon Knights—who had disobeyed the royal order to retreat and fought to the death defending the Storm Rift Fortress—were nothing more than disobedient, discarded pawns.

However, while secular royal power could abandon this elite force, the Pope of the Church of the Bright Moon could not. Not a single believer bathed in the radiance of the Moon Goddess could be cast aside. This was especially true for the two thousand six hundred warriors of the Crimson Moon Knights stationed year-round at the border. Over seventy percent of them were the Church's most devout followers. The very name 'Crimson Moon' originated from their faith in the Moon Goddess.

If abandoned by the Church, their faith would collapse. Thus, the Pope issued a divine decree. Not only did he refuse to abandon them, but he also made a personnel appointment that shocked all the archbishops: He dispatched the brightest light of the Holy Temple, the Moon Priestess who mastered purification and healing magic, Elena. She was to travel alone to the deadly, near-suicidal Misty Swamps to serve as the Senior Military Priestess of the Crimson Moon Knights.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Under a gloomy sky, miasma as thick as porridge rolled over the putrid swamps. A scale-armored draft horse let out a mournful whinny. One of its legs was sunk deep into a mud pit bubbling with acidic gas. No matter how much the coachman whipped it, the beast couldn't pull the heavy carriage wheels out even an inch. Just as the escorting Templar Knights were sweating in panic, the carriage door hinges creaked open.

A foot clad in a pure white boot, embroidered with silver cloud-silk, stepped directly into the foul, rotting mud without the slightest hesitation. Elena stepped out of the carriage. She wore a silver-white sacrificial robe, her silver hair cascading down like a waterfall. Her face was breathtakingly beautiful, her skin like the purest white snow, her facial features deep yet soft.

Her pale golden eyes, in particular, held a profound compassion that seemed to pierce through all illusions, coupled with an unyielding righteousness that forbade any desecration. In terms of sheer looks, this young military priestess was absolutely on par with Leona, the female Commander of the Crimson Moon Knights. However, Leona's beauty was like a raging fire—wild, untamed, and aggressive.

Elena's beauty, on the other hand, was like a full moon hanging high in the night sky—cold, holy, and so pure it made others feel inherently inadequate.

"Your Grace, the mud here contains strong acid that will corrode your holy robes. Please, return to the carriage..." A knight knelt on one knee in terror. Elena paid no mind to the dirty spots splattering onto the hem of her pristine dress. She gently tapped the mithril staff in her hand—its tip inlaid with a glowing Tear of the Moon Goddess—against the muddy ground. A ring of silver light spread outward like a ripple, instantly dispelling all the toxic miasma within a dozen meters.

Elena's voice was as clear as a mountain spring:"Unhitch the horses. We will proceed on foot."

"My fellow believers breathe and bleed in this hell every single day. If I do not even have the resolve to get mud on my feet, what right do I have to guide their souls?" She raised her pale golden eyes, gazing into the deep fog at the faintly visible outline of a crude camp. The Pope's warning to her in the confession room before her departure still echoed in her ears:"Elena, you will not only face endless hordes of orcs.

You will also face a crude, reckless, and fiercely overprotective madwoman—Leona, the Commander of the Crimson Moon Knights."

"When you arrive, she will undoubtedly view you as the Church's spy sent to seize military power."

"Crude and reckless, is it..." Elena pursed her red lips slightly, her cold eyes completely devoid of fear. Since she had taken up this post upholding sacred dogma, she absolutely would not take a single step back in this filthy land. The main encampment of the Crimson Moon Knights, Central Command Tent. When Elena, accompanied by a few paladins, stepped into the camp, the knights washing their clothes in muddy water and sharpening their notched weapons with dull stones all stopped what they were doing.

When they clearly saw the faintly glowing Holy Emblem of the Bright Moon on Elena's chest, along with her pristine, ethereal beauty, these rugged, battle-hardened men felt no lustful thoughts. Instead, it was as if they had seen the dawn's first light during a long, despair-filled night. Many crippled veterans even threw aside their crutches and fell to their knees in the mud, fervently kissing the footprints Elena left behind, hot tears streaming from their eyes:"The Moon Goddess hasn't abandoned us!

The Holy Temple hasn't abandoned us!" In that moment, the power of faith sparked like a prairie fire. However, the deafening cheers and prayers stung Leona, who was standing just behind the command tent.

"Tch. A scripture-chanting priestess came all the way out here just to steal my troops' hearts?" Leona spat out the bitter twig she had been chewing to keep herself awake. Her crimson, flame-like eyes locked onto Elena, who was being welcomed like a moon surrounded by stars. A cold glint flashed in her eyes. For these two thousand six hundred core soldiers, during the grueling months they were abandoned by the Kingdom, it was she, Leona, wielding her two-handed greatsword, who had charged at the very front!

It was she who had hacked the orcs to pieces time and time again, pulling her men back from the brink of hell! She had to maintain absolute control over this army! In this desolate land where morale could shatter at any moment, if a priestess spouting righteousness and morality were allowed to control the soldiers, the inevitable friction between divine authority and military authority would plunge the entire army into an abyss of eternal doom.