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But what was done was done. Spilled water couldn't be scooped back up.

After a mont of mourning, Michael began calculating how best to use this situation to benefit himself and his territory.

Exposing the Holy Nation's sche wasn't an option. He lacked hard evidence, and his sole witness was a forr bandit turned fanatic priest. Such claims would earn him nothing but ridicule—or worse, an assassination attempt.

Michael thought back to his previous life. Adhering strictly to principles had earned him nothing but mocking nicknas like "pedantic" or "clueless." Back then, being alone, he could afford to rebel passively against society. But now, he had too much to lose: his family, his territory, and his people.

As a noble opposing the Holy Nation's influence, expanding his domain and increasing his power would strike a far greater blow against them than any public exposé.

Still, Michael felt relieved to learn there was no imdiate threat of a fanatic attack. According to Albert, the blood sigil's effects lasted only six hours, after which the fanatics would collapse, lifeless. Enough ti had passed that they were surely corpses by now.

With his mind made up, Michael ordered Albert to be tied up in a corner of the camp and left the tent. It was ti to focus solely on his own gains and those of his territory.

anwhile, Baron Crasus, consud with worry for his son, arrived at a frantic pace.

Michael was his only remaining heir—a capable and precious child he cherished above all else. When the Great Worm detected the danger signal left by the spices, the Baron had rushed toward the source in a state of panic.

His anxiety only subsided when he saw the fortified camp. Spotting his son among the vigilant soldiers, he examined Michael carefully, ensuring he was unhurt.

"What happened here?" the Baron asked, relief evident in his voice.

Michael smiled at his father's concern. There was no need to share the day's revelations. In an era dominated by religion, Michael could process events rationally thanks to his modern mindset, but his father might not see things the sa way. It was better to control variables whenever possible.

"We encountered an attempt by fanatics to lure us into the forest. Fortunately, we spotted it in advance and avoided the area. I decided it was better to secure a favorable defensive position and prepare for a potential ambush rather than pushing to rejoin the main force imdiately."

"Well done," the Baron replied with a nod. "From tomorrow, we should focus on advancing. It seems there are no more villages worth stopping for."

Shortly afterward, the other knights and Baron Kensington arrived. Hearing Michael's account, they agreed with the decision to prioritize movent over further raids.

With plans made for the next day, everyone dispersed to their tents.

Michael, after assigning soldiers to keep watch, retired to his own tent. Exhausted, he quickly fell into a deep sleep.

Hours later, he was jolted awake by a frantic voice.

His face stung for so reason.

"Wake up, Michael, you fool! Wake up right now!"

Miaomiao was speaking human words, smacking Michael's cheeks relentlessly with its paws.

Is this... a dream?

A winding dirt path stretched ahead, narrow and overgrown, far removed from the polished, packed trails where the wagons of the supply unit had passed. Following Miaomiao's directions, Michael veered onto the smaller path, sprinting swiftly through the shadows of overhanging branches.

In the distance, lights flickered—a campsite.

"That's them, right? The Holy Knights with the relic that can detect ?" Michael asked, his voice low.

[That's right,] Miaomiao replied. [If they co to your camp, join forces with your group, and discover you, it'll be a disaster. You need to either destroy that relic or deal with those knights first.]

"How many knights are there?"

[From what I can sense, about 50. That's an entire division—stubborn, relentless, and annoyingly persistent.]

Michael exhaled deeply. A talking cat seed strange enough, but the revelation that an Outer God had partially rged with him wasn't all that shocking anymore.

He had suspected sothing like this for a while, but Miaomiao?

The self proclaid ancient divine beast insisted it was a being of imasurable greatness, but no matter how Michael looked at it, Miaomiao was just a cat.

From behind them, a wheezing voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Ah, Lady Nephertari, I can't run anymore. Just kill and drag along!"

[You fool, Hoff! This is your fault. Who told you to team up with Alfred and summon an Outer God? This is your ss too, so take responsibility! Now, stop whining and co here!]

Hoff, an old man with a trembling white beard, looked as though he might collapse. Like Michael, he had been unceremoniously dragged from his sleep for this mission.

Michael glanced at Hoff, his lips twitching into a wry smile. "Grandpa Hoff, we can see the knights now. You don't have to run anymore. Just lower your voice and co this way quietly."

Hoff eyed Michael warily. Ever since learning that an Outer God had partially rged with him, the old man had been on edge.

[Oh, you exasperating old fool! I told you, Michael is fine! The Outer God and Michael's soul are separated. Why are you still hesitating?!]

Hoff muttered under his breath, shuffling forward hesitantly. Frustrated, Miaomiao thumped its little paws against its chest, an act that only made it look cuter.

[Hurry up! I need to cast the sleep spell, and you need to get closer for that! Now, co closer so I can jump onto your shoulder.]

"Couldn't Lady Nephertari just co here herself instead?" Hoff muttered, his tone tinged with rebellion.

Miaomiao leaped onto Hoff's shoulder, grabbing his white beard and tugging with surprising strength.

[There! I ca to you, just like you wanted, you miserable fool!]

"Ah, rcy, Lady Nephertari! Please be gentle!"

"Could you both please lower your voices?" Michael muttered, exasperated by their antics.

After the brief commotion, Miaomiao created a protective barrier around herself and Hoff. Though she claid it was a Sphinx-like ability, it didn't seem magical—it was as if they simply vanished from existence.

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