The upper level of the Sacred Hall of the Cardinals was brightly lit. Dozens of glowing magic stones illuminated the circular library at the top of the tower as if it were daytime. Standing in this hall, it was hard to imagine that one was actually underground.

If this were the Hermes Cathedral above ground, this place would be equivalent to the Tower of Babel, and it was also Jerrod's favorite place to be. Through the window, she could easily overlook the entire Cardinals District. Looking at the figures bustling around the God's Stone Pillars like ants, a feeling of controlling all living beings rose in her heart – as if she were a god residing in the glorious divine kingdom, and the people slowly advancing in the darkness below her feet were the believers who built the divine kingdom.

Whenever she had free time, she would take a book from the shelves that recorded the history and secrets of the Union, sit by the window, and slowly flip through it, of course, with a cup of red tea with a little winter flower on hand.

After becoming the Pope, Jerrod relaxed instead. As the Battle of Divine Will drew closer, she felt no tension, but rather a sense of anticipation. More than two hundred years of life had made her feel bored, and the invincible demons in the records seemed to be opponents that could bring her excitement. She wondered if these hideous enemies could be as fearless and terrible as they looked when they were dragged into the soul battlefield.

However, there were still several years before this final battle, and she needed to establish a new goal to pass the remaining time.

Very few people could enter Jerrod's sight, and Roland Wimbledon happened to be one... and the only mortal who could arouse her interest now.

Despite not being favored by anyone, he stood out from the King's Contest, using a small piece of land to fight against two chess pieces with a great advantage in succession and not falling behind. It had to be said that it was commendable. Moreover, she also discovered some interesting clues in Garcia's memory.

That was that Queen Clearwater had used a maid placed next to the Fourth Prince to give him a fatal alchemical poison, but it had no effect. The angry queen then executed the unfortunate alchemist – but Jerrod had the Cardinals Institution replicate a copy of the poison according to the recipe in the memory, and found that the finished product was indeed as the alchemist claimed: colorless, odorless, soluble in water, fatal if taken, and incurable.

So, did the maid deceive Garcia, or was the current Roland Wimbledon no longer the Fourth Prince of the past? According to the information she had collected, Jerrod was more inclined to the latter. The question was... if he was no longer the Fourth Prince, then who was he? Why hadn't anyone around him questioned this? The more she focused on this, the more interesting it became. His style of behavior gradually changed, he won the unanimous love of his people, and he changed the distribution of power in the Western Region with his own strength. Whether it was the Church Envoy or the Berserker Army, they were gone forever... It was a pity that such a person was just the lord of a small place.

Therefore, Roland Wimbledon must be brought under the Church, or rather, become a part of her. Jerrod couldn't help but lick her lips. This was also the reason why she decided to change the direction of attack – if it was as she thought, then the benefits of prioritizing the occupation of Graycastle might far exceed expectations.

Of course, as a lord with great power, he would inevitably be in the rear during battles. How to force him out was also a question that needed to be considered.

Just as Jerrod was thinking about how to bypass the main battlefield and face Roland directly, the door of the library was pushed open, and Isabella walked in.

"The meeting is over?"

"Yes," she rubbed her neck, "You're good, sitting here all day watching tea, while I have to accompany those old guys... No, it's one old guy and two little lunatics nonsense."

"That's not nonsense, but it's related to the operation of the lower levels of the Church," Jerrod shrugged, "Although the witches are the body of the Church, without them, we can't easily concentrate so many resources to achieve the final goal."

"Whatever," Isabella yawned, "Anyway, according to their statement, if you want to transfer the preparation materials for attacking Dawn to Graycastle, you have to wait until at least the second month of summer, which is an optimistic estimate."

This time was neither long nor short, Jerrod thought. Waiting was both a torment and a sweet dew that increased the joy of harvest. "What about the pill manufacturing situation?"

"There are already three to four hundred thousand in the warehouse, right?" Isabella replied, "Speaking of which, do you really intend to pull all the civilians into a war with the demons? Millions of people, eating alone can empty Hermes. And..."

"And what?"

"And it's not necessarily a victory." She shook her head, "Too many people are prone to problems wherever they are placed. After taking the first pill, their value must be calculated on a daily basis. What if the demons don't happen to attack us? It's useless to have fewer people, and it's a waste to have more people. Even if the demons swarm up, they will hardly have any combat power after being defeated by the Berserker Army."

"You didn't understand what I meant," Jerrod got up and walked to a large table in the hall, uncovering the cloth on it, "I never intended to let the Berserker Army defend Hermes. The final battle location should be somewhere on the Fertile Plains... I guess, it's highly likely to take place in the ruins of the Holy City of Taquila – because it's the closest to us."

"You mean... you want to take the initiative?" Isabella was stunned.

"What we lack most is time," Jerrod said calmly, "I never hoped to wipe out the demons in one fell swoop. The Holy One said that when the Red Moon descends and the gates of hell open, the demons can build a Black Obsidian Spire. In fact, it's not building... but growing."

"You mean, those stones are actually alive?" Isabella asked incredulously.

"This part of the content can only be seen in the personal notes of the three seats of the Union... The expansion of the demons must be based on the Black Obsidian Spire that can produce Red Mist, and the current locations where the spire appears are all rich in God's Stone veins, and the range of influence will continue to grow. In the early stage of the Second Battle of Divine Will, a Transcendence Witch once led a team of elite soldiers to approach the Red Mist Zone from the underground, and saw an amazing scene – a huge monster was surging under the spire, with a body thicker than the base of the tower itself." Jerrod said word by word, "That huge monster is corrupting the God's Stone, turning it into a black crystal that can emit Red Mist. Thinking of the Chaos Beasts that specialize in turning God's Stone into Magic Stone, it's not difficult to understand that they have such abilities."

"..." Isabella opened her mouth, and finally slowly uttered a sentence, "So disgusting."

"Unfortunately, once the spire is formed, small-scale raids are difficult to be effective, so our only chance is to attack head-on. I don't know how long it takes for the corrupted God's Stone to emerge from the ground, but it's unlikely to pop out overnight. During this period, the demons cannot get Red Mist supplements and can only transport it from the rear. The power that can be maintained is very limited, and what I have to do is to use the Berserker Army, which is numerous enough to overwhelm the demons, to tear a bloody path, and then the God's Punishment Army will kill the underground behemoth." Jerrod said decisively, "If we are lucky enough, we will get another four hundred years of time."