Chapter 875: Garrett, Garrett, Transform!

After the council ambushed and eliminated a group of high-ranking members of the Radiant Church, Garrett enjoyed a brief period of tranquility. He then retreated back to his mage tower, where he spent his days practicing his disguise spell.

“Eyes!”

“Nose!”

“The nose is too long! Too long! Shorter, shorter, shorter!”

“Eyebrows!”

“Oh no, they're crooked~”

Garrett frowned at himself in the mirror, struggling to perfect his disguise spell. This spell, said to require more brainpower than magical ability, was causing him significant trouble:

“Eyes! Eyebrows! Ugh, the distance between the eyes is too wide, it looks like Down syndrome, start over…”

“What’s Down syndrome?” Cirilla suddenly peeked over. Garrett twitched his mouth, extending his hand to push her aside:

“Alright, I’ll explain it to you later. If I don’t get this right, the teacher will scold me… By the way, is your transformation all good?”

“I never had any issues!”

The Silver Dragon girl laughed. She shimmered with light and transformed:

Blonde hair, blue eyes, an oval face, and a stunning, almost blinding beauty. Her figure was tall and voluptuous, her dress spreading like flowers as she twirled.

With another flash of light, she shrank by 25 centimeters and lost about 40 pounds. Her hair turned curly red, and her face became as small as a doll's. Anyone would think she was a twelve or thirteen-year-old girl.

Another flash of light…

“Stop!”

Garrett shouted. He realized belatedly that Cirilla’s transformation magic was entirely different from his disguise spell:

Her transformation was from dragon form to human form. Since she could turn into an elf or a human, changing her appearance multiple times was no challenge.

His disguise spell, on the other hand, involved enveloping himself in an illusion to alter his appearance, only affecting his external look.

Of course, whether the features were coordinated, whether today's look matched yesterday's...

That was all up to the mage.

Some high-level adventurers mastered disguise spells, while Garrett, despite being an 8th-level mage, still struggled with it...

“Garrett, keep trying! Maybe you’ll get it this time!”

Cirilla pumped her fist to encourage Garrett, then dashed down the tower to throw a disguise spell on Bernard, guiding Appa in practicing transformations:

“Shrink! Shrink! Turn into a horse!... Ugh, can’t you lose that horn? It’s winter, can’t you just shed it?”

The Silver Moon Deer pawed the ground unhappily, while Garrett in the mage tower continued training against the MOSS projection:

“Again! Hair! Skin color! Eyes, eyebrows, nose, lips… Phew, finally done…”

“Boss, your speed is too slow,” MOSS critiqued mercilessly:

“According to your teacher’s requirements, you should be able to complete a disguise spell within one second without a mirror and maintain it all day…”

There were, of course, ways to cheat, like rings, pendants, or tie clips enchanted with the disguise spell. Some were pre-configured with appearances, while others allowed the mage to record and erase images at will. Garrett considered using these shortcuts but was firmly rejected by the Lord of Thunder:

“What you master yourself is truly yours! Borrowed skills will never be yours! If you rely on magical tools every day, what will you do if they get lost or broken? What if you need this spell to save your life?”

“Teacher, I understand T_T”

Garrett was disheartened. His teacher had apparently traveled far and wide in his youth, from the Kent Kingdom across the strait, through the lands of the Radiant Church, to the Orc Kingdom, and back around the wilderness.

To journey so far, aside from combat skills, he had perfected disguise spells, illusion spells, and invisibility spells. Thus, he couldn’t comprehend Garrett’s slow progress:

“Isn’t your Silent Illusion spell quite good? You can display internal organs, muscles, bones, blood vessels with it, right? Disguise spells are also illusion-based, so why can’t you master them?”

“But it’s different… Internal organs are something I memorized, and disguise spells are the opposite… I understand, teacher, I’ll keep practicing…”

It’s just like performing laparoscopic surgery. What you see with your eyes and what you do with your hands are reversed… Remind yourself, hands must be steady, and practice makes perfect…

Sometimes, the enemy won’t give you a chance to use a mirror or slowly cast a spell. Being able to complete a spell in a blink can mean the difference between life and death.

“Again! One, two, three!”

“The nose is crooked!”

“Again!”

“The right eye is bigger than the left!”

“Again!”

“Don’t tilt your chin forward! Are you a Brolin royal?”

“MOSS, I know… I’ll keep practicing. Can you stop reminding me for today? T_T”

Days passed. Garrett’s disguise spell finally reached a level where he could cast it instantly and maintain it at will. Though he couldn’t quickly imitate someone’s appearance, he could easily switch between a few pre-set looks.

He was finally allowed out of Nevis, changing his identity and appearance to patrol quarantine zones with Appa and Bernard, who had Cirilla’s help with disguise spells. The assassins from the church didn’t return—

Even the wealthy Radiant Church, with its vast territory and resources, couldn’t easily produce five level 12 or 13 assassins.

The council’s trap that killed them would pain the Inquisition for a long time, and even the organizer of the assassination might face punishment. Moreover, sending assassins to Nevis?

The church couldn’t afford to waste manpower like that…

Garrett’s peace didn’t mean peace for the people of Nederland. In fact, the war in Nederland grew fiercer, nearing a state of total mobilization:

In November, the kingdom’s army pressed to the gates of Dodderemet City. The earl held the city, while local farmers, desperate, breached the levees.

The rushing seawater flooded fields and roads. For at least ten years, the fields outside the city would be saline-alkali and low-yielding. The city of Dodderemet stood under three feet of water.

The army outside, with its camps and troops, was thrown into disarray. That battle cost the besieging army nearly half its forces, forcing them to retreat thirty miles.

In December, the Nederland noble coalition launched an attack. The kingdom’s army, in alliance with the Inquisition, used large-scale divine blessings on all knights, boosting their levels.

Knights were raised by one level on average, while squires and third or fourth-level cavalry were enhanced to knight level, turning them into an unstoppable force piercing the noble coalition’s ranks.

That battle saw the kingdom’s army cut down thousands, leading to a massive rout of the noble coalition. The black smoke from burning bodies rose across the land, lingering for half a month.

In January…

Nederland was engulfed in flames. Among the nobles who once gathered around the Duke of Nederland and vowed to rebel, only one remained untouched by war:

Count Ostend, who still held his territory, maintained amicable relations with the church. This crucial piece would be moved only at the last moment.

Meanwhile, vast amounts of personnel and supplies were transported along the Holsea Strait’s seven linked cities, from the southernmost to the northernmost, Ostend. From there, they were shipped or transported to kingdom army camps throughout Nederland.

An army in motion, with its thousands of chariots and riders, was a beast that devoured gold and supplies. Satisfying its appetite couldn’t rely solely on plundering Nederland.

Although the people of Nederland had already been plundered enough.

“Please! Please! This is our last sack of potatoes! Don’t take it… Leave us half a sack! A quarter sack! — At least three! Our family will starve to death!”

“Let go, old woman! Hiding so much food, are you planning to give it to the enemies of the Radiant Lord? If we find more next time, your whole family will go to the stake!”

“Leave one potato! Just one!”

“—Damn the Radiant Lord!”

Curses and imprecations spread, boiled, and burned across Nederland. Soon, the council’s mages noticed something strange.

“Their divine spells seem weaker,” remarked Aurora, wiping mud off his face after a month of rough living. He had just raided a town with his team, blowing up a church and looting its supplies:

“Half a month ago, they were tough. Setting up divine spell arrays was a hassle. It took eight big fireballs to break through their barriers—today, only five!”

“Maybe this church is newly built?” suggested Old Morgan. Aurora thought for a moment, then shook his head firmly:

“Last time, the church was also newly built. After it was completed, the surrounding people prayed around it for ten days. Maybe it had stronger holy relics? But…”

But theoretically, churches of the same size should have similar holy relics. Even if there were differences, they shouldn’t be so large.

“Maybe the people here don’t like them anymore?”

Nearby, another team member hypothesized. Before Aurora could question him, he waved a wide gesture, excitement in his voice:

“The people of Nederland can’t survive much longer! Along our way, how many families have run out of food, surviving on tree bark and roots? How many drag their wounded, bleeding bodies, cursing the king!”

“If they curse the king and also curse the Radiant Lord…”

“That makes sense!”

“It really does

!” Old Morgan joined the discussion. With his rich combat experience, he supported the young mages’ theories:

“A few years ago, when we drove the Radiant Church out of the kingdom, it was the same. In places with more churches and stronger influence, their divine spells were stronger. In places with more of our temples, their divine spells were weaker!”

“So the key is faith? The power of faith?”

“Possibly!—We should report this back, inform the council!”

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