Fractured: I became Her【Genderbend LitRPG】

Chapter 139: The Purge

Torrent City, Bokashu Avenue, Church of Steam Armory Outpost.Shadows flitted through the night.

The Church of Steam was a peculiar religious organization. It didn’t worship any specific deity but instead revered a conceptual entity known as the God of Machines. Among the fractured pantheons, this so-called God of Machines had never truly manifested, making the Church of Steam an enigma to many.

In its early days, when the Church of Steam widely disseminated mechanical knowledge, it faced suppression from the conservative Radiant Church.

Many Machine God Deacons were hanged as heretics and left to perish under the scorching sun.

Oppression breeds resistance. Though the Church of Steam lacked explicit divine backing, its members could craft mechanical devices for self-defense. Exceptional inventors among them fostered a straightforward materialist worldview in this broken world.

Eventually, they integrated into various royal regimes, freely pursuing their mechanical passions.

Their turbulent history gave the Church of Steam an appearance of endurance, but the servants of the God of Machines possessed formidable combat capabilities.

"Flesh is worthless, Mechanical Ascension!"

This near-fanatical slogan revealed their unconventional mindset. Had they not struggled with technological stagnation, the Church of Steam would have undergone a dramatic transformation. With players now joining their ranks, this glorious evolution might soon become reality...

The Church of Steam and the Radiant Church were old rivals.

Amid the current turmoil, the servants of the God of Machines secretly rejoiced while preparing to strike their ancient foes. But before the Machine God Deacons could distribute more lethal weapons, the Radiant Church launched its assault.

-

Armory Outpost.

The sentry on watch duty spotted distant flames and chaos, immediately activating all searchlights at full power and sounding the alarm.

This decisive action saved every Church of Steam member in the outpost. Within minutes of the alarm bells ringing, watchtower personnel observed hordes of Radiant Church followers swarming from both sides. The nearly deranged crowd charged with abnormal fervor, including many unarmed elders. Hundreds of meters away, a White Priest rallied the faithful with a raised hand, directing a high-energy beam that obliterated the watchtower.

"Guards! Arm yourselves!"

"God of Machines protect us!"

"Activate combustion devices! Lock and load! No one enters this outpost!"

The deacon roared commands. If those fanatics breached their defenses, the guards would meet a gruesome end. Those fanatic could tear them into irrecoverable fragments.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The massive iron gate of the stronghold trembled, as did the hearts of the guards. They gripped their crossbows tightly, weapons that should have granted them courage, yet nervous sweat soon beaded on their palms and foreheads. Simple aiming became inexplicably heavy. Many servants of the machine god had fantasized about this day, but when the moment of life-and-death division arrived, most realized they were unprepared.

Boom!!

The gate bent and collapsed inward as a Paladin in iron armor squeezed through the gap, his Invigorating Aura blazing.

But in the next instant, the twang of bowstrings froze the Paladin’s fanatical expression forever.

A steel-tipped bolt, with force enough to pierce plate armor, shot through his skull and instantly destroyed his fragile brain. Even an accompanying priest could not save him from such instant death.

The Paladin’s death brought an abrupt silence outside the gate. Unless a miracle occurred, fanatical faith was no match for cold, murderous machinery. Untrained civilians, even in great numbers, had only numbers and brute courage on their side, advantages that could be brutally suppressed by bloodstained, gleaming bayonets.

“Step aside!”

A furious shout came from outside, a divine office holder. The believers quickly scrambled away from the priest.

A searing beam of white-hot light then struck the bent iron gate. Heat that could not dissipate in time erupted in a Lightning-like blast! White Priest, his face slightly pale, laughed excitedly as the groaning gate was forced further apart. The height was now a trivial obstacle, easily cleared with a single leap.

“Warriors of the Sun Gods! Do not fear the heretics’ wicked devices! God will protect His soldiers! All unbelievers shall fall into the abyss! Charge!”

Brute courage, once suppressed by steel bolts and fear, surged again under the priest’s incitement.

Watching the renewed riot, the Transcendents of the Church of Steam gritted their teeth in fury. They directed their subordinates to adjust formations while shouting warnings not to waste all their bolts or shot at once.

In moments, the stronghold filled with the mist of blood from kinetic weapons tearing through flesh and the roar of clashes between Transcendents. Faced with the fanatics’ suicidal rush, many who had never seen battle vomited on the spot at the sight of flowing blood and mangled limbs.

This was hell.

In the theater of human self-destruction, people never failed to create breathtaking scenes, saturated with bestial cruelty and violence.

Outside the stronghold, White Priest, one of the commanders, watched the situation unfold, a smug smile curling his lips. If they captured the stronghold, this victory would secure him greater power within the church. He would make those idle, rotten elders understand who truly fought for the god.

Just as White Priest smiled, he turned in puzzlement toward a few unfamiliar believers who had not joined the assault. Most followers wore masks and unmarked clothing for safety, which was why he did not recognize them at first.

"What are you still dawdling here for? Which unit do you belong to?" White Priest grabbed someone by the shoulder, voicing the final question of their life.

"Purge Squad."

A sharp, tragically beautiful sword gleam effortlessly sliced open White Priest's throat before shredding his eyes. The dark shortsword traced crimson patterns downward as Bloodbound Scholar, humming softly, wielded the twin blades with movements that made their ruby eyes reflect merciless cruelty in the firelight.

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