I Became a Witch and Started an Industrial Revolution

Chapter 250 : Hell’s Song

The radiant and brilliant firmament was silently and swiftly devoured by darkness. The world dimmed, and a streak of blood-red light ignited within the darkness, sweeping rapidly across the land. Endless crimson flooded into everyone’s vision.“‘I pray to the Goddess of War, Mitia—grant me Authority—Dominion.’”

Behind Funika, a massive inverted crimson cross lit up. The void shattered, revealing within it a ruined world. Corpses kneeling in worship rapidly disintegrated, converging into a torrent of blood that broke through the boundary of that world and surged past Funika’s feet.

“‘I pray to the war spirits who bore heavy yet insignificant deaths, who withered like fallen flowers yet remain immortal—become my subjects under dominion, and dye all enemies in deepest crimson…’”

【Divine Spell—Hell’s Song!】

From the dark and heavy sky, countless pale-white points of light poured down like a torrential rain, falling into the blood. The blood began to flow upward, forming one humanoid outline after another.

The outlines gradually became clear, transforming into figures clad in blood-red attire, their faces covered in grotesque and horrifying flesh-like patterns.

Their outfits varied greatly. Most of their uniforms belonged to the Astal era and the Seris Federation period. Some were even ancient Astal territorial military uniforms that even Mitia herself had never seen before.

As time passed, various weapons manifested in the hands of the blood-formed figures. They moved silently, clustering together into standard military formations. Crimson banners fluttered behind Funika, and within their hollow eye sockets burned a scarlet glow.

The range of the blood river continued to expand, and more and more figures emerged.

Funika tossed a Church insignia into the blood pool. Raising her staff, she pointed toward the Belzetsk Super Fortress, a manic expression on her face:

“‘Hold this ground, seize their lands. Everything within sight shall become the graves of my enemies—carry out execution!’”

“‘Target ahead! Kill on sight! No forgiveness!’”

At the front lines, the Alliance soldiers stared blankly at the starkly different world just a few meters away. Where they stood, the sky was clear and bright—but just ahead, everything was black and red, with howling winds and ghostly wails.

At Funika’s command, the endless crimson army began its unstoppable advance, devouring all life bearing Church insignias along the way.

From ancient cavalry, infantry, spearmen, and archers, to later firearms, bolt-action rifles, and machine guns—troops from different eras fought together. Such a scene was something few had ever witnessed.

As soon as the distance closed, the Church commander roared an order to fire, snapping the terrified Church soldiers back to their senses.

Dense barrages of bullets, shells, and magic rained upon the crimson formations. Yet the results were extremely limited—bullets and shells only punched holes into the bodies of those blood soldiers, with no further effect.

Magic caused somewhat more visible large-scale damage, but even that remained limited.

Meanwhile, the blood-red musketeers, now within range, raised their guns in perfect formation and began firing. Crimson energy projectiles shot toward the Church positions at high speed, producing effects no weaker than real bullets—and carrying corrosive properties.

The cavalry, long obsolete in conventional warfare, completely ignored all attacks. Charging through dense gunfire with bodies riddled with holes, they crashed into the Church ranks, kicking up waves of blood. In an instant, they shattered the formation.

Many blood soldiers were blasted into chunks of flesh by concentrated fire, falling into the blood river—only to rapidly regenerate and stand back up to continue the assault.

From an aerial perspective, the crimson tide rapidly filled every corner within the fortress, achieving full coverage before surging outward into the distance.

Funika let out a breath. At her side, Miwei appeared, her face pale as she stared at the sweeping blood tide.

“‘What kind of spell is this? Are they all unkillable? That’s terrifying.’”

“‘Not exactly. They can die—but killing them is extremely difficult.’”

“‘I only came up with this technique recently… hmm… I used the power of a Sovereign to communicate with military souls, combined it with my previous undead summoning techniques. This kind of army possesses bodies sustained by blood—so long as the blood remains, they do not die—and they carry an instinct for war engraved into their souls. They’re no longer mindless rotten flesh. Isn’t that impressive?’”

Miwei looked worried.

“‘Then what if someone else uses this technique? Wouldn’t we be unable to stop it?’”

Funika rolled her eyes.

“‘If someone else can gather sufficient corpse essence reserves, possess strength at the peak of Half-God level to invoke the Magic Goddess, and also summon a Sovereign who still commands immense influence over fallen soldiers—then sure, we’ll just take the beating. That’s fate.’”

Did she really think anyone else had her conditions? A stockpile of corpses from another world, an emperor-level sister, and magical affinity high enough to draw upon the unconscious power of the Magic Goddess.

Miwei fell silent.

“‘…Then is this war against the Church over?’”

Funika shook her head.

“‘Unlikely. I estimate the number of summoned soldiers at around 700,000. If the Goddess of Light and Saint-level powerhouses intervene, it’s normal for them to be wiped out. But capturing three Super Fortresses and half of Dmitria shouldn’t be a problem.’”

Miwei stroked her smooth chin.

“‘That’s still good. Losing three bridgeheads means the Church is basically crippled. And opening the land transport route to Ernesto will definitely make the Empress happy.’”

“‘She’ll definitely be happy.’”

Funika glanced at the twin Church Saint Spirits beside her—both body and mind under her control—and a mischievous smile curved her lips.

“‘If she can accept my gift, I’ll be even happier~’”

She refused to believe that, under layers of compounded pleasure, Mitia—this mature woman—could still withstand it.

Meanwhile, Mitia, under arrangements by the Propaganda Department, was delivering a nationwide address, initiating the Seris Alliance’s full transition into a wartime state.

“‘No matter how other noble imperialists smear us, they cannot deny that we were reborn from a feudal kingdom plagued by extreme poverty, low economic development, and severe shortages of education, food, and medical care—rising through the efforts of the working people themselves to achieve universal basic healthcare, education, and survival guarantees.’”

After multiple rounds of war-readiness alerts, factories across the Alliance had already halted operations, awaiting final government directives.

Large crowds gathered in squares and parks, attentively listening to the voice of their Empress.