Chapter 51

Sylvain was born when the world was still nothingness.

He is not one of the pantheons of this world. He comes from the void. He is the accumulation of all malice and the condensation of all dark matter. He awaits the formation of the world and the birth of gods, and finally creates hell with his own hands, and sleeps eternally in the tower of hell.

A race that mistakenly entered hell was corrupted by malice and transformed into demons.

After Sylvain's discovery, he decided to create a new space to house Hell.

From then on, hell existed only in the void.

The dead wander here and are reincarnated. Sylvain sets the laws of judgment, and Hell operates on its own. He sleeps in the tower, and many more years have passed.

During this time, the gods fought among themselves while maintaining friendly relations, and none of them dared to provoke the one from hell.

Humans called them demons or evil gods.

As long as malice persists, the demons that mutated earlier will continue to multiply and thrive. Later, the demons revered the evil god Sylvain as their progenitor, just as the elves always proudly claimed that the earth god was their progenitor.

Veris first heard Sylvain's name from the Mother Goddess, but she seemed displeased and let it pass by casually.

The language of God is different from that of humans. Young Veris did not learn the language of God, nor did he know that the name he was pronouncing was Sylvain.

“Sylvain…”

In the distant void, independent of the continent of Icarus, Hell remains silent. The souls of the dead wander toward reincarnation. Some souls, unwilling to leave, build houses in Hell and wait for the oppressive power of the evil god to erode their souls.

A small town gradually emerged here.

At the end of the small town was an open space, and further ahead was the tower where the evil god slept.

Suddenly one day, He heard someone calling His name.

Ten thousand years have passed... He only remembers that at that time, he had to split a part of his divinity to absorb faith, otherwise his body would be damaged.

Humans are calling upon Him, so let's go see what's wrong.

His name is Sylvain.

The scorching heat spread, turning the entire sky an ominous orange-red, the air scorching terribly, faith shattered, and humanity cried out in despair as they died.

Someone was poking his face and muttering something under their breath.

Sylvain opened his eyes in a daze and met a pair of beautiful eyes that looked like black gemstones.

At that moment, my heart was pounding like a drum.

The bedroom was warm and cozy. Beside the soft bed, Veris held a book. When she noticed that the person on the bed was awake, she turned her head away. Only a small lamp was on in the room, and the cold light outside the window was hazy, indicating that dawn was approaching.

The dim light outlined the young man's features; he had regained the same hair color as he remembered—white, like pure snow.

He was only wearing a dark bathrobe, his slender collarbones were dazzlingly white, his white hair hung down, his lips were slightly dark, and his features were as handsome as I remembered.

Sylvain reached out his hand, and Veris was taken aback. He put the book on his lap and watched as Sylvain gently grasped his fingers and then moved them upwards, touching the protruding bone.

His best friend's voice was a little hoarse. There were only the two of them in the bedroom, and his voice fell into their ears.

"You've been so many years, how come you're even thinner than you were back then?"

During the chaotic period, it was common to be trapped somewhere for days without food or water. After Lortheran decided to unify the continent, the city was sometimes ambushed and its food supply was cut off. This had an impact on the following decades, with most residents being emaciated, even the city lords who controlled their own territories.

Veris lowered his eyes. He should have said something to make the scene less bleak, but when the words came to his lips, even though he was usually eloquent, he didn't know what to say.

Knowing he wouldn't die, Veris was often so busy that he forgot to eat, at most he would feel a little unwell.

Before establishing his kingdom, he was busy helping Lor'theran wage war and building his own church.

After the kingdom was established, he became even busier, busy suppressing forces in various regions, busy killing unruly foreign tribes, and spending nights thinking about how to help the people escape from famine.

Every era has its own tasks to keep you busy with.

Restoring the economy, compiling laws, organizing history, cooperating with other races, establishing the Royal Capital Academy... Everyone can make mistakes, but he cannot.

Even now, everything he does is the best choice made after careful calculation.

That day, Sylvain asked him in the same tone as usual if he wanted to have breakfast.

In fact, he didn't remember to eat breakfast until the end of the day.

A slightly cool hand reached out to brush his hair away, but Sylvain had already sat up.

Veris reached out and grabbed his friend's wrist, a smile spreading across his face. He couldn't quite describe his feelings, but thankfully the dim lighting in the room and the fact that his unkempt hair was enough to conceal the tears welling in his eyes.

"Go and get some rest. I haven't slept all night." He tried his best to be calm, but he couldn't help but tremble at the last word.

The next second, he was embraced by a friend who held him silently, as if they had returned to many years ago when they were still on adventures.

Veris stood there stunned, then suddenly realized that their last meeting had actually been far too humiliating.

He then plunged the same dagger that had pierced his own heart into his friend's heart, resulting in mutual injury, and he fled in a sorry state.

In the final battle of the gods at dusk, Sylvain did not appear, leaving behind only his most powerful divine essence and boundless divine power.

Sylvain's desperate face that day was, in fact, their last meeting.

“I’ve never blamed you,” Veris said hoarsely. “How could you not even see me one last time?”

The light cast their shadows together on the wall.

“I’m sorry,” Sylvain’s voice broke out, “I thought you wouldn’t want to see me.”

Having been nearly killed by his most trusted friend, whose dagger was even said to belong to a god, Sylvain went mad after regaining his senses. He couldn't even bear to recall Veris's eyes at that moment, yet they kept flashing before his eyes as if in self-torture.

Veris pursed his lips. He wanted to call this guy stupid. Back then, he thought Sylvain was just a powerful magician, obviously being manipulated by that damned Yannis. How could he be so stupid as not to even think of that?

But by the time he recovered from his injuries and was ready to fight Yannis again, Yannis was already dead, leaving only Ambrose, who had been severely wounded by Sylvain.

It was then that he learned that his best friend was the legendary demon.

“Back then, I gave you my godhood directly. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see you. My godhood rank was too high. Once it manifested, it would definitely start a battlefield. I didn’t want to hurt you, so I just self-destructed,” Sylvain explained earnestly.

He straightened up and stared at the stunned face of the person in front of him: "The decision I made back then wasn't out of guilt."

“Cupid can see through all the emotions in the world,” he said, taking Veris’s hand and pressing it to his chest. Veris felt the powerful beating of his heart beneath his palm. “From the moment I saw you, this heart beat only for you.”

When Veris inherited the divinity of the god of love, Sylvain was already dead.

He also failed to see that the love that was growing wildly in that heart was like thorns, enveloping it completely.

Too many things were missed back then, and by the time Veris came to his senses, everything had already settled down.

He has become a pope who looks down upon all living beings.

Before awakening Sylvain's divine nature, Veris was still wondering if Sylvain would be different from what he imagined, and he had been reading the book in his hand for half the night without turning a page.

Now I understand that no matter what kind of Sylvain he was, he would be moved by him.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips against his friend's slightly cool lips.

The words that came out were like a lover's murmur: "Don't leave me again, Sylvain."

-

On the eve of the New Year, which is also the last day of the year, the Papacy holds a grand baptism as is customary. The huge square is full of alms stalls, and although it is alms, the ingredients are not cheap.

There were also jugglers, bards playing cheerful tunes nearby, and children playing happily in the square.

Arnold and the others went to the church and received a bottle of holy water. The bottle was small, with a narrow neck tied with a red ribbon.

The boy held the bottle and studied it for a long time, muttering to himself about what holy water was.

The pastor said that you can just pour holy water into your wash and it's okay to drink it.

After finishing his meal, Arnold poured the holy water into a basin and washed his hands, but he didn't feel anything afterward.

He nervously asked his companion what changes had occurred in his body.

Astor stroked his chin and circled him several times before saying with certainty, "Arnold, you seem to have grown a beard."

"ah?!"

Watching the boy run to the restroom, Allen sighed, "Isn't this normal?" A fifteen or sixteen-year-old boy should be growing a beard by now.

Murphy sat quietly to one side, drinking tea.

They sat in a corner of the restaurant. It was already dark outside, and the cheers of people could be heard in the distance. The church was decorated with lights and colorful decorations, and the alms stalls in the square were preparing to pack up and leave, making room for everyone to move around.

I heard there will be a fireworks display and a bonfire party tonight.

The fireworks were set off outside the south city wall, and the Papal Square was an excellent viewing spot. They planned to go to the square after dinner.

Having been on edge the entire journey, Arnold and his companions have found a rare moment of relaxation and comfort since arriving at the Papacy.

Astor was still enjoying his meal, while Allen had finished eating and was also drinking tea, when suddenly they heard a commotion coming from the restaurant entrance.

This is quite rare in a restaurant; even Astor, who was engrossed in eating his grilled meat, turned his head to look.

Calling it a disturbance wouldn't be quite right; it was just that a few people were talking a little too loudly.

At the doorway, two chubby figures were circling around a man.

Allen was taken aback and recognized one of them as Archbishop Garcia, who had rescued them that day.

Logically speaking, the archbishops should be dining on the second floor, so why are they on the first floor?

The man surrounded by the archbishop had a grin on his face and showed no respect for him. He even pushed Garcia aside and tried to leave. Allen, who had excellent hearing, heard the man say that he was going to eat.

The other chubby archbishop was none other than Clark. He didn't recognize the man, but seeing his old friend's strange expression, he became curious as well.

Garcia moved closer and asked, "You look so familiar. What's your name?"

Lortheran didn't have a good impression of his descendants. It would be fine if they were his own sons and grandsons, but Garcia was from who-knows-how-many generations ago, and he didn't want to bother with him at all.

Of course, if Granvard were standing here, he would flatter him to the extreme, and he would be even happier if Granvard wrote ten novels in a row because of his flattery.

When Garcia saw that Lortheran ignored him, he chuckled and said, "You're playing hard to get, aren't you?"

Lortheran was frozen in place by his words, as if struck by lightning.

Damn it, this line is so catchy when written by Granvars, how come it sounds so vulgar when this fat guy says it!

Clark, standing nearby, glanced at his old friend in disbelief and tried to back away while clutching his arm.

The restaurant was still quite crowded at this hour. The pastors, priests, and church workers passing by all turned their heads in disbelief, staring at Archbishop Garcia with an air of certainty.

The man described as "playing hard to get" was indeed handsome, but at this moment his face was full of fear.

He took a few steps back: "What nonsense are you spouting!"

The onlookers gasped in shock; how dare this man speak to Archbishop Garcia like that!

...Well, actually, that's what they thought too.

After finally getting used to life with a body, Lortheran rushed to the restaurant to enjoy the delicacies he had been craving for so long. Back when he was alive, he didn't have access to these good foods.

I ran into Garcia and Clark as soon as I got outside.

Garcia called out to him with just a glimpse of his profile, saying he looked very familiar.

Lortheran's current face bears a 60% resemblance to his original face.

His genes are still very strong; even now, the princes in the royal family bear a resemblance to him.

"What's your name?" Garcia persisted, unfazed by the stares around him, after all, he was a prince with a strong mental fortitude.

Lortheran casually said a name: "My name is Martin."

The casualness with which he named his pets was no less than Garcia's casualness with his own pets.

It's obvious they're trying to fool Garcia.

Garcia wasn't stupid either. He was determined to find out who this person who looked like royalty but whom he had never seen before was, and his chubby body squeezed next to Lortheran.

Clark had already run away. When he got to the second floor, he saw his colleagues sitting at the long table having dinner, and he looked horrified: "Oh no! Garcia has his eye on a young man downstairs!"

Veris, who was selecting dishes not far away, turned around upon hearing this, looking equally shocked: "What?"

Clark noticed that the atmosphere on the second floor was unusually tense today. He shrank back, but still couldn't suppress his fear: "Garcia just encountered a man at the door who kept bothering him. When the man didn't want to talk to him, he said that Garcia was playing hard to get."

Veris: "?"

Is this human language? Why can't he understand it?

Sylvain, standing next to him, took the plate without expression: "Is there anything else you want to eat?"

Veris pointed to the other dishes and then eagerly ran to the second-floor corridor railing to look down.

There is a barrier between the first and second floors, including the stairs leading from the first to the second floor; only an archbishop can enter.

Looking down from the second floor, you can clearly see the scene on the first floor, but looking up from the first floor, you will only see a wall that is an illusion.

Clark lamented, "Isn't this like an old pig eating young grass?!"

Veris gripped the railing and looked down, and sure enough, he saw Garcia with a blond man. The people around them had already made way for them.

He paused for a moment. If he wasn't mistaken... no, this was Lortheran.

If that's the case, then the one who's an older man dating a younger woman should be Lortheran... no, that's ***!

……Pooh!

Veris gasped; he had almost been misled by Clark. Thank goodness, he had almost misunderstood Lortheran.

A few more people stood nearby, clearly others couldn't resist joining in the fun.

Fikry stared in disbelief: "How could Garcia be so shameless?"

Finney paused for a moment, then said weakly, "Perhaps there's some misunderstanding?"

Copperfield stroked his beard and commented, "Garcia has obviously been brainwashed by watching Granva's stuff. If he had his physique when he was younger, it would have been a good story."

Granva, who had just arrived, heard himself being mentioned and was filled with questions: "What happened to me?"

Clark recounted what he had just seen and heard in a very fast pace.

The old man's mouth dropped open. Several archbishops and a pope stood by the railing, looking down. Garcia was already squeezed opposite the blond man. The poor chair looked like it was about to collapse.

Veris said quietly, "It's outrageous that anyone would go and call him back."

Clark hugged himself and shook his head frantically, saying, "What if he takes a liking to me?"

"I'm going to throw up, Clark!" Fikris yelled as if he had heard some extremely vulgar language.

Finney felt ashamed and refused, saying, "I'm not going; I'm not familiar with it."

Copperfield was still looking down when he suddenly saw something and pointed in a certain direction: "That child looks a lot like that person too."

The group looked over together. None of the people present had ever seen Arnold before. After observing him carefully for a moment, Fikris concluded, "They really do look alike. Their bone structure is almost identical. Could they be father and son?"

Granva suddenly said sarcastically, "So you like married men, huh?"

Meeting the horrified look in his colleague's eyes, Granva shrugged: "Did I say something wrong?"

Veris: "..."

He really did raise a bunch of good-for-nothings.

Footsteps sounded behind him, and Sylvain's calm voice rang out: "It's time for dinner."

Veris responded and walked over, not forgetting to turn back and give a warning look to his incompetent subordinates: "Go and call him back right now, he's too embarrassing."

Finally, it was Granva, the old man, who volunteered to go down, saying he would have new material.

The others hesitated, unsure of whom to sympathize with.

Go watch the Pope and the Holy Son dine together? You'd be better off watching Garcia's antics.

Several archbishops stood obediently by the railing, watching Granva's figure appear in the first-floor restaurant.

Lortheran was somewhat annoyed by Garcia's linguistic torment, but he was always very adaptable; otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to roam around in his fragile undead body for hundreds of years.

So he continued to eat with elegance and composure. Garcia's eyes were barely slits, but his observation skills were extremely sharp. He immediately said, "Is this court etiquette? Who are you? I've never seen you before. Are you the child of some princess or prince?"

Lortheran rolled her eyes at him and refused to answer.

Just then, Granva finally crept over, and the two of them looked up at the uninvited guest who had entered the vacuum zone.

Garcia raised an eyebrow, about to ask Granva what he was doing on the first floor, when the chair opposite him suddenly ripped open with a "screech," and the man who had been ignoring him stood up, extremely excited, his face turning red.

"Lord Granvar, I have admired you for a long time!"

He pulled a thin book out of nowhere: "I bought all your latest novels!"

Granva: "..."

Lortheran's excited expression froze.

By the way... it seems that Granvart used a pseudonym when writing his novels.

He looked down; the novel's cover was flashy and highly recognizable, clearly the work of that legendary novelist.

Garcia stared wide-eyed.

On the second floor, Clark raised his hand and couldn't help but applaud: "The most embarrassing thing is yet to come."

Copperfield was laughing and patting the railing beside him. Of course, Felix knew what Granva was writing, and immediately felt an embarrassment so intense that he couldn't help but scratch the ground with his toes.

Finney's lips twitched, and he also felt a chill run down his spine.

"He mustn't faint from anger."

As it turned out, Granva's mental fortitude was no less than Garcia's. He denied it expressionlessly: "You've mistaken me for someone else. I've never written anything like this. Besides, I'm here to call Lord Garcia up."

Lortheran looked regretful. Damn it, how could he have forgotten something so important! Now, he's probably left an indelible impression on Granvar.

Why does fate have to play such a cruel trick on him?!

Garcia rubbed his nose, still unwilling to give up: "You still haven't told me who you are."

Granva lowered his voice: "His Holiness the Pope is up there too, so don't embarrass yourself."

His Highness the Prince turned his head: "What?!"

He struggled with the decision, but in the end he followed Granvar. Before leaving, he looked at Lortheran with lingering affection and said, "Don't leave after you finish eating. I'll come back for you. You can't escape my grasp."

Granva was suffocating: "Can you please stop quoting lines I wrote?"

"Once it's written, it's meant to be used!" Garcia declared confidently.

Lortheran, who was sitting there in great pain, didn't hear Garcia's instructions at all. He only felt that the gazes around him became even more strange. Fortunately, the priests were very tolerant and quickly continued their meal.

In a corner, the group of brave men watched the whole thing. Although Arnold arrived a little late, he also saw most of it.

He swallowed hard: "How terrifying."

The other companions strongly agreed.

It's terrifying that they would ask you not to leave after you've finished eating.

Only Murphy frowned slightly, hesitated for a moment, and then said, "I think that person looks a bit like you."

He looked at Arnold.

Arnold scratched the back of his head: "Really?"

Hearing this, Astor, who was standing next to him, also took a serious look at Lortheran, who was mechanically eating, as if he had discovered a new continent: "It really is!"

Arnold, however, was quite frank: "It's probably just a coincidence; there will always be people in the world who look alike."

"No, he reminds me a lot of you." Murphy rarely spoke so much.

Finally, they decided to secretly follow the person after he finished eating and left the restaurant.

Unaware that he was being watched, Lortheran finished his dinner without tasting it and planned to go find Veris.

He still didn't know what Veris wanted him to do; he guessed it would involve enslaving the old people.

By the way, let Veris say a few good words for Granva; he really didn't mean it, he was just too excited and forgot about it.

Thinking of this, his handsome face was filled with pain.

He walked around the corner and entered a quiet corridor. The next second, a figure darted out in front of him, of all shapes and sizes.

Lortheran stopped in his tracks.

He lowered his eyes. Could it be that ungrateful great-great-great-grandson had come to cause him trouble?

When he saw the face of the young man in the lead, Lortheran's gaze sharpened.

With blond hair and golden eyes, around fifteen or sixteen years old, and a somewhat familiar aura, there was no doubt that this was the hero Veris had mentioned, Arnold.

Was this the guy who broke up Veris and Sylvain?

Hurrah!

-----------------------

Author's Note: The long-beaked little couple (O)

Kiss get (O)

The wicked and domineering prince (the gluttonous version) falls in love with me (?).

Granwa (O) whose identity was revealed

Real or fake father and son (O)