Chapter 61

The brown-haired boy knew what he was taking on.

Thousands of years have passed, and the gods have been asleep for so long that their inspiration has dissipated, the abilities of those with talents have been downgraded, and the whole world has become increasingly silent.

If that were all, it wouldn't be a bad thing. After all, if, in the end, gifted people were no different from ordinary people, the oppression from gifted people would disappear.

But the problem is that there are not only people with talents in this world, but also monsters lurking in the Dead Sea of ​​Della and the Northern Ice Realm.

——It is said that the god sleeps in the deepest abyss of the Dead Sea. The power he exudes imprisons creatures that can pose a great threat to humans, forming a solid line of defense.

But now, with all the foolish actions of mankind - such as trying to obtain this divine power from the monster's body through experiments, and the loss of this power over time, the barrier has become extremely fragile.

If we don't awaken Him, the collapse of this world will be imminent.

Xia Zuo lowered his head. In just a few seconds, he had collected himself. After hesitating for a moment, he softly asked, "...You know I won't believe it, right?"

So the other party didn't even think about whether to agree or not, but just threw the problem back to me and let me give up on my own.

This feeling was too familiar...it even reminded him of someone for a moment.

The black-haired prophet didn't answer the question. He looked at the young man who had made his choice with almost no hesitation. He simply raised his hand and broke off a long laurel branch.

"The laurel tree is believed to grow on the border of life and death, welcoming the dead and comforting the living." He handed the branch to Xia Zuo. "The dead are gone, young master. You should look forward."

Xia Zuo was dazed for a moment and took the branch.

The voice ringing in my mind is so transcendent and gentle that I can't help but be convinced and admire it.

The next second he felt something was wrong: "Wait, I haven't asked yet - you seem very familiar with me? Do you know anything about me?"

Despite being pressed by someone he had just met, the black-haired prophet remained calm and detached, shaking his head gently: "I simply saw your request, that's all."

“…”

Xia Zuo was silent for a moment: "So you... can really resurrect the dead?"

Even if we put aside our selfish motives, this ability is still too terrifying.

He felt that he had been asking too many questions since arriving here. Any other gift holder would have lost their temper after being grilled like this – the content of a gift was a very personal matter, even involving one's life and property.

But the other person still seemed calm, so calm that Xia Zuo even felt it was unreal. He was not angry, and even his emotions were unclear. He was as gentle and patient as ever:

"That's not my ability, I've already said that, young sir."

"It's not whether I can resurrect the person you want to resurrect, but whether your faith can afford the price of resurrection."

The faith of ordinary people, gifted holders, and - clergy, even if it is of the same degree, has very different values.

Similarly, if you want to get what you want, unless you are like More, who desires it to the point that it is almost equivalent to your life and regards him as your last faith and life-saving straw, it is almost impossible to see a "miracle" unless "Christine" herself makes up for the missing parts for them.

But stepping back, as long as your faith is valuable enough, pure and passionate enough, you can get almost everything.

This was the power of the Agent's bloodline. He could borrow the power of the gods, using himself as a medium to manifest his divine power before others.

If there is no such attempt and no faith and prayers from others, it will be very difficult to awaken this ability. This is probably the reason why the ancestors of the Crest family set the rule that "agents" need to enter the world to preach.

Xizel could feel that his blood and power were becoming purer. One day, when he was bleeding accidentally due to an arrangement by the comic world, he even saw a streak of bright gold flowing in his blood.

Bloodline and priesthood.

Hidden beneath the platinum satin, the black-haired boy's misty blue eyes were calm and rational.

"You pay the price for your wish with human faith..." After a pause, Xia Zuo tried to soften his tone a little.

"If a true god were to awaken one day, you, who hold even a modicum of faith, would likely be watched. Believe me, this is not a good sign. You might go mad or die."

Xia Zuo advised seriously.

The defected senior member of the picket tower he met on his way to escape taught him a lot of things -

For example, the closer one is to the gods, the more precarious their mental state becomes. Such supreme beings are difficult for humans to grasp. Unless one has divine bloodline or is born with an incomparably high level of intelligence, they can barely withstand the repeated destruction.

When Xia Zuo heard this, he remembered the scene when he and César first met Ursula.

Ursula merged with the monsters from the Dead Sea of ​​Della and possessed some of the power that originated from the gods, but it had almost no effect on him. However, César seemed to see her at first sight.

This seemed to confirm the fact that although he was Crest, he was just an ordinary person.

The black-haired prophet tilted his head slightly and did not respond. Xia Zuo could not tell what he was thinking.

However……

Xia Zuo paused for a moment, his pupils shrank slightly, and he replayed the other person's movement of tilting his head in his mind. He almost used up all his strength to restrain himself from moving forward.

——Why does this action look so much like Caesar?

Also, he also has long black hair...

Could it really be such a coincidence?

But he quickly dismissed his thoughts. Caesar had died before his eyes, having volunteered to enter the cage to save him. The Black-Haired Prophet, on the other hand, had been in the wasteland for a long time, and his abilities were different from Caesar's.

What's more, if the person in front of him was really his good friend, he would not fail to recognize him - this aura was obviously unfamiliar.

The black-haired prophet seemed to have noticed something, but did not say it out loud. Compared with Xizel's calm, cold, and somewhat evil personality, he was more gentle and tolerant, and he always had a god-like compassion.

Xia Zuo deduced that his talent should be towards the bright side, or have the effect of increasing affinity - as long as he stood here, without saying anything, it would be difficult for others to have any bad feelings towards him, and they might even want to get close to him.

——Just like a baby’s closeness to its parents.

He couldn't help but think of the tune the little girl hummed before entering the church: "... Praise my great Heavenly Father, sing praises to my great Heavenly Father... You have a vast kingdom of heaven and countless believers..."

Xia Zuo took a deep breath and gained a new understanding of the prophet's ability to collect faith.

"You told them you were God?" he asked.

The black-haired prophet shook his head again, as if sighing, and said, "I never said that. I always told them that I am not a god."

Xia Zuo's eyes widened: "...Ah?"

Suddenly, I felt guilty.

The other party never claimed to be a god. He simply used his abilities to help ordinary people to the best of his ability. It was just that the way he used his abilities required faith...

Did he do anything wrong? No.

It was these people who had received his grace who voluntarily and insistently called him Heavenly Father. He had openly stated that he was not God, and even the titles of prophet and oracle were given by his believers. What could he do?

Xia Zuo: ...Thinking about it this way, I suddenly feel that the person in front of me deserves to die innocently.

But why does something seem a little off...?

This feeling is like the one that only appeared occasionally when facing Caesar in the past, the illusion that seems right, but also seems not quite right.

However, the black-haired prophet did not give him the opportunity to doubt his life.

He whispered, "Follow me."

Xia Zuo paused, and because of the good impression he had just regained of the person in front of him, he followed smoothly, and then saw the black-haired prophet wearing a platinum priestly robe quietly opening a side door.

Xia Zuo looked inside the door and was stunned for a moment.

——There are about a dozen disabled people with broken arms or legs gathered here, quietly weaving wreaths or knitting clothes. Maybe not all of them have smiles on their faces, but one can tell at a glance that they are living a relaxed and happy life now.

When they get tired, they look at each other, laugh, and start singing.

Xia Zuo murmured: "They..."

He remembered the slums he had seen in the White Elephant area.

The people there were trying their best to survive, with faces showing either scheming and calculation or indifference, like the walking dead, not to mention the disabled people.

But the people here don't look like ordinary disabled people in marginal areas at all.

"When Mol first came here, she had no eyes or legs." A calm and forgiving voice echoed in Xia Zuo's mind again: "Her belief was too desperate, and she was one in a million. Perhaps these people will never reach the level of my ability and regain their limbs in their lifetime."

—but it was obvious that he still provided them with a shelter, and these people did not become obsessed with obtaining a healthy body and become resentful because they could not achieve it.

On the contrary, being able to have enough food and clothing and not having to worry about personal safety day and night is already a great blessing for them.

They are just ordinary people, living near the Eastwood Prison for the Insane, where talented criminals gather. They just want to survive, that's all.

Christine watched them.

The comic's will detected that his state of mind was terrifyingly calm, as if there was not a single ripple.

But for a moment, it couldn't tell whether he saw these people and thought of himself who had tried every possible way to survive since he was a child.

Xia Zuo also felt the extremely subtle changes in the emotions of the people around him.

He was silent for a moment, then let out a breath.

"You look a lot like a friend of mine."

The brown-haired boy seemed to have thought of something, and smiled unconsciously, then lowered his head and shook it: "No matter what, you have helped a lot of people, this is a fact. I admire you very much-"

"Christine."

Xia Zuo was stunned.

...Is this his name?

The brown-haired boy's golden eyes, which had always been dull, now had a little more brilliance:

"Shazo Freeman."

"I'll probably stay here for the next few months." The brown-haired boy shrugged, then became a little uncertain at the end: "...You want me to stay, right? I can help you drive away those with bad intentions."

This isn't about helping Christine, this is about helping these people who are trying to live.

He said to himself in his heart.

"certainly."

Christine tilted her head and smiled.

"From this day forward, you and the gods will be inseparable."