Chapter 130 Faith
The argument about candy and ingratitude ended with the professor's merciless punch - right on the nose. The savior covered his nose and gasped pitifully, his amazing blue eyes were covered by wet eyelashes, and he trembled slightly with grievance and innocence.
The victorious professor frowned and elegantly straightened his collar which had been torn apart in the struggle.
"You deserve it." The victor raised his chin arrogantly and announced coldly: "Don't look at me like that, I won't help you blow it."
“…”
The man held onto the table with one hand, saying nothing. He had clearly been gradually shedding his teenage size, becoming more and more like an adult man, yet now he looked particularly weak and pitiful. The professor frowned at him for a moment, finally letting out an impatient tsk, and roughly yanked the man's hand away from his face.
"let go."
There was no expected bleeding, not even any bruising or swelling, but he still pinched it quickly and carefully with his hands.
"...There's nothing wrong with the bones." The black-haired young man narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Are you kidding me?"
He knew his own limitations. It was impossible for an ordinary person like him to make a saint lose his fighting power with just one punch.
“…It hurts.”
The handsome blond young man shook his head slightly, frowning slightly. Anyone who saw him would have the urge to present all the beauty in the world to him - but this trick had no effect on the professor.
"Then please remember this lesson today, and I sincerely hope that you can learn something from it," the professor said coldly.
He pulled the troublesome piece of candy out of the savior's hand, tore off the wax paper in a few seconds, and stuffed it roughly into the man's mouth.
"This matter ends here." Seeing the man puffing up one cheek and looking at him in surprise, the black-haired young man announced expressionlessly, "We're even. No more quarrels."
...Then the guy started laughing, a silent laugh, his eyes curved softly, like a madman.
Nova: “…”
He returned to his desk, unperturbed, picked up the photo stone, and began to tinker with it. He was oblivious to the fact that behind him, the muscle fibers within the Savior's enchanting blue irises were already violently twisting like a deep-sea whirlpool, a kind of oppressive calm before the arrival of a world-destroying tsunami—but the moon still rested on the sea, the water greedily and forbearingly kissing his moon silently.
"...a believer of the Storm God, a devout believer in a dead god." The professor tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I haven't read much literature on the subject—how do you Natalin people view 'faith'? Are you an exception?"
The other party was silent for a moment, then slowly replied: "No, and my mother Elena."
His tone was as gentle as before: "She was also a faithless person. In order to hide me from the eyes of the gods, she eventually burned her soul."
Nova blinked slowly. His already limited common sense in human interaction told him that comfort was probably necessary at this moment—but even when the Savior spoke of these painful past events, he still displayed a calm and composed composure that came from a lifetime of experience.
"Although all the other Natalin people are believers, in my opinion, faith is more like a habit that has been passed down for too long, but no one has yet considered whether it is correct." He even chuckled. "After all, for the Natalin people living in the Asaqi Valley, they are actually more grateful to King Corentin, the 'Son of the Hurricane,' who burned his soul for his people and created the Wall of Sighs, rather than the long-lost Storm God Utosca."
The Natalin people admired those who got things done, like the points system practiced in the valley—as long as one got work done, one would be recognized and respected, even if one was a dragon. Conversely, no matter how eloquent or skilled at winning people over, it would be difficult to gain the favor of those arrogant warriors.
After all, even those favored by God sometimes have to repair their houses themselves.
Due to the death of the God of Storms, although it is not obvious for the time being, it also means that apart from him, there has not been a powerful warlock in the valley for a long time.
The Natalin religious leader added with foresight, "Perhaps after a few generations, when the Natalin people discover that faith is useless, their belief in the Storm God will naturally fade away."
"But a person lacking any external influence chooses to believe in a dead, useless god, even participating in such cruel and ignorant religious activities." Azuka's voice cooled slightly. "I don't understand."
The other party had some Natalin blood - this also meant that those compatriots who had survived the torrent of history had evolved into something he could not understand in a corner that he had never noticed.
He wasn't in pain, but he still felt a... very slight sadness.
The professor paused, then slowly raised his head, his smoky gray eyes calmly gazing at his companion. "Why do you think people develop faith? Why do they allow religion to manipulate them?"
His voice was deep. "When I say 'generating faith,' I don't mean a transaction like 'only believing in God can give you power.' That's an additional consequence, not a cause. What I mean is, there are so many ordinary people who can't become sorcerers or warriors. Why do they still choose to believe in one or more religions?"
"Some people explain it as 'because the lower classes are ignorant.'" The thin, dark-haired scholar looked rather stern at the moment—but rather than teaching someone, he seemed more like he was questioning himself: "No, this is a kind of simplistic and irresponsible way of thinking and judging."
He looked so decisive that the onlookers were almost awed and thought that this was a monarch who had everything and was pronouncing the most irrefutable judgment in the world.
In ancient times, faith and religion stemmed from a fear of the unpredictable nature. Today, their root lies in the brutal oppression of the upper classes by the lower classes, forcing them to live in constant fear of losing their property and social status, becoming beggars, prostitutes, slaves, or heretics, or even losing their lives. This suffering, as cruel and unpredictable as natural disasters and seemingly irresistible, forces them to seek illusory solace and help.
"So religious belief is born out of that—in other words, religious belief comes out of the fear that humans currently cannot avoid."
After the words fell, the professor himself fell silent again.
In the quiet room, he suddenly took off his glasses and pinched his nose bridge tiredly.
Perhaps the night can be emotionally charged. A sudden, strange, and sorrowful fragility engulfed him like a tide. He drifted in the long river of time and fate, tossing and turning in immense pain that others could not understand. The black-haired young man looked at the image reflected by the photo stone—a person, humbly crawling on the ground.
Someone slowly put their arms around his shoulders from behind, very lightly, without any sense of oppression, but it allowed him to rest his heavy head on another person's chest, feeling the beating of his heart.
Some invisible force prompted him to confess the fears that had always been hidden deep in his chest and tormented him day and night to the only person in the world he could confide in, and even the only person who could possibly understand him.
The black-haired young man put up a desperate fight, pursing his lips tightly - but the embrace of his own kind was so warm, warm enough to make human rationality suddenly collapse.
"…So if one wants to eliminate religious beliefs, empty slogans are useless, destroying the body is foolish, and silent tolerance is hopeless."
He spoke again, his voice growing tired, weary and gentle, and Azuka suddenly felt from his old enemy a great, terrible loneliness that was enough to plunge one into an inescapable despair - but the stranger still persisted in speaking, as if he was describing a clear and beautiful illusion.
“…Perhaps when everyone lives in a free, equal, orderly, and healthy society, able to obtain all the resources they need through their own hard work…Perhaps only when material wealth is greatly enriched and spiritual realms are greatly elevated, will people’s understanding of religion continue to become more rational and scientific.”
Even in his world, religion has never disappeared.
"...It sounds like a beautiful dream." The male protagonist of the comic said in a low voice.
"Yes, a dream, and we call all those fools who chase dreams idealists." The professor in his arms said calmly, "Based on the current social productivity of this world and the normal laws of development, our dreams will never come true in this lifetime... at least in my lifetime—unless you can become a god and live for hundreds or thousands of years."
He even made a joke that wasn't funny, and he knew it.
The Savior lowered his eyes. From his perspective, he could only see the other's drooping eyelashes, wearily drooping. He suddenly wanted to kiss him, again and again, gently, solemnly, and reverently, like using a tiny, soft brush to clean a great, fallen star that hadn't yet been burned out by the atmosphere, brushing away the brilliant, strange fires that exploded and fissioned under the laws of the universe.
But his Xingchen had put his glasses back on, and he seemed to have regained his former rationality, as if the slight fragility just now had never happened.
"But there's one thing," the professor said calmly and with a hint of sarcasm, "and that's that people can easily believe that a being that has never appeared can save them from danger and save their terrible lives—but it's hard to believe that praying to someone as concrete as their next-door neighbor will have any effect, even if that person is a hero in an epic poem."
Azuka quickly realized what he was referring to.
"History of Gods".
…
After the professor left, Azuka suddenly raised her eyes slowly towards the corner in the study room where it seemed like only one person was left.
"You heard it all."
He said it indifferently and calmly.
The author has something to say:
The professor's views come from the Selected Works of Lenin
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