Chapter 94 Humanity
According to the ancient legends widely spread across the continent of Ambrose, the gods were born from the Okansele River, reaching maturity when their feet first touched the earth. Newborn gods walked along the river, encountering ancestors willing to kneel and worship them, granting them the right to resonate with the gods.
To Nova, this was all bullshit.
How could it be such a coincidence? To put it simply, if we observe the statues of gods that have survived to this day and are well preserved, the older the gods are, especially those dating back to the first century, their statues and portraits happen to be basically consistent with the main ethnic characteristics of the corresponding areas where the early believers were distributed.
Given that these long-lived gods truly existed, and that faith was paramount to them, they would never tolerate believers worshipping false statues. Therefore, the personal influence of the sculptors and painters can be almost ignored. Furthermore, the low productivity, limited range of activities, and harsh living environment of the early centuries meant that survival depended on living in groups. Therefore, it's not difficult to conclude that the first believers of the newly born gods were their own kind.
How could a person with the same race be born from somewhere other than the mother's womb?
Moreover, over time, later deities gradually developed more indisputable characteristics that emerged with the development of science and culture. For example, in a portrait of a deity from the same era as its "birth," one can even observe signs of chronic lead poisoning, a time when the use of lead powder for whitening skin was extremely popular among the upper class.
This was common sense to Nova, even the foundation of all theological research, but the Vatican disapproved of it, and the academic community disagreed. While still a student at White Tower University, he had attempted to study the history of the gods before they became gods—and coincidentally, his chosen subject was Utosca, the God of Storms.
For some reason, there were very few historical documents related to this god, as if someone had deliberately hidden them. His persistence had finally led him to discover, in a fragment of a Karak poem, a local national hero who perfectly matched the title of "Storm God."
Unfortunately, before his research results were published, his then-mentor, Rabelais, urgently stopped his work and sternly warned him not to touch on this topic again unless he wanted to be taken away by the Inquisition for Heresy.
...Now this part of the taboo content has been written into the "Divine History".
Nova stared calmly at the title of the latest chapter he had written, which would appear alone at the beginning of the entire history of God.
"Origins: The Age of Man".
What he saw in the wanderer and the traveling god was "God bound by man," while what he saw in the owl was "God was once human." But for the Church, both the former and the latter were absolutely intolerable acts of blasphemy.
Nova knew the earth-shattering shock that would be caused by the release of this issue of Divine History, and he also knew clearly that the "Divine Punishment Incident" in his previous life that destroyed the entire seminary must be related to this chapter which only occupied one tenth of the entire book.
But it still lay quietly scattered across his desk, like a vast expanse of land separated by some kind of nonexistent existence. He stood on the orbit of the stars, being pulled downward by the immense force of gravity, and could only look down in silence at the world that was getting closer and closer, and that was about to kill him. His world.
...It's not the time yet, not yet.
The black-haired young man let out a sigh and locked this part of the manuscript in the most hidden corner of the bookcase again.
He and Owl had done all of this in private, without telling his teacher or even the God's Favored One. The former would never agree to it, as it was too dangerous. The Church would bear the brunt of the consequences and if he was accused of being an unbeliever, he would be hanged immediately.
As for the latter...
The professor simply went into the bathroom and washed his face, cooling his brain from its long period of efficient thinking. The mirror reflected a pale, thin face belonging to a young man, sickly from exhaustion, his eyes alone gleaming with a chilling brightness. He subconsciously touched his still-cold forehead.
A goodnight kiss. The person smiled, but he couldn't read the emotion in their eyes. Nova had seen this tender ritual before. A five-year-old boy in the same ward cried and refused to wear a breathing mask before surgery. His mother kissed him on the forehead with tears in her eyes.
But he wasn't a dying child, and the other person wasn't crying, much less his mother. He couldn't understand what the God's Favored One was asking of him. He had already given so much, yet the other person remained calm and insatiable—the unfamiliarity and confusion of this out-of-control transaction left him at a loss.
It must be a product of nothingness, he thought, inscrutable and irrational, like an illusion created by sadness, faith, memory and atropine... and humans are pathetic creatures who need such illusions.
Nova lowered his eyes expressionlessly, staring at his bare fingers that were sore from being washed by the water.
...So before he figured out what that person wanted from him, he would define the other person as an extremely dangerous existence in a certain sense, who might get out of control at any time due to factors he could not understand.
"professor?"
Azuka looked at the black-haired young man in surprise, who was clearly startled by his voice. He turned his head and glared at him, his fingers pressing hard against the edge of the sink, his knuckles turning pale from the pressure. "I remember I locked the door."
"I knocked." The God-Favored One looked at him innocently. "I knocked for a while, but you didn't respond. I was worried something might happen, so I came in without permission."
Last time, too, by the time he realized something was amiss and barged in, the man had already fallen asleep in the tub, exhausted. By the time he pulled him out, dripping wet, the water had already covered his chin—the tyrant, a feared figure in his previous life, had nearly drowned himself in the tub.
Seeing his old enemy still glaring at him, his fur standing on end in fear, the God-Favored One sighed softly and leaned forward to turn the water valve. "The water isn't turned off—it must be the sound of the water running too loudly that drowned out the knocking."
Noticing the other person's body stiffening, Azuka narrowed his eyes calmly and said, "Why, were you thinking about something just now?"
The black-haired young man raised his eyelids and looked at him expressionlessly for a moment, then turned away coldly and wiped his fingers clean with a towel: "I don't remember a time when my brain didn't work while I was awake."
The other man stared at the professor's indifferent profile and suddenly said, "No more coffee."
Then he saw with satisfaction that the other person seemed to relax a little, and was frowning at him in disdain: "I think you need to make one fact clear right now - you are not my mother."
The savior who was given the title of mother: "..."
He raised his eyes with a half-smile: "If I were your mother, I would spank you right now."
"You dare."
"You also need to understand one fact right now," the God-Favoured One said gently, "At least for now, you are powerless to resist anything I want to do to you."
"Thank you for your reminder." Nova glanced at the guy blocking the bathroom door and said, "Let's stop chatting now. Please move aside. I need to rest."
He sneered mercilessly, "After all, I'm just a fragile ordinary person, not the kind of jerk who wakes you up in the middle of the night and then tells you to go back to sleep."
The other person was silent for a moment and made way for him. "Are you angry with me?"
"Yes." The other party admitted it without hesitation. After standing in front of the bookcase and hesitating for a while, he took out a book.
Catching a glimpse of the book's cover, the corners of the God's Favored One's mouth twitched. "...You mean resting? Reading a book about the principles of celestial motion?"
Then he received a puzzled look: "Change your brain, why not take a break?"
“…”
Nova's eyes suddenly blurred. When he came to his senses, he found that he had been tucked into the sofa, covered with a thin blanket, and his book appeared in the hands of another person.
"I'll read it." The guy sat down next to him without any courtesy, and without waiting for his protest, he forcibly wrapped him tightly with a thin velvet blanket, making him too lazy to struggle.
Before he had finished reading half a page, Azuka felt his shoulders sag - the savior lowered his eyes and saw that even though his nemesis had fallen asleep, his brows were still slightly furrowed.
He gently pulled the man's face, letting him lie down smoothly. The man first lay on his legs for a while, then, as if feeling uncomfortable, he curled up like a cat, burying his face in his lower abdomen, the warmth of his breath clearly felt.
Azuka: “…”
He closed his eyes patiently and gently pinched the other person's chin to move him out a little so that he wouldn't have difficulty breathing in his sleep.
Even after all this torment, the man showed no sign of waking up. The small portion of his face, obscured by black hair, was devoid of any healthy color, and as cold as mist. The savior couldn't help but gently brush away the stray hair, touching his brow with his fingers—the tide of dreams had overwhelmed him, but his sharp brows were still subconsciously furrowed, like black velvet wrapped around broken glass.
...He is very tired.
During this time, the other person was bearing immense mental pressure far exceeding his own, forcing himself to think constantly, almost to the point of overload, about things he knew and didn't know. Perhaps it was because this place contained everything the villain cared about, while the savior was only observing a single individual.
His nemesis had forgotten to wear gloves, and the gaps between his fingers were an unhealthy red, with many deep and shallow marks on his finger bones, as if scratched by teeth. At this moment, he was subconsciously grabbing everything he could reach, whether it was a furry blanket or another person's warm fingers.
The Savior once again thought of the question from that man.
—Will you watch the stars burst into brilliant strange fire before you as if dying... or will you let them become your completely cold toy?
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