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

Thousands of years have passed, and the gods have been sleeping 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 would still be a good thing. After all, if until the end, there was no difference between the gifted and ordinary people, the oppression from the gifted 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 Land.

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

But now, with all the stupid behavior of mankind - such as trying to obtain this 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 wake Him up, the world will be overthrown at any moment.

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

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

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

The black-haired prophet did not answer the question. He looked at the boy who made the choice with almost no hesitation, and 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 in a trance for a moment, then took the branch.

The voice that echoes 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 to be very familiar with me? Do you know anything about me?"

Being questioned by someone he had just met, the black-haired prophet remained calm and detached, and shook his head gently: "I just 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 asked too many questions since he came here. If other gift holders were questioned like this, they would have lost their temper long ago - the content of the gift is a very personal thing, and it even involves one's life and property.

But the other party 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 always:

"This is not my ability, I have already said it, 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 belief 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 is the ability of the agent's bloodline. He can borrow the power of the gods and use himself as a medium to show his holiness in front of others.

If there is no attempt and no faith and prayer 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 unexpectedly due to an arrangement by the comic world, he even saw a streak of bright gold flowing in his blood.

Bloodline and priesthood.

Hidden under the platinum silk, 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 is awakened one day, you who have some faith in him will most likely be watched. Believe me, this is not a good sign. You may go crazy or die."

Xia Zuo advised seriously.

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

For example, the closer a person is to a god, the more precarious his mental state is. That supreme existence is difficult for human cognition to grasp. Unless he also has the blood of a god, or is born with an extremely high rationality, he can barely withstand the destruction again and again.

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 he was Crest, but an ordinary person.

The black-haired prophet tilted his head slightly and did not respond. Xia Zuo couldn't 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 soon, his idea was rejected by himself. Xi Zeer died in front of him, and he voluntarily entered the cage to save him. However, the black-haired prophet had been in the wasteland for a long time, and his ability was different from Xi Ze's.

What's more, if the person in front of him was really his good friend, he would not have failed 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 slightly evil personality, he was more gentle and tolerant, and he always had a godly compassion.

Xia Zuo deduced that his talent should be bright, 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 that 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 and said as if sighing, "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 said that he was a god. He just used his abilities to help ordinary people to the best of his ability. It was just that the way to use his abilities required faith...

Did he do anything wrong? No.

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

Xia Zuo: ...When I thought about it this way, I suddenly felt that the person in front of me was innocent and deserved to die.

But why does it feel a little bit wrong...?

This feeling is like the one that only appeared occasionally when facing Caesar in the past, the kind of illusion that seems right, yet 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 happy and relaxed life now.

When they got tired, they would 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. Their faces showed either scheming and calculation or indifference. They were like the walking corpses, not to mention the disabled people.

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

"When Moer first came here, she had no eyes and no legs." The calm and tolerant voice sounded in Xia Zuo's mind again: "Her belief is too desperate. She is one in a million. Perhaps these people will never be able to meet the requirements 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 where talented criminals gather. They just want to survive, that's all.

Christine watched them.

The comic 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 his head: "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 not very bright, now had a little more highlights:

"Shazo Freeman."

"I will probably stay here for the next few months." The brown-haired boy shrugged, and 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 today on, you will be inseparable from the gods."