"Stop!" The Goddess finally spoke, unable to endure further. "You've copied too much!"
"Ahem!" Truman coughed lightly, closing the Revelation of the Night. "When it comes to preaching, who could surpass that one? This is the most fitting path."
"I'm not a god yet, and this isn't my path," the Goddess said pointedly, firmly refusing. It was far too embarrassing.
"Oh, well, someone's bound to copy it eventually. Might as well be me," Truman muttered, his mood growing excited.
"Soon, you'll be a god," Truman added.
"Hm?" The Goddess, well-acquainted with her collaborator's strange and wondrous nature, raised an eyebrow.
"The Annihilation Demonic Wolf is about to die!" Truman's words were earth-shattering, and the Goddess's expression shifted.
From conversations with the Goddess, Truman had learned about the world's state. The Goddess's time of arrival was unclear—she was cautious and revealed little. But the eight ancient gods, including the Giant King Aurmir, the Annihilation Demonic Wolf Flegrea, and the Mutant King Kvastir, were still alive, locked in endless conflict.
"Madmen are destined to be swept into history's grave. Why not give them a push? It's the tide of history." Those ancient gods were indeed powerful but irredeemably insane.
"How do you know these things?" The Goddess stared at Truman, starlight scattering from her form, her composure shaken.
Truman, in less than two months in this world, hadn't even left the Deep Dark City. How could he know the tides of history?!
"I've heard the prayers of the masses and your will," Truman said, fully embracing his role as pontiff.
"The source of the Book of Dreams' power?" The Goddess ignored the latter half of his statement, pondering.
Truman's face darkened. The Goddess's identity before traversing was clearly extraordinary, her instincts razor-sharp, now even more so.
"Fine." Without pressing further, the Goddess nodded lightly, accepting Truman's role as pontiff. Their foundation of trust made many things easier.
The Deep Dark City was under the Goddess's secretive protection, with all its inhabitants her devotees.
Beyond this city, however, lay a brutally primal world.
Extraordinary creatures, driven mad by consuming all sorts of characteristics, and supernatural races that treated humans as food made this a hellish world for ordinary people.
The Deep Dark City was an exception. Even city-states protected by ancient gods couldn't escape the era's savagery, as the gods themselves were unreliable.
From this perspective, this era truly needed to end.
"Now, Your Eminence the Pontiff, what do you intend to do?" The Goddess's gaze fell on Truman, serious and cautious.
"Do what I must…"
Soon after, Truman, holding the world's only Revelation of the Night, ascended to the peak of the Deep Dark Acropolis, raising the sacred tome high.
"The Goddess above shall grant us peace and deep slumber."
"Praise the Goddess!" All devotees sheltered by the Goddess knew their fortune.
In this Deep Dark City, they didn't need to constantly fear crazed monsters or being snatched as food by supernatural races. This was the Goddess's gift!
Hum!
A profound power rippled like waves on water, sweeping over the Deep Dark City's devotees. The night-blooming herbs and deep slumber flowers emitted faint glimmers, an unprecedented tranquility soothing every heart.
"Praise the Goddess!" The devotees couldn't restrain their fervent praise.
At that moment, they sensed something and looked up at the figure standing beneath the Goddess's statue.
He was glowing, his linen robe radiating a shadowy sheen, the divine badge on his left chest emanating tranquil power.
"By the Goddess's oracle, I am the Pontiff of the Deep Dark City. You may address me as Your Eminence."
Starlight cascaded from the Goddess's statue, coalescing into a starry crown upon Truman's head.
In this era, people were terrifyingly pure, and the recent miracle had shaken their souls.
"Praise the Goddess, hail the Pontiff!" The voices grew louder, more unified. Suddenly, Truman felt a mystical connection forming with these devotees.
At that moment, all devotees understood the meaning of a pontiff: the Goddess's representative, managing her followers, their "father" in faith!
"Faith and anchors?" Truman mused, sensing the mystical connection. In his perception, pure specks of light in various hues gathered, forming a gently flowing miniature galaxy.
"I was right." Truman gazed at the specks with joy. "Gods need anchors to maintain their humanity, but I need these faith anchors to leverage my Book of Dreams!"
Previously, he could only tap into a fraction of the Book of Dreams' power, but with these faith anchors, he could wield greater strength.
"I must ensure the devotees' trust, respect, even awe," Truman realized, recognizing his clever maneuver.
As pontiff, he could directly connect with the Deep Dark City's devotees, inheriting the followers the Goddess had amassed over years.
Stealing the Goddess's peaches?
"Praise the Goddess!" This time, Truman's praise was utterly sincere.
At that moment, the Book of Dreams, disguised as the Revelation of the Night, trembled slightly. Dreamlike phosphorescence sprinkled forth, drifting onto the devotees and merging with them.
Tonight, the Deep Dark City could be called the City of Dreams. In their dreams, devotees would receive their heart's deepest desires, healing their deepest wounds.
But the greatest benefit was the cleansing of the inevitable corruption accumulated in their bodies, restoring their mental state to its fullest.
"May our dreams come true!" declared the Pure One, Saint Truman.
The next day, having stayed awake all night, a fully alert Truman led thousands of devotees in prayer.
"Thanks to the Goddess, who grants us sustenance!"
Truman's goal was to ensure this city-state, and eventually one of the orthodox churches, would forever remember his name, starting with every aspect of life—most importantly, food.
The Goddess was indeed generous to the Deep Dark City. A Fertility Stone, equivalent to a Sequence 4 saint of later eras, rested at the foot of the Goddess's statue, its influence covering the entire city. Fruits, milk, and other foods were abundant here.
In this era, such a city-state was practically paradise.
Truman continued his efforts, embedding the Goddess's presence in daily life. He established a somewhat elaborate prayer process, codifying it in the Revelation of the Night under his pontiff authority.
He even adapted content from the true Revelation of the Night of later eras, tailoring it to this time.
"The Creator awoke from chaos, shattering the darkness, creating the first ray of light…"
"In the Second Epoch, the Goddess awoke from darkness, destined to reclaim her usurped authority…"
"Praise the Goddess!"
Essentially, Truman had laid the framework for the Revelation of the Night. Future pontiffs could only patch it up.
He even offered a copy to the Goddess as a sacrifice, wondering if she'd feel embarrassed…
That day, Truman dutifully led the devotees in prayer, establishing a simple mass process—enough to ensure his title, Saint Truman, would endure as the Deep Dark City evolved.
"The Goddess summons me." Not long after, Saint Truman, who had laid the foundation for the Night Church, vanished, leaving only this phrase.
Truman wasn't deceiving these pure lambs—the Goddess truly had called him!
The Goddess had finally been swayed, though she likely had plans long before. Truman's arrival merely offered a better option.
As a subordinate god to the Devastation Demon Wolf, her secretive abilities were fully countered by it, limiting her actions.
"…I'm counting on you," the Goddess's gentle voice echoed beneath her statue.
Two items appeared before Truman through reversed secrecy, gradually becoming real.
A glove and a shadowy robe.
"The Elder Glove, able to summon me from the fog of history or take you anywhere in the world."
"The Sage Robe, master of knowledge, capable of transforming into an information being."
"These are befitting a pontiff."
"Hiss!" Truman's eyes lit up as he took the items. "A fusion of Traveler and Ancient Scholar, plus the Sage's knowledge!"
Hiss! How did Ancient Scholar mix with Traveler?
Well… in this era of consuming everything, it wasn't incomprehensible.
And the Sage Robe was a treasure too!
With the Book of Dreams, Truman was safe enough, but his combat power was unstable. With these items, as long as he avoided subordinate gods and ancient gods, the world was his to roam!
As the Pure One, untainted by corruption, he had no fear of side effects.
"I won't let you down!" Truman vowed solemnly. In the days that followed, he adapted to the two mystical items, his spirituality supplied endlessly by the Book of Dreams, free from negative effects and able to use their powers freely.
"I can't consume potions, so am I destined to be the greatest collector?"
Imagining crushing enemies with a trove of mystical items, Truman raised an eyebrow. "Not bad."
"But it's not a long-term plan…"
Truman toyed with the items, gazing at the Book of Dreams in thought.
Days later, fully prepared, Truman stood beneath the Goddess's statue.
Starlight cascaded, and the Goddess sent him out of the Deep Dark City.
Truman appeared in a vast, endless primeval forest stretching to the horizon.
Now clad in the Sage Robe, its shadowy fabric dotted with radiant starlight, he held the Book of Dreams, disguised as the Revelation of the Night, in one hand and wore the Elder Glove, etched with secretive and eerie patterns, on the other.
His short black hair flowed freely, his Pure One aura striking, his face fair, his eyes gleaming. On the spiritual level, angelic wings manifested—a true angel descended.
In short, his appearance was impeccable, inspiring trust and an urge to draw near.
(End of Chapter)
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Do You Know:
The faith anchors mirror Lord of the Mysteries' concept of divine anchors stabilizing gods' humanity.