Chapter 18: Chapter 18 Creating God_1

Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

Purification is a simple level 1 magic, which Ange picked up very quickly. Watching a skeleton emit a sacred glow from its hands, Negris was noticeably pleased by this sight, a sign of his wicked sense of humor.

Some people say that the undead cannot learn the purification spell, for it’s been made to cleanse them. Negris smirked at this belief. It’s true that light triumphs over darkness, but the idea that it triumphs over the undead – well, that’s nonsense. A notion that stemmed from the fact that undead despise sunlight.

But do the living not despise sunlight? Let’s see if that’s true – put them under the noon sun for two hours in the summer and then check. It can only be said that the living have a higher tolerance for sunlight.

According to history Negris knows, the reason why the purification spell suppresses the undead is because it’s Holy Light magic.

Holy Light magic, unlike mere light magic, falls in the category of Divine Arts and has the function of one’s intention. Not only does it suppress the undead, but it also suppresses all heretics, including demons and elemental creatures.

Without the targeted ‘intent’, holy light magic would just be pure light magic.

After gulping down a cup of purified holy water, the little girl swiftly recovered from her negative state and fell sound asleep.

The boy heaved a sigh of relief and began to thank Ange profusely. He had witnessed Ange’s tireless efforts – amid the rain and the purification, which made him realize that it wasn’t the fire on the altar that saved his sister, but the skeleton before him.

Two soul flames burst out from his body, but instead of returning to the Undead Holy Fire, they directly entered Ange’s body.

The two soul flames intertwined in Ange’s spirit, forming a strange symbol, hovered over the flames produced from his Soul’s Heart.

After hearing about this strange change, Negris, the bronze dragon, voiced his jealousy: “You lucky bastard, you’ve gained his faith. From now on, he’s your believer, a fervent believer. Lucky you–a fake god without even a divine status. You’ve even stolen the Soul Network, Kvada!”

In the language of magic, ‘Kvada’ conveys both insults and death. When used alone, it holds a particularly strong tone, signifying Negris’s foul mood and intention to curse.

Negris had once deeply studied the relationship between gods and followers, ending with the conclusion: it’s not the gods who create believers, but believers who create gods.

Just like Negris himself, initially a knowledgeable bronze dragon. Because there were many who had faith in him, over time, he ignited the Divine Fire.

But to be honest, his existence as the God of Knowledge is a bit far-fetched. His ignition of the Divine Fire depended on time–it wasn’t until he was about eight thousand years old that he was barely able to ignite it. This absence of fervent followers to his cause hindered his progress.

Think about it–how many who have faith in knowledge can actually become fervent? Knowledge-seekers are worse than the worst of men; they swear by one thing only to deny it completely when provided with substantial proof another day.

They pursue truth, not the bronze dragon who spreads knowledge to them.

But there are countless truths, ever-changing. That water flows downward is a truth, yet in the Abyss Dimension, water flows upward. This is because the Abyss is full of liquid mercury, which is denser than water, causing water to float on the surface of it.

Humans have a short lifespan, averaging 40-50 years, but there are a multitude of gods, why? Because they have scores of fervent followers.

If it’s said that followers create gods, then fervent followers are indeed crucial to this creation. This is because they will spread your deeds and influence even more people to believe in you. Thus, fervent followers often become the key to lighting up the Divine Fire.

How could the bronze dragon not be jealous? Despite living for eight thousand years, he hasn’t even come across a single fervent follower. Coupled with the fact that his followers are rather disappointing, his divine presence is hardly noticeable.

Having a weak divine presence is one thing, but he even has a divine status that causes trouble for him. As luck would have it, the Undead King took a liking to him and sealed him in the Bronze Book. His followers, who are always disappointing, have never even thought about rescuing him.

As the bronze dragon was wallowing in self-pity, Ange had already transformed back into his human shape and put on his straw hat, the only way he could talk, “What happened? Are they…chasing you?”

Upon seeing Ange transform into a human with the mere tip of his hat, the boy’s eyes widened in awe. Wasn’t this a miracle? If washing one’s hands in a frying pan was considered a miracle, then the transformation of a person could be termed as the miracle of all miracles. In an instant, the boy’s belief became even more solidified.

“Plague, lockdown, departure, killing, my sister is sick, no cure, death, take a chance.” Initially, Ange thought his speech was hard to comprehend but found the boy’s speech even more broken, as he spit out each word separately.

However, this coincided with Ange’s speech custom. As soon as he heard it, he understood: “Plague? Dysentery? Like this?” He asked, pointing at the little girl.

The lockdown happened abruptly. Ange noticed that his followers stopped showing up overnight but had no idea what had happened.

“Yes, many people died, quarantine, skeletons bring food, but no treatment.” said the boy.

It wasn’t that there was no treatment, there was just a shortage of healing mages. People as impoverished as them would not receive any aid. They could only grit through the sickness, hoping to survive. If they couldn’t, they would die at home.

“Many people died?” After pondering for a moment, Ange asked: “The skeletons can go out?”

“Many, skeletons can, they do not get infected.” The boy replied.

Ange took out a plate, filled it with clean water, performed several purification spells on it, and then picked up the plate, prepared to leave the temple.

“Where are you going?” Negris couldn’t help but ask.

“To the Minotaur.” Ange replied.

“Oh, that family has quite devout faith. Go check it out. But shouldn’t you ask your fervent follower what his name is?” Negris was really done with Ange. This was a fervent follower; he didn’t even ask his name. How would he call him in the future?

Ange asked for the boy’s name, to which the boy excitedly replied, “Oke.”

Bringing the purified water to the Minotaur’s home, the Minotaur family was already lying in bed, vomiting and suffering from diarrhea to the point of dehydration, barely hanging on. Impoverished Minotaurs, who were reduced to eating moss, were inevitably infected.

After drinking a cup of purified water, the tenacious Minotaur family instantly regained their strength. They all knelt before Ange, expressing their gratitude in the only way they knew how.

The Soul Flame rushing from their bodies directly entered Ange’s body, bypassing the need for Undead Fire’s channeling.

This change was likely related to the symbol on the Soul Fire. However, Ange’s attention was already drawn to something else.

On the wall hung the skull of an animal with a blindfold on. One could tell from the two sharp horns on the skull, similar to a Minotaur but thicker, that this must be the ancestors of the Minotaur’s family.

“Yes, this is my great-grandfather, Iron Hoof.” A plain and unadorned name.

What drew Ange’s attention, of course, was not the skull but the Soul Fire inside. This skull had developed its soul and had become a skeleton. Unfortunately, it had been hung on the wall, and there were no nearby bone structures for assembly, so it remained hung.

“It has a soul? No wonder there was a fire in its eye sockets. That’s why my grandmother blindfolded it. So, what should we do? It’s our ancestor’s skull; hanging it here is quite irreverent. Perhaps we should move it to the temple.” After a family discussion, they decided to hand over the skull for Ange to take to the temple, believing that the Undead Temple would handle the soul in the skull better.

And so, Ange inexplicably brought back a Minotaur skull. Upon returning to the temple, he found that Feilin had been waiting there for quite some time, pacing anxiously.