Chapter 3 Belief
2015-07-13
Author: Floating Tower
Father is dead.
To cover their retreat, Father resolutely decided to lead the militia to hold the rear. More than a hundred people stayed behind, and in the end, fewer than ten managed to break through and escape.
Father died a glorious d*ath.
A militia member who broke through told Milan that her father did not retreat a single step even when severely injured, and countless werewolves fell under his hand.
Yes.
Even without divine techniques, Father was still so powerful.
But in the end, he still died.
Milan’s heart was filled with sorrow, but she did not cry, even though she was just a little girl who had just begun to understand the world. She knew very well that the moment Father decided to stay behind, he had already made peace with d*ath in his heart. Otherwise, he would not have entrusted himself to Uncle Bam, asking him to take her to Leaffall City to seek help from the Bishop who once guided her father’s path as a priest.
Her hometown had turned into a wasteland.
Milan knew how much effort Father had poured into that place; he had built the town single-handedly, transforming it from a small village into a prosperous town over twenty years. But now, everything was destroyed by war, and Father ultimately chose to fight to the last moment to protect it.
Her home was destroyed.
They had become homeless refugees. Even though Leaffall City had taken them in, they could only temporarily find shelter in the abandoned temple. This temple, which had served the deity Father believed in for a lifetime, was suddenly abandoned in a short time. There were no priests praying, and no believers serving; people seemed to quickly forget the existence of this deity, having to face an even harsher fate. The situation in Leaffall City was not good; although Milan did not understand many things, she knew that food was running low in the city.
Food was prioritized for the fighting soldiers. The old, weak, women, and children had already been living on rice porridge for three days.
Milan still had a little food left.
It was given to her by the former Bishop, who came here yesterday noon. Looking at Milan kneeling in the prayer room of the temple, the elderly priest who had served the God of Half-Elves and Wanderers for half his life sighed. He told Milan that the deity had fallen, and no matter how she prayed, it would be of no use. The old man gazed at the faded statue with a profound look. After leaving a bit of food, he turned and left. Though unable to use divine techniques, his combat skills still surpassed many soldiers, and the ferocity of the defense of the city had even forced the priests to don armor and join the fight.
Hunger made Milan feel weak all over.
This morning, she secretly gave the little food she had left to a young mother nursing her baby. She witnessed the mother cutting her own finger with a dagger, using her bl**d to nourish her child.
This scene was shocking!
It reminded Milan of her mother, who had passed away long ago, so she discreetly handed over her last bit of food to her.
The prayer room was very quiet.
Milan felt her legs had gone numb.
She didn’t even know why she was kneeling here; perhaps she was beginning to understand her father’s state of mind at that moment.
The town was besieged by werewolves.
Father had knelt in the prayer room for an entire day and night, praying for a response from the deity, hoping to regain divine techniques to save their home.
The Bishop told her that the deity had fallen.
Milan knew this, because all the statues had lost their luster. She was a very gifted little girl, having inherited her father’s innate perceptive ability. If all this had not happened, perhaps it wouldn’t be long before she would become a trainee priest and gradually inherit her father’s position, becoming a Bishop responsible for a temple.
But that would probably take many years.
Because she was a bit playful, her father had always indulged her, rarely forcing her to pray alongside him.
Milan was very sad.
As an underage little girl, she was now surrounded by a fear of loneliness.
Uncle Bam was conscripted to fight. The last time she saw him, he had an injury on his arm, and today, she didn’t know if he was alive or dead. No one comforted her; at such a time, no one had the energy to care for a little girl. The eyes of everyone in the temple revealed fear, not knowing what tomorrow would bring. Not knowing what the future would hold.
Milan felt very helpless.
She was just an ordinary little girl; facing the catastrophic war, she could do nothing.
So she could only pray to the deity for help!
The Bishop told her that the God of Half-Elves and Wanderers had completely fallen. As a deity, He was dead and could no longer hear the prayers of believers.
But the little girl did not give up.
She was not a priest of the God of Half-Elves and Wanderers; she was just a little girl with the potential to become a priest but had not officially decided on her faith. So she decided to pray to all the deities; whoever could save them, she would be willing to devote her faith, life, and soul to this deity, fighting for the protection of His glory for life and remaining unwavering until d*ath!
Her faith was so steadfast.
That even after three days without any response, she continued to persist.
She prayed for the deity’s help, begging the great deity to extend a hand to save these unfortunate people. She was willing to give everything for Him, to become His most loyal servant and follower, fighting her whole life to spread His brilliance.
Unfortunately.
There was still no response.
During this time, just before the Saint’s Cataclysm, no deity would pay attention to such an inconspicuous little girl; their energy was all focused on dealing with the unknown future. Moreover, without any holy symbols, statues, or altars, for the deity to hear her call, He would have to expend His divine power, and within this nearly abandoned temple, all her prayers and calls could only be transmitted to one place!
That was the existence that held the priesthood of the God of Half-Elves and Wanderers.
………………
Tired.
Hungry.
Sad.
Milan didn’t even know why she was still holding on, or what exactly she was holding on to!
She just knelt there numbly, her petite frame humbly bowed down, continuously praying to all deities that might respond to her prayers, asking for even a trace of hope!
Plop.
A single tear rolled down her delicate, youthful face. This little girl, who had remained strong and not cried since hearing the news of her father’s d*ath, finally couldn’t hold back her tears and was streaming down her face.
The prayer room was eerily quiet.
She could even hear the sound of her tears hitting the ground, but just as she was about to feel despair.
A powerful will suddenly appeared in her mind!
Followed by.
A great force transcended space, letting a sacred name resonate in her mind, instantly causing her whole being to tremble.
——[Soren]! (To be continued ~^~)
