Becoming a God Starts with Acting
Chapter 156: [Blizzard Manor] - Prophet’s part (3)

Chapter 156: [Blizzard Manor] - Prophet’s part (3)

Everyone in the mansion immediately turned their gaze toward the door.

The footsteps were incredibly light, yet everyone present was an esper and could easily hear them the moment they appeared. At the same time, expressions of astonishment appeared on their faces—followed by a flicker of joy and anticipation.

Their final companion... was a child!

Could it be that god? Could it be Nerio? The crowd was filled with barely concealed curiosity and hope.

And at that very moment, the figure they had been waiting for finally appeared!

A child with fluffy black hair, wearing clothes that, along with his slight build, made it easy to assume he was a grade school student.

The boy’s body swayed slightly, with water trails following each step. His pale lips were pressed together weakly, his head slightly bowed, eyes cast downward. As if sensing the countless eyes on him, he froze in place. His entire body went stiff, refusing to move forward. His head lowered even more, his posture shrinking inward—like he was afraid.

Yet the gazes focused on him remained sharp and intense.

Everyone here knew Nerio often took the form of a child. Was this just another one of his performances?

But just then, Jessica’s voice rang out, shattering their anticipation: "Stop looking. This boy is not Nerio."

When she finished speaking, one of the dark espers immediately objected: "How can you be so sure? You know how much he loves acting—what if this is just another disguise?!"

As soon as he finished, he hurriedly covered his mouth, casting an uneasy glance toward the boy standing at the doorway—as if afraid his words might anger Nerio.

Jessica continued, "Nerio would never allow himself to suffer, understand? No matter what role he plays in his games, he is always the one in control."

As she spoke, Jessica looked over at the boy, still dripping wet from the melted snow, his skin flushed red from the cold, trembling slightly where he stood—as if to emphasize her point.

Under the disappointed gazes of the others, Jessica delivered her final "verdict": "This boy is not Nerio."

[Just as I suspected! Jessica truly is the wife I trust completely!]

[With eyes that sharp, I’m confident too—that kid isn’t Nerio. Even if Nerio turned to ash, I’d recognize him!]

[Exactly. I’ve been a Nerio fan for a hundred years!]

[Could you people not sound so sure...?]

[But seriously, just because it’s a child doesn’t mean Nerio. In the last dungeon, he took the form of a grown man, remember? These people are just desperately clinging to hope.]

[Those low-tier dark espers haven’t changed at all. The other espers aren’t as eager as they are.]

[Yeah, seriously, who would place their hopes on a kid? Poor little thing, come here, muah muah~]

[These shotacons are like bloodhounds, their noses are unreal.]

[If the gods don’t show up, humanity will get wiped out in this dungeon.]

[Even Drake is powerless now. I can’t wait for the moment he realizes his strength is being suppressed while fighting the boss.]

Silvanus couldn’t help but frown slightly as the wild comments scrolled by.

Suppressed? Drake? So this dungeon did have something special about it. Yes, this poor child was no one else but the Prophet, the form Silvanus had chosen to manifest.

As soon as Jessica spoke, the crowd grew noisy. Some clicked their tongues and grumbled in annoyance, some looked at the boy as if he were an unbearable burden. Yet among them, a few still clung to hope, sneaking glances toward the child standing at the door.

Alice watched as the boy stepped back, and her brows furrowed. She honestly didn’t understand how a group of espers could put so much expectation on a child like this. This child had just survived a blizzard—he might have even risked his life to get here—only to be treated like this?

Alice walked toward the boy, her voice soft and gentle:

"It’s okay now, you’re safe. Come here and tell me how you managed to get through the blizzard, alright? Don’t worry, we’ll do everything we can to protect you."

The child was far too young—of course, he should be protected.

As she spoke, Alice extended her hand toward the boy, seemingly intending to guide him. But just then, the boy suddenly backed away in a panic. His movement was so abrupt that he tripped and fell to the ground.

Yet even as he hit the floor, he ignored the pain and scrambled backward, retreating to a "safe" distance before curling up and hugging his knees, one hand raised to shield his head—his entire posture trembling and defensive, full of fear.

Alice’s hand froze mid-air.

She was certain she hadn’t had a single ounce of ill intent. Her gentleness wasn’t just from her nature and her potent healing ability. A child shouldn’t be frightened by her.

[Wait... is he scared of Alice too? Now I finally get why he won’t step inside—Drake must be on the other side, hahaha.]

[Captain Drake eats 100 children in one bite, hahaha!]

[It’s funny, but don’t talk about Captain Drake like that. It’s the people inside staring at the kid like hungry wolves!]

Everyone’s eyes inevitably turned back to the doorway. Those still clung to the belief that this child might be Nerio began to waver.

Alice stood frozen in place, clearly unsure whether to advance or retreat. All she could do was quietly say:

"Don’t be afraid..."

But the boy continued trembling and curling in on himself—he was nothing but afraid.

At that moment, a murmur rippled through the crowd behind them. Someone was stepping forward.

[WTF?!]

[HAHAHAHAHA]

[What the hell am I seeing? I’m not blind, right? Why the hell is the one stepping up... Drake?!]

[First of all, Drake shouldn’t even be the one stepping up. Secondly, does he think, with that perpetually grumpy face of his, that he can comfort a child? Is his brain even functioning properly?]

[He’s planning to drag the kid in by force. There’s no way he wants the kid to freeze to death, but there’s no way he can be gentle either—because he’s Drake, after all.]

Not just the spectators— even the espers nearby were visibly stunned when Drake suddenly stepped forward.

Based on everything she knew about her captain, Fiona clearly didn’t think he had what it took to handle a child. She hesitated before mumbling,

"Captain... no offense, but Alice would probably be way better at this than you..."

Her voice got quieter the more she spoke. Sorry, but Captain’s glare—sharp as bullets—forced her to shut up immediately!

At that moment, Drake moved Alice aside. She raised her hand slightly, her gaze flickering between the boy and Drake, her face filled with worry. In the end, though, she said nothing.

Meanwhile, the boy, sensing the overwhelming presence of Drake approaching, froze completely—he was so tense he couldn’t even tremble anymore.

He sat there stiffly, like a fish on the chopping block, waiting for whatever fate came his way.

"Stand up," Drake said, voice low and slow but unyielding. His brows were furrowed, and he looked ready to take action at any moment.

[I’m holding my breath, and I’m not even there. Can someone relate to me?]

[Drake’s not gonna throw the kid out of the villa, right? Hahaha.]

The child stayed right where he was, even scooting his butt back a bit like he was trying to find a way to escape from the castle.

Drake let out a small sigh—and then, to everyone’s utter disbelief, he slowly dropped to one knee. He lowered his head slightly, trying to meet the boy at eye level.

He didn’t even touch the child. Instead, he spoke slowly and firmly, each word solid and clear:

"Don’t worry. No one will dare touch you—as long as you follow me."

As he said this, he extended one large hand toward the child.

The boy didn’t answer. He didn’t move back either, but he didn’t reach out.

The two stared at each other in complete silence, and the atmosphere in the villa grew eerily still.

Drake could feel the boy’s eyes locked onto his palm—a big, calloused hand covered in scars but clean and steady.

Finally, the child made a slight movement. Slowly, he raised his hand, his fingers trembling. He reached out—then suddenly pulled back halfway.

But Drake didn’t give him the chance to retreat again. He leaned forward and took the boy’s hand firmly in his own. His grip was firm—the child’s tiny strength could not escape it.

The boy’s eyes widened in surprise. He looked up slightly, and in that moment, Drake saw it—through the boy’s somewhat long bangs, a brilliant, glowing gold flickered in his eyes.

"As long as you follow me, no one—human or monster—will ever lay a finger on you."

Drake said it quietly, almost like a vow.

His face was serious—his brows weren’t furrowed, there was no anger, no irritation. That calm, collected sincerity made the moment all the more shocking.

[The world has officially gone mad—either I’ve lost it, or Drake’s been replaced!]

[Please, he’s never been this gentle with the Prophet!]