Only God
Chapter 366 - 322 Catherine’s Story

Chapter 366: Chapter 322 Catherine’s Story

The Death God’s Netherworld still remained.

Nakbet had been worried about the destination of the Netherworld after Heaven’s Descent, but under the Father’s will, the Netherworld was preserved.

Mortals on earth had their own faiths, following thousands upon thousands of divines, so the Father let Great Angel Schiller tell Nakbet that if those mortals did not wish to go to Heaven or Hell after death, they should then head to the Death God’s Netherworld.

"This depends on the mortals’ faith,"

Schiller said slowly.

Now that Heaven had descended, God’s glory was shining anew, and the Great Angels, including Chen Yi, were entrusted with important missions, and of course, Schiller was no exception.

"So you’re saying, if mortals worship the Gods but not Him, they will come here?"

Upon hearing this, Death God Nakbet couldn’t help but show a hint of excitement.

Nakbet had thought that the Netherworld would become desolate, with no souls stepping foot in it again, but Schiller’s words brought Nakbet a glimmer of hope.

Schiller nodded slightly and said,

"Yes, it’s up to their free choice, their own will; if those mortals believe in both God and you, then it depends on where they want to go when they are on the brink of death."

Nakbet nodded earnestly, repeating these two sentences in his heart.

When Heaven descended, a portion of the souls in the Netherworld had left, and if Nakbet remembered correctly, those were the True Believers he had brought to this place, who not long ago had been judged for their own conduct, to be in either Hell or Heaven.

Nakbet hadn’t cared much before, but now he thought that perhaps his Father was also admonishing him with this.

Shortly after, Schiller left, and Nakbet caressed the scythe in his arms; the three-headed dog beside him obediently bowed its head, lying on the ground, dozing off.

The Death God looked out over the earth, as the world welcomed a rare period of peace, and he too could take a little respite, without the need to be as busy as before.

"New world..."

Nakbet murmured to himself.

Not far away, a Netherworld Judge, dressed in magnificent yet dignified attire, approached.

He was the first Judge of the Netherworld—Asis, who was also the first mortal brought to the Netherworld by Nakbet.

"Asis."

Nakbet turned and said.

"So, has that God finally descended?"

Asis looked toward the direction the Angel had left, asking in a deep voice.

"Yes, Asis, it has finally come. I still remember the shock on your face when Hiris mentioned our father to you," Nakbet said, swinging the scythe in his hand.

As the Monarch of the Netherworld, Nakbet was never worshipped by mortals on earth. Mortals feared the passing of life and the onset of aging; therefore, they dreaded death to the utmost. Temples dedicated to the Death God were the fewest on earth, not only far fewer than those of the earliest awakened five Divine entities but even fewer than some lesser-known or unknown deities, such as the God of Secrecy, Eos.

Some mortals even cursed the Death God, insulting the Divine for taking their loved ones away and not allowing them to live a little longer. Among mortals, the most respected of the Death God were often the Tomb Guardians, executioners, and midwives—social outcasts looked down upon by the rest of society.

Fortunately, the gentle nature of the Death God meant He cared little for the discrimination of mortals. His sole responsibility was to escort each mortal equitably to the Netherworld to face their afterlife.

" Asis, do you want to leave? To see the father Hiris once spoke of?" Nakbet asked.

Contrary to His expectations, Asis shook his head slowly, speaking gently, "No, I don’t wish to. Too much time has passed, and I’ve lost that vitality. Let it be; I’m content here in the Netherworld. I’ve grown accustomed to dealing with its affairs, accustomed to judging each soul’s past."

Nakbet nodded slightly, seeing that his Netherworld Judge had lost the tenacity of his younger years.

Time can hone a person, change a person.

Under the erosion of time, even the most steadfast rock is ground down to smooth pebbles, eventually disappearing without a trace.

..................

Danschel.

This small Kingdom of Danschel was gradually returning to its former state. Thanks to an unexpected bountiful harvest, the Kingdom suddenly became much wealthier. Some of the refugees settled here, while others embarked on the long journey home.

After such a divine miracle, the status of the True Believers, who were previously overlooked, soared. Under King Phil’s leadership, nearly half of the inhabitants of the Royal City converted to the True Religion, adopting its calendar and the perpetually passed down Holy Scripture.

The Great Elder, watching the dense crowd praying, was moved, but he quickly settled his emotions. Having witnessed great divine miracles, he had aged, and not much could stir him deeply anymore.

King Phil was baptized, declaring the True Religion as the state religion and ordering other city-states to quickly promote it. The Temples previously used for worship were converted into churches. The standing Divine Statues were moved aside, placed in the side halls, while the Holy Scripture symbolizing the True Religion was erected in the main hall.

The musicians of the Music Academy continued to worship the Divine with their music, only the principal object of their devotion had changed. Thus, Catherine became the darling of the entire Music Academy. Obsessed with music, she composed various sacred melodies that were written down by the director for teaching to one musician after another.

As Catherine became the darling of the Music Academy, this musician, once revered and kept at a distance by others, found an increasing number of people seeking her out, even to the point of becoming her disciples. It must be said, this was the effect of fame. And when the resurrected Prince Tyrone sought to rekindle Catherine’s love, all he found was the cold barrier of a closed door.

Year by year, Catherine recounted the stories of old times to those around her. Within those tales was one particular story about a Foreign Countrywoman named Sola who had come here, a wonderful period related to music, during which her harp turned into a nightingale.

Seasons changed and years were fickle—Catherine aged bit by bit, white hair creeping onto her forehead. Occasionally, like some elders, she would tell stories lacking logic, topsy-turry, some were fabricated, others adaptations of personal experiences, but the story about the nightingale remained precise when recounted.

One generation after another listened to her stories and spread them across the world. The tale of the nightingale and harp, this beautiful fairy tale about Angels, thus, perpetuated.

In the story’s end, the white-haired Catherine said, "Perhaps at the end of my life, the nightingales I released that day will turn back into harps, and everything will revert to its original state. Ah, my story ends here."

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