Only God
Chapter 413 - 366 God’s Messenger

Chapter 413: Chapter 366 God’s Messenger

What Anos did not know was that, to the followers of the Primordial Church led by the elderly Believer Parker, she was already considered the "Primordial Messenger."

However, that did not mean Anos’s proposal was without meaning.

Mira immediately thought that since they intended to destroy the Primordial Church, why not make a significant move by disbanding it in the name of God’s Messenger.

After all, she truly came from Heaven and, in a sense, was an Angel and a member of God’s Messengers.

Thus, Mira and Anos found common ground instantly and set to work on this matter.

The two discussed the plan carefully. They needed to be covert, to disguise themselves, and to thoroughly understand the doctrines of the Primordial Church—none of these tasks could be achieved overnight but would require time to prepare.

Having agreed on a plan, the two immediately took action. They procured proper sacrificial robes and also found a copy of the "Third Prophet Book" from the Primordial Church, which contained stories different from those in the "Book of Thousand-Year-Old Prophets."

In this cult scripture, Solamus was transformed from the benevolent and kind Angel of the "Thousand-Year Prophet" into an antagonist situated on the opposite side of Shan’en, existing as his aggressor in that scripture.

Mira devotedly memorized every word and sentence in the "Third Prophet Book." During breaks, she whispered apologies to Solamus above, pledging that she did not intend to blaspheme him.

After a week, relying on her excellent memory, Mira knew the heretical scripture backwards. She precisely remembered every word and sentence, and even the annotations left by the elders of the Primordial Church, making her disguise absolutely seamless.

Anos assisted Mira from the side; the Princess also recited the scriptures from the "Third Prophet Book." Unlike Mira, the Princess did not carry much psychological burden, nor did she feel guilty for reciting the blasphemous sentences.

By the second week, Mira had the elderly Believer Parker bring them a map of the city beneath the city. The map looked rough and inferior, likely not drawn by a professional cartographer, but it was sufficient for Mira and Anos.

"Mira, have you decided?" Anos asked Mira, "If you have decided, let’s set off immediately."

Mira nodded heavily.

Seeing this, Anos stood up, took down the sacrificial robe prepared much earlier from the rack, draped it over Mira, and personally tied the mask for the girl.

Beneath the mask, Mira’s gaze remained fixed on the city beneath the city outside the window.

.........

Mira and Anos walked in the streets, the latter following behind like the girl’s maid. Anos, being a Princess, was adept at observation and disguise, thus her every action thoroughly embodied the role of a maid.

In one hand the girl held a torch, and in the other, the "Book of Kings and Prophets."

In the alleys, dust filled the dimly lit lanes where depressions in the ground held stagnant water, rife with moss due to the rotting stench.

The more they walked on this street, the more potent the variety of odors became—dried blood, limbs of insects, suppurating wounds, and corpses stiff from days of decay. It was as if these alleys were Danschel’s sewers, where all filth gathered.

Along the street, there were believers slumped and listless, scattered on the ground.

Their lives were monotonous and desolate. Here lies the city beneath the city, a Land of No Light isolated from the world, lacking interactions with the Foreign Country, with barren land, lives shackled by sacrifices... Everything here was more rigid than anyone could imagine. The saying goes, God’s creations do not discriminate, but humans categorize each other.

The entire city beneath the city resembled a giant altar.

All living and lifeless things were making sacrifices for the original cradle.

In this still pond of death, in this rigid land of darkness.

Mira came carrying the torch.

Its optic fiber weak, its light dim, as if it could be devoured by darkness at any moment, but it was still light.

In this shantytown, Mira approached an old man.

The old man knelt on the ground, his face covered in filth, with one hand severed and his skull slightly cracked, roughly bound with coarse hemp, his whole being skin and bones.

But he still knelt there, hands clasped together, ceaselessly praying for God to let him return to the original cradle.

In this land of no light, apart from praying, his frail body could do nothing else.

Mira gently reached out her hand and touched the old man’s forehead, whispering,

"Floromir."

It was the ancient language for "life."

In the murky eyes of the old man who was about to welcome death amid his sickness, a faint clarity gradually appeared.

His hands clasped together, he stared blankly at Mira standing before him.

Mira spoke,

"Remember, God has forgiven your death."

The old man stood there dazed, his hands unable to part, his mind in turmoil as he watched the mysterious priest’s figure disappear into the alleys, like witnessing a dream, like a hallucination before death.

A mental vortex pulled the old man in, trapping him for a long time.

After a while, his trembling lips finally uttered,

"Was that... God’s Messenger?"

...

In this dark, lightless underworld, hope was elusive and high above, like the river of light stretching across the city above, always present yet forever distant, unreachable.

And Mira, carrying a torch, walked through the alleys like a fallen beam of light.

Along the way, she saw blood, useless and sinful sacrifices filled every corner; she saw fanaticism, people kneeling on the ground, obsessed with this rigid status quo, reveling in the agony of despair; she saw suffering, in this city like an altar, where people could lose everything but never their suffering.

In this land of no light, Mira reached out to those in pain.

She recited ancient words time and time again, driving away their pain time and time again.

The believers of the underworld had never seen such a person, some wanted to keep her, asking her where she came from.

Mira simply said,

"I come from God,

wherever God tells me to go, I will go."

Besides that, Mira offered no other response, her maid Anos silently following her, the scene resembling a follower bearing witness for the Prophet.

Within days, the name of God’s Messenger spread throughout the entire underworld.

People spread the word,

The stagnant dead water was infused with living springs.

The redemption long awaited, lay in the hands of that one Messenger of God.

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