Only God
Chapter 474 - 414: Repeated History

Chapter 474: Chapter 414: Repeated History

King Oro stood atop the long steps of the palace, gazing down upon the Nus Kingdom before him.

Another king of the Kingdom, Simir, stood by his side.

Just as the sun had risen, the kingdom in the daylight resembled a newborn infant, as the people of Logos awoke from their slumber. As usual, they faced the direction of the high mountains to pray to the Divine and then began their day.

"Since we were given language... since we were called Logos by God, how much have we really changed?"

King Oro, with a serene expression, looked down at the kingdom and said this.

If only it could always be like this moment.

At sunrise, the Elves abandoned their disputes and prayed together to the same Divine, everything peaceful and serene, as if conflicts and divisions had never existed.

"I’m not sure, King Oro,"

the young King Simir said, smiling,

"All I know is that, at the beginning, we lived a savage life, without even the concept of writing."

King Oro said with a sense of wonder,

"Indeed, without even writing...

In those times, the people of Logos did not understand the meaning of death, nor did they grasp how to have faith, until Prophet Al appeared. Only then did we refer to our Divine as God and gradually transform our primitive tribes into a true Kingdom."

King Simir spoke up,

"Now, not only do we have writing, but we also possess forges, iron tools, and silk threads... We have faced numerous rational crises and established our own realms amidst the barbarism.

We, as the oldest race, have continued to this day,

the earliest Kingdom was forged by our hands.

The high mountains are our Holy Land, we are the children of the Divine, faithfully worshiping our God."

King Oro saw in his words the millennia of trials and tribulations of the Elves.

In an insignificant corner of the world, the people of Logos were born, becoming the starting point of civilization, the origin of all rationalization.

It was the people of Logos who ignited the torch of civilization.

The intelligent races that followed were all crafted by the Divines in the likeness of the people of Logos. They suffered calamities across the land while the Elves enjoyed serene lives in their utopic existences.

Unfortunately...

The Kingdom was tearing apart.

King Oro silently gazed upon the Kingdom before him.

He had stood atop these steps countless times, witnessing the sun’s rays spread across Nus, the prayers echoing through the stacked architecture.

But now, it was different.

As the sun rose as usual, the sounds of conflict resonated everywhere.

The people of Logos were divided; once united by faith, now torn apart by differences in belief. The darkness in people’s hearts was more despairing than the darkest abyss, their rifts deeper than any chasm.

An invisible storm swept through the entire Kingdom.

A momentary impulse by Nimirda had triggered all this, causing irreversible consequences.

The people of Logos couldn’t accept their kin worshiping different Divines and, in turn, demanding them to worship other Divines, which, to the devout Elves, was undoubtedly a betrayal.

For the Logos, who seldom faced existential threats, the weight of faith far exceeded everything else.

"It’s almost like... a precursor to a crisis of reason."

King Oro muttered.

King Simir, sensing what he was hinting at, couldn’t help but ask,

"Why must we always go through such crises?"

King Oro lifted his face, his wrinkles brimming with sunlight,

"Because we’ve been too fortunate."

King Simir seemed somewhat puzzled.

"King Simir, we’ve almost never worried about survival."

King Oro slowly said.

King Simir couldn’t help but ask,

"Does history always repeat itself?"

"The speaker had no intention, but the listener took it deeply to heart."

Simir King’s words fell on the ears of King Oro, whose gaze grew solemn, his brows knitted together, and his aged lips parted slightly, a breath hovered in his throat, unable to be released no matter how he tried, only to be helplessly swallowed back into his lungs.

King Oro was lost in memories of the past.

He remembered, on every decennial rebirth day, it was always the most joyful day for the entire race.

The Elves, isolated from the world, were almost insulated from the turmoil of the land, yet they still rejoiced for the descent of Heaven.

Whenever the celebration of the rebirth day arrived, they would ride in canoes, with the help of the Unihorn, crossing the vast ocean to reach the Holy Land, where they joined the Stone Slaves and True Believers in a pilgrimage, facing the radiance to pray, and by nightfall, the shadows still teemed incessantly, after which the entire Kingdom’s Logos people sang various poems, cheering and praising.

"How beautiful..."

The aged king muttered absently.

Simir King bowed his head, seemed to think of something, then after a while said to comfort,

"King Oro, we need not worry so much...

No matter what, God will give us the best arrangement, the best words."

King Oro snapped back to reality, his eyes filled with pain,

"I am already old, and before long, I will stand before God and accept His judgment.

If by that time, the people of Logos are slaughtering each other, what dignity will I have?

Am I to say... God, this fault is not mine, but your arrangement, your words?"

Simir King sighed, he had nothing to say, only a sigh.

King Oro had spent his life toiling for the entire Kingdom, he had lost a child and was about to lose his firstborn son, yet still, he could not mend the rift between the two races, nor could he heal the gradually splitting Elves.

"Simir King, those people regard Nimirda as a new Dertulian.

Is history really always repeating?

He will leave here, leading them to establish a new Kingdom, will the beauty there truly surpass that of this place?"

King Oro asked thus.

Simir King gazed at the Kingdom slowly sinking into conflict, and after a moment he said,

"Perhaps, it really is repeating."

The people of Logos are the origin of rational beings, they established the first Kingdom in the world, from which the spring of civilization gushed, bearing the fruit of wisdom on the originally savage land.

The people of Logos are children of the Divine.

"We are children of the Divine...

We once erected a great nation, yet collapsed overnight due to greed,

We once prided ourselves on our rationality, yet fell apart amidst a crisis of reason,

Simir King...

When will the time come that we can proudly stand beneath the high mountains and display our achievements to the Divine?

Or is it that, despite whatever Divine has warned, we must continue to defy, until the final deluge arrives, and only then realize we should repent?"

After hearing this, Simir King looked at King Oro in disbelief.

In the eyes of this ancient king who had witnessed six hundred cycles of spring and autumn, there lay an incomparable power.

"History cannot always repeat..."

As these words fell into his ears, Simir King asked in astonishment,

"King Oro,

what do you intend to do?

Wait for the words of the Divine!"

However, King Oro’s spirit was already unshakable, he did not look at Simir King, but gazed upon the Kingdom beneath,

"God already provided the words,

Just as He had given a mission.

We... are God’s wheat."

Children of the Divine,

This grace has already been enough for you to squander.

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