Only God
Chapter 53 - 49 What Should I Do?

Chapter 53: Chapter 49 What Should I Do?

Several days later.

The body of the Sapo King had been buried, but Al could not remember where, these past few days felt to him like they spanned decades, even centuries.

The King was dead.

The Logos Kingdom had never faced such a massive upheaval.

Al felt that he should not tell the Logos people about God’s slumber, not a single word.

What if... what if his casual remarks sparked another crisis of reason in this world beloved by God...

Al felt that his clansmen could not bear all this.

The Unihorn whales had joyously reunited with Al and Yarlessto. During these days, the Unihorn whales had been singing the Song of the Whale every day,

"Father, their song has... many more variations than before."

Yarlessto watched the Unihorn whales in amazement,

"It’s much more complex than before."

Whether it was an illusion or not, having not seen them for only a few days, he felt that the Unihorn whales had become much wiser.

Al sat down slowly and silently on the long steps of the palace.

"Father,"

"Dertulian has returned. When the Priests were persecuted in Sapo, he fled the Kingdom with mother and the surviving Priests. Now he has come back."

Seeing his father so silent, Yarlessto brought up the news.

Hearing his younger son’s name, Al finally lifted his face, seemed to remember something, and abruptly turned his head.

In the palace, there stood the stone King’s Throne.

Al’s pupils contracted.

After the death of the Sapo King, following the initial panic, the respected Elders of the Kingdom resolved to elevate a new King, and among them, the best candidate was Al, the Prophet and brother.

However, Al sternly rejected the Elders’ request.

Consequently, the Elders decided to make Yarlessto King.

They said,

"Prophet, how can God allow the Logos people to be without a King? Since the Ape-man, the Logos people have always had a King; they cannot accept days without one."

The Elders circled around this statement, presenting many persuasive arguments.

Al too could not imagine what life the Logos people would lead without a King, without a leader.

Furthermore, there were the words once spoken by God.

Therefore, the Prophet acquiesced.

Yet, deep within his heart, the curse uttered by Sapo before his death stung him like a venomous fang.

Al feared that his two children would fight incessantly after his death.

This would tear apart both themselves and the entire Kingdom.

Yarlessto looked at his pensive father.

A shared understanding between father and son enabled him to guess his father’s worries.

"Father..."

"Do you remember the story of the Swan Hunter?"

At this moment, Al turned his gaze towards Yarlessto.

"The one you used to tell both me and Dertulian."

Yarlessto’s eyes shone brightly in the sunlight,

"In the end, the Hunter said, ’I shall be as close to the eagles and hawks as brothers, I shall love my brother,’ and in the end, he turned into a swan."

Listening to Yarlessto recount the story, Al widened his eyes and then shook his head, chuckling. How could he have forgotten that story? It was one he often told when Yarlessto and Dertulian were young, with expectations for them.

The Prophet sighed and rose from the long steps in front of the palace.

"Let’s go, Yarlessto, let’s return to your mother and Dertulian."

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

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

Dozens of days passed, and the Logos Kingdom had begun to rebuild. What was worth celebrating for these prehistoric sentient beings was that since their civilization was so primitive, not even delving into the practices of slash-and-burn agriculture, they couldn’t build very complex houses. As the floodwaters receded and the sun dried them out for a few days, followed by some repairs, the structures could once again serve as homes.

This was a silver lining in their misfortune.

The Unihorn whales manipulated the seawater to return to the seas near the Kingdom. The flood had submerged many low-lying areas, bringing the sea much closer to the Kingdom, and there they settled.

They came with the control of the floodwaters and left with them, and every Logos person believed these great fish were God’s Messengers. The might of God consequently became even more deeply rooted in the hearts of the people.

And as Yarlessto proclaimed to them that these great fish would henceforth guard the Kingdom, the Logos people were elated,

Al stood on the altar on the hillside, gazing at this resurrecting civilization, a rare smile curling upon his face.

The Prophet had aged, sitting on the edge of the altar, caressing it.

He reflected on the significant events of the past days.

Yarlessto had been elected King, but he had not yet taken his seat on the King’s Throne and was temporarily serving as a Priest of the Pattern Garden, organizing the reconstruction within the Kingdom according to Al’s instructions. He would ascend to the throne only after Al’s natural death.

The Pattern Garden was rebuilt, and Dertulian, as Al’s younger son, was granted the position of Priest by Yarlessto, his elder brother. That was a rare gesture of goodwill between the siblings.

......

Al pondered slowly and realized that in fact, there were not many significant events after all.

He stood up, leaning on his Unicorn staff, and the cold breeze on the hillside made the old man shiver.

His servants hurriedly came forward to support him.

Al swept his gaze over the altar on the hillside, his eyes coincidentally falling on the throne he had offered to Sapo.

He reached out to touch the throne closest to the altar, wanting to say something, but in the end, he just sighed and withdrew his hand.

"Prophet, are you leaving the altar?"

The servant asked.

Al nodded slowly, ready to descend the mountain.

At that moment...

Suddenly, a cool breeze enveloped Al’s aged chest, refreshing to the core.

Unconsciously, Al raised his face, coincidentally, the old man’s gaze rested on the summit.

The summit gleamed with an almost imperceptible radiance.

Al was stunned.

That indistinct glow, like a Miracle, swept over his body and soul, as if at that very moment, a lifetime mission had suddenly descended upon him.

"Let me go."

He said, pushing the servant away.

The servant paused, not knowing what the Prophet intended to do.

Then Al reached out his hand, pointing to the mountaintop, unable to suppress his excitement as he said,

"God is leading me over there."

The old man was as thrilled as a child.

The servant looked at Al incredulously, finding the Prophet’s behavior less like excitement, and more like the last flicker of life in a dying man.

In an instant, the eyes of this man from Logos moistened.

"Prophet, are you leaving us?"

Al paused for a moment.

He stretched out his hand, looking at his skin clinging to his bones, and realized how old he had become.

Then Al slowly nodded.

"Yes, child, it’s time."

Saying this, Al faced the mountaintop alone and once again began to climb the path that led to radiance.

The Prophet had no idea what he was supposed to do after reaching the summit, but he was determined to go up the mountain nonetheless.

He had climbed this path many times before.

But,

Never before had the climb felt so full of an indescribable power.

That power was hope.

Al didn’t know what awaited him at the top of the mountain, just as he hadn’t known centuries ago if he would find answers at the summit.

The cold wind hit him head-on, mixed with snowflakes, striking Al’s face.

"My Lord,"

"Please protect me once more."

With his head down, Al moved forward against the wind and snow.

The blizzard weakened as if obeying someone’s command, making way for him.

Al walked the uphill path, moving slowly but steadily, remembering how difficult it had been; the day’s blizzard seemed like the whole world was stopping him from finding answers.

Footprints added one by one onto the snow, Al lifted his head; the mountaintop was drawing closer, and small piles of snow could be seen breaking off, falling.

It reminded him of the avalanche that day, God, it had nearly buried him alive.

Of course, Al also thought of a seasoned Hunter—Death.

The snow piles fell from the sky, landing behind Al. He turned his head.

"Oh, it’s you."

Al muttered to himself.

Death, ever persistent, had stationed itself on this mountain path, waiting for the Prophet for hundreds of years, its scythe sharpened to an extreme keenness.

"Just wait, wait for me a while."

Al said, resolutely walking towards the summit.

This time, Death showed enough patience.

Al walked a long, long time; he was old and struggling to move. By the time he reached the cliff, he was panting heavily.

He decided to take a rest.

Al rested for a long time until he felt strong enough to stand.

His hands touching the cliff face, the old man slowly climbed up, throwing his memories behind him; he didn’t have the strength to think so much anymore.

Finally, Al returned to the mountaintop.

He gazed at the summit, searching for the direction of radiance.

Then, Al saw that one branch planted by God.

It was the branch that granted the Logos people language, gleaming.

Al fixed his eyes on the branch, walking step by step.

At last, he arrived in front of the branch, reached out his hand, and caressed the God-planted branch.

Would God also caress it like this?

Al didn’t know.

He only knew that

Someone luminescent had once carefully tended to this verdant branch.

Since reaching the summit, Al’s strength had been steadily ebbing, and now that he’d seen the radiance, his taut heart relaxed.

At this moment, Al felt confused in his heart.

He had come here, what then was he to do?

Al lowered his head, pressing his forehead close to the branch. Oddly enough, the light emanating from the branch felt as warm as if God Himself.

It all seemed to be God’s arrangement, leading this old man to the high mountain.

And himself, without hesitation, went up to the summit.

Now, he no longer had the strength to descend the mountain.

So, in these final moments, what should he do?

Al sat down, gazing into the distance.

He was old... Crying, tearing heartbroken tears, wailing, mournfulness—these things no longer existed for him; he was now serene in his outlook on everything.

The many trials he’d encountered in life now seemed insignificant, with only an inescapable sorrow remaining in his heart.

The shining branch behind him, as if the Lord stood behind the old man himself, watching over this weathered soul.

He felt weary, drowsiness enveloping him.

Al closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the radiance, and slowly leaned his head back.

His soul gradually separated from his body and drifted towards the light.

"My Lord,"

"What should I do?"

At his life’s end, Al asked himself.

And then softly answered,

"To love, to praise, to walk with You..."