TBR CH52

Chapter 52: God Loves the World

Edwin had been researching related materials for the past few days. It was only natural that he would notice that period in the history of the Church of Light.

In the long river of time, humans were not always in a position of weakness. Aided by the gods’ protection, even the most fragile of humans could gain the strength to contend with powerful forces. But in the golden age before the Luminous Havoc, the Church’s power had grown to an incredible extent.

After the Holy See dispatched priests to besiege the Time Dragon, Fia, and successfully obtained her dragon bones, the Church of Light went on to slaughter the seven most powerful Pillar Demon Gods of that era. For a time, their glory was unparalleled. The Church claimed to the outside world that this was a gift from the god. But the specific methods used became a closely guarded secret.

This continued until the Luminous Havoc descended, burning most of the evidence to ash. According to eyewitness accounts, the Church collapsed from the inside out. The magnificent buildings were twisted and crushed into dust by a force beyond human comprehension. Pure black demonic energy swirled above the holy domes, a gloom so deep that even the Holy Light could not dispel it.

The Bishop closed the final book. None of this was as useful as he had imagined, and this period of history was almost impossible to verify. Only after people despaired, believing the gods had abandoned them, did the God of Light belatedly arrive on the scene. Humanity rebuilt the Holy See under the glory of the God of Light and spent a considerable amount of time re-cultivating their faith.

Did even the god have to avoid the brunt of the attack?

The Bishop keenly sensed this. But this was something from a distant past. He had wanted to find some fragmentary records of certain forbidden arts or magic, but even those did not exist. All official scriptures were deeply reticent about that period of history.

“I found something here—”

Tar, for some odd reason, was also very interested in this period of history and had volunteered to join the search for information. The demon’s voice was light, the end of his words sweet, with an almost flirtatious hook. This tone didn’t sound like he had discovered any real secrets.

“Look, Edwin,” he called his name with intimate warmth, “《Unveiling the Luminous Havoc: The World-Shaking Romance of the Saintess and the Demon King》, how about this title?”

The hand Edwin was reaching for the next book paused. He was a little helpless, yet he felt that this was just the demon’s nature. And since he already held the secret wish to “tame a demon,” he couldn’t help but be more indulgent.

“I don’t think it will be useful, but if you like it, you can read it.”

This meant he wasn’t interested.

Tar regretfully withdrew his hand, looking at the exquisite illustrations that accompanied the text. This book was clearly a fabrication by an enthusiastic outsider, telling the story of the Church’s Saintess and the Demon King of the Abyss falling in love at first sight, a love so deep they were willing to give their lives for each other.

In the story, the villain who broke up the loving couple was the Holy See. The Holy See killed the Saintess because of this illicit love affair, and so, the Demon King flew into a rage for his beloved, causing the final havoc.

It was a well-written story, but unfortunately, it had almost nothing to do with the facts.

However, Tar felt that at least the illustrations in this set of books looked more like the real thing than the portraits in the 《Registry of Clergy Names》. He lowered his head and smiled, his pupils turning dark red for an instant. Edwin, beside him, seemed to sense something and glanced over, but everything was normal. The demon’s hair was soft, making one want to ruffle it, and his pomegranate-red eyes were bright. He was reading the love story, which sounded like a third-rate novel from its title, appearing very well-behaved.

Edwin’s fingers twitched involuntarily.

After that… absurd incident, the Bishop had never stopped searching for a way to suppress his bloodline’s transformation. But even without the stimulation of the royal family’s incense on his bloodline, he still had to face the transformation reaching the end of its progress bar several times.

Only when he could no longer bear it, when everything he saw was shrouded in a bright, thin layer of mist, would the Bishop shamefully extend his fingertips to the demon, haltingly expressing his need for help.

Tar could help him, like a source of water quenching a thirst. And he was hidden in his room, unknown to outsiders. Anyone walking through a desert would hide their water source this way.

During those chaotic times, under the inverted days and nights, Edwin always woke up alone on the soft bed. Tar’s scent still lingered on the bedding, along with the demon’s warmth. And he would be nearby, doing something or other, and would smile at the Bishop upon noticing his eyes opening.

The sensation of being touched still lingered on Edwin’s skin, having once bloomed across it in vast, fiery patches. But it was a transaction. Tar abided by the principles of the transaction with tolerance and rigor; there were no extra kisses or hugs.

Perhaps this was why things between them hadn’t become awkward due to these unspoken events.

But Edwin stopped himself from thinking about how he sometimes felt that everything around him was empty. He pretended he didn’t miss the warmth of physical contact at all, that beyond the warm indentation left by Tar’s body, the rest of the bed was just deathly cold. This was just… a normal feeling after a comparison.

“Hey, Bishop,” Tar suddenly asked a strange question, having seen some plot point, “Do you think the gods really care about human faith?”

Edwin missed the second divine descent ceremony held for the Holy Son because he was still at the center of a storm of rumors at the time. Fortunately, his reputation had been proven to have been unjustly tarnished, so he would be able to accept the ritual next time.

And the Dark God missed this event because he was accompanying Edwin at the time and didn’t care about Noah’s affairs.

At first, this matter didn’t show any qualities worth noting. Let alone Tarksius, even the Black Book hadn’t realized the Holy Son was audacious enough to try and add another fish to his pond.

In the end, it was Tar who vaguely guessed the course of events. The Child of Destiny knew the Dark God was within the Holy See, yet he hadn’t met with him after the very first day. This meant that the capturer had temporarily changed his target, attempting to steal fortune in another way.

There was only the God of Light. High risk for high reward. Noah was a bold gambler. His first bet had clearly already paid off.

The God of Light’s second descent brought some small… changes to the Holy See. The ceremony could not be said to have been an unsuccessful divine descent.

Behind layers of pure white curtains, a bright and pure Holy Light spread out. The Holy Son sat on a golden cushion strewn with flower petals, receiving the god’s grace, while the priests on the periphery stood in silent reverence, holding candles that emitted the fragrance of herbs, basking in a sliver of the god’s glory.

It was said that when the curtains fell, His Highness the Holy Son wore a wreath of lilies bestowed by the god, his lips were rosy, his clothes disheveled, and a flicker of joy shone in his eyes. He was so breathtakingly beautiful; it was only right that the god favored him.

The Holy Son had borne the god’s mark since birth. This was a legacy; whenever a previous Holy Son died, the god’s blessing would appear on the next chosen child. However, many Holy Sons had spent their entire lives without ever receiving the god’s gaze. The god did not easily cast his sight upon mortals. This led to the special treatment Noah received being understood as a great honor.

Edwin flipped through the documents handed to him by the person in charge, listening to him ramble on about how special the Holy Son was and how he would lead the Church of Light back to its former glory. Suddenly, he asked, “But, it is said that the god has taken his grace from one of us?”

“Uh…”

A rare look of embarrassment and difficulty appeared on the responsible person’s face. He was clearly reluctant to mention this matter when the situation was looking so good, especially since it was indeed within his scope of responsibility.

“Who would have thought that a partner who appeared so loyal on the surface was actually a companion of the devil—former Priest Bart. The god sensed his disrespect and sent down divine punishment, purifying our ranks. May his soul find its way back from its lost path.”

He finally answered the question with this clever turn of phrase.

Edwin had an impression of Bart. Father Bart had served the Church of Light for most of his life. He was old now, and everyone treated him with a degree of respect. The divine descent ceremony had certain requirements for a priest’s spirit and endurance. He didn’t have to participate in this ritual, but this priest had demonstrated the unyielding spirit of a devout believer, insisting on proving that he could perfectly fulfill his duties as a priest despite his old age. After all, being able to approach the god one believed in was a believer’s highest honor.

However, it was this very person who, when he held the incense and cast his gaze toward the god behind the curtain, found the incense in his hand inexplicably extinguished.

The candles used by the clergy were also holy artifacts that required the use of Light power and would not be affected by external forces like wind or rain. Moreover, this was an occasion so rich with divine grace. Bart’s mouth opened in shock and terror, but no sound came out. His ability to use the Light had been stripped away.

Under the watchful eyes of all, the old man held an extinguished candle, looking as if he were standing in a torrential downpour, with a pitiable expression that was close to tears. A bright white light flashed by, like lightning, robbing him of his right to speak. It was only when he involuntarily reached up to cover his throat that Bart realized his voice had also been taken by the god.

Ah, ah, he tried to piously attribute the cause. This was a blessing bestowed by the god; it was only right for the god to take it away. He began to reflect on his sins, on whether there was any part of his cautious life that was not devout enough, any time he had unintentionally offended the god…

This continued until the curtains fell. The Holy Son, filled with grace, appeared before everyone with a smile like a spring breeze. The god never explained. In everyone’s eyes, this old man had become a ridiculous and pitiful believer abandoned by the God of Light.

Only the old priest saw the deep mockery in the young, beautiful Holy Son’s eyes. He was looking at him, without a doubt, declaring his complete and total victory. From now on, a person despised by the god and stripped of his voice could absolutely not reveal anything and no longer posed any threat.

Faith was truly a ridiculous thing.

Edwin lowered his deep gray eyes, hiding the deepest mockery within them. He didn’t believe Father Bart was a believer who would betray the god. In fact, since he had come to the capital’s church, Father Bart had always looked upon Edwin with displeasure. He was too young. His origins were too humble. The old man could find countless reasons to be critical. In his view, only a perfect person was fit to be the god’s Bishop.

But it had to be said, in some respects, Edwin quite admired such a person. Sometimes, he even felt that Bart had seen through his less-than-devout faith.

What a pity.

He loved his god, but his god did not love him. Without even needing a reason, a god could strip a devout person of all his honor, even the value of his life. What a terrifying punishment this was. And when a god pronounced a death sentence, no evidence of a crime was needed.

“Even a god cannot see through the human heart.”

After the person in charge left, the Bishop sat in his room, and the devil tore away his disguise. Tar appeared as if from thin air. He had heard everything, so he began to spout nonsense following Edwin’s train of thought.

The red-eyed demon stood, pressing his hands on the other side of the table, leaning over to speak. His sparkling pomegranate-red eyes were right at the angle where the Bishop had to slightly tilt his head up, staring at him without blinking.

Sometimes Tar didn’t seem so much like a low-level demon who knew nothing, such as now. He looked like something more mysterious, more dangerous, knowing many secrets that glittered in the dust of history.

However, he was very interested in the devil’s topic…

“Are gods not omnipotent?” Edwin murmured. “What a fragile creature humanity is, and the heart is the most easily destroyed part of this creature.”

“Bishop,” the devil tilted his head to look at him. Edwin rarely noticed his horns, nor his soft black hair. At this upward angle, they inexplicably became a bit sharp, but still very beautiful, or perhaps cute. “If the god could do that, you would have died long ago.”

“Have you heard that in ancient times, to prove a believer’s loyalty, a god would strip him of everything, trample him in the dust, to test his heart? —But they were also lucky, because gods don’t care about humans. No matter how madly and devoutly one loves him, most of the time, the god is too stingy to even inspect the believer’s heart.”

No one discussed such topics openly. In the Church of Light, this was the ultimate taboo in all conversations.

“This is the secret of the gods, Edwin,” Tar lowered his voice, and even his pupils became dark and profound. “Not even gods can see into the hearts of mortals.”

Edwin wanted to say something, but for a moment, he was at a loss for words. He finally curled his fingers, clasping them inward into an arc.

Tar was observing the Bishop’s reaction. Perhaps it was out of a bit of playful mischief that the Dark God revealed such a secret. Although people had many speculations about the gods, the demon was probably the first to state it so assertively.

“A god would not want to see into the hearts of mortals,” Edwin said slowly. He was still not used to being looked down upon by the demon. In the backlit curve, Tar’s eyes took on the color of dried blood as he spoke lightly of divine matters. If Edwin didn’t know clearly that his soul was imprinted with the markings of a low-level demon, he would almost mistake him for some powerful being. “Gods will not care for humans, will not accept humans, will not truly love any human, right?”

The word “love” slipped softly and slowly from the Bishop’s tongue. Tar smiled, quickly sitting back down, turning back into that harmless little demon.

“Of course,” he said.

Even the Holy Son Noah did not understand that it was very difficult for a god to truly fall in love with a human. Even under the influence of a “charismatic halo,” capturing a god would be much, much harder than he imagined.

Did he think everything would go smoothly forever? Too many people loved the gods, too many people would do anything for them, so many that the gods grew weary. Just because he was a god, he could be loved like this, so…

“So I don’t understand those who love the gods with abandon,” the Bishop analyzed himself with near-cruelty. “To abandon everything for something that will never respond is a foolish act.”

“Hey, Edwin,” the demon across from him called. A bouquet of roses sat between them. Tar had a way of keeping this bouquet forever fresh. Sometimes Edwin suspected he secretly went out to replace it with a new one, but he could never find proof.

Getting off track. This was the first time in the Bishop’s long life that he had encountered this question. At this moment, he didn’t yet know that he would change his answer.

“What is it that you truly want?”

The question was so direct that for a moment, the Bishop was unsure if he should answer as usual. But Tar should know; what he wanted had always been the same. He wanted supreme power and glory, ambitious,渴望ing to control everything. For this, he was even prepared to offer his soul as a sacrifice.

Tar made no comment on this. The demon’s smile carried a sharp irony, but there was no malice. He just gathered the roses in the vase and asked Edwin through the gaps between the thorns beneath the flowers, “And what is it you want from me? Don’t say nothing, Edwin. You can find value to be used in everything, I’m already very clear on that.”

And Edwin suddenly felt a strange burning in a corner of his heart. He couldn’t help but think of the thought that had sprouted in his heart a few days ago: “to want to tame a demon.”

A pity. This desire was not yet strong enough to be spoken aloud.

“Each takes what he needs… just help me do some things, until the contract ends.” A very official answer.

Tar shrugged. “As you wish.”

Tar didn’t mind spending too much time on Edwin. The Dark God’s life was eternal. Time didn’t have that much meaning for Tarksius; it flowed away ceaselessly like sand through his fingers.

Only as Tar, when he once again roamed between the silent, solemn marble pillars of the Holy See in the guise of a low-level demon, did he feel the weight of time after a long absence. The demon quietly wandered in the shadows of the brightest place, just as he had experienced a millennium ago.

Tar was even more familiar with the structure of the Holy See than Edwin. When he looked at the buildings glittering in the sunlight, what he recalled were actually more ancient, sacred temples. And then those temples were destroyed by him, wailing as they met their end.

Even earlier, Tar couldn’t remember the time, because time had no meaning in that bottle. The flow of years in the bottle was different from the outside world. Even if a hundred years passed inside, perhaps only a morning prayer had been completed outside.

The bottle was filled with endless light. In that world, so bright it was almost searing, there was nothing else. The only different existence you could see was the small shadow at your feet.

Of course, other things would be thrown into the bottle. The reason Tar used the word “things” to describe them was because they all turned into stark white bones, then were devoured by the lightning-like Holy Light. If one were to take a step further, it was simple: Tar killed them first, that was all.

The demon sat in the bottle, hugging his knees, watching the massive skeleton of a Demon King before him being slowly devoured by the stern light. How terrifying they were when they first came in, how arrogant. Their tails were like mountain ranges, their vertical pupils like twisted lightning. Did they all think they had the ability to resist time, to resist the monster the Church was taming in the bottle?

And then they would all die.

Tar was a special demon, a being the Church had been hunting for many years. The cage was made for him alone.

The black-haired, red-eyed demon looked down at his hands. He envied all the skeletons devoured by this place. At least they didn’t have to wait here hopelessly, having all expectations ground away by endless eternity, painfully fighting against an enemy stronger than themselves, where even victory was meaningless.

…Hopeless.

No, not without hope.

Before being locked in, the demon fled through the Holy See, making the most meaningless struggles. But he was always young and proud, not believing his fate was unchangeable, stubbornly fleeing across the continent for several hundred years, not yet realizing he would have to stop here.

Even in the final hunt, Tar managed to hide inside the Holy See for a whole morning. At the very, very end, the demon heard the footsteps of the Holy Knights. He hurriedly pricked his finger and used the blood to write a summoning circle, tucking it into a book in the library.

If someone saw that book, they could summon the demon.

Tar thought lightly and naively, perhaps he wouldn’t have to wait that long. He would soon see the light of day again, no matter what the people of the Church tried to do to him. He was too young, not realizing that time was much heavier than he thought.

The abandoned devil waited for the day he would be saved. And the passage of time inside and outside the bottle was different. If spending a hundred years in the bottle was only a morning in the outside world, then when several hundred years passed outside, how many eons had the demon in the bottle lived through?

“I want to live freely.”

If you asked the demon of that time what he wanted, you would only get this answer. It sounded casual, but Tar felt that his past self was exactly the same as Edwin. Struggling for an impossible wish, believing he had a chance of survival even when walking into a dead end.

And because of this, the god watched everything through eyes from a thousand years ago, watching how Edwin… witnessed with his own eyes the fact that he had been abandoned.

The Bishop wore a black robe today, adorned with intricate silver patterns. Before leaving, he confirmed the direction of the bloodline magic one last time. There was no trace of wavering in his deep gray pupils.

Edwin did not forget to bring his rosary and scepter. This trip was secret and unknown to anyone. He used the most complex spell to cover his tracks, with only one attendant following him. The attendant’s eyes were as beautiful as rubies.

Edwin pursed his lips. He still couldn’t help but warn him to be careful with his disguise. The demon showed no guilt, giving him a bright, open smile. His disguise skills were indeed astonishingly good; Edwin didn’t need to worry.

It had not yet begun.

A flat, milky-white stone lay in the Bishop’s palm. He pricked his finger. A bead of blood rolled down, staining the smooth disk. The deep red blood sizzled like water in a hot pan, then surged collectively in a certain direction.

Bloodline magic, guiding the trace of blood relations.

Tar watched Edwin’s tightly clenched jaw. Even if he pretended to be indifferent, the demon was familiar enough with him to see that his heart was definitely not as calm as his appearance suggested.

His relatives whom he had never met, the relatives who had abandoned him at birth, the relatives who had proactively severed all ties with the him of twenty years ago. Would he be a cruel person, or a vicious one, a promiscuous one, an irresponsible one…

“We’re here.”

Tar reminded him softly. If he hadn’t spoken, the Bishop probably would have walked right past this house, lost in thought.

Edwin stopped abruptly. His dark, curly hair was a bit damp, probably from a light sweat.

Before looking at the house, Edwin first stared at Tar with a probing gaze, as if hoping he would suddenly perform a magic trick and loudly announce that this was all a mistake, that they could come back another day. But no miracle occurred. What had to be faced still had to be faced.

Tar thought, the Bishop could have come here with many emotions. For example, hatred, because he was abandoned; for example, sorrow, because these were relatives who did not love him; for example, indifference, if they had already forgotten each other.

But the one thing he shouldn’t have was expectation.

And yet, he was only twenty years old, and he believed himself to be human. He had lived a hard life, with no one being good to him from beginning to end. And kinship, in the eyes of humans, was undoubtedly a prerequisite for love.

So Edwin’s expectation, though he himself believed it to be something that absolutely should not exist, was still perceived by Tar.

The bead of blood stopped in the center of the disk, spinning lightly.

This was an unremarkable house. Edwin was not surprised to find himself in the Vardin district; after all, this was where he had been abandoned. The Vardin district was full of such houses, all gray and dusty. The owner of this house had clearly tried to paint it prettier, but the effect was less than satisfactory.

The house was filled with the breath of life, like the ladder placed by the door, the row of blooming flowers on the windowsill, the cured fish hanging to dry under the eaves, and even through the fence, the cheerful laughter of a child could be heard.

Not at all gloomy, not at all oppressive, not at all heavy.

The Bishop stood before the door. The door was not closed, so he could see the courtyard inside at a glance. He clearly suspected he was in the wrong place, so he hesitantly looked down at the disk again.

This was the place, without a doubt.

The source of his bloodline, the close relative who had abandoned him twenty years ago…

This was their beautiful and brand-new family life.

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