"Hey, why are you still spacing out?"
Frank’s voice suddenly rang in Alice’s ear, snapping her out of her thoughts. Startled, she turned to Frank and imdiately blurted out in frustration, "Just when will the Prophet’s shrine finally be completed?! Why has the center’s progress slowed down so much?!"
Hearing that, Frank couldn’t help but look exasperated. It had already been an hour since Alice and the others left the [Frog] dungeon, yet she still seed unable to shake off the lingering shock from the experience. Occasionally, she would even wave her fountain pen through the air as if drawing sothing, making her look delusional to anyone unaware of the context.
Like now—she was staring at her palm, mumbling, "Why won’t the pen appear here?!"
With that expression, she looked ready to jump into the next dungeon imdiately.
Frank couldn’t help but recall the dungeon’s final monts. After the Prophet reversed ti on the two Frog God’s Eyes, the entire dungeon began to quake violently, showing signs of breaking apart. The last thing they saw before being expelled was the Prophet standing atop the shattered fragnts, frozen in ti, gazing at them with deep, inscrutable eyes.
At that mont, no one knew what went through Drake’s mind, but he had suddenly bolted forward, nearly falling into the dungeon’s collapsing void. Thankfully, the countdown had just ended, and they were all forcefully ejected.
Drake had even shouted sothing, his mouth forming words that were undoubtedly loud—but aside from the Prophet, no one had heard a thing. Hopefully, he hadn’t said anything too offensive. Even the Prophet’s patience with his most devoted followers must be limited.
Frank silently prayed before turning to Alice, saying, "Alright, Layla has started the eting. Let’s go."
Alice quickly pulled herself together, standing up and following Frank.
The atmosphere in the eting room was tense, but the most noticeable thing was Drake’s expression. He still looked irritable, but for once, his face wasn’t contorted in frustration. Instead, he looked down as if sothing had been taken from him—his entire deanor carried an air of silent loss, a kind of unwillingness to speak to anyone.
It was fortunate that Drake had only just returned from the dungeon. If Cocona had been here, she would have undoubtedly seized the opportunity to mock him, sparking another argunt.
Frank turned to Silas and asked, "What exactly happened in that dungeon?"
Since they couldn’t hear any sound from inside the dungeon, the observers outside could only read lips and make rough guesses about what had transpired. None of them truly understood what had affected Drake so profoundly.
Silas rely shook his head and remained silent.
Frank sighed and glanced at Alice, who was once again lost in thought. At this rate, only the Prophet suddenly appearing could snap these people back to reality.
His gaze shifted to an empty seat before he asked, "Where’s Damian?"
Holding a thick stack of docunts, Layla responded, "After recording everything, he left imdiately, saying he needed to return to the shrine to reaffirm his faith."
Frank let out a dry chuckle. "His faith wouldn’t waver just because of a dungeon, would it?"
Since the shrines and Believer factions had stabilized, the angels had stopped appearing, except to grant power and advancent to their most substantial followers. These chosen warriors battled against dungeons in their na. Only high-ranking believers could witness their proper forms.
Moreover, even when they appeared in the past, they never brought the sa overwhelming power and impact as the Prophet. Thinking about it, Frank realized that Damian’s wavering faith wasn’t entirely impossible.
At that mont, Layla stepped onto the podium. She pressed a button on the controller, and the screen imdiately displayed the key images they had gathered. Her voice was slow but clear as she began speaking:
"The [Frog] dungeon has been officially sealed off today. Its details will be published on the headquarters’ website so that I won’t review them here. Through this dungeon, we can again see that dungeon forces always operate based on a specific script and set of rules. We cannot determine whether the stories they construct are real or fabricated. However, one rule that never changes is this: never sympathize with the monsters because they can turn on us at any mont. No ordinary humans are inside a dungeon—do not waste your compassion on them."
The screen quickly shifted to an image of the Prophet, and at that mont, Drake finally lifted his gaze. His deep eyes fixed on the screen, making it difficult to discern his emotions.
Layla glanced at him before continuing, "Regarding the Prophet, we now have a clearer piece of information."
The image on the screen now depicted the Prophet staring down at Robert, faint numbers flickering on his hand. His eyes, void of emotion, looked at Robert as though he were already dead.
"Not just anyone can be disrespectful toward the Prophet. The price to pay could be their very life. The Prophet aids humanity, yet to this day, we still do not understand his personality. Many people likely believed he wouldn’t appear in this battle. We cannot predict his thoughts, so my advice remains the sa: do not rely too much on the Prophet. Prove your strength and determination to him." Layla concluded.
"No. No matter what, he will always appear at the last mont."
Drake’s sudden, calm statent caught many by surprise.
Frank felt montarily disoriented as if he had been transported back a decade. The last ti Drake spoke in such a composed tone in a eting was over a year ago.
Layla did not believe her reasoning was incorrect, but the person who had just spoken was Drake, the Prophet’s most devoted believer. His opinion was not baseless.
Layla looked at Drake and nodded. "Go ahead and explain."
Drake’s voice was low as he spoke, "It’s just a feeling..." because the Prophet had once said, "If humanity can accomplish everything on their own, then gods have no reason to exist." It was as if he were saying—as long as he was there, humanity would always win no matter what.
Pausing montarily, Drake added, "The reason he didn’t appear earlier was my stubbornness." As he spoke, he lowered his head, his hair concealing his expression.
"Your stubbornness?" Frank asked, his gaze unreadable as he looked at Drake.
Drake furrowed his brows, his expression once again turning irritated. "He told to cut off the monster’s leg, but I didn’t do it from the beginning."
Everyone: "..."
They had no idea when the Prophet had instructed Drake. Perhaps they had their ans of communication. But no one had expected it to be like this.
Alice slamd the table, furious. "Why didn’t you listen to the Prophet?! Aren’t you supposed to be his most devoted believer?! That position should’ve been mine!"
Drake was so enraged that he laughed, his gaze icy. Why had he never found Alice this insufferable before?
"You have the nerve to speak? Be smart and hand over the Prophet’s pen already!" Drake snapped. He had endured Fiona wielding the Prophet’s sword—after all, she was his teammate—but why did Alice also have an item from the Prophet while he had nothing?!
This was truly unfair. Everyone kept calling him the Prophet’s most significant believer, but that title was practically aningless!
Drake would never admit to his terrible attitude. He was always frustrated by anything that didn’t go his way.
Alice instinctively stepped back. "What do you an? The Prophet gave it to , so it’s mine. Don’t forget, I was also the one who summoned the Prophet. I’m his believer now, too!"
Silas stood on the sidelines, unable to get a word in. The others could only sigh—he was still as reliable as ever. Little did they know, Silas was slightly bitter about the fact that he didn’t even have a stake in this argunt.
Noticing Drake’s growing irritation, Frank quickly stepped in. "Alright, I know everyone has a lot to say, but as believers of the Prophet, we should be united! Let’s wait for Priest Silvanus to arrive and settle this. There’s no point in arguing now."
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