A blinding light descended upon them.
It wasn’t just any light—but green in color—embracing every single one of them.
The warmth rolled over their skin like soft waves of heat, tingling beneath flesh and bone. So gasped, others whimpered—confused as the ache of past wounds returned for a mont.
Pain—not from being hurt—but from their previous injuries: broken bones, cuts, and bruises. All of it was nded by the grace of the green blinding light. In just a few seconds, every single one of them felt rejuvenated and whole.
No more wounds on their bodies.
No more hurting.
No more pain.
Nothing.
As if they were reborn.
Every single one of them went to their knees, one by one—starting from those who had lived with pain all their lives. Wounds that were never ant to heal.
Even those with only a few scratches and bruises bowed.
Because the green light wasn’t just healing—it was their God’s own grace descending upon them.
Not even the God of the Church had a place left in their minds now.
There was only one true God for them—the one standing in front of them.
Sothing mysterious happened.
Sothing even Leon himself had never imagined.
Ethereal golden energy started to radiate all over his body. Leon stood still. He wasn’t doing anything—yet the light kept growing.
His skin tingled. The golden light bled out of him, coating the ground, bathing the crowd in divine hues. Shadows fled from his feet. He could feel no strain, yet his senses buzzed—as if the world were being rewritten in his image.
That’s when he realized: it wasn’t him.
Even he felt it—like the world had chosen him without his consent.
As the people watching felt as if a godly, holy being stood before them. Their reverence and faith increased even more. Before, he already had an extrely handso appearance—with mysterious eyes that gave them so proof of his divinity—but he still looked human.
Now, this ethereal golden light, shining brighter and brighter, told them a new truth—they were truly blessed by a real, true God.
So even cried, prayed, and bowed completely before him.
And Jas lay completely flat on his stomach. His legs on the ground, his hands on the ground. He had claid it.
Jas had claid it before anyone else.
The maximum level of kowtow. He proved that his devotion was the strongest out of all of them—not to anyone, but to himself.
Lord God, my one and only true master—may whichever path you walk stir dust upon the world, the dust of death, cold and heavy.
The creator of death and glory.
All praise to Lord God.
He didn’t want anything—just to follow him and witness the glorious deaths he would bestow upon others.
A line.
A line he had once read clicked with him.
"An ethereal golden light that is not for mortals to witness—that is holy energy, also known as the Elent of Gods."
Even those with an affinity for the holy elent couldn’t use it unless they made a connection to a divine being.
Yet here he was—breaking the rules rembered even in the worlds above.
This power...
He looked at the ethereal golden energy beautifully glowing over his master’s body—truly making him seem not of this world.
This very sa holy energy was being created due to the faith of people who believed he was their God. Leon could feel their faith within him—so with more, so with less.
But none without it.
Their faith was the source of his holy power—not borrowed from any so-called gods, but created by belief—so strong it had turned into divine power.
He wanted to see who had the most faith in him.
He could feel them. Even without trying, he could tell. They stood out—different in the ever-present crowd of hundreds.
There.
She was small, starved, with dirt sared across her cheeks—but her eyes didn’t waver. She gripped the dagger like a symbol, not a weapon—as she knelt with steady hands, eyes locked onto his.
His eyes softened as he looked at her. He could feel it—even without the slave mark—he could trust her. It felt strange for him to think that way, as he knew he had a very cautious personality, which might cause him trouble. But that was just who he was.
Yet her faith told him she could never betray him.
What a strange power... this faith... and holy elent—the Elent of Gods. Fascinating.
But suddenly, he felt sothing—a faith even stronger than Lisa’s, just behind him.
He knew who it was. He was shocked for a mont. He hadn’t expected it from the man he had treated the worst out of everyone.
Nearly starved him to death, slapped him so hard his brain could have burst, then healed him just enough to let the pain continue.
Yet the man—most dramatic of them all—whose every action seed exaggerated... his faith was real.
Lying flat on the ground, his face buried in the grass, saliva leaking from his mouth... Leon didn’t understand what the hell was wrong with his first slave.
A few among the crowd flinched at the sight, unsure if his madness was divine or cursed. But Leon just stared—repulsed, yes, but intrigued. The power flowing from Jas was disturbingly pure, like obsession given form.
But looking past all that, there was sothing else—his faith was different. Leon had noticed variations in the faith of others, but they shared similarities.
Jas’s faith, however, felt like a completely different belief altogether.
Leon couldn’t look deeper into it—but he could tell. It was different from all the others—most unique.
But the fact remained—he was the largest supplier of holy energy among them right now.
Leon didn’t bother to make them stand. He simply blurred from his place, appearing hundreds of ters away from them—to do what he had to do. Holy energy was still being generated. Distance couldn’t stop faith.
The people were shocked for a mont when their God vanished into thin air—but they quickly cald down. This wasn’t the first ti it had happened, and it wasn’t like he could always stay with them. He was a God—he likely had other divine things to do.
They slowly stood, but their minds remained filled with thoughts of their God—the godly form he had shown before leaving—a proof of his divinity, felt deep within their souls.
But their peace was broken, as a terrifying pressure descended upon them, making everyone kneel back down into place again.
This ti, it wasn’t out of choice or faith—
Then the wind died. A pressure—cold and ancient—descended, keeping them on their knees, and the sky seed to hold its breath. Their God had vanished... but sothing else had stepped into his place.
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