Leon’s mystical eyes scanned those words once again.
Those were not the only things he had learned by these scriptures of theirs, as there was one important thing which was ntioned again and again—many tis in a single book—and not one book failed to ntion it.
A prophecy.
A prophecy was ntioned again and again.
A faint musty scent clung to the yellowed pages, their rough edges scratching at his fingertips each ti he turned a page beneath the dim, sunless light.
The context of the prophecy... rather than the context, he read it once again.
"When the veiled darkness consus the Era anew,"
"The buried sins of the forgotten shall stir."
"A Rise shall answer a Clash,"
"And the Ruins of the Forgotten will erge from shadow."
"In those forsaken remnants, legends once lost shall awaken and be recalled."
"Illusions shall yield to the truths of the past."
"Only then shall the Almighty return, descending upon the world once more."
Leon had no idea what this prophecy was talking about. He had not a single clue.
A faint chill slithered down Leon’s spine as he finished reading, the hairs on his arms standing on end, and a dry taste prickling at the back of his throat.
In this world, things such as magic existed—even the Gods—so this prophecy, whatever its aning was, might well hold true in the future.
He did understand one thing: the whole prophecy referred to the descent of their god, whom they referred to as the Almighty.
He had decided to rember this prophecy in his mind. Maybe in the future, it would be useful sohow.
Prophecy was cool and all, but the Church of Almighty was known for its holy magic. In these scriptures of theirs, not once was any technical or other type of detail ntioned regarding the Holy Elent other than endless praise.
It’s as if they are guarding it.
He cursed his luck. There was nothing he had found about it from this church. He decided to move on to the next one, as the Holy Elent had another na—the Elent of Gods—ntioned in the Lin Fang autobiography. So there might be sothing he could find there.
Or so he hoped.
Yet another ten hours had passed.
He had read every single one of their books.
All the other books also focused mainly on getting new mbers—not as extre as the Church of Almighty, which went as far as titling their first Chapter You Will Burn in Hell.
These two churches also had the sa prophecy, only the last part changed to ntion the descent of their god.
God of Life.
And...
God of Light.
Yet these past fifteen hours had been almost a waste of ti in terms of trying to find the solution to his current problem.
His shoulders ached from hours hunched over rough wooden desks, the faint creak of the chair, and the soft rasp of paper filling the silent mountains, fading into nothingness.
He felt sleepy now. He was in his real body. He had to take a rest.
Taking out a big, fully white mattress from his inventory with a whoosh, it dropped to the ground, causing a ripple on its soft surface.
A cool whisper of air followed as he shook out the blanket. The mattress dipped beneath his weight, springs creaking softly as he let himself sink into the welcoming softness. The pillow was cool against his cheek, and the faint scent of clean cotton lingered as he finally drifted off.
The sleep arrived this quickly, not because of peace.
As he didn’t have much peace of mind currently—but only because of his exhaustion.
Then he woke up again. He didn’t know when it was or how much ti had passed, as there was no sun or moon in the sky to tell him that, or have any idea—the tiless view of sunset without the sun was present everywhere.
He took out the preserved at and bread from inside his inventory and started eating them.
He tore into the bread, its crust yielding with a gentle crunch, and the soft, yeasty warmth filling his mouth. The at was rich with spices, a smoky aroma curling upward as he bit in, juices still locked in as if it had just left the fire. The food ward his hands, giving him a mont of peace.
He didn’t feel bad eating this al, knowing his spoon was put to good use, and also the bread was soft, like the ti he had stored it.
He had found that his inventory’s ti seed to sit still, so he had quite a bit of food inside that he could use anywhere.
The at was almost tender and well-seasoned, slightly hot.
He enjoyed his al.
After he was done, his expression once again turned determined, as he had to find so way to stop his Holy Energy from acting up and store it sohow—like in sothing similar to a mana core.
The whole day, from the ti he had woken up to the ti he was completely exhausted and couldn’t keep himself awake...
There was only one thing he had done the whole ti.
Doom-scrolling on the Cosmic Chat.
Yet he found nothing that could be of help to him.
During the day, for an hour, he had tried to gain better control of the Holy Energy inside, yet no progress at all.
He closed his eyes and focused, feeling the foreign energy swirl beneath his skin—cold and prickling, refusing to settle. The faint thrum of power pulsed in his veins, but every attempt to shape it slipped through his grasp like smoke.
The only thing he could do was just keep it stored alone in his body, spread out—until the amount exceeded, and he wouldn’t even be able to do that.
And result in him becoming the world’s brightest torch.
After having his dinner, he didn’t know when he fell asleep again.
Today, instead of doom-scrolling the whole day, he had tried to gain more control over the elent, yet not a speck of progress—as if it wasn’t even ant to be done.
But he didn’t give up and continued the sa practice of trying to gain better control over the Holy Energy he had.
However, even when a week’s worth of ti had passed according to him—as he had slept and woken up seven tis—there was practically zero progress.
It was as if I were applying my precious ti to sothing that would have no effect, no matter how much ti I gave.
Fucking hell. Why is this damn Holy Energy so worthless?
He even wished now that he shouldn’t have gotten this power, because of it, he would have a tasteless revenge that he had prepared so much for.
Holy Energy was not sothing he wanted to reveal to the world—as when in the Heavenly Realm, its details were being kept secret. So he knew he wouldn’t survive long if he made such an utterly foolish mistake.
Calming his nerves with long, deep breaths, he started doom-scrolling the Cosmic Shop once again, making him feel as if he had returned to his previous world.
But then he reached a breaking point.
What am I even doing? Just scrolling through endless shop pages like an idiot, hoping sothing will suddenly solve my problems. Feels like I’m just wasting ti, like those people online who never stop looking for tips they’ll never use. At this point, even my own self-pity is tired. If there were a dal for pointless scrolling, I’d probably win it by now.
He slamd the interface shut, knuckles white. Sothing had to change. No more scrolling.
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