“Good morning, Siles,” Grenfield said. “Just one more week until the New Year.”
“Good morning, Teacher,” Siles replied. “We can meet up that morning.”
He sat down in front of Grenfield.
The fireplace in the room blazed, giving off an incredibly warm feeling. Freed from the bitter, freezing rain outside, Siles immediately felt much more comfortable. He couldn’t help but think that he really should put the leaf specimen matter on the agenda.
Grenfield asked, “How is the project on sealed artifacts coming along?”
“Progress is slow,” Siles answered truthfully. “Ms. Aston warned me not to speak to the sealed artifacts. However, I never got the chance to ask her what would happen if I actually did.”
“That’s simple, Siles,” Grenfield said. “A sealed artifact is essentially an out-of-control Time Trace, so the result would very likely be similar to that of an out-of-control Time Trace.”
“But,” Siles weighed his words carefully, “a sealed artifact is a more… ‘stable’ out-of-control Time Trace. Can a sealed artifact also cause spiritual inactivation?”
Siles and Grenfield’s lessons now leaned more toward research-oriented discussions. They shared their thoughts with each other; Siles’s whimsical ideas occasionally inspired Grenfield, while Grenfield’s profound knowledge guided Siles toward new directions.
Grenfield replied, “A very awkward problem is, Siles,” he said with a highly serious expression, “we have no way of knowing whether a person has truly experienced spiritual inactivation.”
Siles was slightly taken aback.
“Take the [Shadow of the Old Gods] ritual, for example,” Grenfield offered. “If someone suffers from spiritual pollution, we can measure it using this ritual. But if spiritual inactivation and spiritual pollution occur in a person simultaneously, these effects do not cancel each other out. Pollution is pollution, and inactivation is inactivation. In this scenario, the spiritual pollution measured by [Shadow of the Old Gods] remains the same. In other words, we wouldn’t know if this Revelator has suffered spiritual inactivation, nor how much ‘vitality’ they have lost. We can only infer whether they have spiritually inactivated based on their daily behavior.”
Siles pondered this for a moment. “That sounds rather imprecise.”
“Yes, which is why the Second Corridor has recently been trying to clarify—” Grenfield thought for a moment, “—the difference between genuine mental illness, spiritual pollution, and spiritual inactivation. Some people fall ill but are deemed to be polluted or spiritually inactivated; others are clearly polluted but are treated as having a mental illness and taken by their families to see doctors and take medicine… It’s a completely absurd state of affairs.”
Siles couldn’t help but think of those young children.
Grenfield continued, “So, your and Ms. Aston’s research will help us explore this unknown territory.”
“The evaluation of soul strength?” Siles asked. “I’m still not sure if Ms. Aston has reached a proper conclusion.”
“She should be announcing her results after the New Year,” Grenfield said. “After all, we need to wait for the Replicating the Self ritual to be promoted for a while longer. I have already proposed adding the study of this ritual to the introductory courses for Revelators, allowing them to cultivate a Time Trace for Replicating the Self so they can maintain their sanity and clarity in the days to come. I remember telling you before that, typically, after finishing their introductory courses, a Revelator must first find a ritual to keep themselves lucid. However, the vast majority of Revelators actually fail to do so. But now, being able to provide a relevant ritual directly in the introductory course is indeed very convenient and offers these newly initiated Revelators the greatest protection.”
Siles nodded in agreement. This would likely change the sequence of introductory studies for Revelators going forward. Furthermore, these Time Traces would become “anchors” in these Revelators’ hearts, keeping them from losing themselves in the dust of history and time. This was indeed a good thing, Siles thought.
Grenfield, however, scrutinized Siles and asked, “My student, why do you look completely unexcited?”
Siles paused, asking in slight confusion, “Why should I be excited?”
Confirming that Siles truly felt no excitement, Grenfield chuckled helplessly. “Never mind, Siles. I think you’re perfectly fine just the way you are. Maintaining a peaceful mindset and handling things calmly is a good habit.”
Siles hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Did you run into some trouble, Teacher?”
Siles’s personality had always been this way, and Grenfield knew it well. He didn’t know why Grenfield would specifically bring it up today.
Grenfield uttered an “uh,” then muttered dejectedly, “You really are sharp.” He paused before explaining, “Because of the introductory course matter, I made a special trip to the Elders’ Council, and I heard about some… things.”
“What things?”
“Things concerning you.”
Siles was slightly taken aback, some guesses forming in his mind.
Grenfield bluntly continued, “You’re a professor at Lamifa University; many people know this. Generally, people agree that what belongs to the Revelators belongs to the Revelators, and what belongs to the secular world belongs to the secular world. It’s an unspoken rule. Even though there are many nobles in the History Society, as well as commoners and even vagabonds, once they become Revelators, they are meant to be equal. No one is supposed to throw their weight around inside the History Society based on their outside identity.”
Hearing this, Siles already understood what Grenfield was angry about, and it sparked a few other thoughts. Professor Mantel? he wondered.
Grenfield went on, “But what I heard this time came from an Elder I’m somewhat familiar with. He told me that someone inside the Elders’ Council wanted to suppress you from the Lamifa University side, and they have already done so—it’s truly sickening.” He spoke without holding back.
Siles asked, “Do you know when this happened?”
“Probably a while ago. It should have been right around the time Lamifa University started the new term after the winter holiday,” Grenfield said, then asked with deep concern, “So, did you run into anything at Lamifa University during this time?”
Siles thought carefully and realized this really could be related to Professor Mantel. He replied, “There was indeed one incident… but, Teacher, could you elaborate a bit more?”
Grenfield eyed him suspiciously, feeling that Siles was being unreasonably calm. “You can’t keep me in suspense, Siles—don’t act like a novelist about this. Anyway, it seems there is an Elder who has been mentoring a young Revelator within the History Society. This young man has an older relative working at Lamifa University; they seem to be uncle and nephew. So the Elder used this connection to ask that professor to do something.”
Siles suddenly understood. He recalled Professor Bright mentioning that Professor Mantel wanted his own nephew to get a teaching position at Lamifa University, which was why he disliked Siles. Regardless of the excuse, Professor Mantel did indeed have a nephew.
He then explained the situation with Professor Mantel to Grenfield, including how he maliciously dismissed Siles’s two teaching assistants and deliberately held up Chendo’s TA application form.
Grenfield frowned continuously as he listened, saying angrily, “What despicable underhanded tactics!”
“Don’t be angry; the matter has already passed. Professor Hurst—the Dean of the School of Literature and History—said he would hand down an appropriate punishment to Professor Mantel,” Siles said.
Grenfield reluctantly nodded, then suddenly realized something. “Why did this alert the Dean of the School of Literature and History?”
Siles thought for a moment and said, “Because I wrote a pretty good paper?”
Grenfield: “…”
He stared at Siles in astonishment, knowing that the word “good” coming from his student’s mouth was likely not that simple. He asked cautiously, “What paper?”
“The wandering poets of the Sardinian Empire,” Siles said. “I studied their poetry in the paper. Moreover, I found evidence proving that they were believers of Ligadia.”
“…An unknown group of Old God believers?!” Grenfield’s eyes widened in shock. He couldn’t help but exclaim, “So, while you were researching the topic of spiritual pollution at the History Society, you also made a discovery like this over at Lamifa University?!”
Grenfield’s slightly exaggerated tone made Siles touch his nose in mild embarrassment. He murmured, “That’s true, but…”
“Siles, you really are a genius!” Grenfield interrupted him directly. “That’s a group of Old God followers! Unknown followers of an Old God! Those old geezers at the History Society will be absolutely stunned by this discovery!”
Siles was slightly taken aback by these words.
Grenfield looked at Siles, then shook his head as if disappointed by his lack of ambition. “Those are Old God followers! Siles, that means power!”
Only then did Siles belatedly realize that the wandering poets he had evaluated purely from a literary perspective were, in practical terms, a group of believers tied to a deity. They might possess the power of the Blessed and could provide assistance to modern Revelators.
…Of course, Siles believed that these powers were surely already under the control of the Praia family.
Grenfield was still marveling, “It’s somewhat incredible… I mean, Siles, whenever someone tries to suppress you, they always end up asking for trouble and bringing about their own ruin. It was the same with Clarence in the past, and it’s the same with this Mantel now. You are outstanding and excellent enough on your own, and you won’t be shaken by these obstacles and disgusting tactics. Siles, just keep being yourself, and you will have everything.”
Grenfield’s words left Siles slightly stunned.
After a moment, he said softly, “I understand, Teacher.” He paused. “I will continue moving forward along the path in my heart.”
Grenfield nodded in gratification, then pulled a bottle of potion from his drawer. However, the potion looked a bit… off. The liquid was pitch black and occasionally bubbled with a squelch, looking far from wonderful.
Siles asked, “Is this your… new creation?”
“If you think it looks ugly, just say so,” Grenfield said. “Of course, the taste really isn’t great either. I didn’t drink it; I just smelled it.” A rather subtle expression crossed Grenfield’s face.
“What effect does it have?” Siles asked curiously.
“Well… first of all, during one of our chats a while back, we mentioned that if a potion is meant to be consumed, it would be much easier for the effects to manifest on the Revelator themselves,” Grenfield said.
Siles nodded.
Grenfield continued, “So I started from that point, thinking the potion could try to make the Revelator’s body stronger—fortifying the body, something along those lines.”
Siles cast a suspicious glance at the pitch-black potion.
“I tested it on the white mice in the lab,” Grenfield said nonchalantly. “The results were very good.”
“…Were they?”
“Of course,” Grenfield said expressionlessly. “The mice all exploded and died.”
Siles: “…”
He began to eye the pitch-black potion with a look of sheer horror. He tactfully suggested, “Teacher, I believe you have quite a talent for the poison trade.”
Grenfield shot him a speechless glare. “I think it’s an issue with the dosage,” Grenfield rubbed his chin, muttering to himself. “Anyway, this potion is basically a scrap. You can take it and use it, if you find a use for it.”
Siles thanked Grenfield for his kindness, even though he felt he probably wouldn’t have any use for it anywhere.
The morning passed. As Siles was bidding Grenfield farewell, Grenfield seemed to suddenly remember something and said to him, “By the way, do you know about the History Society’s commendation ceremony?”
“What?” Siles paused.
“Of course you don’t.” Grenfield muttered something that sounded like a complaint about certain people’s irresponsibility. “Anyway, your project has shown excellent results and prospects, so it will definitely be included in the History Society’s commendation ceremony this coming January. So, you can prepare an acceptance speech in advance. Also, you can look forward to the prize; the old folks at the History Society won’t be stingy about this, considering it’s the Replicating the Self ritual. You might get a pretty useful Time Trace.”
Siles finally understood. He nodded, thanked Grenfield, and then left the History Society, returning to Lamifa University.
He had lunch at the cafeteria, dropped off the potion Grenfield gifted him at 6 Hayward Street, and then immediately rushed to the Guixia Literary Society’s activity classroom. This activity room was actually the same classroom where Siles’s club held its activities.
The members of the Literary Society were also largely the same as those in his club. However, after the society was officially established, a few new members joined, bringing the current total to around twenty-five people. Siles didn’t participate in this society’s activities often, but if the theme or activity interested him, he would come take a look when he had time.
This time, the society’s activity was a reading group. After discussing it with Jules, Dorothea had selected a famous novel from the Age of Mist. Siles was somewhat curious about this book, so he came to join the event.
Annette Melvin, the student who had missed class the previous morning, also attended this society activity, so Siles took the opportunity to ask about her situation.
Annette looked a bit distracted. Before the activity began, when Siles asked about her family situation, she suddenly revealed a very dejected expression.
She said, “Professor… I’m sorry for making you worry. I missed class yesterday because… my family lives in the West District. A group of people, like a construction crew, wanted us to move away from there. They’re going to build some kind of… underground railway. My father got into a conflict with them and was injured. He’s recovering in the hospital now… It’s not too serious. Our family can afford the medical bills. You don’t need to worry. It’s just…”
She fell silent for a moment.
Then, she raised her eyes and looked earnestly at Siles, saying, “Who do you think should be blamed for this kind of thing? Should we blame the fact that we live in an area destined to be demolished for urban development, or should we blame the construction crew who had a rough attitude but were just doing their routine jobs?”
Siles listened silently to Annette’s words. He had already heard about this matter from Chendo earlier, but he hadn’t expected it to happen to his own student.
He thought for a moment, then said, “The physical conflict was entirely avoidable, and I imagine you know this as well.”
Annette nodded earnestly.
Siles then said, “No one deserves to be blamed. When a mistake occurs, it’s only by reflecting on the causes of that mistake that you can possibly resolve it.”
Annette was slightly taken aback.
“You are a good student, Miss Melvin,” Siles said. “Blaming anyone doesn’t actually help matters. Rather than weighing the pros and cons, I prefer to do what I can within my power.”
Annette thought for a while, then softly sighed in relief. She said with a flash of understanding, “I understand, Professor.” She paused, then added sincerely, “Thank you.”
Just then, the reading group activity began, and they each took their seats. However, a lingering sense of a sigh remained in Siles’s heart.
The conversation with Annette made Siles feel as if he had caught a glimpse of a microcosm of this era. It was perhaps closer to the actual functioning of this world than the Old God history and the conspiracies of the Old God followers he was investigating.
Aside from Annette Melvin, the other student Siles was somewhat concerned about was Jules Hans. His apprentice had inadvertently come into contact with the Rubik’s Cube brought out from the deep-sea dreams, which made Siles worry about Jules’s mental state.
Conveniently, he had also swallowed a potion and put on Akamara’s Eyeglass Frame to privately observe Jules’s condition.
…He looked fine. Jules was still highly focused and attentive, appearing to be in high spirits.
However…
Siles suddenly realized something. After the activity ended, he asked Jules, “I feel like you seem exceptionally energetic today?”
“Yes, Professor,” Jules nodded. “My sleep quality has been very good lately. I really don’t know why, but it would be great if it could stay like this forever.”
Siles: “…”
Alright, it seemed this was the effect of Akamara’s power on ordinary people.
He should have asked Emil about his sleep quality earlier… Akamara truly was Akamara.
Feeling both amused and helpless inwardly, he had to maintain a calm facade and gave a very objective evaluation: “This can indeed be considered a good thing.”
After the activity ended, the time reached four o’clock. The students left one after another. Siles also bid farewell to Dorothea and Jules, then went to the fourth-floor office to meet up with Chendo.
Chendo was sitting in the chair behind the desk, his hair down, rather boredly playing with that hair tie. Siles had braided it a bit ugly, but the quality was decent, so Chendo naturally kept using it.
Sometimes, when Chendo felt bored, he would let his hair down and play with the hair tie himself… Uh, describing it as “playing” seemed a bit childish, but Siles believed Chendo was genuinely playing with it.
When Siles came over, Chendo snapped back to attention and asked, “Is the society activity over?”
“Yes,” Siles said.
Chendo combed his hair with his fingers, then slowly tied it up. Siles walked over and took over the task. He always seemed a bit clumsy when braiding Chendo’s hair, but considering his hands had never done such a thing before, one couldn’t be too harsh.
As Siles did this, Chendo just sat there, raising those emerald eyes to gaze intently at Siles.
After Siles finished the braid, he looked at it with some satisfaction, leaned down to kiss Chendo, and said, “We can go now.”
“By the way, I have some good news for you,” Chendo said as he stood up. “Remember that medicine from Darwin Hospital?”
Siles paused, asking in surprise, “You bought it?”
“Yes,” Chendo said somewhat smugly. “I didn’t let you down. I asked that employee gentleman for help. He took his child in for a follow-up consultation, then sought out Dr. Hubert Fox and asked him to prescribe a dose of the medicine. Of course, it’s impossible to drink this medicine. It’s currently at 32 Lowell Street. Perhaps we can go back and take a look tonight.”
“We should indeed have it tested,” Siles said. However, he didn’t seem to know anyone specializing in chemistry… Teacher Grenfield? That seemed like a good choice too.
Having a potions master conduct a chemistry experiment… this was quite scientific. He thought Grenfield might actually be interested in the matter. However, they still had to observe the condition of the medicine first.
Siles asked, “So, did that employee gentleman notice anything amiss?”
Chendo thought for a moment, then shook his head. “It seemed like a normal medical consultation process; nothing special happened. That employee gentleman didn’t notice any problems either.”
Siles nodded thoughtfully and said, “Then let’s go out for dinner first, and then go check on the medicine.”
Chendo naturally leaned close to him, interlaced their fingers, and said, “Let’s go, my dear Professor Noel.”
…Chendo really could play around with titles, Siles thought to himself.
Not long after, Siles saw the medicine. It was similar to the cold medicine Dr. Chester had once prescribed for Siles—also some sort of concentrated decoction that needed to be dissolved in warm water. There were about twenty small packets in total.
“How is this taken? One packet a day?” Siles asked.
“Yes, one packet before bed every day,” Chendo said. “These medicines cost 50 Duke coins. Don’t worry, I’ve already reimbursed the employee gentleman.”
“50 Duke coins?” Siles was a bit astounded. “Isn’t that price excessively expensive?”
He thought, no wonder Louisa Lampson once said that a single prescription from Darwin Hospital had ruined her family financially.
“Indeed,” Chendo said. “However, according to this employee, treating young children has always been relatively expensive, no matter which hospital it is. Darwin Hospital is considered the most expensive among them. But after all, there aren’t really any other good hospitals in the West District. The people in the West District seem…”
He pondered his phrasing for a moment.
“…Seem rather reluctant to go to hospitals in the East District for treatment.”
Siles hesitated to speak, and ultimately could only shake his head and sigh. He quickly calmed down, his gaze thoughtfully fixed on the pitch-black medicine, and said, “Let’s brew a packet to try.”
After the pitch-black liquid was dissolved, it took on a strange muddy yellow and blood-red color. Siles was still in ritual time at this moment, so he put on [Akamara’s Eyeglass Frame] and looked over in silence.
“Did you find anything?” Chendo asked.
Siles shook his head. In his vision, the medicine appeared very ordinary, emitting steam with no discolored mist lingering above it. So, was this just a normal potion?
He thought for a moment, recalling certain teachings from Earth’s chemistry classes, and used the wafting method to smell the medicine—a subtle scent of blood drifted into his nasal cavity.
In that instant, he immediately thought of what had happened in the deep-sea dreams. When he entered Jonathan Bryant’s dream, a bucket of bloody water had been placed right beside the massive, bloated monster’s foot.
He couldn’t help but frown.
“What is it?” Chendo asked sharply. “Is there something wrong with the smell?”
“…The smell of blood,” Siles said in a low voice.
Chendo couldn’t help but frown. He looked at the bowl of medicine, fell silent for a moment, and said, “That sounds rather disgusting.”
“It reminds me of the Greyson incident again.” Siles sighed, took off his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Really…”
The psychological trauma he had finally managed to shake off struck him again in this moment. He thought, please let there not be any messed up things put into this medicine… But, the smell of blood.
He couldn’t stop himself from thinking: if the mastermind behind the scenes truly hoped to extend their own life through these children, then where… exactly did this blood come from?
Bloodline inheritance. A bizarre phrasing suddenly flashed through Siles’s mind.
He thought of Jonathan Bryant and his grandson, Nanisal Bryant. If such a blood relation truly existed, if Jonathan acknowledging Nanisal and bringing him back was solely for his unrealistic ambition of immortality, if…
Blood. Blood is thicker than water. Bloodline power.
Siles suddenly felt a trace of chill shroud his heart.
He suddenly remembered that in his conversations with quite a few people, they would often say those old nobles were incredibly stubborn, and just as stubbornly manipulated their descendants, believing their descendants should also follow in their old footsteps. Those old nobles seemed to want to make their descendants become… another “self”.
…The power of replication, Siles thought.
The more compatible, the more matching, the easier it was to become “something”. This was the rule of divine power in this world. Pollution accompanied power. Yet people often felt that possessing pollution meant they definitely possessed power.
But what if… some people created pollution not for the purpose of gaining power?
“Replicating the Self“. Siles suddenly thought of the ritual he had named. The naming had actually been somewhat casual, simply naturally adopting the most common phrasing. But now, Siles suddenly felt as if the name of the ritual truly hinted at something.
What if someone didn’t want to “Replicating the Self” upon their own body, but rather “Replicating the Self” onto someone else’s? Could they truly use this method to achieve immortality?
Siles instinctively felt it was impossible. Constitution, Spirituality, and Will—these three were unified as one and could not be separated. However, pollution was indeed a real thing. Certain people’s attempts were more likely to create a monster.
While Siles was thinking, Chendo had remained quiet, and casually placed the lid over the bowl. Judging by the swift decisiveness of his action, he would probably throw this bowl away later.
Siles snapped back to reality and shared some of his thoughts with Chendo.
“You believe that some elderly people nearing the end of their lives would attempt to extend their own lives?” Chendo said thoughtfully. “However, if they truly are followers of an Old God, wouldn’t they first apply this method toward resurrecting the Old God?”
Chendo’s perspective made Siles pause slightly, and then it suddenly dawned on him.
Yes, yes—Old God followers!
He had overlooked this layer of identity; he had forgotten that Jonathan was a believer in death. Even if his faith wasn’t that devout, it was precisely because he was dying that he craved the warmth of life so intensely. He wanted to prolong his own life, indeed. But, while extending his own life, wouldn’t he also want to resurrect Thaddeus?
If he really resurrected Thaddeus, as such a devout and useful believer, wouldn’t the god he worshiped bestow upon him the reward he deserved? For example, allowing him to continue living, or possessing endless life after death?
Resurrecting an Old God…
Siles softly murmured these words, and then he thought: Holy Child?
What is a Holy Child? Who could be called a “Holy Child”? This was such an obvious usage in a religious sense, yet he had completely failed to realize it before!
Only a child of a god could be called a Holy Child.
Thinking of this, thinking of Nanisal’s title as the Holy Child and his inexplicable mental illness, and thinking of the doctors’ attitudes Nona had mentioned in the dream, Siles couldn’t help but feel as if he had brushed against a corner of the truth.
He then said, “Chendo, thank you. You’ve made me realize a lot.”
Chendo was a little baffled for a moment. He shrugged and said, “My pleasure. But what exactly did you realize?”
Siles wanted to explain it to him, but hesitated and shook his head. “Just a hypothesis; I might need more evidence. Regardless, perhaps ‘resurrecting the Old God’ and ‘resurrecting oneself’ are happening simultaneously.”
He thought for a moment, then added, “Perhaps we can look into their progress from another angle.”
Chendo asked, a little confused, “Such as?”
“Such as that apprentice of mine,” Siles said.
The next morning, after Siles and his two apprentices had finished going over their routine academic questions, Siles smoothly transitioned, “I have recently been researching materials related to Thaddeus. Do you have any understanding of this deity?”
Jules fell into deep thought.
Dorothea, however, asked in some surprise, “Why would you want to research Thaddeus?”
Because death was an eternal topic in the field of literature, works related to Thaddeus and His believers were subjects that literary scholars found hard to avoid. The vast majority of literature students, even if they hadn’t written a major thesis themselves, had definitely written minor assignments on the topic.
Siles had just gained a reputation from his project related to Ligadia and rightfully should have continued researching deeply to expand his fame in this area, yet he suddenly brought up Thaddeus. It was no wonder Dorothea felt surprised.
Siles explained, “I found that Ligadia’s believers would intentionally let themselves die in a foreign land. This custom regarding death makes me think that perhaps some clues can be found in materials related to Thaddeus.”
The two apprentices suddenly understood.
Siles took the opportunity to instruct them, “In fact, literary works cannot possibly involve only one aspect. Examining things from the perspectives of different deities can yield entirely different discoveries. I also hope you can expand your thinking across different fields and specialties.”
Jules and Dorothea both nodded earnestly. Subsequently, they chatted about the deity Thaddeus. Jules properly recounted the information he knew about Thaddeus.
Thaddeus was among the deities who appeared the earliest and fell the latest. In the Age of Divine Birth, the gods did not appear at the same time. Their emergence followed a sequence, and this sequence was recorded by humans at the time. Of course, no one knew why such an order existed.
At that time, people treated gods as incarnations of certain natural concepts. For example, mountains would have a mountain god, so there was Trisli; singing, dancing, and revelry would have a god of pleasure, so there was Elco; death would have a god of death, so there was Thaddeus.
This line of thinking resulted in a group of deities appearing earlier—such as life and death, or stars and mountains. They appeared so early that it seemed as though they had already existed in this world for countless years before humanity even emerged. This situation allowed these particular deities to enjoy a very… one should say, a status somewhat higher than a god. It was as if they were solidified rules, much like the world itself, like the universe itself.
This concept was deeply rooted in people’s minds, which led to many texts recording the existence of these deities from the very beginning, in an era where faith had not yet truly sprouted. That couldn’t even be called a kind of faith; it was merely humanity’s reverence for certain things and certain powers.
…Therefore, when “death” died, it was inevitable for people to experience a sense of shattering, emptiness, and profound confusion. In the dark and profound depths, death itself would also meet its death. Then, where would fragile, tiny humans like them go?
This ideology very obviously became the mainstream thought among the people of that era after Thaddeus fell.
“However, certain believers of Thaddeus actually held a more positive and optimistic mindset,” Dorothea noted. “They instead believed that the god they worshipped was waiting for them at the end of ‘death’.”
Siles nodded thoughtfully.
Those who did not believe in Thaddeus thought that death had reached His dead end, and therefore humanity would follow suit; conversely, those who truly believed in Thaddeus felt that it was simply the deity finally attaining all of His authority.
“How can a ‘death’ that has never died claim to be the god of death?” Dorothea murmured. “At the time, there really were believers who thought this way.”
Both Siles and Jules couldn’t help but feel a bit surprised. Jules was simply marveling at the weirdness of the believers’ concepts back then. To the people of the Age of Mist, this kind of faith in deities seemed rather… bizarre and twisted. It was like that while the deities were still around, and even more so after they fell.
For Siles, his surprise stemmed purely from the fact that Dorothea seemed to know Thaddeus entirely too well.
He couldn’t help but ask, “Dorothea, it sounds like you are very familiar with the situation of Thaddeus’s believers after His fall?”
Dorothea paused, then explained, “It’s like this, Professor: my family has some related collections of books, and parts of them mention Thaddeus. If you are interested, I can go ask my grandfather and see if I can borrow them for you.”
Siles gladly accepted Dorothea’s kind offer.
From another angle, if the Grant family could truly bring out relevant books completely in line with the identity of Thaddeus’s believers, it would match Siles’s hypothesis perfectly. However, Dorothea seemed entirely unaware of this.
Jules pondered for a moment, then asked a question: “If Thaddeus’s believers thought this way, would other believers have similar thoughts? That is… a deity must be perfectly equivalent to the concept they symbolize?”
Siles asked in slight surprise, “Why would you think that?”
“Uh… because I’ve always been researching Antinam,” Jules said somewhat embarrassedly. “And Antinam symbolizes the past and history. Sometimes I feel… this concept is far too ethereal.”
Dorothea chimed in with interest, “I understand what you mean, Jules. You’re saying that the ‘past’ and ‘history’ don’t quite seem like divinities a god should possess. A deity’s authority should be complete and independent. But the ‘past’ is merely a fragment of time. And ‘history’ seems far too… biased toward humanity.”
Jules nodded.
The God of the Past and History. If the god of death must equate to death, then must the god of history equate to history? An inappropriate idiom popped into Siles’s head: prolific enough to have one’s published works match one’s own height.
Regardless, Antinam’s “equating to history” could certainly not mean “equating to history books.” That much was certain, Siles thought. Still, Siles had always maintained a certain degree of wariness and curiosity toward Antinam. He suspected his transmigration was related to this deity, and that this was the reason behind the Church of the Past’s friendly attitude, but he had never received a response.
I’m looking forward to the last day of this year more and more, he thought to himself.
After the morning classes ended, Siles made a point to ask about Jules’s condition.
Jules, mixing joy with worry, reported that his sleep quality was still excellent, though he had no idea why. Since everyone knew some mysterious power existed in this world, Jules naturally felt a hint of panic. The other Revelator present, Dorothea, suggested he visit the Church of the Past to have it checked out.
Jules nodded, adding in a somewhat joking tone, “But, if it really is making me sleep better, then I’m also very grateful to this possible mastermind behind the scenes.”
Siles—the mastermind behind the scenes—Noel: “…”
He wisely remained silent.
After bidding his two apprentices farewell, Siles had lunch at the cafeteria, then continued his afternoon classes. Once his public elective course concluded, Siles found Chendo in his office.
“I brought the specialized course assignments over and finished grading them,” Chendo said. “The work of Teaching Assistant Chendo is complete; what follows is time for the lover Chendo.”
Siles walked over and kissed him, asking, “What does the lover want to do?”
Chendo thought for a moment and said frankly, “Is it what a certain professor wants to do to his lover?”
Siles chuckled softly and had no choice but to lean down and kiss him; after all, this was what Chendo wanted him to do. This kiss lingered for a while. Chendo greedily licked Siles’s lips, tracing the line of his lips with the tip of his tongue.
“…I truly love you more and more,” Chendo said, his voice hoarse. “My love for you grows with each passing day.”
Thinking about it carefully, it was a phrase that made Siles’s heart skip a beat. He liked this concept; he liked this feeling of experiencing love within peaceful, trivial daily life. He never underestimated the power of habit, and it seemed Chendo was about to become his habit.
They separated after a moment. Chendo could always find any opportunity to try and coax some benefit for himself, but whether he could actually get the benefit he wanted from Siles was another matter entirely. At least for this time, Chendo was completely satisfied. He licked his lips, playing with Siles’s fingers, occasionally leaning in to affectionately rub, nuzzle, and kiss him. He just couldn’t resist these little intimate gestures.
Siles always indulged him in these matters. He simply asked, “What do you want to eat for dinner?”
“Your loyal Teaching Assistant Chendo would like to taste your tomato and egg pancake,” Chendo said.
Siles: “…”
He gave Chendo a skeptical look and asked, “Are you serious?”
Chendo shrugged. “It actually tastes pretty good.” He thought for a second and added, “From a pancake’s perspective. I never considered that tomatoes and eggs could be put together.”
…Chendo, although the second half of that sentence sounded alright, you really didn’t need to say the first half, Siles thought. He suddenly let out a sigh under Chendo’s confused gaze, not intending to explain why he was sighing. He just felt he had disgraced the people of his hometown.
Maybe he could use fewer eggs this time.
Chendo added another sentence: “Regardless, I am, of course, incredibly happy that you are cooking personally.”
Siles remained silent for a moment, then reached out and tugged Chendo’s braid. “But it’s called scrambled eggs with tomatoes.”
Chendo replied exceptionally meekly, “I’ll listen to you.”
Siles thought to himself that even though he knew Chendo was indeed listening to him, this brought him no joy whatsoever. Because he knew it was supposed to be scrambled eggs with tomatoes, not a tomato and egg pancake.
…He suddenly seemed to understand why certain followers of the Old God harbored such deep hatred toward the conflation of divine concepts.
He didn’t dwell on the matter further but instead pulled Chendo up from the chair, saying, “By the way, Chendo, I have to make a trip to the Church of the Past on the 30th. They seem to have something to tell me, and they invited me to attend their celebration ceremony. So, I’m afraid I won’t be able to keep you company that night. Perhaps we could have lunch together instead?”
Chendo was somewhat surprised by this news. “Alright—” he said, dragging out his voice dejectedly, then lowered his head and gently bumped his forehead against Siles’s shoulder. “Then I will wait for you to wish me a Happy New Year on January 1st.”
“Of course, I will, Chendo,” Siles said. “You can start looking forward to that day.”
