Myth: The Ruler of Spirituality

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The Mortal Realm.

The air was thick with panic and sorrow among the crowd as, starting two months prior, mortals contaminated with disease began to die off one after another.

This calamity, different from natural disasters and wild beasts, sparked greater fear among humans, for the unseen was far more unnerving than the seen.

Fear stemmed from the unknown, and to calm people’s hearts, the priests had to conduct three grand rituals to the gods in succession to provide a ‘reasonable’ explanation for the disaster.

They didn’t expect any response; ever since the creator departed, communication between humans and gods seemed to have been severed. They intended only to appease the populace in the name of the gods, and then to pray for a swift end to this terrible plague.

Today was the third ritual. In the center of Aurora City, the High Priest Momon stood outside the grand Temple, silently observing. The ceremony had already begun, but he did not go to preside over it himself, instead choosing a junior who had never drunk of the demons’ blood and still held some reverence for the Deity.

His reasons were sound; after all, he was old, and the day would come when he would need to be replaced by a younger generation, so people easily accepted his explanation.

The Sun was high in the sky, and the ritual was drawing to a close, with the Guards maintaining order beginning to relax. They all thought that, like the previous two times, the Chief Celebrant of the ritual would soon emerge from the Temple and speak words to soothe the hearts of the people.

However, the outcome defied everyone’s expectations.

‘Whoosh—’

Refined animal fat was poured onto the stone altar, and vibrant flames blazed before the Temple. Just at that moment, a beam of golden Light descended from the sky, directly entering the Temple.

The top of the Temple was breached, but at that moment no one cared. In an instant, the place fell silent, and then quickly erupted into chaos.

“What is that?”

“Has a god arrived?”

“That golden light is from above the Sun, the priests did not lie to us, the gods truly have responded!”

“Is the disaster about to end?”

“…”

In the past, many had doubted the priests’ ability to communicate with the gods after the creator left, but now all their skepticism dissipated.

The Deity had responded, perhaps the end of the catastrophe was near.

“High Priest, this—”

“Don’t rush.”

Different from the onlookers, those who gathered around Momon became somewhat panicked at the sight.

They thought this was another punishment for their actions, but Momon was not among them. He halted the calls of those beside him, and he had, in fact, expected this scene.

Mortals were beneath godly notice; the outcome of the previous two sacrifices made that clear—they simply did not want to bother with humans. A mysterious individual had told him that before the gods destroyed them, they would twist history, and the most ‘true’ history was that which humans recorded themselves. That’s probably what he meant by the scene unfolding before them now, perhaps this so-called divine pronouncement was not one of redemption, but of Destruction.

“Let’s first listen to the revelation. Let’s see what command the Deity will issue at a time like this.”

Looking at the composed High Priest, the people around him were influenced and fell silent. To the common folk, this scene meant the High Priest had known all along that the gods would respond; only the ordinary priests were unaware.

This deepened their trust, as it was only natural for the High Priest to be more powerful. Thus, the crowd soon returned to a state of solemn silence, quietly awaiting the outcome.

Time ticked by, and as the Sun began to tilt, the great doors of the Temple finally opened once more.

The Chief Celebrant, who had been tasked with leading the ritual, staggered out, leaning on the door. For some reason, his steps were unsteady.

“What did the revelation say?”

Seeing the Chief Celebrant emerge from behind the doors, Momon was the first to speak.

“High Priest, I…”

The Chief Celebrant took a deep breath. His demeanor was not the joy people expected. His hands trembled slightly, and in his palm, he clutched a token cast in gold with intricate patterns carved into it.

Though tranquil at heart, his expression grew grim. Momon stepped forward to take the token from the hands of the speechless Chief Celebrant.

The other did not resist, and the moment the token left his grasp, he collapsed to the ground as if losing his support.

Momon made no reaction to this scene, for as soon as the token was in his hand, the content of the revelation was transmitted into his heart. Silently digesting the information, Momon soon understood why the other had not come out of the Temple sooner and why he behaved in such a fashion now.

For those unaware of the truth, this scenario was indeed hard to accept. But for those who knew, Momon only saw the gods’ ruthlessness. However, that was normal; he wasn’t exactly a good person himself.

At some point, the previously clear Sky began to be obscured by clouds, blocking the Sun. Holding the golden token, Momon slowly turned around, all eyes in the crowd focused on him.

The joy from receiving the revelation had vanished. Now, looking at the Chief Celebrant fallen on the ground, they knew the result was probably not favorable.

Perhaps the gods did not wish to save them, and this golden token was their rejection.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the gods have sent down a revelation, which I shall read on their behalf.”

Facing the crowd’s gazes, Momon looked somber, yet resolute.