The woman fell to her knees, reverently touching the hem of Amon’s robe.
“Are you an angel?” she whispered.
Very few dared to look directly at Amon as golden divinity flowed around him. His hair had turned white, his eyes shone like small yellow suns. But more than anything, it was the third eye on his forehead that made him appear inhuman. It was large. Larger than the other two combined, glowing with golden light.
“Verde, I can see these people’s destinies…” he whispered into my mind.
Even after switching to his point of view, hoping I would perceive what he was seeing through his eyes, I still failed.
Perhaps only those who had mastered the Thread of Fate could see the destinies of others. One way or another, I felt both curious and disappointed.
The divinity soon faded and Amon returned to normal. His hair and eyes darkened, the yellow glow dimmed and disappeared, and finally, the third eye closed and sank beneath the surface of his skin.
“Are you truly an angel?” the man who had been preaching about recruitment asked. He now stood only a few steps away from Amon, several guards with raised shields positioned between them.
“No, I am not. Perhaps someday, if Father wills it.” Amon clasped his hands like a true priest. Then he placed one hand atop the kneeling woman’s head and looked toward the sky.
“Father, please do not withhold Your mercy from those in need, even if they sin, even if they have not accepted You in their hearts, for they do not know what they are doing…”
Every emotion I had felt before was immediately replaced with amusement.
Watching Amon act so dramatically while I knew he was faking every word was already absurd enough, but he was my avatar. In a way, he was practically praying to himself.
“Which God do you serve?” the man asked again, far more carefully this time.
“Father is known by many names. He cannot be comprehended by mortal minds. He stands for the weak and the poor. He wishes to protect those who cannot protect themselves…” Amon helped the woman to her feet as he spoke, offering her a warm smile.
As Amon shaped my religion, mostly revealing ideas I had already decided upon and shared with him, I found myself growing worried about what would happen if this new identity of the God of Many Faces clashed with the God of Velmoryn.
What if the image the velmoryns had of me as both a just, loving father and a ruthless executioner conflicted with this new distant and mysterious persona I was creating?
Still, I could not deny that although I would need to closely monitor the image Amon was building for me, he was doing an excellent job.
It had taken him only a few moments to completely shatter the tension and turn the arrogant recruiter into a frightened man.
“Please, show us a token of your God,” the man asked.
His voice still carried the same cautious edge, but he finally dared to step out from behind the guards and face Amon directly.
“A token of my God? Father does not concern Himself with such trivialities.” Amon snorted. “But I suppose I could show one of His symbols.”
His mana flared, surging from his body.
Its color… it changed.
Amon’s mana had turned bright yellow, likely due to the influence of the God of Many Faces’ divinity. It covered his entire body, distorting the air around him.
The guards immediately tensed. The man retreated behind the shields once more. The crowd stirred uneasily, widening the circle around Amon as the tension rose again.
And it reached its peak when Amon’s mana bent and gathered above his palm.
They must have expected runes. Perhaps a diagram.
Instead, his mana began to condense.
It took a few moments before the shape became clear. A golden, mostly transparent sphere formed first. Then an image slowly appeared within it as the mana gathered together.
A needle and a thread.
Amon did not stop there. He shaped the end of the thread into an infinity symbol, although it looked more like a number 8 than anything else.
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Satisfied, he raised his head, a faint smile on his face.
“I’ve never seen that symbol before…”“Is it an arrow tied to a rope?”“No, idiot, it’s a needle! His God must sew wounds shut! Didn’t you see him heal that old woman?”…
Whispers spread through the crowd as people slowly realized that Amon meant no harm.
The recruiter also stepped out from behind the shields again and awkwardly studied the sphere hovering above Amon’s palm.
“Why have you come?” he asked. “Do you seek war with the Church of Prosperity?”
Church of what? Am I about to encounter a new deity?!
I was not particularly worried. I already knew what Amon was planning, and it felt safe. No reasonable god would be offended by it. And those who were unreasonably hostile… well, they did not need excuses to start wars anyway.
“Prosperity, you say…” Amon paused, his eyes scanning the surroundings.
Even without saying it aloud, the mockery in his gaze was obvious. The settlement, while not ruined, was far from prosperous. The buildings, the walls, even the people themselves looked worn down and exhausted.
Amon waited until the man opened his mouth to respond before speaking again.
“My Lord wishes no harm upon those who have not wronged Him or His believers. I was sent to help those in need, to help those who would accept His light.”
“To establish a new church, you would require Baron Leon’s permission,” the recruiter replied, a faint smile appearing on his face. “Though, if you truly wish to show us your goodwill, I may know a way you can help us.”
<<>>
A man wearing a dark cloak approached the guards standing before the open entrance. It was the only way into the settlement, which was surrounded by a tall wooden fence lined with sharpened stakes.
“You there! Stop!” the guard with long blond hair ordered, pointing his spear at the cloaked man. “Who the hell are you and what business do you have in Foxden?”
The man lowered his hood and slightly raised his hands. His hair was short and black like charcoal. His eyes were gray and hollow. Still, no one could deny he was handsome.
“Calm down, will you?” he barked. “Would anyone come to this shithole without a good reason? I mean to join the army, obviously.”
As he spoke, he kept staring at the blond guard’s greasy hair as if trying to make a point.
The second guard laughed and lowered his sword, resting a hand on his belly.
“Join the army, huh? Which god do you serve?” he asked.
“A god? Do I need to serve one of those selfish bastards?” the handsome man spat to the side, his face twisting in disgust.
“I beg forgiveness, my Lord,” his thoughts immediately reached me.
I couldn’t care less. As long as he successfully infiltrated Noah’s forces and provided me with information, I would not have been bothered even if he genuinely thought of me as a selfish bastard.
But he did not.
Once a velmoryn accepted my mark, their feelings toward me could no longer remain neutral, let alone hostile. The Authority seemed to work both ways. It influenced my believers’ affection toward me just as it influenced me in return, perhaps even more…
At first, I had worried that after Amon changed the velmoryn’s appearance into that of a human, his race would also change and sever the connection between us.
But he was still listed as a velmoryn.
Only his name had changed.
His new name was Dick, one Amon had chosen during a moment of amusement.
“What?” Dick barked when the blond guard moved the spearpoint closer to him. “You don’t accept people like me into your army? Only those branded by your gods? Fine then, I’ll leave. There are enough wars for men like me to avoid starving.”
“Whoa, whoa, calm down,” the fat guard laughed again, his belly shaking. “We accept people of any faith and allegiance. So long as they swear upon the god’s relic to serve faithfully.”
“If the pay is good enough…”
“Then go find one of the priests. They’ll handle your oath.”
As… Dick… entered the settlement, I attached one of my mind threads to him and shifted the Window back to Amon.
It had been two days since Amon arrived in that desert-like place and joined a small group preparing to depart and destroy a nest of giant scorpions.
Today, he was supposed to be examined by the local priest. According to them, the church wished to determine whether he was strong enough to participate in the campaign.
I doubted that was the real reason.
Everyone who had witnessed Amon’s power had already seen that he was more than qualified.
There had to be something else behind it.
“You must kneel before the altar before entering the temple,” the recruiter told Amon.
As if to demonstrate, he knelt beside the entrance and kissed the scale symbol etched into the wall.
“I kneel before none but my Lord,” Amon declared proudly.
Actually, you don’t kneel before me either…
The recruiter had been assigned as Amon’s guide. He followed him everywhere, which made me question his actual standing within the settlement.
At first, I had assumed his position was relatively important. But now, I was beginning to suspect he was little more than an expendable lackey the local baron did not particularly care about.
“Lead the way, Hugo,” Amon said with a faint smile as the man struggled to find words that might convince him kneeling was an essential part of the ritual.
In the end, Hugo had no choice but to accept defeat and enter the temple.
The interior was absurdly luxurious compared to what was happening outside.
The walls were lined with gold, while far too many icons and chandeliers cluttered the space. Even the chandeliers were overloaded with candles, nearly every holder occupied by a burning flame.
As a result, the air was heavy and strangely sweet, with a faint scent of honey lingering throughout the temple.
“Approach the altar and the priest will meet you there,” Hugo said. “He will require a drop of your blood to examine your attributes and information.”