Only God

Xilan, I believed you similarly empathized."

Hearing this, Xilan remembered for a moment and then nodded, saying,

"Great Angel, you are right.

Along the way, I've seen a lot.

To transform a person can take countless time; even dedicating a lifetime may still not enlighten the stubborn.

But fear?

It can make one understand reason instantly."

Xilan opened up, communicating with the Great Angel.

Unlike other Great Angels concerned about Schiller, Xilan held a favorable view of Schiller, after all, the Path of Divine Creation he mastered was relayed to him from Schiller through Solamus.

"If that's the case, then why bother exhausting efforts to transform?

You first perform a miracle, then preach, and everything will be much easier."

The Great Angel proposed so.

At this moment, Xilan looked into the distance, as dusk slowly fell, the wind came from the west and went east, the mountains took on layers of dim colors, gradually sinking into the darkness, everything fell silent, even the faint chirps of birds and insects seemed to have vanished.

It was as if God was expressing sorrow.

Xilan raised his hand, pointing to the sky,

"Even without miracles, people can change."

The God-like figure stated lightly,

"Only a handful of people will change."

.........

In the end, Schiller and Xilan parted on bad terms.

Although Xilan heard what the God-like figure said, he did not accept it and continued laboring on the ground, like a tireless packhorse spurred by God.

Their disagreement did not affect Schiller.

He still had his plans, and Xilan was not a part of them, the conversation with him felt more impromptu than premeditated.

The Great Angel surveyed thousands of kingdoms and city-states across the land, searching for the most suitable person.

This act was like the Gods searching the earth for a suitable spokesman.

However, what Schiller was looking for was not any spokesman.

But rather, someone to become the Ghost King.

The Devil had already been created; they gathered in that bloody and sinful temple, voraciously devouring the never-ending evil thoughts of the world.

And those devils, leaderless, with that sinful temple still lacking a sinful king.

With so many evil thoughts in the world, the devils would soon multiply like locusts, and a Ghost King emerging was only a matter of time. Rather than letting them birth an uncontrollable king on their own, it was better to select a king who knew obedience, thus everything could be under one's own control.

After surveying all the kingdoms of the world, Schiller's gaze slowly stopped.

That kingdom was almost isolated from the entire world.

The kingdoms of mortals are like great trees, the fruits produced depend on the soil, and the soil of that kingdom was unimaginably barren.

That was the land of the exiles.

Ever since Nimirda led the Logos people away from the Nus Kingdom, this nation had risen across the sea.

The Elves had hoped for a new utopia, but the barrenness of this land surpassed their expectations, not even the presence of the Ancient Language could reverse this situation.

After the death of Nimirda, the succeeding King Rowley proclaimed that the Holy King had been bewitched by a serpent, and their current plight was due to their failure to pass God's test.

In such an environment, the exiles gradually reconciled with the barrenness of the land, forming an extremely harsh social structure. Malice continued to grow, with no outlet, suppressed by the majestic divine right of kings.

For Schiller, this was undoubtedly a good place for birthing a Ghost King.

Whether it was King Rowley's lies or the barrenness of the land, the harsher the environment, the easier it is to bear evil fruits.

"This is it."

Schiller surveyed the people of this kingdom.

The God-like figure waved his hand, planting devil seeds into the hearts of the people.

In the Kingdom of Logos,

Nearly eight or nine hundred years had passed since the death of Holy King Nimirda, spanning over two generations,

Through the test of time, not only the initial Holy King Nimirda, even King Rowley became characters in stories.

The people of Logos mournfully and sorrowfully bid farewell to one Holy King after another, believing that one day they would succeed in God's trials, and through the guidance of the Holy King, the land beneath their feet would eventually become prosperous.

However, after three generations of Holy Kings, the expectations of the exiles were dashed time and again.

But what of it?

Since the death of King Nimirda, they had long grown accustomed to their disappointed hopes.

This barren land completely changed the original way of life of the Elves, and the fond memories of the Nus Kingdom slowly faded from the memories of generation after generation, turning into thin lines of text in an epic.

Rigongde stood on a towering rock, watching the waves repeatedly crash against the cliff.

He was the son of a Priest, and his descendants would be the sons of Priests as well.

Under the influence of the environment, the Kingdom of Logos had long grown different from the Nus Kingdom, and with the worship of Holy Kings prevalent in every corner of the Kingdom, bloodline worship followed suit, making the people of Logos start to believe that the progeny of the righteous remained righteous, the progeny of the wicked remained wicked, and the noblest-blooded were more likely to receive God's protection.

Compared to the clan structures of the Nus Elves, the social structure of the exiles resembled more the Dwarves under a clan system.

And as the son of a Priest, Rigongde naturally did not have to engage in any demeaning physical labor, his daily life consisted of praying, reciting Scriptures, learning ceremonies, and blessing the Kingdom.

Beyond that, he was at leisure, with no other work to do.

The long lifespan, and the long periods of idle time, gave Rigongde much time to ponder; being naturally intelligent, he often found himself confused, his father said that this confirmed the Scripture in the "Nu Mirda Epic" — "For in much wisdom there is much grief."

Rigongde felt this strongly and agreed deeply.

Standing atop the rock, Rigongde pondered the words from the Scriptures.

"In this world, there are righteous people and wicked people, and people always oppose them, but I see, without wicked people, what need is there for the righteous."

Rigongde muttered to himself.

Just as every Priest studies the meaning of Scriptures, Rigongde too was fulfilling his sacred duty.

Like a god, Solamus watched this Logos person, quite satisfied.

In this world, those who commit evil for the sake of committing evil, their misdeeds tend only to be confined to one place.

However,

Those who commit evil in the attempt to do good, their misdeeds could cause great disasters.

Although some who commit evil to do good are successful, and there are many such cases, the success of a few is far from enough to fill the gaps caused by major catastrophes.

This is why Schiller told Maisy that even if men strive to climb, they will eventually fall.

At that moment, in Schiller's eyes, Rigongde was such a person.

Amid the repeated sounds of the waves, Schiller reached out his hand, quietly materializing the evil thoughts of Rigongde, planting his devil.

Rigongde noticed none of this, still facing the repeating waves, quietly contemplating and growing more and more absorbed in his thoughts.

In an instant, countless ideas formed in his mind.

Even Rigongde himself was surprised, feeling as though he was suddenly bursting with inspiration.

As the son of a Priest, of course, Rigongde would not miss this burst of inspiration, he continuously delved deeply into his thoughts, then memorized each idea in his heart.

The waves kept striking, leaving the cliffs smooth and uneven, the daylight gradually dimmed, the sky silently began to rain, scattering across the sea waters, the slightly raised grass, discolored in the rainwater, forlornly drooped its head.

On the rock,

Rigongde suddenly raised his face, snapping back from his deep thoughts, realizing that it had started raining at some unknown time.

"Yes!"

He seemed to have grasped some concept, sighed after, then turned around and silently walked down from the rock.

The silhouette of the Priest's son left, returning to the kingdom of the exiles.

From then on, the Kingdom of Logos would once again face a division.

Across the vast lands, a race loyal to sin would emerge, all born with white hair, their skin either ghostly blue or dark. These people, often believed by the world to have made pacts with the Devil, proclaimed themselves as Zor Elves.

And they had another name, more familiar to people—Dark Elves.