"Stop!" The Goddess finally spoke, unable to hold back any longer. "You're copying too much!"
"Ahem!" Truman coughed lightly, closing the Revelation of the Night. "When it comes to preaching, who could surpass that one? This is the most fitting path."
"I'm not yet a true god, and this isn't my path," the Goddess said pointedly, firmly rejecting the idea. It was far too embarrassing.
"Oh, well, someone's going to copy it eventually, so why not me?" Truman muttered, his mood growing excited.
"Soon, you will be a god," Truman declared.
"Hm?" The Goddess, already well-acquainted with her collaborator's strange and wondrous nature, raised an eyebrow.
"The Annihilation Demonic Wolf is about to die!" Truman's words were earth-shattering, causing the Goddess's expression to shift.
From his conversations with the Goddess, Truman had learned about the state of the world. The Goddess had descended here at an unknown time and was cautious, revealing little.
But the eight ancient gods—Giant King Aurmir, Annihilation Demonic Wolf Flegrea, Mutant King Kvastir, and others—were still alive, locked in endless conflict.
"Madmen will eventually be swept into the grave of history. Why not give them a push? It's the tide of history." These ancient gods were indeed powerful, but they were hopelessly insane.
"How do you know these things?" The Goddess stared intently at Truman, starlight scattering around her, betraying her unease.
Truman had been in this world for less than two months and hadn't even left the Deep Dark City. How could he know about the tides of history?!
"I've heard the prayers of the masses and your will," Truman said, immediately slipping into his role as pontiff.
"The source of the Book of Dreams' power?" The Goddess ignored the latter half of his statement, lost in thought.
Truman's face darkened. The Goddess's identity before her transmigration was clearly extraordinary, her instincts razor-sharp, and even more so now.
"Fine," the Goddess said, nodding lightly without pressing further. With a foundation of trust already established between them, many things would now be easier.
The Deep Dark City was under the Goddess's secretive protection, with all its inhabitants as her devotees.
But beyond this city lay a brutally primitive world.
Extraordinary creatures, driven mad by consuming all manner of characteristics, and supernatural races that treated humans as food made this a hellish world for ordinary people.
The Deep Dark City was an exception. Even city-states protected by ancient gods couldn't escape the horrors of this mad era, as the gods themselves were unreliable.
From this perspective, this era truly needed to end.
"Now, my dear Pontiff, what do you plan to do?" The Goddess's gaze fell on Truman, serious and cautious.
"To do what I must…"
Soon after, Truman, holding the world's only copy of the Revelation of the Night, ascended to the peak of the Deep Dark Acropolis, raising the sacred text high.
"The Goddess above shall grant us peace and deep slumber."
"Praise the Goddess!" All the devotees sheltered by the Goddess knew they were fortunate.
In the Deep Dark City, they didn't need to constantly guard against crazed monsters or fear being taken as food by supernatural races. This was the Goddess's gift!
Buzz!
A profound power rippled like waves on water, washing over all the devotees of the Deep Dark City. The Night Vanilla and Deep Sleep Flowers emitted faint glimmers, and an unprecedented tranquility soothed everyone's hearts.
"Praise the Goddess!" The devotees couldn't restrain their fervent praise.
At that moment, all the devotees sensed something and looked up at the figure standing beneath the Goddess's statue.
He was glowing, his linen robe radiating a shadowy luster. The divine badge pinned to his left chest emanated a calming power.
"By the Goddess's oracle, I am the Pontiff of the Deep Dark City. You may address me as Your Eminence."
Starlight cascaded from the Goddess's statue, coalescing into a crown of stars that settled upon Truman's head.
The people of this era were terrifyingly pure, and the recent miracle had shaken their souls.
"Praise the Goddess, we pay homage to the Pontiff!" The praises grew louder and more unified. Suddenly, Truman felt a mystical connection forming between himself and the devotees.
At that moment, all the devotees understood the meaning of a pontiff: the Goddess's representative, who would manage the faithful and act as their spiritual "father" in matters of faith!
"Faith and anchors?" Truman pondered the mystical connection. In his perception, pure motes of light in various hues began to gather, slowly forming a small, flowing galaxy.
"I was right," Truman said, brimming with delight as he observed the motes. "Gods need anchors to maintain their humanity, but I need these anchors of faith to leverage the Book of Dreams!"
Previously, the power he could draw from the Book of Dreams was negligible, but with these anchors of faith, he could wield far greater strength.
"I must ensure the faithful maintain sufficient trust, respect, and even awe toward me," Truman thought, realizing he'd taken a clever shortcut.
By becoming the pontiff, he could directly connect with the devotees of the Deep Dark City, tapping into the followers the Goddess had accumulated over years.
Stealing the Goddess's fruit?
"Praise the Goddess!" This time, Truman's words were utterly sincere.
At that moment, the Book of Dreams, disguised as the Revelation of the Night, trembled slightly. Phosphorescent dreamlight spilled forth, drifting onto the devotees and merging with them.
Tonight, the Deep Dark City could also be called the City of Dreams. In their dreams, the devotees would receive their heart's deepest desires, healing their most profound wounds.
But the greatest benefit was the cleansing of the inevitable corruption that accumulated in their bodies, restoring their mental states to peak condition.
"May our dreams come true!" declared the Pure One, Saint Truman.
The next day, having stayed awake all night, a fully alert Truman led thousands of devotees in prayer.
"Thanks to the Goddess, who grants us sustenance!"
Truman's goal was to ensure that this city-state, and even the future orthodox Church of the Night, would forever remember his name. This began with every aspect of daily life, with food being the most crucial.
The Goddess was indeed generous to the Deep Dark City. A Stone of Abundance, equivalent to a Sequence 4 Saint in later eras, was placed at the foot of the Goddess's statue, its influence covering the entire city. Fruits, milk, and other foods were abundant here.
In this era, such a city-state was practically a paradise.
Thereafter, Truman implemented various measures to make the devotees truly feel the Goddess's omnipresence in daily life. He established a somewhat intricate prayer ritual, codifying it into the Revelation of the Night under his authority as pontiff.
He also adapted elements from the true Revelation of the Night of later eras, modifying them to suit this time.
"The Creator awoke from chaos, shattering the darkness and creating the first light…"
"In the Second Epoch, the Goddess awoke from the darkness, destined to reclaim the usurped authority…"
"Praise the Goddess!"
In essence, Truman had laid the framework for the Revelation of the Night. Future pontiffs could only make minor additions.
He even offered a copy to the Goddess as a sacrifice, wondering if she'd feel embarrassed reading it…
That day, Truman dutifully led the devotees in prayer, establishing a simple mass ritual. This was enough to ensure that his title, Saint Truman, would be remembered as the Deep Dark City evolved.
"The Goddess summons me." Not long after laying the foundation for the future Church of the Night, Saint Truman vanished, leaving only these words.
Truman wasn't deceiving these innocent lambs—the Goddess had truly called for him!
The Goddess had finally been swayed, though it was more likely she had long been planning this, and Truman's arrival provided a better option.
After all, she was a subordinate god of the Demonic Wolf of Destruction, whose secrecy abilities were fully countered by it, making many things inconvenient.
"…I'm counting on you," the Goddess's gentle voice sounded beneath her statue.
Two items appeared before Truman through a reverse-secret method, gradually becoming real.
A glove and a shadowy robe.
"The Glove of the Ancient, which can summon me from the fog of history or take you anywhere in the world."
"The Robe of the Sage, master of knowledge, capable of transforming into an information-based being."
"These are befitting a pontiff."
"Hiss!" Truman's eyes gleamed as he took the items. "A fusion of Traveler and Ancient Scholar, plus the Sage's knowledge!"
Hiss! How did Ancient Scholar mix with Traveler?
Well… in this era of consuming everything, it wasn't entirely surprising.
And the Robe of the Sage was a treasure too!
Having arrived in this world with the Book of Dreams, Truman was secure in his self-preservation, but his combat power was too unstable. With these items, as long as he avoided provoking subordinate gods or ancient gods, he could roam the world freely!
As the Pure One, untainted by corruption, he naturally didn't need to worry about side effects.
"I won't let you down!" Truman vowed solemnly. In the days that followed, he adapted to the two mystical items. With the Book of Dreams providing near-infinite spirituality, he faced no negative effects and could freely use their powers.
"I can't consume potions, so am I destined to become the greatest collector?"
Imagining a scene where he overwhelmed enemies with countless mystical items, Truman raised an eyebrow. "Not bad, actually."
"But it's not a long-term plan…"
Truman toyed with the two items, gazing at the Book of Dreams in deep thought.
Days later, fully prepared, Truman stood beneath the Goddess's statue.
Starlight cascaded down, and the Goddess sent him out of the Deep Dark City.
Truman appeared in a vast, endless primeval forest stretching to the horizon.
Now clad in the Robe of the Sage, its dark fabric adorned with shimmering stars, he held the Book of Dreams, disguised as the Revelation of the Night, in one hand. On the other, he wore the Glove of the Ancient, etched with secretive and eerie patterns.
His short black hair flowed elegantly, and the Pure One's intrinsic aura was striking. His fair face and bright eyes were captivating, and at the spiritual level, angelic wings seemed to manifest—a true angel descended.
In short, his appearance was impeccable, inspiring trust and an urge to draw near.
(End of Chapter)