บท 301: Chapter 301: I Am the Master
In the luxurious room, Marcos, now more dignified after his baptism, stole a glance at the bishop who was reviewing documents. Even though he now possessed divine power and could sense the strength of his peers, every look at the bishop made him feel as if he were gazing upon a true deity.
Before becoming a priest, he had never seen a deity nor knew what one should look like. If asked now, he would say a deity should look exactly like the bishop. This was a sensation he could not have comprehended before his transformation; as people change, so do their perspectives and levels.
The dust falls but does not cling to the bishop; it touches him and falls away. More importantly, being near the bishop always filled him with a profound sense of peace.
And many more feelings...
Marcos was entranced by the bishop in front of him.
"Well done."
Just then, a compliment awakened him, and Marcos modestly lowered his head.
York was dressed in a simple yet comfortable casual outfit. He praised Marcos, set aside the documents on the table, and picked up a cup of coffee.
After baptizing so many priests, it was not feasible to leave them idle. In the bustling atmosphere, it was the perfect time for them to thoroughly cleanse every corner of the city and familiarize themselves with the combat methods of the clergy.
Clearly, the results were satisfying. In just half a day, these zealous new priests had eliminated five hidden rotspawn. These new priests were eager to test their powers against the rotspawn.
This achieved two desired outcomes:
1. It demonstrated the true power of the church to the public.
2. It showed their strength and provided them with experience.
Thus, the Beirst Grand Cathedral was now a Level 8 church, rapidly advancing towards Level 9, displaying the caliber of a bishop's grand cathedral.
In York's view, each of the three cities of the Free State should host a bishop's grand cathedral-level church. In the church hierarchy, bishops are not simply clergy that can be discussed in the same breath as priests. Bishops possess at least 300 points of divine power.
York sipped his coffee, looking at Marcos, who stood obediently in front of him, far less imposing than he appeared outside. This man was his chosen bishop and candidate for pope. His age alone proved his capabilities. Furthermore, his leadership had elevated the janitor group to its current high status. His family background and knowledge of historical overviews made him the ideal pope to ensure the church's history did not repeat itself.
"I am very pleased, Marcos," York said, smiling mildly and stirring his coffee. "Next, let's start deploying our people to the churches across various locations."
Marcos nodded, "Yes, Bishop. I will arrange that shortly."
York tapped the side of his coffee cup, deep in thought. "You can wait to leave after I make my move tonight."
Hearing this, Marcos's eyes widened. Make a move? He was somewhat unclear about the bishop's intentions.
"Bishop, you mean to…" Marcos asked tentatively.
"It's nothing," York replied with a gentle smile. "Since the people of Beirst City have welcomed me so warmly, I want to give them a gift."
Marcos was momentarily taken aback, then a smile spread across his face, touched by the bishop's words.
"Tonight, I want to see what the City of Eternal Night really looks like. You all must miss it too, so a glimpse before we leave won't hurt."
---
That night, as the sun set, the day's buzz quieted with the falling darkness.
Apart from the devotees who were reluctant to leave, many had already dispersed. For them, today was undoubtedly a day when all accumulated stress was released.
Malik Obama was one such individual.
"What a great day today was…" Malik reminisced about the day, feeling sentimental.
He groped in the dark, pulled out a chair at the dining table, and sat down as if savoring the memory.
His wife, Laurie Blanck, was lighting a match at the table to ignite the oil lamp that had illuminated their home for nearly fifteen years.
In the dim light, their living room was revealed as elegantly decorated. A marble coffee table at the center held delicate flowers and an aromatic candle, emitting a faint fragrance.
Despite its modest size, the meticulous preparation was evident, showcasing the efforts this couple had put into making this home their own. Now, however, this carefully arranged living room had been sealed off since the demons' arrival.
The chandelier hanging from the ceiling had rarely been used since then.
Only the dim light continued to stubbornly illuminate the past ambiance.
"Mama!"
A child's tender voice called out.
Laurie, who had just lit the oil lamp, quickly caught her four-year-old daughter, who was running towards her in the dark.
In such darkness, she couldn't let her daughter bump into anything.
"Who exactly is
the bishop, and why doesn't he come to see us?"
Hearing this, the innocence and curiosity of a child made Laurie smile wistfully as she picked up her daughter.
"The bishop is our only hope."
Laurie pulled out a chair and sat down with her daughter Nina, explaining earnestly.
"With him here, we can live well."
But children's questions never cease once they start.
Nina looked up earnestly at her mother in the flickering light.
"Why doesn't he come out to see us then!"
She blinked, slightly aggrieved: "We waited so long, I got tired of standing."
Continuing without pause, she added, "Mama! Nina wants to see the bishop!"
Honestly, Nina was just very curious, extremely curious.
She had seen the adults around her crying, even her own mother secretly wiping tears. She had seen it, but she didn't speak of it.
"The bishop is very busy," Laurie explained with a forced smile, gently touching her daughter's head.
In this world, the reason they still persevered was here in her arms.
Nina, their treasure.
"Oh," Nina's voice lowered, "I see."
Laurie glanced at her husband Malik, who was still lost in thought.
"Maybe your dad has seen him."
Nina's eyes lit up, and she suddenly looked at her dad.
Malik was taken aback, pulled from his reverie.
Seeing her husband like this, Laurie couldn't help but speak up, "Didn't you say you caught a glimpse of the bishop at work?"
It was only a fleeting glimpse.
Malik inwardly replied, but his words painted a different picture.
He looked at his beloved family and earnestly shared his impression.
"The bishop is a handsome man, handsomer than anyone! And he's more robust than anyone…"
Laurie paused, was that it?
But she understood from his next words that he was merely appeasing their daughter Nina.
"Of course, just that glimpse was enough to make everyone, including me, stop working," Malik continued, his voice filled with emotion.
"Back then, we workers were still anxious about the serial killings,
But from the moment we saw the bishop, we all fell silent. We knew then that the issue would be resolved easily, no, that the whole world would return to how it was."
Malik took a deep breath, looking earnestly at his wife.
"This is no scam, and the bishop is no fraud."
Laurie also looked at her husband, her expression softening. She heard the conviction in his voice.
"I know."
Laurie gently embraced her daughter Nina.
"The videos, the power displayed by the priests today, I saw it all. The bishop is certainly not like those frauds of the past."
The couple exchanged glances, their eyes conveying volumes. Only Nina looked puzzled, turning her head from her mother to her father.
What was going on, she wondered.
Just then, Nina heard something. She blinked uncertainly towards the dark window.
From her earliest memories, she had always been afraid of the dark, never daring to step beyond the reach of the light.
"I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in me, though he may die, he shall live. And whoever lives and believes in me shall never die."
"…"
Nina heard these words, certain she had heard them clearly.
"Mama!"
Nina looked up to explain what she heard but found her parents already staring at the dark window, faces incredulous.
"Ah, so it wasn't just me," Nina thought.
Then, her mother picked her up...
"What's this?"
Laurie carried Nina towards the door, looking at her husband.
Only her husband, because of his work at the new Beirst Grand Cathedral, had heard the bishop's voice and seen him in person.
"That's the bishop's voice!"
Malik was excited, his lips visibly trembling.
"It must be the bishop."
Carrying his family, he rushed outside.
However, he found many people had already gathered at their door, including their neighbors.
And they all looked up at the sky, eyes wide, faces a mix of awe and disbelief.
"This…"
Malik followed their gaze upward.
There, a figure hovered in the air, illuminated by a radiant white light, making Malik swear he had never seen anything so clearly from such a distance before.
It was as if the figure was directly in front of his eyes, in his heart, with distance posing no obstacle.
The figure wore a bishop's robe, edged with purple, regal and reaching to the ground, with wide, tasseled sleeves that emphasized a holy aura.
A gem-encrusted cross adorned his chest, emitting a captivating light, and he held a staff in his hand.
"Bishop…"
Like the people around him, Malik's eyes began to blur.
---
Moments before.
"Bishop."
Atop the Beirst Grand Cathedral, Marcos and several priests clad in their robes watched anxiously as
York stepped onto the railing, facing the high skies.
"It's so high, are you sure…"
"It's fine."
York stood on the narrow railing, his hand gripping the bishop's staff brought from the real world, still unaccustomed to the ornate bishop's robe.
One hundred meters below—a height equivalent to about thirty floors—gales swirled around, making York's robe flutter and causing the priests behind him to fear he might fall and die.
They had advised him repeatedly, but York remained stubborn, stepping directly onto the railing just over ten centimeters wide. They wanted to stop him, but they dared not touch the bishop.
Thus, Marcos and the others were in agony.
However, York seemed oblivious, flicking his bishop's staff and muttering to himself.
"Open all the drawers..."
Suddenly, York felt countless voices of the faithful echoing in his mind.
In an instant, thousands of whispers flashed by, each crystal clear.
York closed his eyes and took a deep breath, savoring the feeling of control.
"It's a wonderful feeling. I wonder if God feels the same..."
In that moment, York thought of God.
With every world's faithful praying, was God experiencing something similar?
"It's as if by merely wishing it, I can provide answers and power, even appearing in the hearts of the faithful..."
York opened his eyes, his gaze filled with a myriad of information streams. He stepped forward, his right foot stepping into the void.
"Bishop!"
Watching intently, Marcos and the others were horrified and rushed forward.
But they suddenly found themselves unable to move. The air around them seemed to solidify like super glue, holding them in place.
Marcos and the others were bewildered, watching the bishop.
"It's okay, Marcos."
York looked into the sky, seemingly able to see the entire city of Beirst and the devotees outside, and smiled faintly.
Under the gaze of Marcos and the others behind him, York's left foot also stepped forward.
Floating in the air.
A joke, really. The ability of telekinesis, to fly, was not even a stretch.
If he wished it, there was nothing he couldn't do.
For instance, controlling the microscopic world, particles, atoms, and so forth, though a pity he couldn't see them, so it was not feasible.
If he could see into the microscopic world, he would be a fearsome entity, nearly invincible, as he could manipulate the very particles that compose all matter.
Of course, while he couldn't do that, flying was certainly within his capabilities.
Without consuming even a bit of his mental power, York stood suspended in the air, walking forward as if on solid ground.
He also released Marcos and the others from his control.
Marcos and the others looked at each other, their faces showing they were unaccustomed to such a sight, watching in shock as the bishop walked on air, moving farther and farther away...
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