Chapter 182: The Sound of Faith Blooming.

Chapter 182 The Sound of Blooming Faith.

Ernos sat stiffly in her seat, feeling as though the world had taken on a dreamlike quality.

To be precise, this sense of surrealism had begun a few days earlier, when Shadow of the Mind handed her the silver mirror concealing all of Longinus’ victims and asked timidly:

"Hello, Miss Elius asked me to give this mirror to you... You’re part of The Decameron too?"

"...?"

Her practiced aristocratic smile on Ernos' face froze.

What "The Decameron"?

Shouldn't it be the Fate Church?

She felt there must have been some misunderstanding between her and Shadow of the Mind, so she cautiously refrained from responding immediately.

Ernos carefully tucked the mirror away, invented an excuse to ask Shadow of the Mind to wait for a moment, then swiftly slipped back into her painting to pray to the deity she served.

And the divine revelation she received was—

Indeed, Elius and Shadow of the Mind belonged to a completely new organization called "The Decameron."

The Lord of Fate even casually remarked that Ernos could, under the guise of cultural exchange, witness The Decameron’s first official meeting.

Ernos paused for two beats before cautiously asking, "Is this... appropriate?"

"There’s nothing inappropriate about it."

Amid the faint hissing of serpents, the deity let out a soft chuckle—over these past days, Ernos had begun to realize that beneath this tolerant and gentle god lay a hidden streak of playful mischief.

Amused, He countered, "Isn’t this quite entertaining?"

As soon as the words were spoken, the connection of prayer was severed. The candles, their flames shaped like serpents, guttered out one by one, leaving Ernos standing there dumbfounded.

After repeatedly turning over her Lord’s intentions, Ernos concluded that perhaps "The Decameron" was a secret organization operating under His unspoken blessing—independent of the Fate Church yet serving Him.

This must be part of His new plan.

And looking back, every decision He had made was undoubtedly correct. Victory always bent to His will.

With this in mind, Ernos drew herself up formally, thinking—

Did the Lord’s revelation of The Decameron’s embryonic form signify His trust in her?

And by allowing her to witness the organization’s formal birth, was He also hinting that she could, within the bounds of principle, offer assistance to The Decameron while steering its course to ensure nothing went awry?

Her mind raced in circles, and Ernos felt a new weight settle on her shoulders, as though entrusted with an important task.

Thus, she emerged from the painting once more and made plans with Shadow of the Mind to attend The Decameron’s gathering three days later.

Now, three days later.

Ernos had taken her seat at the meeting early, her demeanor reserved yet unable to conceal her curiosity.

Having arrived ahead of time, she took the opportunity before the meeting began to glance around, her violet eyes flickering as she observed the surroundings.

The meeting space was spacious, designed like a small theater—heavy crimson velvet drapes hung low, and ahead lay a semicircular wooden stage. Instead of heavily made-up actors, a shimmering, swirling galaxy hovered above it.

Above the starry river hung a sharp sword, its blade glinting frostily, appearing exceptionally keen—perhaps serving as a sigil... Could the insignia of The Decameron be a sword of judgment?

Ernos studied with open curiosity at the starry expanse but refrained from stepping forward to investigate the nature of these stars, holding to propriety as she remained seated.

Suddenly, the light before her flickered—a figure swathed in grave wrappings had appeared. Shadow of the Mind had, at some point, moved to the foot of the stage and reached out to lightly touch a pinprick of starlight.

Instantly, the starlight spun at her fingertip, its brilliance intensifying until it nearly drowned out the nebula’s glow of half the starry river, transforming into a towering screen of light.

Shattered scenes flashed across the screen. Ernos faintly glimpsed surging crowds, unfamiliar faces brimming with joy or sorrow, and even many animals and plants whose names she did not know...

Understanding struck her heart—this was the unfolding "fate" of a certain small world.

Shadow of the Mind withdrew her hand, mouth working soundlessly before finally uttering a single exclamation of awe: "Wow."

Ernos: "..."

So, when had this person left her seat and wandered over to the stage?

Were they really this casual?

Ernos couldn’t help but reflect—was she, as the "liaison" sent by the Fate Church, actually the most solemn one here?

After staring at Shadow of the Mind for a long while, Ernos began suspecting that beneath that burial cloth might lie nothing but cobwebs.

No, she shouldn’t think that way. Casually mocking a future half-colleague went against her upbringing’s teachings she’d received since childhood...

Ernos wrenched her gaze away and began examining the furnishings below the stage.

Unlike the rows of seats in an ordinary theater, a large wooden round table had been placed here to enable discussion and meetings among the organization’s members. At its center stood an ornate silver candelabra, around which slender serpents coiled, seeming to writhe in the flickering candlelight.

Six high-backed chairs surrounded the table, each fitted with padded cushions—it almost resembled the ideal setting for high tea.

Ernos paused, then looked down—

Oh, there were indeed porcelain teacups on the table, and a teapot beside them steamed faintly.

Twitching her nose slightly, Ernos, drawing from her extensive tea-party experience, deduced that the teapot likely contained rich black tea.

Her stiff spine unbent a fraction as she hesitantly thought, Though this organization was of high standing and veiled in secrecy, its style seemed...

Downright relaxed?

Just then, the door swung open, and Ernos instinctively turned to look.

Two familiar figures entered—one with white hair and white robes, only his golden-red eyes vivid like twin glowing sunsets;

The other with red hair and green eyes, her Gothic black dress swirling about her, her adornments far more elaborate than the prophet’s.

Both Fate Domain High Lords wore expressions of false cordiality as they walked in, each yielding precedence to the other:

"Miss Elius, it would be most fitting for you to assume leadership. Who here has greater seniority or a more ancient lineage than you?"

"...Heh, but I believe the younger generation of Ability users possess more vitality and passion. Antiquated relics like myself have already fallen behind."

"You personally slew the remnant soul of an old god—such excessive modesty is unbecoming."

"Wu Suer, it’s rare to hear so much praise from you. Are you just trying to push more responsibilities onto me?"

"You see right through me."

"..."

Elius laughed bitterly and retorted sharply, igniting a fresh debate.

Ernos, overhearing the quarrel, wore a blank expression.

So, not only was the chief position still undecided, but it was also being rejected and passed between two superiors?

Was something amiss with The Decameron? It didn’t quite match the outside world’s expectations...

After accumulating enough shock, no additional surprises could elicit a change in Ernos's expression anymore.

—Including the fact that the last two members to arrive were revealed to be the Fate Apostle and the Calamity Apostle.

After taking his seat, the Calamity Apostle explained his identity: "Without my notice, my shadow caused such chaos, even repeatedly conducting forbidden experiments expressly forbidden by the Mother Goddess... I am likewise accountable for these issues."

"Thus, I have tendered my resignation before the great Mother Goddess and am no longer one of the Apostles leading Her followers. Until I make amends for my failings, I am merely an ordinary member of The Decameron, safeguarding the order of all life’s fates under the witness of life... and fate."

"In our future collaboration, you may simply call me Calamity."

The Fate Apostle, Bryce, offered no further explanation, simply smiled as was his wont:

"All is the will of fate."

This was standard procedure in the Fate Domain—one sentence convinced everyone.

Once all members were seated, the meeting began promptly.

It was clear that the prophet had reluctantly been pushed into the chief position.

The red-haired witch sat with her arms crossed at the round table, wearing a victorious smile as she leaned back comfortably in her chair.

Across from her, the prophet stood with his back to the stage, his smile somewhat perfunctory, yet he delivered the opening address without faltering in an elegant cadence of a sacred hymn.

The opening remarks were concise, succinctly presenting the organization’s structure, member identities, and objectives—betraying the author’s straightforward and efficient style.

Unexpectedly, it aligned with The Decameron’s ethos—informal, unconstrained by ceremony, yet sharp and decisive when it mattered.

Ernos and Calamity listened intently, while Shadow of the Mind diligently took notes... though little might remain in her memory, at least she could review them later.

"...Our organization’s principle is to maintain vigilance over the mortal world and fate, rooting out all 'fateborne pestilences' that seek to bring disaster and chaos."

Pausing, Wu Suer raised his eyes, his expression solemn and sharp:

"—And if, one day, the plague originates from the ruler of fate itself, there will be no exception."

Hearing this sacrilegious pronouncement, Ernos's eyes flew wide with shock and she instinctively looked to the Fate Apostle for his opinion.

Meeting the Apostle’s calm and gentle gaze, she composed herself, quickly suppressing her astonishment, and continued listening to the prophet’s words.

"Of course, this is also the will of fate itself."

Wu Suer paused, nodding slightly to Bryce below, in what might have been divine homage or some wordless understanding exchange.

"Let me explain our Lord’s will."

Bryce’s soothing voice rippled like a tranquil brook, calming all listeners:

"The history of Longinus’s fall has given our Lord ample cause for reflection... especially regarding the relationship between original purpose and power."

"As we ascend and gain strength, power insidiously warps us—when we can influence countless lives with a mere gesture, how do we still value the worth of a single snowflake or a single soul?"

"This is the question our Lord contemplates."

"Rather than a conquering, distant, or callous deity... our Lord chooses to be a protector of all life, and it was for this very reason He ascended."

"The Lord decreed that if He ever is consumed by power, becoming a second cruel 'Fate Black Goat,' we shall become the blade destined to rouse Him... or to end Him."

"And this sword was entrusted to 'The Decameron' by our Lord Himself."

Bryce spoke plainly, his thoughts drifting back to days prior, when his true form attained greater mastery over the scepter of fate.

...

As the strata of his heart dissolved, Yi Fengchu’s mind gradually resurfaced shards of the past.

He saw a distant time—

Before he became fate, he once stood at the end of the river of fate, gazing up at the colossal, primordial deity, mountainous in stature and as ruthless as thunder—the Fate Black Goat.

He observed mutely, as one would a mountain destined to be crossed with blood and bone.

Then, a familiar voice spoke behind him—the High Priest from his memories remarked carelessly, "Even you are no match for Him, are you?"

"We who would succeed are not keen on slaughtering one another precisely for well we know... at the end of our paths, the true enemy we must face is not each other, but Him."

The High Priest smirked mockingly. "What irony? That such a witless entity is born with ultimate dominion—is this fate’s cruel jest of all life?"

"..."

Yi Fengchu waited long before hearing his past self speak: "I will kill Him."

His gaze shifted slightly, settling on the Black Goat’s abdomen, his affectless tone stating:

"—A gamble whether He digests me first, or I consume Him. Either way, a new fate must emerge."

He would be a blade on the path to defeating the Black Goat, but the nascent fate might not be his to claim.

It depended on whether he could return alive.

The High Priest understood his implication, a spark of astonishment in his golden-red eyes: "What if you perish first?"

"Then congratulations."

"...What?"

The past Yi Fengchu smiled faintly. "Congratulations—you might well ascend as the new first successor, perhaps even the new fate."

The true Wu Suer stared at him, his regard peculiarly intent, as if observing some never-before-seen phenomenon.

After a long pause, the High Priest pressed, "If that were the outcome, would you truly be content?"

"No." Yi Fengchu answered swiftly.

"Because I wouldn’t be... so if you become a cold, indifferent deity, I would drag myself back from the depths of the river of fate to claim your throne."

The past Yi Fengchu’s affect was flat, his voice always indifferent, yet he seemed to cling to some inexplicable humor: "Perhaps one day, while tending your peacock feathers in the divine realm, you’ll find snake scales growing among them—and in fear, await my return."

"...Oh."

Wu Suer fell silent for a long time, shuddering as if chilled, and muttered softly, "That sounds terrible."

Yi Fengchu felt the corner of his mouth twitch—perhaps into a faint smile—before stepping forward toward the resting place of the Fate Black Goat.

Just as he thought this memory had ended, Wu Suer suddenly spoke from behind, his tone unusually resolute: "You will win."

The little snake perched on his shoulder tilted its head. Yi Fengchu turned around and asked with interest, "Is that what you saw in the future?"

"No, it's just intuition telling me—the moment you made up your mind, we all lost."

The High Priest of the peacock clan was a proud man, too proud to hide his meaning. He admitted frankly, "No one but you would have such determination and madness to willingly walk into a deity's maw."

Before Yi Fengchu could respond, the High Priest added, "Under the witness of the River of Fate, let us make a vow."

"If I become the Lord of Fate, I will protect the humans you cherish in the third dimension. Conversely, you should save my people."

"Very well, I'll honor this vow," Yi Fengchu nodded, then sighed. "Wu Suer, you are a formidable opponent."

Unfortunately, fate destined them never to be true friends, only enemies.

"Did I need you to tell me that?"

Wu Suer raised an eyebrow, his tone matter-of-fact. After a pause, he reluctantly added, "...You too."

Yi Fengchu chuckled, his voice more amused now.

This time, he did not look back. He walked forward, crossing the River of Fate, past the churning, thunderous waterfalls, stepping across spreading ripples, until he stood before the slumbering Fate Black Goat.

What followed was a long, endless, timeless slumber and wait within the god’s belly.

It was because of this recollection that Yi Fengchu suddenly thought—he wanted to be a very, very good god... at least not so wretched that his past self would crawl up from the riverbed to demand his life.

Thus, the existence of The Decameron was not just an auxiliary church group set up by the Lord of Fate for convenience, but also a safeguard.

—A constant reminder not to forget past promises, not to abandon the ideals he once held, and not to forget how he had walked step by step to this point.

......

The meeting concluded.

Calamity, the most pressed for time, was the first to leave, planning to complete the handover of the cult leader’s duties within a week. Shadow of the Mind, with Elius’ permission, swiftly melted away into the dream world.

Ernos looked ahead and saw the prophet, having finished his keynote speech, still standing before the stage, gazing up at the Sword of Judgment suspended above. He seemed lost in recollection.

She pressed her lips together, choosing not to disturb him.

A wordless awe filled her heart, like a thousand butterflies beating their wings in a constricted chest, stirring waves of tremors.

Ernos had never seen such a god—a god who'd surrender his own sword to another...

In that moment, more clearly than ever, Ernos heard the bloom of faith unfolding in her heart.