MIGHT AS WELL BE OP - Chapter 835
835: Faith 835: Faith “And yes, before any of you ask how or by what method the Angel and their flocks traverse these three tears in reality without being affected, the answer is simple… We do not know,” the Overseer continued, his calm expression unchanging, betraying no hint of uncertainty.
“Although we have tried numerous methods, mind reading, soul reading, soul searching, torture, hypnosis, illusion, none of it worked.
Every attempt ended in failure, leaving us with nothing but questions.” A collective sigh filled the hall as everyone quietly accepted the grim reality.
The weight of the situation pressed upon them, each revelation from the Overseer only deepening the sense of impending doom.
It was as though the threads of their understanding were fraying with each word, leaving them grasping at shadows of hope that seemed to dissolve before their very eyes.
“What about their motives?
Do they seek to plunder us?” a woman from the older generation of a lower-tier race asked hesitantly, her voice carrying the tremor of genuine concern.
“Their motive is far simpler, yet infinitely more insidious,” the Overseer stated plainly, his voice flat, devoid of emotion.
“They seek to convert us into believers of their God.” A stunned silence descended upon the hall, more profound than any words could enforce.
The audience had imagined complex schemes, grandiose designs, perhaps that the Angels’ Divinora Galaxy was dying, and they sought to expand into new territories or seize entire civilizations, but the truth, they realized, was chilling in its simplicity.
Their goal was conversion, nothing more.
For a moment, no one knew whether to laugh or cry at the revelation; it was a cruel irony of cosmic proportions.
“But, it seems it is not as simple as that,” the Overseer continued, his tone sharp, pulling the hall from its reverie.
“A few days ago, we received critical information from Zachary, the Celestial, which had been meticulously gathered by his son, Aaaninja Chronisynth Eternos.
This information revealed that the source of power within Divinora is known as Faith.” The Overseer paused, his gaze drifting toward Aaaninja, who sat with his eyes closed, exuding an aura of serene detachment.
The boy’s presence alone commanded respect; even the most learned among them wondered how Aaaninja had obtained knowledge that had eluded countless scholars, mystics, and strategists.
“Faith,” the Overseer continued, his voice resonating with deliberate clarity, “functions much like mana does in our systems, though it is almost more potent.
It fuels their power, their abilities, and everything they wield.
Faith itself originates from their God, whom they refer to simply as HIM, or HE.
Unlike us, who cultivate mana through our own core by drawing from the surrounding atmosphere, they do not cultivate in the conventional sense.
No, they pray to HIM, they worship HIM, and in return, HE grants them Faith.” He paused again, emphasizing the gravity of the revelation.
“The greater the Faith one possesses, the stronger they become, capable of advancing through the various ranks of Faith.
And not only does this increase their strength, but HE can also bestow abilities, skills, and powers directly.” A collective gasp rippled through the hall as disbelief etched itself onto every face.
The concept of directly granting power was unprecedented.
Signing contracts with demons could confer abilities, yes, but even that was a convoluted process involving corruption, transformation, and the acquisition of chaotic energy.
To receive power directly from a source, bypassing cultivation entirely, was unimaginable.
Their minds struggled to comprehend it; the sheer audacity of such a system defied logic and experience.
“Through the information presented by Aaaninja,” the Overseer continued, “we have discerned something equally crucial.
This God’s power relies intrinsically upon the prayers and worship of HIS followers.
It follows that HE grants Faith as a reward, thus increasing devotion, which, in turn, amplifies HIS own power.
The cycle perpetuates itself endlessly.” The weight of this revelation hung in the air like a tangible force.
“By this logic, it becomes evident that their invasion is not merely to convert us.
That is merely the surface.
Our worship and prayers would exponentially increase HIS power, beyond any calculation we can make.
Consider this: two entire galaxies devote themselves to HIM.
Imagine the magnitude of power HE accumulates.
Our own Galaxy would merely be another source, another fuel to HIS already staggering might.” Again, silence swept through the hall, heavier this time.
Minds raced, calculations attempting to quantify an entity whose scope transcended comprehension.
Even the most advanced supercomputers would falter against the velocity and complexity of these thoughts.
The idea of a God growing stronger through billions, and trillions, of devout worshipers was already staggering, yet the knowledge that their own Galaxy might become part of this power accumulation struck terror into every mind present.
“How did you acquire this information, Aaaninja Chronisynth Eternos?” asked a man from the Cryonid race, his tone calm but firm, each word deliberate.
Aaaninja remained motionless, eyes closed, yet fully attentive.
Every word spoken, every nuance of expression, had been absorbed, cataloged, and comprehended.
“I only relayed information,” Aaaninja said, his voice even and flat, “which, in Time, shall be known to all.” The Cryonid man frowned.
The answer was technically accurate but sidestepped the question.
“Your methods could be invaluable to us.
The fate of our Galaxy hangs in the balance,” he pressed, his gaze deep, demanding clarity.
“If you do not possess the Time affinity,” Aaaninja replied, his tone devoid of change, “it is useless to know.” For a few moments, the Cryonid studied Aaaninja silently, then slowly nodded, a mixture of respect and resignation in his expression.
Knowledge without the power to manipulate Time was indeed worthless.
‘So that is Aaaninja Chronisynth Eternos,’ the First Supreme Monarch thought to himself, recollecting the day he had first heard Anthony speak of the name.
‘Anthony called him the best at Time manipulation.
I wonder… how powerful is he really?’ The First Supreme Monarch dared not make any rash moves.
Aaaninja was from the Celestial race, a race whose wrath could be as fatal as the sword of a star itself.
Any misstep would be catastrophic.
Furthermore, the boy was Anthony’s ally.
If Anthony considered him trustworthy and formidable, then challenging or underestimating him could be disastrous.
‘Perhaps I should approach him after this meeting,’ the First Supreme Monarch mused.
‘If he is stronger than I, guidance may be the wisest course.
Power does not care for age.
Power is measured by strength, skill, and mastery, not years.’ Though older than Aaaninja, he understood that age alone meant nothing in the grand hierarchy of power.
Experience without strength was meaningless; strategy without the capacity to enforce it was futile.
And in the presence of beings like Aaaninja Chronisynth Eternos, wisdom and caution were not merely prudent, they were survival.