The Inherited Faith

Themis, the Elven Ancestor God, though titled the God of Elves, truly wielded the power of natural elements.
When it came to domains of power, the title of God of Elements belonged solely to her.

Looking at the object in Themis’s hand, Selina felt an overwhelming sense of familiarity.

Its crystal-like appearance, primitive craftsmanship, and divine glow—it was the gemstone dagger from the trial space!

Realization dawned as Selina stared at Themis, about to speak, but the god preempted her with a shake of her head.

“The aid in the trial space didn’t come from me but from another.”

Selina believed her.
A scheming deity like Themis, always plotting, wouldn’t help at a critical moment.
Besides, the voice in the trial space, both familiar and strange, didn’t match Themis’s.

“So, what were those silver flames?”

“Selina, do you have any memories of the Firelight Goddess, Hestia?”

Themis’s tone turned cryptic, like a divine oracle.

“Firelight Goddess, Hestia?”

Selina scoured her mind for those terms.
After a long search, she found a faint trace buried in some forgotten corner.

She’d heard the name before, from her cheap mentor.

Back when she’d just crossed into this world, a young orphan adopted by that old man, he’d taken her to a dilapidated church in the suburbs.

Unlike the grand city churches, it was small, broken, and devoid of worshippers, priests, or nuns—just a lone statue at its center and the mentor-disciple pair.

Though he’d adopted her, he insisted she call him Master, teaching her unmatched thieving skills and blade techniques.

At first, Kant thought he was a hidden master living among mortals.

Later, he realized the old man was indeed a master—a master thief.

That day at the church, Kant was skeptical.

Thieves typically didn’t revere gods; no deity blessed a thief.

He’d never seen the old man visit a church.

Was he worshipping a Thief God?

Kant didn’t dare voice this, knowing his mentor’s kind face hid a foul temper.
Fueled by liquor, that temper could leave Kant’s backside bruised if he learned of such thoughts.

But in that small, rundown church, Kant saw his mentor’s devout side for the first time.

The old man knelt before the lifeless statue, as if beholding something sacred, praying fervently for a long time.

Kant was dragged to kneel too.

He resisted—raised as a materialist in his past life under a red flag, how could he worship some unknown deity?

A swift kick from his mentor forced him down, tears in his defiant eyes as he bowed three times to the statue.

His mentor stood aside, unusually solemn, muttering about an “inheritor,” “Firelight God,” and “believer.”

Kant briefly thought his mentor was pulling him into a cult, like a pyramid scheme from his past life, sparking fleeting thoughts of escape.

Those faded as he grew, realizing his mentor wasn’t a cultist.

He rarely recalled that statue, especially after the church was demolished despite his mentor’s protests.

The wheels of progress didn’t stop, and the church, with its statue, was buried in dust…

So, was that deity a Thief God?
Why else would she favor a thief like him?

Selina marveled at her own guess.

“Drop that absurd idea.
The Firelight Goddess is just that—not a Thief God.
You received her aid in the trial because you’re her believer.”

Themis, as if reading her thoughts, clarified.

“So, the Firelight Goddess is that good to her believers?
Clutch support like that—she must be a benevolent deity.”

Kant genuinely sighed, grateful for his mentor’s trip to that church.
Without it, he’d have suffered far more in the trial.

“She is indeed benevolent, but kind gods rarely fare well.”

“What? Is she dead?”

Selina blurted out, only to receive a sharp rap on her head from Themis.

“Ow, that hurts!”

“As a believer, you shouldn’t speak ill of your deity.
You’ve been a princess this long—don’t you know basic reverence?”

Themis’s tone grew stern.

“Got it.”

Scolded by a god, Selina could only clutch her head and accept it meekly.

“I’m an elven princess now, so shouldn’t I worship the Elven Ancestor God?
If I also believe in the Firelight Goddess, won’t that cause a conflict?”

Selina rubbed her sore head, wincing as she asked.

“There’s no conflict.
The elves, though few, provide ample faith for me.
Your belief adds little and subtracts less.
But Hestia is different.
Objectively, you’re her last believer.”

Themis’s revelation struck Selina with a chilling, shocking truth.