“Perhaps,” Isis began, “but Mr. Milton, would you mind excusing us for a moment?”
Isis had intended for Milton to step away, allowing her and Beacai to converse freely. However, after a moment of contemplation, Milton shook his head.
“I apologize,” he stated, “but I cannot leave this place.”
He feared that if he were to depart, leaving only them and his daughter, he would remain utterly oblivious to anything that might transpire.
“It’s quite alright,” Isis replied, “I understand.”
Since Milton was unwilling to withdraw, Isis did not press the matter. She turned to Beacai, a sweet smile suddenly gracing her lips.
“Beacai, do you want to save them?”
“No, I don’t.”
Beacai’s terse reply pierced Isis’s heart like a dagger. She knew that reforming an evil god would be arduous, but she hadn’t expected to encounter such resistance at the very first step.
Pressing her lips together, Isis rephrased her words. Like a temptress, she began to subtly entice Beacai, step by step.
“Just like you saved Philomena, if you rescue them, you will earn their heartfelt reverence and affection.”
“But I’ve saved many people before, and they all disliked me. Lily, however, seems quite special…”
“This time will be special too.”
“Really?”
Beacai blinked, somewhat unconvinced. She glanced at Mel, who lay unconscious on the ground, before continuing, “Someone who dislikes us as much as he does—will his attitude truly change?”
In her eyes, the quickest way to earn his awe was to subjugate him, twisting his soul and will with divine power until he was utterly devoted to her. Any other method would only invite his disdain.
“Of course, he will change.”
Isis’s promise, however, ignited a spark of hope in Beacai’s heart. She knew Isis would not deceive her now, and after a moment of hesitation, she decided to try.
‘I’ll listen to Mother.’
‘Mother?’
The word struck Milton, causing his mind to stall.
‘They are mother and daughter?’
He couldn’t comprehend the conversation between Isis and Beacai. It seemed they weren’t discussing *if* his children could be saved, but rather *if* they were willing to do so.
Moreover, from their exchange, he vaguely gathered that Philomena’s illness had been cured by this silver-haired girl. Could she be the ‘noble benefactor’ Philomena spoke of? And Isis, the ‘benefactor’s’ mother?
As these thoughts raced through his mind, he watched the silver-haired girl approach the high platform. She slowly extended her hand, and a strange, crimson power flowed into the green liquid, ultimately entering his children’s bodies.
Unaware of her actions, Milton felt an urge to intervene. Yet, he simultaneously feared disturbing her and causing irreparable harm to their bodies, leaving him in a profound dilemma.
Before he could fully resolve his internal struggle, he heard a faint *thump*, as if something had shattered. He hastily looked towards the platform but saw no visible anomaly.
‘What could have broken then? Could it be… the curse?’
An incredible answer flashed through his mind. He couldn’t fathom how the silver-haired girl could break a curse simply by injecting a strange, crimson power into his children’s bodies.
And had she truly broken the curse? Why hadn’t his children awakened yet?
Milton remained bewildered, utterly ignorant of the current situation. He merely observed the silver-haired girl gently shaking her head after retracting her magic.
A jolt went through his heart. He realized the situation seemed dire.
“What’s wrong?” Isis asked.
It was the first time she had seen someone Beacai couldn’t save.
The crimson divine power, like a tiny worm, coiled around Beacai’s fingertips. With a hint of dejection, she replied, “Their curse stripped them of their lives. While I can dispel the curse, I cannot restore their lives.”
Even gods were not omnipotent. Elves deprived of life were, in essence, no different from the dead. Resurrecting the deceased was generally beyond the capabilities of most deities.
At the very least, Beacai, who wielded the authority over blood, was powerless.
“…Then what do we do?”
Milton staggered back, struggling to accept this truth. Isis, however, understood the implication of Beacai’s words.
They had died because they lost their life essence.
“A life that has been taken can be replenished,” Isis explained. “This is the power of the Authority of Life.”
Her explanation, upon reaching Milton’s ears, caused his eyebrows to shoot up.
As the High Priest of the Church of Life, he had some understanding of the tenets of life, but not extensively. Even less so did he comprehend the Authority of Life, which was infinitely more profound than any doctrine.
He simply couldn’t grasp the Authority of Life. After all, if he could, he would be the god wielding it.
“Then, then doesn’t that mean you can revive the dead?”
“No, no, it’s not the same. Some people die not because they lost their life essence. The Authority of Life can only help those who have lost their life essence.”
Isis’s clarification helped him understand a crucial distinction. Everyone possessed life essence, and those who died due to its disappearance could be revived by replenishing it.
His children, cursed and deprived of their lives, perfectly fit this criterion.
“But, but how can such a thing be done? Can someone who isn’t a god truly accomplish this?”
The more he understood how to awaken his children, the more despair consumed him. Replenishing life—such an act seemed utterly impossible for a mortal, no matter how one looked at it.
Could the highest realm of the Church of Life’s teachings achieve it? Had a previous Pope of the Church of Life ever replenished someone’s life? Recalling every book he had read, he knew it was utterly impossible.
Slumping to the ground, his arms fell limply, his gaze vacant. After years of effort, discovering the truth had pushed him to the brink of collapse.
Yet, Isis merely glanced at him and said, “Milton, bring me that magical crystal ball you use to manipulate divine power through the Church of Life’s teachings.”
“What? No, it’s useless. That’s… that’s something only a god could possibly do.”
Muttering to himself, Milton seemed to abandon all hope. However, upon seeing Isis’s serene eyes, an inexplicable surge of hope filled his heart, causing him to stagger to his feet.
Isis and Beacai, who were truly saving his children, had not given up. What right did he have to surrender?
He quickly used magic to rush back to the small room where Isis had been evaluated earlier. He retrieved the magic crystal ball from within and handed it to Isis.
Isis nodded, placing it on the high platform. She then attempted, “Beacai, place your hands on it. I’ll try to borrow your divine power.”
“Oh.”
Beacai infused the crystal ball with Isis’s divine power. Afterwards, Isis pressed herself close to Beacai’s back, extending her hands to cover Beacai’s.
As if to experience her divine power more intimately, Isis intertwined her fingers with Beacai’s. Her gentle breath brushed against Beacai’s neck, and the warmth radiating between their hands made Beacai’s heart pound, her face flushing crimson.