In that instant, the old man's eyes became razor-sharp, like a tangible blade thrust straight into Moriyue's heart as he met his gaze. The feeling of having nowhere to hide made him feel as though everything about him had been seen through. Only after a moment did the sensation slowly fade, and the old man's gaze returned to normal, as if the person who had just looked at Moriyue had not been him at all.
"Young man, you do not believe in Tagorihime, so you cannot find the palace where Tagorihime resides. Only true believers of Tagorihime can approach her..." The old man stroked his dry beard, his face practically saying, "You are not devout enough."
"Oh? Then what does it take to count as believing in Tagorihime? Or let me put it another way: what must I give up to believe in her? And in return, what can I gain?" Moriyue openly admitted that he did not believe in the so-called Tagorihime. In his view, most faith was a form of exchange.
Believers gave their time, energy, and faith, while those being worshipped offered vague promises or gave their followers a sense of "peace of mind." That was only in cases where the gods of faith did not truly exist in reality or could not interfere with it. As for those gods who were still alive, he could not say. He would never dare accept a reward that required no payment.
He still had not figured out the mark the Evil God had left on him. That was also why, despite having mastered Blood Death Art, he rarely used it. The other side seemed to have mistaken him for a follower of the Shinigami. That was quite the misunderstanding.
"Young man, believing in Tagorihime does not require you to