That was right. Just as cats and dogs, wanting to please their owners, carried the mice and bones they loved into their owners' beds or onto their tables, believing that was what their owners wanted and expecting praise.
Yet humans could not even fully understand themselves, and still presumptuously tried to use their shallow minds to guess the will of gods.
How laughable. How absurd!
At its root—
Everything was merely a way to dress up one's own violence as so-called justice;
Everything was merely a way to whitewash all kinds of sinister means for satisfying private desires as the righteous will of the gods;
Everything was merely a way to blame one's own corruption and choices on the temptations of demons!
Joan of Arc's face turned pale, her expression dazed. Like a little lamb lost in wind and rain, she was helpless and miserable.
Yet when those azure eyes touched the figure before her, the hollow deadness in her pupils finally stirred with a trace of life.
"But why? So many people seek these heavenly voices, praying to speak with the gods, yet you never responded? Never guided us?"
Her uneasy plea trembled uncontrollably. She wanted to know the answer, yet feared the truth.
"Have us guide humanity?"
Hearing this, Samael lowered his head and chuckled at the Maid of Orléans. His eyes were deep as an abyss as he quietly asked in return.
"Have you ever seen the primordial gods?"
"..."
Joan of Arc nodded, but soon pressed her teeth against her lips and uncertainly shook her head.
Everything she knew came from books. But even the Bible could not be trusted—who could say how much of it was true?
"They too felt wrath, jealousy, sloth, and pride. They too possessed kindness, tolerance, diligence, and humility..."
The serpent