Evil God? Then Blow It Up Together!

Having decided to be cautious about that Illusory Sea, Luther gradually came up with an idea.

He thought to himself:

"Continue to grow stronger, continue to uncover more secrets of my journey, and find out the origin of that Sea as soon as possible. Until then, I still need it. I cannot relinquish my ownership of it just because the True Creator is on the other side."

"The True Creator already hates me. Even if I don't fight Him for that sea, He won't be grateful to me; He will only take the opportunity to further attack my spirit."

Showing weakness to the enemy will not bring peace.

Before Lanevus died, the True Creator had always responded very earnestly to Luther's prayers. Now it seems that He may have only wanted to Corrosion Luther's Consciousness as soon as possible, turning Luther into His fanatical believer, who would willingly and voluntarily relinquish ownership of that Tide.

In other words, from the moment Luther transmigrated, the conflict between himself and the True Creator was already established.

"Me, a Sequence 5, actually having to fight against an evil god? Unbelievable!"

Luther couldn't help but whisper, then fell silent.

A few seconds later, the dejected look on his face was gradually replaced by a sinister sneer.

"To hell with evil gods!"

He said.

Even when facing an evil god, one must resist!

Resistance doesn't guarantee victory, but if you don't resist, the enemy will kill you and then trample on you, mocking your incompetence. The wicked and vengeful Luther always felt that even death couldn't justify such humiliation.

Even if it means death, I'll splatter blood all over them!

"If we're truly at our wits' end, then let's fight Him!"

"At that time, I will pray to [the Fool], and through the collision of that deity and the Tide, destroy that sea!"

Luther thought fiercely.

The True Creator wants to seize this sea, right? Fine, even if I destroy this sea, I will never give it to Him!

His face was filled with a fierce and crazed expression, which only gradually calmed down after a few minutes.

What time is it now?

He turned to look out the window and saw that it was getting dark, as if it was almost evening. His mental state had been deteriorating recently; he often succumbed to madness, his lucid moments intermittent. Often, his eyes would open and close for days at a time.

Lanevus was dealt with, and the Potion of the "Shadow Ascetic" and the "Rose Bishop" were digested—all good things. But new trouble arose because of his own actions; he had swallowed a portion of Divinity and incurred the hatred of the True Creator.

As for Mr. A, the Oracle of the Aurora Order in Backlund, he hated him to the core. Unlike the half-mad man, Mr. A was a well-behaved Shepherd, and facing him would be very troublesome.

"I heard the Nighthawks are still searching for the Aurora Order. I hope the Goddess will bless them and help them catch Mr. A soon."

Luther sincerely wished them well.

He got out of bed, ignoring the chaotic noise in his mind, and slowly left the bedroom and went downstairs.

First floor living room.

As Luther descended the stairs, he saw his sister sitting in front of the fireplace, staring blankly at the flames burning inside.

It was mid-November, and the temperature was slowly but steadily dropping. The damp, cold rain mixed with light snow fell on the ground in the East Borough, making the roads increasingly difficult to navigate. They were often incredibly muddy during the Daytime and frozen solid at night. Every few days, the charity's hearse would pass by, pulling the frozen, stiff bodies of the homeless out of the East Borough to give them a Requiem burial.

The living room was dimly lit because the lights were off. The fire in the fireplace was burning brightly, emitting an orange glow and warmth. The flames crackled, and outside, the cold rain pattered softly. The black-haired girl sat in front of the fire, hugging her knees, her azure eyes reflecting the flickering flames.

Everything seemed so peaceful and serene.

Looking at his younger sister, Luther's anger dissipated considerably. In this cold winter, he genuinely felt safe and warm.

"Brother, you're awake?"

Hearing Luther's footsteps, the girl turned to look at him and smiled happily.

The warm firelight illuminated her delicate profile, and her smile was even brighter than the flames. She stood up and walked over to take Luther's arm. Because she was near the fireplace, she felt warm and cozy, and she also gave off a faint smoky smell of burning wood.

"Cecilia, what are you thinking about while looking at the fire?"

Luther looked at his sister and couldn't help but smile.

Even with his mind in chaos and madness, even with the hatred of an evil god looming over him, he still tries his best to show his best side to the girl who takes such good care of him and loves him, and to his only family member in the world.

"I was thinking, perhaps we could roast some meat in the fireplace for dinner tonight."

The girl said with a smile.

"If we grill meat, the grease will spill onto the carpet, and our landlady will be furious," Luther laughed, tidying his sister's hair. "Also, don't stand too close to the fireplace; look, your hair's a little burnt."

As he said this, he suddenly recalled a distant past life. The stray cat at his maternal grandmother's house also liked to warm itself by the fire in winter, and as a result, its face would be covered in soot, but even so, it would not change its ways.

"Ah, it really is."

The girl was slightly surprised to see that her hair was a little curly, and then said to Luther, "Brother, my hands are covered in dust from handling firewood. Could you please help me tie my hair up?"

"It's my pleasure to serve ladies."

Luther pulled himself out of his melancholy memories, smiled, and took the rubber band his sister handed him.

Roselle's industrialization efforts increased rubber production, making it possible for women around the world to quickly fix their hair. Of course, such products were mainly popular among the middle class; upper-class noblewomen had ample time and manpower to style their hair.

Luther stood behind his younger sister, roughly smoothing her hair with his fingers and gathering it together with his left hand. The girl's snow-white, gracefully curved nape was then revealed from behind her dark hair, as slender as a cat's.

Oh, right, the cat.

"Cecilia, do you like black cats?"

Luther asked while combing his hair.

"I like them, I like all cats."

My sister's voice came from the front.

"That's great! I met a stray black cat on the street last time."

Luther said, "In a few days, when I feel a bit better, I'll take you to see it and bring it home to raise, okay?"

"Really?"

The girl's voice was filled with surprise, and she seemed very happy. However, because her hair was being tied up, she couldn't turn around to speak to Luther, so she could only twist her shoulders, appearing somewhat anxious.

"Certainly."

Seeing his sister so happy, Luther couldn't help but laugh too. "It looks a bit malnourished, and might even be sick. We can go find Fatty Darkwill and have him treat it."

"Mr. Darkwill is an extraordinary individual; would he agree to treat a cat?"

"He'd love for us to go to him."

Luther chuckled, tying the hair in his hand into a smooth bunch through a hair tie, which fell neatly onto the girl's slender back.