Adam, the Sun God, sighed.
"It wasn't explicitly forbidden, but it really was inconvenient..."
Having the same name as his superior's superior—or rather, his original body—was indeed rather awkward, especially given the other party's status. He would inevitably possess the ability to know whenever his name was spoken.
They had witnessed Osekuas nearly being struck dead by a bolt of lightning right in front of them. After being defeated by them, he had died on the spot without even leaving ashes behind.
It couldn't be that the other party was truly so idle that he kept watching them at all times, could it?
It would have been one thing if they had not known. Shopkeeper Reed had never caused them trouble over it before.
But now that they knew his true name, every time they called someone "Adam," the other party would inevitably know. He would also naturally assume that they understood what it meant to utter that name.
That meant that even if they were not addressing him, they still had to be extremely cautious in their ordinary conversations to avoid dying like Osekuas—crispy on the outside, tender within. They also had to watch for ambiguity in every sentence.
Rather than live like that, they might as well change the name.
"That's true."
Grisha nodded. Though he had been the Sun God for an epoch, that did not mean he had never lived through days when he had to watch people's expressions. The strong might choose not to pursue a matter, but the weak needed to know their place.
"So, my Lord, which name do you think sounds better—Cain or Abel?"
Adam, the Sun God, looked at Grisha with a thoroughly serious expression.
Grisha: "..."
Was that really necessary?
In the Bible, Adam and Eve had two sons, Cain