David and John could both understand the contradictions between this world—or rather, the myriad worlds—and the Bible.
But that did not prevent them from expressing the most exalted faith in their Lord.
Nor did it prevent them from wanting to shroud this world beneath the Lord's radiance.
They had thought that, with the glory of the Lord, there was no way they could lose to mages and monks.
With the two of them joining forces, they should even have claimed twenty percent, like Ao.
Yet in reality, they held only five percent.
They were on par only with those uncouth barbarians, and were inferior to every member of the bard and rogue alliance.
Six people held thirty-five percent. Split evenly, each of them had more than David and John combined.
However, nothing in this world was absolute. What was on the gambling table could not represent everything.
If the two of them could gain an absolute advantage in faith, they would possess the power to overturn the wager.
And when it came to proclaiming the Lord's glory, the Lord's shepherds had never fallen behind.
"They're here!"
At John's soft shout, a man emerged from the temple, clad in chainmail, a longsword hanging at his waist, with a scruffy patch of beard beneath his chin.
The man's right hand had been severed at the wrist, his eyes were covered in bandages, and a bright, dazzling halo hovered above his brow.
He was Tyr's incarnation.
As he appeared, believers inside and outside the temple bowed to him in succession, offering their highest respect.
"Let's go. We should show an angel the respect he deserves!" David met the bandaged eyes for a moment, then turned and walked out of the restaurant.
When the three met before the square, they regarded one another for