"And what I need to do is prove it."
Jibril's wings spread slightly behind her, then closed again.
"How does the master intend to prove it?"
Higashino Makoto did not answer.
He simply raised his hand, and a pale golden light appeared in his palm.
The light was small, only the size of a billiard ball, but the energy it contained made the surrounding air tremble.
Nobody noticed.
Because they can't see it.
They won't see it unless Higashino Makoto doesn't want them to.
But the next second, he changed his mind.
"Let them see."
He said softly.
Then, the light exploded.
Golden light surged from his palm and spread in all directions.
It wasn't a blinding explosion, but a gentle radiance, like sunlight itself taking on a tangible quality.
It passed through the square, through the colonnades, through the marble statues, and through the stone walls of the cathedral.
It enveloped everyone, every tree, and every pigeon.
Then it rose, ascended into the sky, and transformed into a massive pillar of light that stretched across the entire sky above Rome.
Everyone looked up.
Pilgrims stopped praying, tourists put down their cameras, and clergy forgot to chant.
They stared at the golden beam of light, mouths agape, eyes wide, their minds blank.
What is that?
Some people say...
No one can answer that.
Then, the beam of light cracked.
The shattered beam of light transformed into countless golden specks, falling like a meteor shower.
The light fell on St. Peter's Square and on the pilgrims.
An elderly paralyzed man stood up.
He wasn't helped up, nor did he rely on crutches; he stood up on his own.
His legs were trembling, but he stood up. Tears streamed down his face, his lips quivered, and he tried to say thank you, but he couldn't.
Because he wasn't sure... did God do this?
A blind child opened her eyes. She saw light, the sky, and her mother's face.
She smiled, revealing two missing front teeth. Her mother hugged her and cried like a child.
A middle-aged man suffering from a terminal illness felt a change in his body the moment the light fell on him.
The pain that had tormented him for three years disappeared, and the lesions that kept him awake at night vanished.
His hands stopped trembling.
He knelt on the ground, covering his face with his hands, his shoulders trembling violently.
In the square, more and more people began to kneel down.
It wasn't because they wanted to kneel, but because they didn't know what else to do besides kneel.
Higashino Makoto stood in the center of the square, watching all of this.
Jibril stood behind him, her purple eyes looking at the people kneeling on the ground.
"Master, this is..."
"Wide-area healing spell, increased range, reduced intensity."
Higashino Makoto's tone was flat.
"However, it's more than enough."
He raised his hand and waved it gently.
The clouds in the sky began to move.
It wasn't moved by the wind, but rather pulled by some force.
They converge, swirl, and then disperse.
Sunlight streamed through gaps in the clouds, bathing the entire Rome in gold.
"The World Change."
Higashino Makoto used this Super-Tier Magic.
It didn't just change the climate of a small area, but it changed the weather over the entire Italy peninsula.
The clouds in the sky formed a giant cross shape, remaining there forever.
From this day forward, the skies here will be clear forever.
It's not that there are no clouds, but that the clouds don't block out the sun.
It's not that there's no rain, but rather that the rain comes and goes on schedule.
He thought for a moment and then came up with an even better idea.
"This is the land I cherish; it will forever be free from natural disasters."
In the sky, the golden pillar of light transformed into a giant light screen, displaying scenes of heaven and hell.
"The good go to heaven, the evil go to hell."
Through magic, the voice resounded in everyone's minds.
"Jibril."
"Exist."
Do you think they'll believe it?
Jibril was silent for a moment.
"Yes, because they saw it with their own eyes."
Higashino Makoto's lips curled up slightly.
What you see with your own eyes may not be the truth.
But it's better than not seeing it at all.
Higashino Makoto chuckled softly.
"You're right."
He turned around and walked out of the square.
"Let's go, there's still a lot to do."
Jibril followed behind him, her wings gently unfurling behind her.
Through the power of magic, he passed before people's eyes, yet the believers still could not see him.
They don't need to know the truth.
Higashino Makoto's voice was very soft.
"All they need to know is that God has descended, that Heaven and Hell exist, and that humans possess souls; that's enough."
Jibril walked over to him and stood beside him.
"Master, you don't intend to see them?"
"Unnecessary."
Higashino Makoto shook his head.
Even if the gods don't manifest, they still believe in them. True faith doesn't need miracles to sustain it. Miracles are merely a starting point, showing them the direction. Then, they will come to the right path on their own.
He turned and walked deeper into the church.
"Let's go, it's time to see the Pope."
Pope Francis IV sat in a room deep within the Vatican Library, an open Bible laid out before him, his fingers gently tracing the pages.
His hair was gray, his face was thin, and his gray eyes held a weary calm, as if he had experienced too many storms.
He is already eighty-seven years old.
He has met countless believers, heard countless confessions, and presided over countless masses.
But he had never seen God.
Three days ago, he stood on the balcony of St. Peter's Square and witnessed the "god" descending from the sky.
Golden light, twelve angels, and the gate to heaven.
He knelt down.
Not as a pope, but as an ordinary, devout believer.
He knelt there, looking at the silver-haired man, tears streaming down his face.
Because he waited his whole life.
After waiting for eighty-seven years, it has finally arrived.
The door was pushed open.
Francis IV raised his head, his gray eyes looking at the person who had entered.
That being shrouded in light, whose face was obscured.
He could see nothing but a pair of golden eyes.
An angel with rainbow-colored hair followed behind him.
"My lord--"
His voice was hoarse.
You've arrived.
Higashino Makoto sat down opposite him.
Did you know I would come?
"I don't know, but I've been waiting."
Francis IV's lips curled into a slight smile.
"Eighty-seven years have passed, and I have been waiting."
Higashino Makoto looked at him, his golden eyes devoid of any emotion.
"Wait for what?"
"Waiting for an answer."
Francis IV lowered his head and looked at his hands—thin, withered hands covered with age spots.
"I've believed my whole life, but I don't even know if what I believe is true. The Bible says that God so loved the world, but I haven't felt it. I pray every day, but there's never been an answer. I even once thought that God didn't exist. Oh, how Blasphemy! Please forgive me, my Lord."
He looked up at Higashino Makoto.
"However, I still want to ask you in person, why?"
Higashino Makoto remained silent for a long time.
"Because it's not necessary."
Francis IV frowned slightly.
"Unnecessary?"
"No, not necessary."
Higashino Makoto leaned back in his chair, his golden eyes gazing at the ceiling.