The man in white riding clothes had thick body hair, a rugged bearing, and a loud, rough voice.
The moment he appeared, Bilborn's vampiric instincts made him frown. He felt as though he had some bitter feud with this stranger he had never met, and the sight of him filled Bilborn with loathing.
But once Bilborn heard what the man had said, the loathing vanished. So did his frown. All that remained was boundless shock.
"What did you say? Say that again. The Son of God has descended? Which Son of God? The one I know? The Anointed One? Messiah? Messiah?"
The man's words had left him almost incoherent.
The Son of God.
If the one who had descended truly was the Son of God Bilborn knew, then something terrible had happened. Something deadly.
"The Anointed One, Messiah, and Messiah are names for the Son of God born of a human by the supreme, one and only, eternal, all-powerful, Omniscience and Omnipotence, aren't they?"
The man in white riding clothes laughed mockingly.
Blasphemy. This is blasphemy of the highest order.
Webster was shouting inwardly.
The man's words made him suddenly realize that the Lord who had ruled the West's faith since the Middle Ages had appeared.
In the past—even a year ago—he would have thought the man was talking nonsense. How could gods exist? If they did, Webster's hands would never have become so stained with blood.
But after gods such as Amenominakanushi and Ra had appeared one after another, the Lord's arrival seemed unexpected and yet only natural.
If he had not feared the power the other man had shown, and if his life had not been in that man's hands, Webster would already have shouted for the heretic's death.
Even so, he began praising the Lord over and