"Stop!" The goddess finally spoke, unable to bear it any longer. "You're copying too much!"
Cough, cough! Truman cleared his throat and closed the Revelation of the Night. "When it comes to preaching, who can compare to that one? This is the most suitable path."
"I am not yet a deity, and this is not my path." The goddess, with a meaningful glance, firmly refused. This was far too humiliating.
"Oh well, someone will end up copying it anyway. Might as well be me," Truman muttered, feeling a rush of excitement.
"Soon, you will be a deity," he added.
"Hmm?" The goddess had already gained a deep understanding of this peculiar and mysterious collaborator.
"The Doom Wolf is about to die!"
His words were like a thunderclap, and the goddess's expression changed dramatically.
From her conversations with Truman, he had learned about the state of the world. The exact time of her descent remained unknown, as she was cautious and did not reveal it.
However, the eight ancient gods—Giant King Olmir, Doom Wolf Freigra, Aberrant King Vashtun, and others—were still alive, locked in a continuous struggle.
"Madmen will ultimately be swept into the grave of history. Why not give them a push? This is the tide of time."
Indeed, these ancient gods were powerful, but they were utterly insane—beyond salvation.
"How do you know these things?" The goddess fixed her gaze on Truman, her starlit aura shimmering with unease.
Truman had been here for less than two months and had never even stepped outside the Dark Abyss City. How could he possibly know anything about the tides of history?
"I hear the prayers of all beings and feel your will," Truman smoothly assumed his role as the pontiff.
"The power of the Book of Dreams?" The goddess ignored the second half of his sentence, lost in thought.
Truman's face darkened. The goddess had clearly been someone extraordinary before she traveled to this world. Her instincts were razor-sharp—and now, they were even sharper.
"Very well," she said at last, nodding lightly. She accepted Truman's position as the pontiff. A foundation of trust had been established between them, making the next steps much easier.
Dark Abyss City was under the goddess's secret protection, and all its inhabitants were her followers.
Beyond this city, however, lay a world of extreme bloodshed and primal brutality.
Monstrous beings driven mad by their own consumption of supernatural traits, extraordinary races that saw humans as mere food—this was a hellish world for ordinary people.
Dark Abyss City was an exception. Even city-states under the protection of ancient gods suffered relentless devastation. It was a time of madness—even the gods themselves were unreliable.
From this perspective, this era was one that truly deserved to end.
"Now, my Pontiff, what do you intend to do?" The goddess's gaze landed on Truman, solemn and cautious.
"Exactly what I should be doing…"
Before long, Truman, holding the only Revelation of the Night in existence, ascended to the pinnacle of the Dark Abyss City's watchtower, raising the sacred text high.
"The goddess above shall grant us peace and deep slumber."
"Praise the goddess!" Every follower under her protection knew they were fortunate.
Within this city, they did not have to remain constantly vigilant against insane creatures. They would not be captured as food by extraordinary races. This was the goddess's blessing!
A deep, undulating power spread outward like ripples on water, washing over every follower in Dark Abyss City. Night-scented grass and slumber flowers emitted a soft glow, filling their hearts with a tranquility they had never known.
"Praise the goddess!" Their praises erupted uncontrollably.
At that moment, all of them felt something and turned their gazes toward the figure standing beneath the goddess's statue.
He was glowing.
His linen robe shimmered with an eerie luster. A divine emblem, pinned to his left chest, radiated a soothing power.
"The goddess has bestowed her decree. I am the Pontiff of Dark Abyss City. You may address me as Your Holiness."
From the goddess's statue, starlight gathered and condensed into a celestial crown, which gently descended onto Truman's head.
The people of this era were terrifyingly pure, and the divine miracle before them utterly shook their souls.
"Praise the goddess! We bow before the Pontiff!" Their voices grew louder, more unified.
Suddenly, Truman sensed something mystical—his very being had connected with these believers.
At this moment, they all understood what it meant to be the Pontiff. He was the goddess's representative, the one who would guide them in faith—their spiritual "father."
"Faith and anchors?"
Truman pondered the profound connection forming between him and his followers. He could sense pure, radiant light coalescing, slowly forming a small, flowing galaxy.
"I was right." He looked at these lights with joy. "Gods need anchors to maintain their humanity. But for me, these faith-anchors will allow me to leverage the Book of Dreams!"
Previously, his control over the Book of Dreams had been pitifully weak. But now, with these faith-anchors, he could harness far greater power.
"My followers must maintain unwavering trust, respect, and even reverence toward me."
By becoming the Pontiff, he had gained direct access to Dark Abyss City's believers—the faith that the goddess had accumulated over the years was now his to use.
Had he stolen from the goddess?
"Praise the goddess!" This time, Truman spoke with genuine sincerity.
At that moment, the Book of Dreams, disguised as the Revelation of the Night, trembled slightly. Ethereal, dreamlike phosphorescence floated out, drifting toward the believers and merging into their bodies.
That night, Dark Abyss City could also be called the City of Dreams.
In their sleep, the followers would receive what they most desired, healing their deepest wounds.
But the greatest benefit was that all the inevitable mental corruption they accumulated during the day was completely soothed—leaving them in a state of perfect clarity.
"May all our dreams come true!"
Thus spoke Saint Truman, the Pure One.
The next morning, after a sleepless night, Truman led tens of thousands of believers in prayer.
"Thank you, goddess, for granting us food!"
Truman had set a clear goal for himself: his name would forever be remembered by this city and, ultimately, by the future pantheon of true deities.
And it would all start with the most fundamental aspect of life—food.
The goddess had indeed been generous to Dark Abyss City. A Stone of Abundance, equivalent in power to a future Sequence Four Saint, was placed at the goddess's statue, radiating its blessings across the entire city.
Fruits, milk, and other food sources flourished in abundance—making this city nothing short of a paradise in these dark times.
With a series of careful maneuvers, Truman made the goddess's presence felt in every aspect of daily life. He established a comprehensive yet slightly intricate prayer system, officially incorporating it into the Revelation of the Night under his name.
He even transplanted sections of what would later become the genuine Revelation of the Night, adapting it for this era.
One day, after leading prayers as usual, Truman suddenly vanished.
"The goddess is calling me," he said, leaving only those words behind.
But he had not deceived these innocent lambs—the goddess really had summoned him.
The goddess had finally been moved—or, more likely, she had already made plans long ago, and Truman's arrival merely provided her with a better option.
After all, she was the subordinate deity of the Doom Wolf. Her powers of concealment were completely countered by it, making many things inconvenient for her.
"...I leave this to you," her gentle voice echoed from the goddess's statue.
Before Truman, two objects emerged through reverse-concealment, becoming real.
A glove.
And a dark robe.
Thus, the Pontiff stepped beyond the city's borders—into the vast, untamed wilderness of the world.