Among the countless prayers drifting upward from the city below, one voice stood out above all the others.
It was filled with extreme piety and desperation, a cry so sincere it resembled a lone lighthouse shining through endless darkness. Compared to the muddled wishes and selfish pleas surrounding it, this voice was painfully clear, trembling with anguish yet refusing to extinguish its final spark of hope.
Karl El's attention was immediately drawn to it.
His gaze pierced through layers of drifting clouds and passed over the sprawling city beneath—its towering structures both magnificent and decayed, its streets bustling with life and suffering alike. He continued searching, guided solely by that voice, until his vision finally locked onto a remote valley far outside the city limits.
There, hidden among jagged stone walls and overgrown vegetation, stood the ruins of a long-abandoned Divine Temple.
Time and neglect had reduced it to little more than broken pillars and crumbling walls. The roof had collapsed long ago, leaving the interior exposed to the elements. Wind swept freely through the ruins, carrying dust, dead leaves, and the faint scent of decay.
Inside the ruined temple, slumped against the cold stone floor, was a bald man so thin he resembled a walking skeleton.
His body was emaciated to an extreme degree, every rib visible beneath his pale, tightly stretched skin. His cheeks were sunken, his eyes dull and clouded, yet stubbornly alive. He was clutching a small girl tightly to his chest, as if loosening his grip for even a moment would cause her to vanish.
The girl looked no more than seven or eight years old.
She was just as frail as the man holding her, her breathing shallow and faint, as though each breath might be her last. Her skin was pale to the point of translucence, and her small body felt unnaturally light, robbed of vitality by prolonged starvation and illness.
It was obvious that she was his daughter.
Tear tracks were carved deeply into the man's face, but the tears themselves had long since dried. There was no moisture left in his body to spare. With one trembling hand, he gently stroked the girl's haggard face, his touch tender beyond words, as though he were afraid she might shatter beneath his fingers.
His other hand was raised high, trembling yet unwavering.
It was extended toward an ancient relief carved into a stone platform at the center of the temple. The relief depicted a majestic sun, its blazing rays radiating outward, and within its center was a solemn human face—ancient, dignified, and distant.
The man's voice was hoarse and cracked, dry from hunger and exhaustion. Each word scraped painfully from his throat, carrying despair so heavy it seemed ready to crush him at any moment.
Yet within that despair, there remained a thin, unyielding thread of hope.
"Great Sun… I praise you…" he whispered.
"You mercifully bestow life and radiance upon all things…"
His voice faltered, but he forced himself to continue.
"Your believer, Geer… implores you here. Please… save my child. My Lina… she is still so young…"
A violent coughing fit seized him, his body trembling uncontrollably. He bent forward, gasping for breath, but even then, his raised arm did not fall.
"I—I am your most devout believer," he continued, his voice barely audible. "My entire life… I dedicated everything I had to the revival of the Church of the Sun…"
"My wealth. My food. My labor. Everything I possessed…"
His eyes filled with tears once more, though none fell.
"If only you can save her… I, Geer, am willing to dedicate the rest of my life to you. Even my soul after death. I will praise your radiance day and night… I beg you… please… send down your mercy…"
High above, Karl El listened silently to this heart-wrenching prayer.
His gaze penetrated the bodies of both the man and the girl, seeing far beyond flesh and bone. Their physical condition was laid bare before him.
Severe, long-term malnutrition had nearly destroyed their bodies. Their stomachs were close to atrophying, their muscle tissue almost entirely gone. Even more alarming were the pathological changes within them—cells mutating abnormally, spreading in a way that closely resembled advanced cancer.
The Flame of Life within both of them flickered weakly, like candle wicks on the verge of burning out.
Even in this state—exhausted, starving, abandoned by the world—this man still clung to his faith with unwavering devotion, offering everything he had to a god who had never answered him.
Karl El felt something stir deep within his heart.
It was a complicated emotion: shock at the sheer resilience of faith, sorrow at its tragic futility, and an overwhelming compassion that words could not express. This devotion, bordering on fanaticism, was both heartbreaking and strangely moving.
To place one's entire existence upon the hope of an unseen deity—how fragile, yet how powerful.
"I want to do something," Karl El thought.
At that moment, something unusual occurred.
From Geer and the girl in his arms, fine threads of golden energy began to rise. They were incredibly subtle, nearly invisible, yet astonishingly pure. Like strands of sunlight, they drifted upward, drawn instinctively toward the sky—and toward Karl El himself.
Almost simultaneously, a much larger surge of energy erupted from the ancient sun relief.
However, this energy was murky and turbulent. Most of it was composed of dull gray energy, thick with negative emotions—greed, resentment, desperation, and endless demands. Only a tiny fraction shared the same pure golden quality emanating from Geer and his daughter.
Karl El watched as these invisible energies converged toward him and immediately understood.
"This is… the Power of Faith."
He reached out and beckoned. The cluster of mixed golden and gray energy floated before him obediently.
Cautiously, he absorbed a small portion.
The pure golden Power of Faith flowed smoothly into his body, spreading a gentle warmth throughout his being. It merged with his Solar Energy, increasing it by a minuscule amount—so small it was almost negligible.
Then the gray energy followed.
The moment it entered his body, Karl El felt a wave of discomfort. His energy flow slowed, and a nauseating sensation spread through him, as if he had swallowed filthy oil mixed with sand.
Frowning, he immediately focused his will and mobilized his internal energy to expel it.
The process was slow and unpleasant. The gray Power of Faith clung stubbornly to him, viscous and resistant, requiring significant effort to strip away. Only after some time was he able to force it out, watching as it drifted away and gradually dissipated into nothingness.
Karl El's expression darkened.
This gray Power of Faith was impure—contaminated by selfish desires and negative emotions. Absorbing it brought no benefit and required additional effort to cleanse. It was utterly inefficient.
Only faith like Geer's—pure even in despair—could produce usable golden Power of Faith.
Even then, Karl El's gaze grew sharp.
This power could not be relied upon.
Nymph was the perfect example. Her strength was bound directly to faith in nature and water. Once belief waned, her power diminished just as quickly.
Karl El suspected that if he fought her now, once her stored Power of Faith ran dry, she might not even survive a single punch.
The Power of Faith was a double-edged sword.
It granted strength, but at the cost of dependency—and that dependency could be fatal.
True power had to be firmly held in one's own hands.
He etched this realization deeply into his heart before turning his attention back to the ruined temple below.
Opening his mouth, Karl El vibrated his vocal cords at a frequency beyond human comprehension. His voice descended into the temple, deep and resonant, filled with inhuman majesty.
"Devout believer, Geer—"
Geer's body jolted violently.
He raised his head in disbelief, his clouded eyes darting frantically around the empty ruins. His voice trembled uncontrollably.
"God? Is that you? You… you heard my prayer?!"
Tears streamed freely now.
"But—why?" he cried. "Why did you say before that you couldn't help us?"
Karl El did not answer immediately.
Instead, he manipulated the pure golden Power of Faith gathered from Geer, his daughter, and the sun relief. He caused it to manifest as a soft, warm golden radiance before Geer's eyes.
Under Geer's stunned gaze, the light divided into two streams.
One flowed gently into his body.
The other merged silently into the frail form of his daughter.
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