Chapter 136 – Inheritance
[You have gained the recognition of the Eye of the Eternal Blazing Sun]
[Under the interference of heavenly power, you have begun receiving portions of the legacy of the Sun God, Asdemaz]
[Under the influence of this inheritance, your physique is undergoing transformation]
[You have awakened the innate talent — Child of the Sun]
[Your level of existence has undergone a permanent change]
[You have touched a higher tier of power; your
...
Bathed in the pillar of light, Charles's charcoal-black hair was gradually dyed gold as system messages streamed endlessly across his vision.
He drifted in a daze, passively enduring the transformation, until he suddenly became aware of something solid in his hand.
Lowering his gaze, he found himself gripping a golden emblem shaped like a blazing sun.
"A… sun?"
Charles felt utterly bewildered.
Back in that stone chamber, he had been studying a mural that seemed utterly unremarkable—until a sudden pain flared in his forehead, and the painting changed.
Something had burst out from it.
If his memory was correct, what he had seen then was not this emblem, but countless gold-edged cards flying toward him like a storm.
And yet now, this Eye of the Blazing Sun emblem sat firmly in his grasp.
He had touched this emblem before. At the time, it had shown no reaction whatsoever. How, then, had it been awakened now?
And how had it ended up in his hand?
There were no answers.
Especially as he felt the scorching power continue to reshape his body, the entire situation felt unreal.
Even after the transformation ended—after the emblem dissolved into pure light and vanished—Charles still couldn't make sense of it.
"You're confused, aren't you?"
A warm, gentle voice sounded in front of him.
He looked up to see the archbishop.
Just moments ago, the Archbishop of Dulin had bowed to him with solemn reverence. Now, she had returned to her original composed and kindly demeanor.
Perhaps she had simply been paying respects to a god long fallen.
"I'm… a god?" Charles asked hesitantly.
He was confused—but not for that reason.
He knew he wasn't a Sun God. The Eye of Reality had clearly stated this was inheritance, not awakening. If anything, his reaction felt perfectly normal.
Not knowing what had just happened would have been the strange part.
Seeing his bewildered expression, the archbishop smiled softly.
"You are merely an ordinary believer under my Lord."
"Then…?"
"You are not a god," she replied calmly.
"But you are a child of the gods."
"A child of the gods?" This time, Charles was genuinely taken aback. It was the first time he had ever heard such a term.
"Before my Lord's radiance spread across the land," the archbishop said gently,
"the world was ruled by a host of ancient gods."
"After countless cataclysms, those ancient gods fell. But the traces they left behind did not disappear. In a sense, they are eternally undying."
"Traces?" Charles echoed.
"Yes—traces," she affirmed.
"As long as someone in this world still remembers the name of an ancient god, a fragment of their power will never vanish."
"This power cannot be seen or touched. Yet, on rare occasions, it fuses with the spiritual essence of an unborn child."
"We call such children Children of the Gods."
"They are born with certain peculiarities," she continued softly.
"But if no one ever discovers them, they may live and die without ever achieving anything extraordinary."
She smiled at Charles.
"And some… are fortunate."
"Like you."
Charles nodded, half-understanding, half-lost.
The archbishop gently brushed his cheek and said warmly,
"Strive forward, child. As long as you faithfully serve, my Lord will eventually grant you the power that was meant to be yours—"
"The power forgotten by the world."
After a brief pause, Charles hesitated, then asked quietly:
"…In the end… will I become a god?"
The question might have sounded presumptuous in front of a Archbishop, but Charles felt that since she had spoken so candidly, she likely wouldn't mind such a minor transgression. The Thorn Lord, after all, didn't seem particularly sensitive about titles like "the one true god"—otherwise, the woman before him wouldn't be speaking so freely about gods at all.
As expected, she showed no anger. Instead, she smiled gently.
"The true gods vanished countless ages ago," the Archbishop said. "What you possess now is nothing more than a faint imprint they once left behind—an imprint awakened and empowered through my Lord's grace."
"You may regard it as a gift bestowed upon you by the Lord, or as a peculiar bloodline, or a fragmentary inheritance. It will gradually reshape your life, and in terms of potential, it surpasses many conventional legacies."
She paused, then continued calmly.
"But the so-called gods themselves have long since perished in the river of history—along with the vast power they once wielded. What remains for you is only a sliver of that legacy. Enough to make you special, but nothing more."
"So… that's all?" Charles asked.
"Yes," the Archbishop nodded. After a moment's thought, she added,
"In the Oceanic Province of the Highland Kingdom, there is a believer who inherited the legacy of the God of Cuisine. Sounds impressive, doesn't it? And yet, that man can only cook—he has no combat ability whatsoever."
"And then there's the inheritor of the legendary God of Duels. Against a single opponent of the same tier, he is unbeatable. But if surrounded by several enemies of equal strength? He can only flee in disgrace."
As he listened, Charles gradually understood.
These so-called Children of the Gods were little more than hollow symbols—flashy on the surface, lacking substance beneath. They retained only a single defining trait, while everything else was gone.
"Don't be discouraged," the Archbishop suddenly said with a knowing smile.
"According to our records, the Sun God Asdemaz was second to none in combat and exorcism. He once burned an entire host of dark gods alive."
"So strive forward. Your starting point after entering the Circle is far from low."
Charles silently noted that being strong in combat was certainly welcome. As for exorcism… well, from a certain perspective, necromancers counted as 'demons' too.
"Can I still learn divine miracles?" he asked.
It was the most important question.
Now that he had inherited power from another god, would the Thorn Church's miracles still be available to him?
If not, then no matter how lofty this so-called "divine legacy" sounded, it wouldn't be worth much. As the Archbishop herself had said, the ancient gods' glory had already faded into nothingness.
What he had gained so far were innate abilities—not structured knowledge.
If he could no longer walk the Church's established path, how far could he really go on talent alone?
Once Charles realized that light and necromancy could potentially coexist—as long as the path was chosen correctly—his attitude had quietly shifted. The Church had over a thousand years of accumulated doctrine, a clear and efficient growth system, and no need for blind experimentation.
Before being exposed, there was no reason to abandon it.
Fortunately, the Archbishop's answer put him at ease.
"As long as you remain beneath the Thorn's shadow," she said,
"you will never lose the right to learn miracles—unless your heart turns evil, or you pledge yourself to Hell."
Charles nodded, half-understanding. After pondering his situation, he finally asked:
"What should I do now?"
He had been brought here in confusion, sworn vows in confusion, and gained a god's inheritance in confusion.
What came next?
Ideally, he would leave and return to Pita City. But now that he had accepted the Sun God's legacy, the Church would never simply let him walk away. That was a privilege reserved for expendable pawns.
The Archbishop's answer confirmed his expectations.
"You are currently in a post-advancement stabilization phase. Once it ends, you will be granted a free holy mark engraving from the Church, after which you will be assigned to an exorcist unit."
"The specifics will be arranged by Brother Zachary. Oh—one more thing."
As if remembering something, she withdrew a crystal cross pendant from her sleeve and handed it to him.
"Your inheritance may cause you to expose yourself too easily under certain circumstances. To avoid drawing attention, you must wear this at all times."
"In an emergency, you may crush the crystal to activate a spatial displacement spell. It can only be used once—so be careful."
Charles nodded obediently and, under her gaze, placed the pendant around his neck.
[You have equipped the Aether Necklace]
[Under its influence, your non-human aura is concealed]
...
After giving him further instructions regarding his advancement, the Archbishop saw that there was nothing more to discuss and signaled the end of the meeting.
Charles took his leave, still somewhat dazed, and departed.
...
Inside the hall, the Archbishop watched him go and frowned slightly.
What she hadn't said was this: although the so-called gods were obsolete in this era—some of their remnants weaker than even common bloodlines—the upper echelons of the Church had never reduced their attention toward such individuals.
Every appearance of a Child of the Gods required a Grand Archbishop to personally receive them, bind them with an oath, and ensure they were closely protected and cultivated.
Some had jokingly referred to them as the popes' favorite collectibles—"antiques." Useless, perhaps, but each new addition brought a peculiar sense of satisfaction.
The Archbishop suspected the truth ran far deeper than that.