"Weapons and armor? How am I supposed to give them to him?" Looking at Chuck prostrated on the ground, Silas felt somewhat bewildered.
Whoosh…
As a cold wind blew past, a wave of icy frost, under the influence of an unseen force, swept over and enveloped Chuck's body.
Then, this frost rapidly solidified, transforming into a suit of greyish-black metal plate armor that fixed itself onto him.
The entire suit of plate armor was fully covering: helmet, pauldrons, breastplate, vambraces, gauntlets – everything was covered.
In the blink of an eye, the previously golden soul had transformed into a fully armed steel warrior. Apart from the pair of golden eyes beneath the wolf-head helm, everything else had turned greyish-black.
"Rise, my warrior." Although Silas didn't know where this came from, it didn't stop him from playing the part.
Chuck tightened his grip on the spear in his hand and respectfully stood up.
"From this day forward, you are responsible for guarding the gate of this temple and eliminating all invading enemies," Silas said, his voice filled with solemnity and gravity.
Chuck, upon hearing this, was overjoyed. He clenched his gauntleted fist and, thudding it against his chest, declared loudly, "I will offer everything I have for my Lord!"
Looking at the fervent Chuck, a thought suddenly occurred to Silas: "What people desire most is not external boons and help, but to embody their own value – that is, to be needed."
"Hmm, when assigning tasks and work to subordinates, it can also make them more loyal and happy. I seem to have found the knack for this."
Raising his spear high, Chuck, with resounding steps, stood at the temple gate, motionless as a statue.
Silas turned and returned to the throne, sinking into thought.
"Chuck, delivered by the prayer I improvised, has come here. So, those prayers are indeed effective. They don't send souls to some supposed heaven or the Goddesses' embrace, but to me here."
"This isn't necessarily a bad thing for me. It's fine for some people to come to this desolate warship, and besides, there seem to be some benefits."
Silas looked down at the palm of his hand, where a wisp of golden brilliance lay. This was the power of faith contributed by Chuck.
He couldn't use this power of faith, but he could store it. Perhaps it would be useful at some other time.
"The armor on Chuck… it seems to have been formed from the frost outside. Could it be that the frost outside isn't some environmental factor, but, like this warship, is something that belongs to 'me'?"
This space held too many mysteries, yet Silas could explore very little of it at present. Many things he could only speculate about.
"Since others can summon me into the real world through incantations and magic circles, can I perform a reverse summoning here and bring people from the real world to this place?" Silas suddenly thought.
Rather than being summoned to the real world with no power, summoning believers here would make it easier for him to maintain his divine facade.
"Hmm, I should research this when I have time."
Dong! Dong!
The bell above him tolled again. Two bewildered souls whistled past.
"Where on earth is this place? Why are there so many souls?" Silas was like a child filled with a hundred thousand whys; everything was unknown, everything was novel.
Leaning back on the throne, Silas sank into contemplation.
When he came to his senses, he was back in reality.
Opening his eyes, he saw it was already half-past five.
Whine…
Beside him, the Husky was rubbing its head against Silas's leg, looking somewhat restless.
"Oh, right. Creatures like dogs need to be taken out for walks," Silas suddenly remembered.
After a night's rest, Silas's spirit had completely recovered. He even felt more energetic and alert than the previous day.
Opening the wardrobe, he put on a loose pair of grey overalls and a sweater, with a leather jacket over them. Silas took his cane and walked out the door.
This cane was no ordinary cane; Silas wouldn't casually let it out of his sight.
Sensing they were going out, the Husky became incredibly excited, bouncing and leaping around on the floor.
The moment Silas opened the door, the Husky shot out like an arrow, wagging its tail as it bounded down the stairs. Then, with a leap, it plunged into the snowdrift in the front yard and began to roll around enthusiastically.
Silas turned up his collar, not to ward off the cold, but to make others see that he was indeed feeling cold.
At five o'clock in late November in Bayne City, it wasn't yet fully light; the world was dim and murky.
The streets were deserted. Silas walked with his hands in his pockets. The Husky in front of him trotted happily on its long legs, sniffing here and there, digging a bit over there.
Finally, it went to the base of a tree and relieved itself copiously.
"Don't run too far!" Silas said, enjoying the quiet morning.
The Husky wasn't an ordinary dog; it was very intelligent, so he wasn't overly concerned about it.
Ding, ding, ding…
After walking for about seven or eight hundred meters, at the intersection of Hawthorn Alley and Tulip Street, Silas heard the clear ringing of a bell.
Instantly, the Husky, which had been running merrily, froze, then spun around and dashed back to Silas's side, its expression alert.
Silas narrowed his eyes, his demeanor somewhat guarded.
Five seconds later, at the street corner, he saw three figures.
These three were dressed in jet-black robes, their heads covered by wide-brimmed black hats that obscured their faces.
They bore the emblem of the Church of Holy Blood on their chests. A bell hung from their chests, and they carried black iron lanterns in their left hands and black thorned staves in their right.
The three noticed the Husky, then turned and slightly raised their heads to look at Silas.
Beneath the hat brims were three very ordinary faces, though their skin was somewhat overly pale.
The leader was a tall, middle-aged man with a salt-and-pepper beard. To his left was a young man with an old face, and to his right, a petite young woman.
The three walked over unhurriedly. Accompanied by the clear ringing of the bell, they exuded a strange sense of pressure.
"The sun hasn't fully risen yet. What are you doing here?" the leading middle-aged man asked.
Silas stroked the Husky. "Walking the dog."
The middle-aged man carefully sized up Silas, then his eyes noticed the pure silver goddess pendant outside Silas's sweater.
"Are you a member of the Church?" The middle-aged man sounded somewhat surprised.
Silas nodded and took out his token from his pocket.
The middle-aged man took it and looked, a slight smile appearing at the corners of his mouth. "So, you're that rather talented little Priest."
Silas was taken aback upon hearing this. "You know me?"
The middle-aged man showed a hint of relaxation. "Master Jeros told me."
Silas once again took in the attire of the three individuals and suddenly realized something.
"Are you Night Watchers?"
Night Watchers were an organization dedicated to maintaining the safety of the city at night. Similar to Demon Hunters, they were specially enhanced humans who had lost certain things.
Corresponding to the Demon Hunters' loss of emotion, they had lost their tolerance for sunlight, so they could only operate at night.
"Logan Osman, a Night Watcher," the middle-aged man said, extending his hand.
Silas bowed slightly. "Silas Sotos, an Apprentice Priest, probationary Church member."