Chapter 29: The Unbeliever

The process of flipping through the books was tedious, and Solomon even sneezed from the dust stirred up. Covering his mouth and nose, he waved his hand, summoning a gust of wind to disperse the accumulated dust.

Ordinary people dismissing these books as nonsensical wasn't without reason. Most of the content was filled with flowery but meaningless phrases, along with various hearsay stories. The real mysticism was likely buried in just a few pages. These books, the oldest of which dated back to medieval Europe, were mostly authored by charlatans who claimed to be wizards or alchemists, selling useless potions. Yet, there was always the chance that some of them had genuinely learned certain spells and recorded what they knew. They often hid these spells in poems or illustrations, and Angie Bouchard had likely acquired her knowledge from these volumes. However, Solomon couldn't just take these books back to Kamar-Taj for further study. The Sorcerer Supreme had made it clear that this task was his alone because only someone like him, who had faced the Dark Dimension, could resist black magic to some extent.

Thus, Solomon had to endure his frustration and try to extract the information he needed from these magical tomes. At the very least, he had to confirm that the spells from the Darkhold were hidden within these books before he could be sure that the Collins family wasn't keeping anything secret.

This task would take him a considerable amount of time, but only once it was completed could he move on to the next step.

As Solomon continued sifting through the books, Barnabas briefly left the room, only to return a while later carrying a large tray. He placed it on the desk in front of Solomon. The tray held a cup of tea, neatly arranged sandwiches, a few waffles, and some jam.

When Solomon looked at him with a puzzled expression, the vampire, who had been quietly sitting to the side, blinked and said, "I noticed you have a British accent, so I thought you might enjoy afternoon tea. Normally, Willy would bring this up, but he can't reach this place. Don't worry, there's no silverware."

"I wouldn't start smoking just from touching silver, Mr. Barnabas," Solomon replied, turning back to the tedious books. Though he was thirsty, he wasn't foolish enough to accept food offered by someone he considered prey. Who knew if he was also considered prey in the eyes of the vampire?

Barnabas wasn't offended when Solomon didn't touch the food. He simply sat nearby, occasionally striking up conversation, subtly probing for information about Kamar-Taj. Solomon didn't hide everything, elaborating on the Supreme Sorcerer's position in the universe and the Sorcerer's immense power. After all, he didn't trust vampires, and he doubted a vampire would easily trust him either. The reputation of the Supreme Sorcerer was useful in such situations.

However, Barnabas soon asked a question that caught Solomon off guard.

"Does God really exist, Mr. Damonet? Can vampires not enter Heaven?"

"If magic exists, and vampires exist, why couldn't God exist?" Solomon turned to look at Barnabas. The vampire, eyes wide, awaited his answer with an unexpected sincerity.

The existence of God was crucial for Christians. Although the Supreme Sorcerer had barred the forces of Heaven from interfering on Earth, the Sorcerer had never explicitly forbidden humans from believing in God. Perhaps the Sorcerer had hoped that Christianity and the worship of Odin would clash, though in the end, Christianity emerged dominant.

"As for entering Heaven..." Solomon swiveled his chair with a sharp, grating sound on the floor, saying, "Is going to Heaven really a good thing?"

"What do you mean?" Barnabas asked, dragging out his words, his thumb and forefinger pinching together as if grasping the essence of Solomon's statement. "Aren't good people supposed to go to Heaven after they die?"

"I don't know, Mr. Barnabas," the young sorcerer replied, shaking his head. "I think death should be a quiet experience, not one spent in some blindingly bright place, endlessly singing hymns like a fool. I wouldn't want anyone, not even God, picking and choosing at my soul."

"Are you a follower of the devil?" the vampire tilted his head. "Aren't all sorcerers supposed to sell their souls to demons?"

"No, I'm an unbeliever," Solomon replied with a disdainful smile. "In my view, gods may exist, but they aren't worthy of worship. If my actions happen to align with some religious doctrine, it's because that doctrine aligns with me, not because I adhere to it. If I go against it, I don't believe I should be punished — it's simply that I reject the doctrine. What we need is not gods, but humanity itself. Mr. Barnabas, your family's success isn't owed to any god, but to your own hands."

This philosophy, shaped by knowledge from his previous life and the teachings of the Supreme Sorcerer, reflected Solomon's humanist beliefs. Though still immature in some ways, Solomon was a staunch humanist. His response left Barnabas stunned, mouth agape.

Believers often looked down on unbelievers, a sentiment found in every world. They considered themselves superior. Even when they were struggling for food or shelter, they could still spit at wealthy unbelievers, confident in their superiority as people of faith.

To believers, heretics were despicable, but unbelievers were even worse — utterly irredeemable, lacking any sense of morality. Though faith might not feed or clothe a person, those without faith didn't deserve such things. And if an unbeliever achieved comfort or even wealth, it was assumed they must have done something heinous to attain it.

As absurd as this mindset might seem, it was far from uncommon.

Theists placed themselves on a pedestal, as if standing alongside the gods they worshiped. And it wasn't just that they enjoyed being elevated; they reveled in looking down on others, acting as though they were extensions of divine will, righteous in their every action. When unbelievers banded together, these believers could justify waging war against them, confident in their righteousness and the need to civilize these "barbarians" in the name of their god.

They refused to acknowledge the efforts of unbelievers, convinced that without faith, nothing could be achieved. No matter how well unbelievers might do, believers would assume they were simply hiding their sins. And no matter how badly a believer might behave, they would still be noble because of their faith, seeing themselves as shepherds guiding lost sheep.

The hypocrisy of such double standards was just part of the routine.

Solomon's earliest memories were filled with strong anti-religious sentiments, and perhaps because of that influence, he became a fervent atheist. He believed humanity's achievements owed nothing to any god. If humanity bowed and begged, the gods would merely be content to rule over them. Without the Ancient One, humans would be little more than sheep today.

This mindset was exactly what the Supreme Sorcerer desired — an unbeliever was the best weapon against extra-dimensional demonic gods.

"Hmm…" The vampire hadn't expected Solomon's attitude to be so extreme. Raising a finger, he forced a smile. "I think Victoria must be awake now!"

"By all means, Mr. Barnabas," Solomon replied coldly, turning back to his books. "I'll let you know when I'm done with my work."

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