Chapter 290: God Has Not Forsaken
Assembling all the information at hand, the notion of "God's forsaken land" led York to one conclusion.
It seemed that unlike the real world, where people could harness and utilize God's power, the inhabitants of this world could only survive to the present by relying on the relics left behind by the ancient church.
"So, the rot recognized my power and immediately concluded I was an outsider?"
York mused as he quickly finished his breakfast, his thoughts continuing to whirl.
"One thing is certain, the structure of this world must have been similar to the real world. Importantly, those who founded this church could also be saints from the real world..."
"But in my theory, these saints were also outsiders, including the old man..."
York felt a headache coming on.
How come everything involved outsiders?
With these revelations, what was his role in all this?
"Sigh, it's somewhat confusing." York finished his last bite and took his dishes to the sink.
"Those who founded the church here must surely be connected to the saints of the real world,"
York thought to himself.
"I just wonder if they were one of the saints I know."
The more he thought about it, the more he delved into organizing his thoughts.
People in this world must have committed acts so vile that they caused the omniscient, omnipotent God to forsake this world entirely.
The church vanished in an instant.
The history was deliberately obliterated by those responsible for the evil deeds, leading to a historical disconnect.
This resulted in a proliferation of demons and a rapid decline in the population, losing three-quarters of its inhabitants.
Swish swish!
The sound of washing dishes began to fill the room as York cleaned up and placed the dishes on the rack, his mind still expanding on these theories.
Though far-fetched, this speculation was logical and matched all the information he had, connecting everything he knew.
Thus, York felt he had grasped the tail end of this world's history.
"Ninety percent sure."
York shook off the water from his hands and glanced outside through the holographic display.
Mirta was directing the workers on how to decorate the church and place the items.
"Let's see how the people of this world will perceive me."
York, composed, walked towards the main entrance.
"I won't trouble anyone who doesn't trouble me. If they just harbor malice towards me, then I'll abandon the mission, search for a spatial node alone, and leave.
If they plan to do anything else, then I'll repay them a thousandfold..."
...............
As Antonio helped arrange donations for Plutarch Church, trucks and farmworkers arrived one after another.
Plutarch Church was no longer the dilapidated place it once was.
The exquisite floor-to-ceiling windows were new.
Even the benches were brand new.
The high altar on the stage emitted a pleasant scent.
In the heart of the church, beautiful candle holders were placed against the walls, with new candles already lit, emitting streams of smoke.
Even the church ceiling had chandeliers installed.
Everything was so clean that all objects reflected the sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Most importantly, Antonio, the town's wealthiest man, had somehow acquired a statue of Jesus, which now stood prominently at the center of the high platform.
All this made York feel as if he hadn't come to another world at all, almost as if he had never left.
"Oh my omnipotent Lord..."
After everything was set up, York took his favorite seat facing the statue of Jesus, which seemed never to have been absent, and began to pray.
"Although I do not know why You have forsaken this world, please allow me to make a contribution in Your name, to walk this earth in Your stead..."
"If You feel my efforts deserve some reward, I wouldn't mind..."
"If possible, please let me speak of what I need most, the reward I desire..."
"If truly You wish to reward me, then grant me invincible power..."
As he earnestly expressed his needs and recounted yesterday's events, York heard the sound of a mission completion.
[Prayer: Church Prayer (Completed)]
[Reward: +0.5 Points Issued]
"Amen!"
York gazed at the statue of Jesus above and concluded his prayers for the day.
"It's time to test it; can't keep being lazy."
York casually allocated the 0.5 attribute points to his constitution, which was about to break two hundred, and called Mirta over.
"Mirta, notify Antonio and his wife, the farmworkers, including the Pedro brothers, and tell them and your acquaintances that Plutarch Church is officially operational. Starting tomorrow, we will hold mass and welcome their participation."
He wanted to see if, in this God-forsaken world, Plutarch Church could once again accumulate the divine power of faith.
"Yes, Father."
Mirta's mood seemed consistently uplifted today, her voice loud and clear, full of life, like someone about to embrace a wonderful life.
York smiled, then suddenly remembered something.
"Oh, and wasn't Chief Lack interested in helping us spread the word around town? Go, tell him too."
"Yes, Father York!"
Thus, under York's arrangement and Mirta's actions, Amara Town fell into a trance-like atmosphere.
Because the real church had been dead for a very long time, centuries even, and the fraudulent acts of the new church had only deepened everyone's despair.
Of course, not everyone was indifferent.
Some older folks felt stirred but remained cautious.
But as last night's events fermented and with Chief Lack's endorsement, the atmosphere quickly calmed.
It was like a volcano ready to erupt, calm on the surface but with tumultuous waves brewing underneath.
Most importantly, there was the video distributed by Mirta.
It brought an indescribable emotion to the janitors who received it.
...
In Belstar City, the largest urban agglomeration in the Free Nation.
In a very inconspicuous building, yet very substantial, where passersby often paused to salute.
A room fell into a silence as grave as death.
Fifteen people sat together in the same space, none speaking, only their heavy breathing fluctuating, revealing their inner unrest.
After a long while, Marcos, sitting at the center and currently leading the Belstar City janitors, exhaled softly, picked up a photograph that had been passed around, and a sorrowful look flashed in his eyes.
"It is confirmed that Michael Henney is dead, our comrade fell to a demon's ambush."
As these words were spoken, someone clenched their teeth, their face calm but their eyes beginning to redden.
"Another comrade gone."
Marcos, his temples graying and nearly sixty years old, took a deep breath.
"But we've also gained a legendary priest. Speak up, share your thoughts on the video."
As he spoke, Marcos scanned the silent colleagues: "Or say if you believe Mirta's words, willing to shed these uniforms to become clergy of the church."
His voice grew softer.
"Mirta said this legendary priest wants to revive the church in the world, to restore faith in people, and for us to become true clergy..."
At this statement, the breathing in the room synchronized once again.
Silence lingered.
Finally, a similarly aged man with graying hair spoke up.
"God has finally turned His gaze to this land of
sin. We cannot miss this opportunity, or this world is truly doomed."
With one person expressing their true thoughts, others began to share theirs.
"I agree, we've lost too many people; we can't keep dying like this."
"I agree, I believe Mirta's words, I believe what I've seen. This legendary Father York could indeed be one of the saints recorded in history."
"I agree, we've always prayed, hoping for God to have mercy on the people of this world. It seems God has finally heard our wishes..."
"I agree, considering all the feedback and the video from Mirta, there's no doubt about this priest's identity."
"Do we even have another choice?"
"I agree..."
"I agree..."
Everyone in the room, all fifteen, presented a united front.
No one voiced any dissent.
Marcos pursed his lips, understanding what this all meant.
These janitors had been longing for change, even though the church was dead and God had forsaken them, but they continued to pray daily.
They hoped for a day like in the histories, when the world was nearly obliterated by demons, and suddenly, someone emerged, leading everyone to victory.
Thinking this, Marcos couldn't help but exhale lightly.
History might be fragmented, but he knew some truths, feeling both anger and disdain.
The church's destruction was caused by idiots.
Those damnable scoundrels deserved to fall into the abyss, never to be redeemed.
"Marcos, what about you?"
The voice that broke his thoughts brought him back to reality.
Marcos suddenly realized everyone was looking at him.
"I agree, we can't miss this chance, just like our ancestors in history."
Marcos's face became utterly serious: "They didn't miss their chance, and that's why the world was saved. We can't miss this opportunity either!"
Saying this, a dangerous glint flickered in Marcos's eyes.
"If the officials or anyone wants to stop us from breaking away, then let them die! We've been through brutal battles; we're not people who are unwilling to fight."
Everyone nodded in agreement.
The first to express their views smirked.
"The authority is with us, the people rely on us, the faith of this world has never vanished."
Saying this, his eyes reddened as he slammed his hand down on the table, causing a loud noise: "We've finally found a leader. I'm going back to my hometown to tell my great-grandfather, grandfather, father,
God has not forsaken us!"
At this, one by one, their eyes reddened.
"I'm going back too!"
"Me as well!"
"And me!"
"..."
Marcos smiled gently, "Go back, I'll give you all leave passes."
Saying this, he looked unchanged, but his voice trembled.
"Good thing, my home is here, otherwise I'd also make the long journey back."
Everyone looked at Marcos, one of the leaders of the janitor community who had fought demons for decades and saved tens of thousands.
"Meeting adjourned! Leave!"
Marcos said gently.
"And return!"
With these words, undercurrents surged worldwide.
Unbeknownst to those in Belstar City, except for the janitors whose homes were in the city, all janitors had already quietly left Belstar City, returning to the front lines of life and death, years later to their hometowns.
For a moment, the building named after salvation was left with only Marcos, the leader.
"Phew, finally I can put down this burden."
Marcos stood in his office, looking at the mirror at a somewhat unfamiliar version of himself, touched his graying temples, his now fully white hair, and couldn't help but smile with relief.
He was the first to receive the information from Mirta.
He remembered his feelings at the time—only anger because he had already lost hope and didn't believe Mirta's words.
He even wanted to lead a group to eliminate the fake priest who had deceived Mirta.
The death of Michael Henney, the local police's feedback and assurance, plus the video from Mirta.
He had harshly slapped himself for his impulsive behavior that day, repenting.
"Good thing I wasn't impulsive."
Marcos took a deep breath, looked earnestly at his uniformed reflection in the mirror, and bid farewell for the last time.
Then he took off his uniform, including his jacket, neatly folded them, and placed them on the desk.
Leaving only his own clothes on, Marcos glanced around his tidied office, his eyes full of memories.
He said, "It was tough."
With a click, the sound vanished, Marcos properly closed the door, left the office, and entered the main hall.
The layout was similar to a regular office area.
Compared to the previously untidy and unorganized look, it now appeared very clean, almost as if it was the first time they had moved in.
The only addition was the desks, each bearing the janitor's work uniform, including backpacks, work shoes, and credentials.
"This bunch really is..."
Marcos chuckled, then slowly walked outside.
Why wouldn't he do the same?
"I'll also go and tell my father,
God has not forsaken...
History has come full circle again..."
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