Chapter 5
My Uncle, Loruze
Through the knowledge in her mind, Sylvia believed that without sufficient rank, divinity was a burden to mortals.
If the one possessing divinity was an ordinary person not yet of age, then this burden would be further amplified.
An inappropriate blessing was a curse.
Although she did not know how the divinity within the young girl had come to be, if she wanted to resolve it, she would have to "extract" it.
However, this divine blessing had firmly rooted itself in the girl’s soul. Once extracted, it would require a corresponding replacement.
And under the influence of divinity, the soul had already undergone a qualitative transformation, making it impossible to repair using conventional means.
Therefore, Sylvia cut off a small part of her own divinity and attached it to the eyeball.
Compared to the unknown and uncontrollable divinity of a god of death, her divinity could be effectively controlled, preventing it from placing further burden on the soul.
As she extended her palm, which was holding the black glistering marble, the doll saw resistance and fear inside the young girl that was almost tangible.
A few seconds later, she heard a hesitant voice asking:
"Um, Your Grace, may I ask, which existence do you serve?"
In that instant, Sylvia froze.
Tch, she had been too focused on building a mysterious and powerful image and had forgotten to introduce herself!
She coughed awkwardly in her heart, then slightly raised her hand, making the eyeball in her palm spin as it looked toward the statue on the altar:
"My Lord is a great existence dwelling beyond the world—"
"Silquaya the Faceless!"
It was a rather simple introduction.
Compared to the lengthy and complex honorifics of the earthly gods, her introduction was short and lacking grandeur.
But that was natural. As an Outer God, the Faceless One himself was a madman; there were few records of Him on earth, so naturally, He did not possess a complicated honorific name.
Even the name "Faceless One" had been given by His followers.
The girl pressed her lips together, a trace of determination flashing in her eyes, and finally nodded vigorously, solidifying her resolution.
"Your Grace, this humble servant of the Faceless One, Isabella Lancaster, greets you!"
"Very well."
Upon hearing this, the eyeball in Sylvia’s hand spun around and pointed toward Isabella.
"Then eat it."
Sylvia’s lips curved slightly, revealing a malevolent smile.
"...Alright."
The gray-haired puppet did not urge her, and after a long hesitation, the other party finally made up her mind.
Afterward, she took the eyeball from Sylvia’s hand and directly placed it into her mouth.
Seeing this, Sylvia’s left eye socket, as dark as a black hole, burst into dazzling starlight, and her right hand thrust straight toward the young girl’s chest.
There, equally dazzling starlight erupted, colliding with the deep purple divinity.
"Mm..."
Isabella’s delicate face suddenly twisted, and a painful, muffled groan escaped her lips.
But Sylvia paid no mind, instead inserting her gradually ethereal hand straight into the other’s chest.
There was no spray of blood.
The puppet’s hand passed through the boundary between reality and illusion and grasped the soul of the other party!
"Ahhhh!"
The girl’s heart-wrenching screams rang out, causing Loruze, who was carrying two boxes and just coming up from underground, to pause in his steps.
"Endure a little longer."
Sylvia’s voice sounded, carrying a kind of magic that made Isabella, who was slumped on the bench, stop screaming in pain, though the cold sweat beading on her forehead did not cease.
At this moment, Sylvia’s ethereal hand had already grasped the deep purple divinity, and with a fierce tug, a large hole suddenly appeared in the chest of the girl’s soul.
Immediately, her soul began to collapse rapidly.
But in the next second, dazzling starlight rushed in, filling the void and instantly halting the collapse of the soul.
After that, the starlight began to merge with the girl herself, gradually stabilizing, and under its master’s guidance, started to nourish the soul that had long been weakened by the excessive burden.
"I succeeded."
Sylvia smiled as she spoke. At the same time, the hand she had withdrawn regained its solidity, and a purple eyeball was spinning wildly in her palm.
Divinity would not vanish without a cause; it could only be transferred.
And an eyeball that had once carried divinity would become its new vessel.
The puppet girl glanced at the purple marble ball in her hand, then at Isabella, who was slumped on the bench and gasping for breath. She suddenly recalled the way the other girl had just swallowed it down and could not help but hesitate.
Forget it, better clean it a little before putting it back.
Casually tucking the eyeball into her pocket, Sylvia smiled at Isabella, who was struggling to get up:
"Congratulations, you have been reborn."
"And once your body returns to normal, you shall emerge extraordinary."
She lifted her head, her gaze penetrated the walls as she looked beyond the boundary of the Church, while listening to the younger girl’s weak but expectant voice:
"Extraordinary?"
"I once yearned to be extraordinary, a futile dream for a cursed girl."
"Your Grace, is what you say true?"
"Your Grace?"
Sylvia turned her head back with a peculiar expression to the repeated title, and nodded:
"Of course, you will gain the power of 'Pride.'"
Yes, that was right.
She had added a little "seasoning" to the divinity she had given, and the power of “Pride” was thus bestowed upon the girl before her.
A noble girl and pride—it felt like a fitting match.
Unfortunately, Sylvia was currently only an apostle, a demigod, and could not directly grant enough power.
If her true body had come in person, she could have at least created a full apostle.
Of course, a true force-feeding method of blessing would not have been a good thing for the blessed either. It was better to cultivate from scratch, and this way, she could also test her created system.
Pride corresponded to "absolute power."
In her plan, this girl would be nurtured into a devoted sharp sword, a close attendant to her.
Of course, it would also depend on the girl's own will.
"Pride?"
Isabella softly repeated the word, then, under Sylvia’s gaze, lifted her head:
"Yes, Your Grace, I will never disappoint your expectations!"
Hm?
A question mark popped up in Sylvia’s mind.
Did she accidentally say her inner thoughts out loud?
That should not be possible?
Then what was this girl talking about? What expectations?
Just as Sylvia was feeling baffled, footsteps sounded from a distance, drawing closer.
"Your Grace."
Sylvia turned her head and saw Loruze standing nearby, holding two boxes.
At this moment, she glanced at the tattered hem of her cloak behind her and silently acknowledged his efficiency.
Just then, Isabella’s voice sounded from beside her:
"Uncle Loruze!"
Her voice was sweet, and so was her expression.
But Sylvia clearly saw a flash of complexity on Loruze’s face at the very beginning.
"You two know each other well?"
The gray-haired puppet tilted her head.
"Yes."
"Her father, the Earl of Lancaster, is an old friend of mine."
Loruze admitted it calmly.
So this is how you scheme against your old friends?
Sylvia muttered in her heart and slowly nodded:
"That’s good—"
She had only said half a sentence before abruptly stopping.
At the same time, her head snapped up sharply, her gaze locking onto a piece of stained glass.
Just now, a pitch-black shadow had darted swiftly past there, and the faint flapping of illusory wings was still lingering in her ears.