Chapter 27

He had been at it for hours, preaching what he believed to be the undeniable truth, yet no one cared. People walked by without so much as a glance, carrying on with their lives, heading straight toward damnation. "I will save them," he muttered, eyes downcast, his voice a quiet vow to himself. "Even if they ignore me, I will grant them salvation from the false goddess's lies!" His eyes blazed with determination as he clenched his fist tightly.

"That sounds interesting. Could you tell us more?" a voice interrupted his thoughts. He froze, looking up in surprise.

Before him stood a man dressed in the attire of someone with the highest nobility—yet there was something unsettling about the skull mask that concealed his face. Beside him was a silver-haired woman of breathtaking beauty, her presence commanding the very air around her. Even her dress radiated elegance that rivaled the most stunning of women. For a brief moment, the preacher found himself transfixed by her ethereal beauty, but he quickly snapped out of it.

"I-I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" he stammered, regaining his composure.

The masked man chuckled, his tone mocking yet curious. "We heard your preaching, and it sounded... interesting. So, we thought we'd like to learn more, wouldn't you agree?" He turned to the woman.

She gave a slight nod, her eyes cold and analytical. "Yes, particularly about the part where you claim people are praying to a false deity."

The man in the red robes blinked, glancing between them both, his heart racing with excitement. No one had ever paid him any attention before—until now. His body filled with joy at the thought that finally, two people cared enough to listen to his message.

Meanwhile, X could barely contain his amusement, finding the situation endlessly entertaining. Sarandel, on the other hand, was more intrigued. She was curious to see how one who rejected her divinity would act and spread their own beliefs. The robed man clearly believed in something else—another god, another truth—but not in her. If the man had been an atheist—someone who rejected all notions of divinity—then neither she nor he would have been able to perceive the other at all.

The robed man clasped his hands together, his voice rising with conviction. "Well, you see, everyone believes and prays to this so-called 'goddess,'" he said, emphasizing his disdain with exaggerated air quotes. "When, in reality, she's nothing but a lie at best and a demon at worst."

X nodded, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "You know, I agree. I've always thought the goddess was a bit... suspicious," he said, smirking beneath his mask. His gaze slid toward Sarandel, who kept her expression carefully neutral. "I mean, what kind of god constantly gloats about their own beauty?"

Sarandel ignored the jab, turning her attention to the crude paintings scattered around the robed man's feet. "What are these?" she asked, pointing to one of the paintings.

The robed man eagerly snatched up a painting, holding it up for them to see. It depicted a grotesque, wrathful woman, her features twisted into a demonic snarl, eyes burned with malice, and jagged teeth seemed to split her lips as though snarling in contempt of all life. The strokes were harsh, chaotic, and filled with hatred, clearly intended to invoke fear. "This," he declared with fervor, "is what the 'goddess' really looks like—the ugly truth. She's not some heart-stealing beauty, but this abomination! Unlike you, of course," he added, attempting a clumsy bit of flattery.

Sarandel nodded, playing along. "Uh-huh," she replied, her tone nonchalant. Meanwhile, X was barely holding back his laughter, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from bursting out.

Trying to divert the conversation, Sarandel gestured to the scrolls and books scattered among the paintings. "And what's on those?" she asked, her voice smooth as ever.

The man put the painting down with care, as if handling sacred artifacts, and picked up a scroll and a tattered book. "These," he said proudly, "are the true revelations. The scroll contains an image I drew, a vision of the real god in his might. And the book holds his rhetoric, the word of his divine truth."

X accepted the scroll while Sarandel took the book. "Hmm," X mused, tilting his head as he unrolled the parchment. "This doesn't look half bad, actually. Kind of otherworldly." The drawing, while still crude, had a strange beauty to it. It depicted a night sky filled with stars, the stars swirling and forming into a creature unlike anything X had ever seen. It wasn't humanoid, nor did it resemble any real animal—a mass of twisting forms and cosmic shapes, like something that could only exist beyond human comprehension.

Sarandel, meanwhile, skimmed through the book. It was typical religious fare, the robed man's god proclaimed as the one true deity, creator of all things. Naturally, it portrayed her as the ultimate deceiver, a corrupting force akin to the Devil, which, in a way, she found flattering. "Strasse," she murmured aloud, raising an eyebrow. "is that the name of this god?"

The robed man nodded eagerly. "Yes! Strasse is the true god. The one who will save us from the lies of the false goddess!"

Sarandel closed the book and glanced up at him, her expression unreadable. "Would you like to keep the book and scroll? It would be an honor to share His wisdom with you."

X and Sarandel exchanged glances before shaking their heads. X handed back the scroll with a casual shrug. "No need. We don't require material reminders to be aware of the real god."

Sarandel handed the book back as well. "Yes," she agreed, her voice smooth and serene. "When you truly believe in something, proof isn't necessary—only faith."

The robed man was visibly moved by their words. "You're right! True believers need no material proof! Your devotion… it's awe-inspiring," he said, bowing low with respect.

X quickly raised his hands. "Don't bow, we just said what any believer would."

The man straightened up, his eyes shining with newfound zeal. "Then I will return to spreading the truth with even more fervor! You two have filled me with hope—hope that one day, all will be free from the false goddess Sarandel!" His voice boomed with conviction, stronger than ever before.

X and Sarandel exchanged a glance before offering him a brief goodbye. Once they were out of earshot, disappearing into the lush greenery of the park, X finally let loose, bursting into distorted laughter that echoed through his mask. "Ha ha ha ha! Gods, it took everything I had to hold that in!"

Sarandel rolled her eyes, letting out a quiet sigh. "I don't see what's so funny. The poor man is more pitiable than anything else. We've only pushed him further into his delusions."

Still grinning, X slung an arm around her shoulders in a carefree gesture. "Who cares? We had a good laugh, learned what you apparently really look like," he added with a smirk, "and saw some art. Plus, we got a peek into his wild imagination. Let's just go meet the dryads and move on."

Sarandel coolly removed his arm, her expression unimpressed, and started walking deeper into the park without a word. X, still chuckling to himself, followed after her, muttering under his breath, "That was the best."