99:Who Are We To Question Them

The church stood bathed in the warm, golden glow of the afternoon sun.

Inside, young children sat cross-legged on the smooth wooden floor, their curious eyes fixed on an old man standing at the front. His robes were simple and frayed, his hair a wild silver crown, and his beard tumbled like a waterfall over his chest. His appearance was ordinary, even a little disheveled, but his gaze held something else entirely—a quiet, divine light that was both comforting and unfathomable.

The old man spoke to the children with a soft, patient voice, his hands moving gently as he explained the sacred rituals of the church. The children listened, some with wide-eyed wonder, others with half-hidden giggles, but all were drawn to the warmth in his voice.

Suddenly, one boy raised his hand, his face lit with curiosity. "Father, out of all the Gods and Goddesses, who is the strongest?"