Chapter 145: The Golden Sun

Chapter 145: The Golden Sun

Eugene looked up at the sky as well and said calmly, "Yeah, exactly. A thousand years ago, the sun was indeed golden. Later, it turned white for some reason. But the Dawn Church flat-out refuses to admit it. Anyone who claims the sun is golden is branded a heretic. They've even destroyed many artworks depicting the sun from a thousand years ago. If it weren't for us Truth Seekers secretly stashing away ancient texts, this fact would've probably been lost to history forever."

Lyman basked in the golden sunlight. A sight he was used to back on Earth now felt totally alien to him. The golden fireball that had emerged from the clouds felt strangely eerie.

"Why would the Dawn Church do that?" he asked.

Eugene shrugged. "Our theory at the Truth Seekers is that the God of Dawn was also wounded in the divine war a thousand years ago. The sun changing color is a sign He lost some of His divine power. The Dawn Church goes out of its way to cover this up because the Church expanded rapidly after the war. To pull in more believers, they had to sell the God of Dawn as all-knowing, all-powerful, and unbeatable. Anything that tarnished their god's glorious image had to be destroyed."

Lyman asked curiously, "The Dawn Church is so powerful today—wasn't it always like that?"

"Back then, there were tons of gods, each with their own churches and followers. The God of Dawn was just one of them. But the other gods either died, went dormant, or escaped to other worlds through the Stellar Conjunction. In the end, the God of Dawn came out on top as the biggest winner.

"The Dawn Church proclaims that the God of Dawn is the one and only True God in the world, that all other gods are fake, unrecognized deities, and that their followers are just misguided heretics and cultists. Of course, the other gods can't exactly argue anymore. Whatever the Dawn Church says, goes."

Really? Lyman remembered that when he and Sylen went to Wenderra City to kill that mercenary leader, he'd seen temples to all kinds of gods. What was that about?

Could it be that on Sylen's continent, even gods who'd fallen ages ago still had devoted followers, just like the Truth Seekers today still worship the God of Knowledge? Or maybe some of those gods were actually alive and well, just hiding out on other continents?

He couldn't figure it out. And now that Sylen was out of contact, it might stay a mystery forever.

As the two spoke, the others filed back into the chapel. Sister Dominique had her people bring out wine and food to celebrate the God of Dawn saving everyone. She called for Lyman and Eugene to join the festivities. Eugene mumbled something half-heartedly but didn't go.

"Aren't you going?" Lyman asked.

"I've been to way too many of these. I'm over it," Eugene said dejectedly. "I know exactly what's gonna happen. Everyone throws a feast, and everyone gets wasted. Then when night hits—bam! Time resets to the start of the day.

"At first, I was all excited about the banquets, thinking at least I shouldn't shortchange myself—might as well eat and drink well. But after eating the same food a thousand times, you'd get sick of it too. Besides, even if I don't eat, I won't starve to death."

"Have you tried leaving this place?" Lyman asked.

Eugene shot him a sour look. "Obviously, I have. If you keep walking in one direction, eventually you hit an invisible wall. Beyond the wall is all thick fog—you can't see a thing. Same no matter which direction you go. I've tried a million times over the past three years."

So there's an invisible wall too. Did they just not bother rendering the rest of the map? Saint Galad really was lazy...

Lyman looked up at the sky again. "Since you've tried every direction on the ground, what about up?"

Eugene looked incredulous. "Me? Fly? I don't have wings! Don't talk crazy... wait!"

He stopped, staring at Lyman in amazement. "Wait, are you saying you can fly? You're a superhuman?"

Lyman nodded.

"Oh, my brilliant friend!" Eugene grabbed Lyman's hand excitedly.

"You were just calling me a brat a second ago, and now I'm your brilliant friend," Lyman said sarcastically.

Eugene pretended not to hear. "I knew Mr. Wegner wouldn't send just anyone! Of course, only a superhuman could swipe the Judgment Hammer from the vault! Wanna try flying up right now?"

Lyman glanced at the nuns going in and out of the cellar. Even though their memories would reset tomorrow, Lyman still didn't want to do a dramatic vertical takeoff in front of outsiders and blow his cover as a superhuman.

"Let's find somewhere private," he said.

"There's a grove over there. If you take off from there, nobody'll notice. Besides, nobody's gonna be staring up at the sky for no reason."

Eugene eagerly tugged Lyman's sleeve, leading him north of the monastery.

They heard Sister Dominique calling from behind: "Eugene! Where are you two going? Aren't you coming to the feast?"

Eugene waved at the nun. "Taking a dump! Don't wait up!"

"But the latrine's the other way..." Sister Dominique watched them leave, confused, until the trees swallowed them from view.

"Who are you talking to, Dominique?" Another nun emerged from the chapel. She wore a white shawl with gold embroidery, marking her as higher-ranking than Dominique in the Church.

Dominique quickly bowed. "Mother Superior Katerina!"

Katerina followed Dominique's gaze. "Who's that?"

Dominique reminded her, "That's Eugene, the brother who came to our monastery this morning. Have you forgotten?"

"Of course I remember Eugene," Katerina said. "I'm asking about the other one."

"He's also a brother in the order. He rescued someone from the battlefield. I forgot to ask his name. Why?"

Katerina's brows knit tightly. Her gaze seemed to cut through the trees, locking onto the silver-haired figure.

"Nothing. I think I saw wrong," she said, rubbing her eyes. "My spiritual sight's been acting up lately. I keep seeing weird stuff that isn't there. Just now, for a second, I thought I saw... a little white creature, like a cat-rabbit mix?"

She muttered to herself, "Have I seen that somewhere before?"

*

Eugene dragged Lyman into a small grove. Lyman wanted to ask why he was so good at this, but the thought that it might've been practice with the Preacher General made him lose all interest in asking.

"Alright, this place is private. You can fly now," Eugene said, checking around to make sure no one was nearby.

"I'll go up first. If I find a way out, I'll come back for you."

Eugene opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked like Lyman had just said something hurtful.

Lyman was confused. "What's wrong? Oh, you're worried I'll bail for good? Don't worry, I'll come back. You can trust me."

"I don't doubt you at all, Lyman," Eugene said, scratching his thinning hair. "I just thought of something—is it really a good idea for me to leave?"

"Huh? What're you talking about? Weren't you the one who wanted to leave this whole time?"

Eugene waved his arms around, trying to explain. "Lyman, think about it! If time in the painting moves at the same speed as outside, then I might already be dead!"

Lyman froze. "Dead?"

"If what fell into the painting was my soul, then my body should still be out there somewhere. When the guards found my body passed out in the vault, they'd definitely execute me as a thief. Even if they didn't, after three years, I'd've starved to death."

Come to think of it, when Lyman fell into the painting world, he showed up in his original form, not as Mr. Shadow or a puppet. Maybe, like Eugene said, only their souls entered the painting.

In other words, Lyman's body—puppet or original—was still in the real world.

If his body was already dead, what would happen when his soul left the painting? Would he become a wandering ghost? Or just get wiped out completely, gone in a puff of smoke?

"So you wanna stay here?" Lyman asked.

"I..." Eugene's expression darkened. "I don't wanna die, but I'm also sick of this unchanging world. Ugh, I don't know what to do, Lyman."

Lyman didn't know what to say either. Life-and-death stuff wasn't something he could just give advice on. But he figured maybe Eugene could stay, and once Lyman found a way out, the painting would basically become a door he could open anytime. Eventually, he'd find a way to get Eugene out alive.

Eugene wrestled with it for a long while before finally making up his mind. "I'll stay here after all! Lyman, when you get out, can you steal this painting too and hand it to Mr. Wegner?"

"Yeah, no problem."

Eugene perked up again. He solemnly said goodbye to Lyman. Under Eugene's expectant, encouraging gaze, Lyman activated his "Gravity Dominion" and lifted off into the sky.

"Whoa! Up we go!" Eugene cheered, flailing his arms wildly.

The strong wind tousled Lyman's silver hair, and the forest below and Eugene gradually shrank beneath him. The monastery, previously hidden by the canopy, came into view, and soon everything below turned into a miniature landscape.

As he ascended, Lyman's view expanded at breakneck speed. He saw the grisly battlefield at the foot of the mountain, with vultures and crows circling overhead.

Further away, a dense mist hung in the distance. The hill, crowned by the monastery, seemed like an isolated island floating on a sea of fog.

By the laws of physics, the higher the altitude, the lower the temperature, but strangely, the closer he got to the golden sun, the warmer Lyman felt, and he had no trouble breathing either.

Suddenly, he collided with some invisible barrier. Letting out an "Ouch!" Lyman clutched his head and halted in midair. Fortunately, he hadn't been ascending too fast, or he'd have a lump on his head.

He ran his hand over the air above his head, feeling something hard and smooth against his skin, like touching perfectly clear glass.

Lyman flew sideways a little, and the invisible barrier was still there, stretching out in every direction, like a giant dome over the island in the foggy sea below.

"So there really is an air wall?!" Lyman hammered the invisible barrier a few times, but it made no sound; instead, his hand began to ache.

This was terrible. If the whole painted world was sealed off by an air wall, how on earth was he supposed to leave? Was he doomed to be stuck here forever, just like Eugene?

He tilted his head back, squinting into the distance. The golden sun against the blue sky looked like a cheap game texture. From the ground it looked real, but up close the flaws were obvious.

Saint Galad, what a half-baked job!

Biting back his complaints, Lyman flew alongside the invisible wall, feeling for a gap. If he'd gotten in, there had to be a way out!

Just then, a blast of frigid wind howled from behind Lyman. The clouds around him rippled outward in every direction, and Lyman's silver hair and white robe thrashed wildly in the wind.

—Something was behind him now.

Goosebumps prickled up the back of Lyman's neck. He didn't dare turn around, afraid of what he might see. Experience had taught him: if he didn't want to lose his mind, he shouldn't look around.

"Who are you?"

A deep, vast voice, layered with echoes, came from behind him. It was muffled, as if from an impossibly far distance, or the shattered chorus of a thousand voices.

Lyman's throat bobbed as he gulped. Could whoever was speaking to him up here be some ancient god?

"I'm Lyman Vichard," he answered honestly. When facing a god (even a fake one in a painted world), lying was a bad idea.

He continued, "I stumbled into this world by accident. I need to find a way out."

"...This world?"

The deep, grand voice hesitated, confused for a moment, then gave a soft, knowing chuckle.

"I see. Then I'll send you on your way."

Yikes! Send me where—to the afterlife?!

Lyman tensed every muscle, ready to fight for his life if whatever was behind him attacked. But the next second, a deep shadow swallowed him.

He stole a quick glance upward and saw a colossal arm, mountain-like, hovering overhead. The arm blotted out the sun, plunging everything around him into near-darkness.

That was... a god's hand.

The giant hand extended a long, pale finger and slashed the air with its sharp nail.

A rift appeared out of nowhere, stretching across the sky, as if the very fabric of space had been torn open.

On the other side was unmistakably the underground treasury beneath the cathedral!

"Go," the presence behind him said. "Give my regards to Lunast. And ask him if he's kept safe the ones who matter."

With that, the mountain-sized arm withdrew. The shadow receded, and sunlight flooded back over Lyman.

But Lyman felt no warmth whatsoever. Fighting back a violent shudder, he whispered, "Thank you," then shot toward the rift as fast as he possibly could.

The instant he passed through the rift, a sudden, inexplicable urge seized him—he wanted to see who the god who'd helped him really was.

His rational mind screamed: Don't stop! Keep going! One more second and you're back!

But the urge was stronger, almost impossible to resist.

Lyman couldn't help it—he looked back.

He only saw a mass of clouds, like the thick fog around the painted world, scattering in every direction.

Inside the churning clouds, a giant eye stared at him, unblinking.

—THUD!

Lyman tumbled through the rift and slammed onto the floor of the underground treasury.