OBS Chapter 632 The more you believe, the stronger you become
Chapter 632 The more you believe, the stronger you become
A little-known secret room in the heart of St. John's Cathedral.
John stood around an oak table with four solemn-looking priests.
On the tabletop, six fist-sized luminous figures hovered in mid-air, flapping their wings. They were surrounded by a faint golden light, the same angels that had been circling around the statue of St. John earlier.
The chamber was eerily quiet, with only the faint buzzing of the little light beings flapping their wings. John's gaze lingered on these strange creatures, his brow furrowed in thought. Their forms were round and pure, without any discernible facial features, yet one could clearly feel their "gaze."
"Your Majesty, the form of angels is beyond the comprehension of mortals like us."
A priest with graying temples on the left broke the silence, his voice low and respectful, carrying a hint of barely perceptible awe.
This priest had followed John for many years and witnessed John's canonization and the arrival of miracles, but he still could not hide his shock when faced with these real "angels".
The other priests nodded in agreement, their eyes sweeping over the little light figures that were moving freely across the table, their eyes filled with amazement.
These days, the entire inner circle of St. John's Cathedral is immersed in an atmosphere of both excitement and confusion.
Since these angels descended, John has spent most of his time each day in the secret room, keeping them company and carefully observing their every move.
To outsiders, these angels are just like children. They chase and play around the table, touch the ancient books and sacred objects on the table with soft orbs of light, and look at the religious murals on the wall with curiosity.
The pipe organ in the main nave of the church was the object that these angels were most fascinated by.
At first, they simply circled around the enormous instrument, gently plucking the strings with delicate filaments of light, producing scattered and discordant notes.
But a few days later, when the priests came to the main hall again, they heard a continuous and melodious tune flowing from the organ.
The music was so pure and unadulterated, like heavenly music, that it brought peace to the listeners' hearts. Many devout believers even knelt down on the spot, praising God's grace with tears streaming down their faces.
But only John was stunned the moment he heard those melodies. Weren't these the internet pop songs he had heard in his previous life?
Especially when a certain song was played, several little angels suddenly stopped flying and landed around John, raising their slender, light arms high and jumping up and down as if celebrating for him, which made John completely lose his composure.
John's observations and explorations over this period of time have given him a clearer understanding of his own strength.
Through continuous casting of spells, he discovered that the more abundant the divine grace, the more diverse and powerful the types of spells he could summon became.
From the initial simple healing glimmer, to the purifying rain that could dispel plagues, and now to the holy flame torrent powerful enough to shake mountains, divine grace is like fuel, supporting each display of his extraordinary power.
However, the cost is equally significant. The more powerful the spell, the more astonishing the amount of divine grace it consumes. A single large-scale spell can even cause hundreds or thousands of divine graces to disappear from his panel.
The source of divine grace was finally revealed after John's many days of secret observation.
Whenever believers come to St. John's Square and kneel in devout prayer before the central statue of St. John, John can clearly sense that wisps of light rise from the believers' bodies, like birds returning to their nests, flying straight to the statue and being quietly absorbed by it.
These orbs of light vary in size and brightness. The most devout believers will release orbs of light as bright as fireflies, while those who are distracted or perfunctory in their prayers will produce orbs of light that are dim, weak, or even fleeting.
The degree of devotion the people have to him directly determines the amount of divine favor he receives; and the amount of divine favor is directly related to the upper limit of the power he can control. At the same time, the more believers there are and the higher their devotion, the stronger his power becomes.
Having figured this out, a sharp glint flashed in John's eyes, and a grand plan gradually took shape in his mind.
He reached out and gently stroked the head of one of the little light beings. The soft touch was like silk brushing against his palm. The little light being affectionately rubbed against his fingertips, and its wings flapped more frequently.
John, a confident smile playing on his lips, turned and walked toward the door of the secret chamber. The four priests, seeing this, quickly bowed and followed closely behind.
Leaving St. John's Cathedral, John boarded the carriage that had been prepared for him. He leaned back on the comfortable cushions, closed his eyes, and pondered, constantly sketching out expansion plans in his mind.
If he could spread his Church of St. John to every corner of this continent, making the people of all nations believe in the Church of St. John, and allowing the continuous flow of divine grace to gather upon him, then he would have the true strength to fight against the Hand of God.
The carriage traveled smoothly along the road leading out of the city, the wheels rolling over the stone slabs with a regular "rolling" sound. John was pondering how to establish a church and attract believers in a foreign land when he suddenly felt the carriage slow down, and the originally smooth ride became somewhat bumpy.
"what happened?"
A thought flickered in his mind, and he reached out and pulled open the silk curtain on one side of the carriage.
The scene outside the window startled him slightly. It was already dusk, but the sky was shrouded in a thick fog, which seemed to rise from the ground, enveloping everything in a hazy mist.
The trees lining the road were reduced to blurry outlines, and the villages and fields in the distance had vanished completely, as if the whole world had been isolated in a giant white cage.
A damp chill filled the air, mixed with a faint, eerie atmosphere.
At the front of the convoy, the lead driver gripped the reins tightly, leaned forward, and stared intently at the road ahead. Even with over a decade of driving experience, he felt the fog was far too thick, with visibility less than ten meters. A slight misstep could send him plunging into a ditch or crashing into an obstacle hidden in the fog.
Fine beads of sweat appeared on the driver's forehead, his hands were slightly white from exertion, and he kept praying softly, hoping to get through this strange journey safely.
Just then, a tall figure appeared out of the thick fog like a ghost, blocking the convoy's path.
The figure was extremely tall, almost level with the trees along the roadside.
"Uu——!"
The coachman was terrified and instinctively pulled hard on the reins. The horse let out a frightened neigh and reared up, bringing the speeding carriage to a screeching halt.
The caravan instantly descended into chaos. The carriages behind them all came to a stop, and the knights quickly drew their longswords from their waists, looking ahead warily with their hands on the hilts, ready to deal with any unexpected situation.
The entire procession was completely silent, save for the panting of the horses and the faint sound of the flowing mist.
A knight clad in silver armor and wielding a shield quickly dismounted and strode to the lead carriage.
"what's the situation?"
The driver's face was deathly pale, his finger trembling as he pointed ahead, his voice filled with barely suppressed fear:
"It was... a person wearing black armor who suddenly appeared there!"
The knight frowned, gripped his longsword tightly, and slowly walked towards the figure. Mist swirled around him, making his silhouette somewhat indistinct.
As the distance gradually closed, he finally saw the scene in front of him clearly: a person riding a tall horse, wearing a set of heavy armor as black as ink, the armor covered with ferocious spikes and intricate patterns, gleaming coldly in the dim light.
The knight wore a large black cloak, the hem of which trailed on the ground and was damp with mist, making it look heavy and oppressive.
The most bizarre thing was the horse. It was much larger than an ordinary warhorse, covered in black mane, but its eyes were not normal beast eyes. Instead, they emitted a ghostly crimson light, like two burning will-o'-the-wisps, which were particularly conspicuous in the thick fog and exuded a chilling evil aura.
The rider on horseback always had his back to the caravan, his figure upright and motionless, like a sculpture from hell.
The heavy helmet completely covered his head, obscuring his face. All that could be felt was a strong sense of oppression, like a mountain pressing down, making it difficult for the knights who approached to breathe.
"Hey you in front, you're blocking the way. Move over and stand to the side of the road!"
The knight suppressed his fear, straightened his chest, and shouted sharply.
As soon as he finished speaking, the black-clad knight on horseback slowly began to move.
His body slowly turned around in an extremely stiff posture, without any fluidity in his movements. Instead, it was as if a rusty machine was turning, making a grating "creaking" sound that was particularly clear in the silent fog.
As the knight turned around, the front of his helmet gradually came into view.
The moment the knight stepped forward to question the "face" clearly, his pupils suddenly contracted, his blood seemed to freeze instantly, and he almost dropped his longsword.
That's not a human head at all!
Beneath the helmet was a pale white skull, with empty eye sockets containing no eyeballs, only two clusters of scarlet flames burning fiercely.