Becoming a God Starts with Acting-Chapter 13: [The Glutton] – The Prophet’s Part (10)

Drake looked at Mason's fearful expression and said coldly, "Troublesome."

Fiona shrugged from the side. "Just ignore him. Only he can save himself. We just need to kill the monsters—no one needs him to charge in, so why is he so scared?"

Most newcomers entering the Dungeon ended up scaring themselves into a mental breakdown.

Stall, watching from the side, spoke in a deep voice. "He's still under some mental influence. That might be why he's collapsing so quickly. What exactly did he do yesterday?"

This could be a clue to help them avoid future threats to their sanity.

"Looking down on others has never been a virtue."

At that moment, Prophet's voice suddenly sounded even hoarser than the day before.

Everyone was momentarily stunned before they quickly remembered—yesterday, in his anger, Mason had mocked Leo. That might be why his mind was now in shambles.

Stall wanted to ask more, but Mason had already noticed a new presence in the room.

Ron explained, "This is Prophet, the god we summoned yesterday."

Mason's face showed doubt at first, but then his eyes widened, filling with hope. He crawled toward Prophet, grabbing his cloak, his voice almost frantic. "A god! A god! You can save us. I want to leave! I want to get out of here right now!"

His bloodshot eyes were wild with desperation, and Prophet swayed slightly from Mason's grip.

"Get lost!"

Drake suddenly stepped forward and kicked Mason, sending him flying. But Mason refused to give up—he crawled back toward Prophet, desperate to cling to him again.

Drake grabbed him and threw him even farther away, his voice icy. "Maybe we should tie him up like yesterday. That way, he might live a little longer."

Then, his gaze shifted to the bloodstained bandages covering Prophet's eyes. His tone remained cold. "And you—stop spouting prophecies whenever you feel like it. I'm your believer and your protector. You only prophesy when I allow it!"

It was an utterly unreasonable demand. Prophet didn't even look at him, as if silently asking, Why should I listen to you?

Drake gritted his teeth in frustration and scoffed. "Fine. I hope you don't bleed to death. Ha!"

Stall watched Drake, genuinely unable to understand how someone as crude as him had managed to summon a god-like Prophet. He asked, "Prophet, can you explain more about this mental affliction?"

"It's a curse," Prophet said slowly, his words crisp and clear. "As long as you don't mock others and don't let Leo touch you, you can avoid it."

Fiona clapped her hands in realization. "So that's why Leo suddenly fell toward the captain yesterday! That bastard was trying to curse him!"

"Now that I think about it, some of our teammates even tried to catch Leo when he fell," Ron sighed. "They probably died without ever knowing why."

Stall, however, seemed a bit relieved. "If we have Prophet, we can avoid so many dangers. Prophet, are you okay?!"

He had noticed the blood streaming down Prophet's face. It was hard to imagine how pitiful his bandaged eyes must have looked beneath the cloth.

Prophet wiped the blood from his face silently. It seemed that every time he prophesied, his eyes suffered severe damage.

Jessica's gaze toward Prophet grew increasingly fervent while Drake stood to the side, his face dark as the bottom of a pot.

Knock, knock, knock!

At that moment, a sudden knocking echoed through the room, accompanied by the voices of two counts. "Detectives, it's time for breakfast. Please get out of bed."

The others exchanged glances before Fiona stepped forward to open the door. The sun had risen, meaning that, at least for now, danger wouldn't be as apparent as it was at night.

Outside the door, the two counts stared coldly at the humans. Compared to yesterday, their attitudes had reversed entirely. If one listened carefully, their voices even carried a hint of anger.

They swept their gaze around the room, completely ignoring the corpse on the ground and Mason's growing hysteria. Instead, they spoke in loud, reprimanding tones. "Detectives, your efficiency is dreadful. You were so noisy last night that Leo couldn't sleep! And what on earth happened to the castle?! The walls are cracked, the floors are wrecked, and you've only made things worse instead of stopping the culprit. Disgraceful! I hope you have information on who's responsible for all this!"

As they spoke, the expressions of the two counts darkened further. Their faces paled into a sickly gray, their bodies grew limp and began to melt, their elongated hands dragging against the floor. Their eyes gradually turned utterly white—yet they never stopped staring at the humans as if awaiting their answer.

The tension in the room became suffocating.

Just then, a slow, indifferent voice suddenly cut through the silence.

"Aren't we supposed to be heading to breakfast? What are you doing?"

The two counts immediately turned their attention toward the source of the voice. The moment they saw who had spoken, their eyes widened, and in an instant, their grotesque appearances reverted to that of ordinary humans.

Almost simultaneously, they took two steps back, their expressions wary as they stared at Prophet.

Not only the others but even Drake was taken aback by the scene. If he wasn't mistaken... were these two monsters afraid of Prophet?

Is Prophet the weakest god?

For the first time, a single question surfaced in everyone's minds.

Silvanus himself was equally stunned. From what he knew, the monsters were only meant to intimidate humans. In the morning, the detectives' identities as investigators should grant them several escape routes. However, if they acted weak and accepted the monsters' accusations without resistance, they would fall into a trap and be attacked.

He hadn't expected the monsters to be so wary of him. Thinking back, they prioritized attacking the humans over him even last night.

Is this... divine aura at work? But that didn't make sense. He was only a false god.

I'll ask the system later, Silvanus thought, maintaining a calm exterior as he strode toward the door.

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Only then did the others notice the intricate embroidery on the back of Prophet's cloak—a massive golden eye, barely visible as it flickered in and out of sight with his movements. It felt as though it were staring straight at them. Even Mason, who had been raving like a madman moments before, suddenly fell silent.

The two monsters stood at the door, watching Prophet intently, yet they made no move to speak as if he didn't exist.

Then, Prophet suddenly stopped and turned his head toward Drake.

"Believer, let's go."

Drake snapped out of his thoughts, frowning slightly as if displeased with something.

He scoffed and, acting as if reluctant, walked to Prophet's side.

The others quickly followed behind them. Mason, glancing around in panic, hesitated for a moment. But in the end, unwilling to stay alone with a corpse, he scrambled to his feet and chased after them.

As they descended the stairs, Jessica and the others finally got a full view of the state of the lower floor.

The stair railing had been completely shattered, the walls were riddled with cracks, the floorboards had been torn apart, and most of the furniture lay in ruins. The entire castle looked like it had just been through a storm.

Ron murmured, "Aside from the monsters' corpses disappearing, everything else is the same as yesterday."

When they entered the dining hall, they saw Leo sitting in a chair, staring intently at the meat on the table. When he noticed their arrival, he flinched slightly, lowering his head with an awkward expression—looking nothing like the ferocious monster he had been last night.

"Alright, everyone, eat first. We'll discuss the investigation afterward," the count with a mole near his right eye announced.

The moment he finished speaking, Leo immediately dug into his meal, stuffing his face like a ravenous beast, the sounds he made no different from a grinding machine.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

Suddenly, Stall's furious shout rang out. He lunged forward and grabbed Mason, pulling him away. But Mason struggled violently, stuffing meat into his mouth as he choked out, "I'm starving! I'm starving! This is delicious! Please don't stop me! Do you want me to starve to death?!"

At this moment, Mason's strength had surpassed entirely Stall's. He quickly threw Stall aside and lunged back toward the food, his face twisted beyond recognition—he no longer looked like the man he was yesterday.