Becoming a God Starts with Acting-Chapter 340: Reunion with Nana

Silvanus watched Matthew cry again, even though he hadn’t done a damn thing to him.

He frowned, turned away, and decided not to bother with Matthew anymore.

Matthew’s tears blurred his vision. Seeing Silvanus’s indifference, he hesitantly tugged at the edge of the blanket.

Silvanus said nothing.

Matthew was shivering so hard his teeth clattered, but the moment he managed to slip under the blanket just a little, he felt a wave of warmth spread through him.

Silvanus—Silvanus was so warm!

He had been crying just moments ago, but now Matthew couldn’t help widening his eyes in surprise.

Carefully, he inched closer, trying to make himself as small as possible—though he was already tiny.

In the end, Matthew didn’t die that cold winter night.

From that day onward, he started clinging to Silvanus. Silvanus always found his tearfulness annoying, but he never once hit him.

The other kids couldn’t stand Matthew, but as long as Silvanus was around, they never dared lay a finger on him.

Because Silvanus was strong—so strong that he could take on a whole group of them by himself. Even if he always ended up bruised and bloodied, even if the headmaster locked him in the dark room afterward.

It was always the same—the other kids would start the trouble, but since Silvanus won, and won too well, leaving their faces swollen and their noses bleeding, he was the one who got punished.

Matthew had once cried and begged to be locked in the dark room with him, which earned him ten rounds of Silvanus calling him "idiot" that day.

Silvanus said that if Matthew hadn’t barged in, he could’ve smuggled food to Silvanus instead of starving alongside him.

Matthew also thought he was stupid—he hadn’t helped at all.

After that, he stopped begging to be punished with Silvanus. Every time, he would secretly stash away the biggest sweet potatoes, sometimes even skipping his own meal, just to give them to Silvanus.

Silvanus never really cared why Matthew always acted so cautiously around him.

That idiot probably thought Silvanus was protecting him—but Silvanus fought only to defend himself. After enough fights, the other kids would learn to be afraid.

And sure enough, after a while, none of the children dared to provoke Silvanus again. Thanks to that, Matthew’s days became peaceful.

Matthew knew that as long as he stayed close to Silvanus, he wouldn’t be beaten, wouldn’t have his food stolen, and could sleep at night in a warm nest of blankets. Even though, when he got too cozy and accidentally hugged Silvanus in his sleep, he would always get kicked off the bed the next morning—

—It was fine. Life was perfect this way!

Matthew began imitating the kids from the older group, starting to "offer tribute" to Silvanus—obediently playing the role of a loyal underling.

Silvanus didn’t refuse. When food was handed to your mouth, not eating it would just be stupid.

He wanted to grow up fast, to crush this orphanage beneath his feet, to make those little brats who always bared their teeth at him bow their heads in awe.

But that wish never came true. Before they had the chance to grow up, the orphanage was disbanded.

A chorus of wailing erupted among the children—no one wanted them. From now on, they would have to struggle to survive on their own in this harsh world.

But that was nothing unusual in a place like this. In fact, they were probably lucky; plenty of children never even made it past infancy, dying on the streets the moment they were born.

Silvanus watched the crying kids, and among them was Matthew.

Matthew’s eyes were so blurred with tears that Silvanus’s figure before him became hazy and indistinct.

"Living off the mercy of others—that’s why when that mercy runs out, we all look this pathetic. Go on, cry all you want. No one’s going to comfort you."

In this land, even comforting oneself was a luxury.

Matthew stared fixedly at Silvanus. He saw him walking away—fast, so fast—and realized Silvanus had no intention of taking him along.

Fear surged in his chest, overwhelming everything else. He didn’t care about the future, didn’t care about anything—he only knew one thing: he had to follow Silvanus. He had to stay by his side!

I am someone who lives off the grace of others, Matthew thought. When everyone else depended on the orphanage’s charity, I relied on something more—I lived off your grace, Silvanus.

So please... keep granting me that grace. Don’t ever—don’t ever take it away from me, Silvanus.

"Don’t you realize how much you resemble a parasite?"

A deep, echoing voice suddenly resounded from within his mind, making Matthew jolt awake.

He opened his eyes—but not truly—because he soon realized this wasn’t the dormitory at all.

It was an entirely different space: a flat, ashen wasteland with not a single blade of grass. Above him, the sky churned with black clouds that twisted together, forming a vast, spiraling vortex like a storm.

Inside the heart of that vortex was a dense black void, dotted with strange glimmers of light like fragments of fallen stars. Matthew was sure—the voice had come from within the vortex’s core.

He stayed silent, desperately wanting to escape this wretched place. This had to be a dream—a dream—but why, even after realizing it was one, couldn’t he wake up?

"Because this is not a dream." The voice spoke again—distant, indistinct, impossible to tell whether it belonged to a man or a woman.

Matthew’s eyes widened in shock. He lifted his head, hesitating as he asked, "You... what are you?"

"What am I? Naturally, I am the Supreme One, who heard your wish—and so, I came to you." The mysterious voice echoed again.

Matthew gave a forced laugh, uncertainty flashing across his face. "My wish? I have no wish! Just get me out of here!"

"Is that so? You truly have no wish?" The voice grew softer, almost teasing. "No... perhaps I should call it something else—a dream, an obsession, that thing you’ve always yearned for."

Matthew’s brows furrowed tightly. He gritted his teeth. "Get me out of here!"

"What if I told you I could make you stronger—far stronger than Silvanus?" The voice chuckled lightly, its words soft as feathers, yet they struck Matthew like lightning.

His pupils trembled. The next moment, he exploded in fury, shouting with wild disbelief, his face twisted with rage. "Impossible! No one could ever surpass Silvanus! No one! He’s young, but he’s already so strong—he’s always been like that since we were kids! Have you ever seen Silvanus’s strength? He could be even greater! If he had been born into a noble family, he’d already be the strongest in the Land of Light—no, maybe even the Land of Darkness would’ve bowed to him by now! No one can surpass Silvanus!"

The mysterious voice went silent.

Matthew remained lost in denial, biting his nails as he muttered over and over, "How could anyone surpass Silvanus... no, no... no one can... no one is allowed to surpass Silvanus!"

Blood began to seep from his fingers, yet he didn’t seem to feel any pain.

"Perhaps I can rest easy about you—you’re a madman."

Matthew couldn’t quite make out the final words the voice said. All he felt was the world spinning violently around him—and then his eyes snapped open. Above him was the wooden plank of the upper bunk.

He gasped for breath, feeling a faint sting from his thumb.

Instinctively, he widened his eyes and raised his hand—sure enough, blood was trickling down from his fingertip.

That... that really wasn’t a dream?