Becoming a God Starts with Acting-Chapter 368: “A Weakling”

Sylus’s expression grew darker and darker, but there was nothing he could do. He could only return to the tent to check on Mira’s condition.

Fortunately, there were no new wounds on Mira’s body, but she remained unconscious, her face as pale as paper.

Sylus lowered his gaze toward her, eyes filled with sorrow. He gently brushed a strand of her hair aside and whispered, "Don’t worry. Once we return to the Church, everything will be alright."

He adjusted her blanket before stepping out and heading back to his own tent.

Night grew heavier. In this fog-covered region, the darkness felt even colder, even more dangerous.

The Hunters took turns keeping watch, their shadows stretching across the ground in the flickering firelight.

At that moment, inside the dark tent, Mira’s eyes suddenly snapped open.

Her eyes were pure white, glowing faintly with a silver sheen.

In an instant, her body flickered and shifted, transforming into the same battle form as before.

Tendrils slipped out of the tent, and then her whole body—like boneless skin, like a puddle of liquid—poured through the most minor gaps, moving at the fastest possible speed into the Relics of the Hobbit, which had now been sealed shut.

The crystal slabs lit up the moment Mira touched them, revealing her current appearance.

Her arms and legs had turned into tendrils—smooth, silver-white tendrils layered together, sprouting feather-like strands, almost like wings.

The tendrils on her back writhed and twisted, propelling her forward.

Graceful yet silent, Mira stopped at the exact spot where Silvanus had vanished.

She swayed lightly, then her tendrils curled in, hiding themselves to one side, motionless and soundless.

Before long, the glowing crystal steps faded back to normal, and the whole space was once again wrapped in that faint, hazy light.

Mira’s eyes stayed fixed on the place Silvanus had disappeared, unaware that in the darkness, another pair of sharp, cold eyes was watching her every move...

Meanwhile, within Silvanus’s timeline, he had already spent more than two years in the mysterious space, learning everything Alden taught him about the Hobbit inheritance.

Of course, during that time, he and Drake had fully become good friends—an airheaded duo.

Today, Silvanus created a large sheet of deep wine-red fabric and cut and sewed it into a cloak, explicitly made for Drake’s heroic dreams.

He felt he and Drake were alike—they both carried grand aspirations, pushing back evil and becoming heroes!

The moment Drake received the cloak, he threw it over his shoulders, spun around, and gave it a dramatic flick. He lifted his chin proudly. "So this is what heroes look like in the outside world? They need cloaks like this?"

Silvanus scratched his cheek. "I’m... not actually sure."

Then he gave a thumbs-up. "But it looks cool, right?"

Drake nodded, swinging the cloak. "It’s acceptable. Though it still can’t compare to my sewing skills." He waved his hand. "You wait. I’ll make one for you, too."

Silvanus: "..." He honestly had no idea what Alden had told Drake to make him this confident in his sewing abilities.

Thinking of this, Silvanus glanced toward Alden again. Whenever Alden had nothing to do, he simply stared into the void, lost in thought—no one knew what he was seeing or thinking.

Silvanus remembered his decision. He walked over and called softly, "Alden."

Alden turned, his large, round eyes landing on Silvanus. His face was as expressionless as ever, yet his eyes seemed almost too bright.

Silvanus hesitated for a moment, but finally said, "I’ve learned everything. I should go back outside now."

The air seemed to pause. Even Drake stopped what he was doing, tossing aside his scissors and stepping behind Alden.

Both of them looked at Silvanus with unreadable expressions. Drake said nothing—because the right to speak belonged to Alden.

Alden tilted his head, puzzled. "Why do you have to go outside?"

Silvanus answered gently, "I need to. I can’t stay here forever."

"So you find this place boring?" Alden replied.

Drake instantly roared, "So you don’t like playing with me?!"

Silvanus: "..."

He lifted a hand—shaking his head, then nodding, then shaking again. "I have to live, Alden. You have to live too. We need to face the world..."

Alden shook his head. "No. You can stay here with me forever. You’ll enter the flow of fate when you must. You won’t be left behind. You only need to sit and wait. Why face the outside world at all?"

Silvanus frowned. He suddenly stepped forward, closer to Alden than ever before. "Are you afraid of the outside world, Alden?"

Alden froze. His eyes flickered. He said softly, "If you leave, you’ll regret it."

Silvanus asked, "Will something tragic happen?"

Alden said nothing. He only stared at him.

Silvanus spoke firmly, "Then that’s something I’ll face while living my life. I’ll overcome it. Really."

Alden looked at Silvanus’s serious face—and suddenly laughed. There was a hint of mockery in it, an emotion so rare that Drake blinked curiously at him.

"No. You will suffer." Alden suddenly stepped forward, gripping Silvanus’s hands tightly, his expression intense. "A child can’t promise anything about the future, Silvanus. You’re just a kid. You don’t understand how cruel the world out there is."

Alden stared straight into him, eyes like they were trying to drag Silvanus’s soul into an abyss. "You will suffer, Silvanus. The outside world will only bring you pain. The world will turn its back on you. Only we—only we will never abandon you."

Silvanus blinked, stunned. He felt like he had heard those words somewhere before. Right—Nerio had said the same thing...

"The world will betray you. Only we won’t." Alden narrowed his eyes, voice firm.

His grip on Silvanus’s hands tightened until the veins stood out, their faces close enough that their noses were nearly touching.

Silvanus frowned, his gaze wavering.

In the end, he stepped back and pulled Alden’s hands off him.

Even though Alden was using all his strength, he was far too weak compared to Silvanus. Silvanus easily pried his hands away without any effort.

Alden stared at him, stunned, fingertips trembling.

"If that day ever comes, you can come laugh in my face. Right now I want to go outside. You can’t run from fate, Alden. The best choice is to face it." Silvanus said slowly.

Alden’s eyes reddened, and for the first time, he raised his voice. "Even if the ending is blood everywhere and no bones left?!"

Silvanus pressed his lips together. His eyes said everything.

Alden clenched his fists. In the end, he turned away, saying something coldly—but Silvanus could no longer hear it.

Light wrapped around him, and in an instant, he vanished completely from this place. The last image reflected in his eyes was Alden’s small, trembling back and Drake’s anxious gaze.

The presence of another person had vanished entirely.

Alden and Drake faced each other. Alden’s lips were pressed tight, the corners trembling downward, his large, round eyes turning red. Drake had a bad feeling.

Sure enough, a second later, the sound of quiet sobbing filled the space. Alden wiped his tears with both hands, yet the crying wouldn’t stop.

Nerio’s tears were surely fake—he cried for the world to see. But Alden... only Drake ever saw his tears and his sorrow.

Drake panicked, flustered, and helpless. "Don’t cry, master. Silvanus will definitely regret not listening to you. Later, he’ll be even sadder than you! He’ll be betrayed, hated—"

Drake only meant to comfort him, but his words made Alden cry even harder, like he could barely breathe.

Drake: "..."

Drake could only plop down on the ground and wrap his arms around Alden’s small body. "Alright, alright. Silvanus will be safe. He won’t be betrayed. He won’t be hated..."

Alden shut his eyes tightly. He knew none of that would ever come true. He hated what he foresaw, and hated even more that he couldn’t stop any of it, a useless weakling...