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Chapter 30: Prayer?
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Not a single breeze stirred across this stretch of sea. Only the light danced upon the water’s surface, scattering a kaleidoscope of colors. If a court artist had witnessed this scene, it would undoubtedly have inspired yet another historically significant painting.
Even more astonishing were the hundreds of statues standing atop the water’s surface—each one crafted entirely of water.
“Is… is this enough?”
Viya lay flat on the water, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. She looked utterly exhausted.
“Spirits born of water are fatally vulnerable to even the slightest emotion,” Minstrel said.
She didn’t answer Viya’s question directly but instead waved her hand over the water soldiers, dissolving them back into the ocean.
With an indifferent tone, she remarked:
“Congratulations, Lady Fanyar. You have now learned the singing method unique to Sirens.”
“Isn’t this… too easy?” Viya asked incredulously.
Although she had endured a harsh beating, the real challenge had merely been learning how to use mana to form emotional “strings.”
For a beginner like Viya, it was difficult, but surely among the countless geniuses of the human race, there must be someone capable of figuring this out on their own. How could such an ability possibly be exclusive to Sirens?
“It’s because you’re in His domain that you were given the opportunity to learn,” Minstrel replied.
So that was it.
Seeing that the atmosphere had eased somewhat from its earlier tension, Viya finally asked:
“So… can I leave now?”
“Naturally,” Minstrel answered plainly. “But there’s still one thing I need to do.”
“What?” Viya froze.
“Prayer,” Minstrel said. “It’s the mission bestowed upon our race since our creation. Day and night, without pause—even now, when only I remain.”
She spoke as if stating a widely known fact, her voice devoid of emotion, yet Viya could sense the profound sorrow behind her words.
“Prayer?” Viya didn’t fully understand what kind of prayer Minstrel referred to.
Ordinarily, shallow believers prayed before meals three times a day. Such prayers were casual, informal, and more akin to speaking to oneself.
As for formal prayers—
Forty-five years ago, during the “Mohif Incident,” the most recent large-scale operation by the Esoteric Sect, several bishops of the sect appeared simultaneously, unleashing a near-apocalyptic disaster that left countless dead and injured.
In the end, it was only through the Radiant Church’s prayer to the supreme deity that a miracle was summoned, temporarily halting the chaos.
Even so, that miracle required hundreds of fanatical believers chanting continuously for days and nights. Most of them collapsed and died from exhaustion during the ritual.
Throughout recorded history, every instance of praying to a god was accompanied by bloodshed and turmoil.
“Establishing a connection with the slumbering deity is the true ‘privilege’ we were born with. The talents in singing or artistry are merely byproducts of that.”
Minstrel’s face glowed with pride. “Every newborn of our race aspires to catch His gaze as their lifelong goal, though no race has ever taken a meaningful step toward it.”
This… feels so distant… Viya listened in stunned silence.
After days of interaction, setting aside Mr. Yog’s inherent indifference, His actions seemed almost… down-to-earth.
He bought balloons for little girls, exposed fake fortune-tellers, and even listened to the last words of an explosion victim… though the entire process always carried a faint sense of detachment.
Yet, in The Revelation of Light and Minstrel’s words, something felt off.
“Supreme…”
Minstrel crossed her hands over her chest, lowering her voice slightly. Her expression became solemn and holy as she spoke words incomprehensible to Viya—perhaps a language unique to Sirens.
The Siren’s nature shone through vividly. With just a few words of prayer, she effortlessly stirred Viya’s emotions.
A scene involuntarily surfaced in Viya’s mind: a sacred hall slowly opening its doors, long hymns echoing endlessly, while a lone mermaid wandered outside, knocking repeatedly on the door.
At the same time, countless massive waves surged across the sea, like transparent, colossal hands reaching toward the swirling heart of the sky’s dome.
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Apartment on the seventh floor of Mingzhu City.
“The sniper at point A, be careful.”
After Lin Qi casually misled his teammates, he quietly picked up his phone and started browsing.
After claiming his rare items, he didn’t dive straight into the game but decided to take a break and play a few casual matches first.
Beep beep beep—
Suddenly, a call came in.
It was spam.
“Lunatic.”
Lin Qi swiped it away dismissively and continued scrolling through short videos with great interest.
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“He hasn’t responded, as usual.”
Minstrel remained in her prayer posture, head bowed low.
Whether it was an illusion or not, Viya felt a chilling sensation—a heavy, oppressive cold that made her calves tremble uncontrollably.
For the first time, she noticed a faint trace of disappointment on Minstrel’s otherwise perpetually elegant and composed face.
“Are you okay?” Viya asked cautiously.
“I’m used to it,” Minstrel replied, regaining her air of superiority. “At least we still have the possibility of calling out to Him and catching His attention, unlike some races consumed by infighting, forever unable to earn His favor.”
As she spoke, she glanced at Viya unintentionally.
“Of course, you carry His presence. If you continue ascending, perhaps you might catch His attention—though the chances are nearly nonexistent.”
You think I’m weak, huh… Thinking about the disparity in power between them, Viya silently endured.
At the same time, she noticed something interesting: Minstrel didn’t seem to know that she was a vessel. Otherwise, she wouldn’t maintain such an attitude.
“So… can you send me back now?”
Viya asked this question for the second time.
She had begun to feel a growing fear toward the Siren race. That kind of “devotion” was beyond comprehension for ordinary people.
“Yes.”
As soon as the words left her lips, the surrounding seawater suddenly churned violently, swallowing Viya in a towering wave.
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Gentle morning light seeped through the curtains, and the ancient book remained open on the desk.
The girl lying in bed twitched her nose slightly and gradually opened her eyes.
Upon waking, Viya instinctively looked around and, upon realizing she had left the sea, let out a sigh of relief.
“Finally…”
She stretched lazily, displaying a graceful curve, then got up to brush her teeth and rinse her mouth as part of her daily routine.
Turning on the faucet, the cool water splashed against her face, and only then did Viya feel fully awake, truly alive once more.
She raised her head and suddenly froze.
In the mirror, her hair was messy and unkempt, tangled into knots. Her eyes looked sleepy, but her bangs were neatly arranged, framing her forehead.
And there, resting perfectly on her brow, was a laureate forged from amethyst.
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