Chapter 484: The Distance to God (Part II)
The first painting had the richest contents.
A throne constructed of swords and bones. Behind it, windows the color of dried blood, tall black columns, and the suggestion of a palace. If Zero let her consciousness fully submerge, she could see the city beyond the glass—endless spires stretching to every horizon. What arrested her attention was the Stone Gate visible through that forest of towers. If those spires were buildings belonging to Hermes residents, then the Gate was at least five times the height of the church’s Tower of Babel. It made no sense by any measure she possessed.
More disturbing was what lay inside the Gate. The aperture was black—not shadowed, but sealed with something that had the look of a smooth cloth stretched across its middle. Yet the longer she stared, the more depth opened in that darkness, an immeasurable depth that seemed to go on and on.
She turned her focus to the throne before that feeling could take hold.
No one sat in it today.
The visions shifted each time she entered. Occasionally—rarely—she would find an armored warrior on the throne, a frightening black helmet enclosing his head, faint red light burning through the eye sockets. But more often the throne was empty.
The secret histories held a consensus: this painting depicted the city where the demons had first appeared, their point of origin in the Northwestern corner of the Land of Dawn. Zero found the theory credible. The blood reds and black spires matched the demons’ established environments, and the helmet design was distinctly demonic in style. What remained strange was the body of the throne’s owner—proportioned like an ordinary human, nothing like the massive Fearsome Demons or Lords of Hell in the Holy Book. That detail had generated centuries of debate. Some Popes held it to be the source of evil itself; other witches theorized it was a demon entrusted with the secrets of God.
The second painting was stranger still.
It rarely showed the same scene twice. In all Zero’s visits, she had never seen it repeat itself.
Today, she saw water.
Light-blue water, rippling past three vast hollow skeletons—their interiors completely empty, yet the water held back from the bones by some invisible barrier. It was as if the skeletons were the keels and ribs of a ship, and she stood at a porthole looking out—except the window spanned the entire wall.
The scene drew her in before she could resist it. She was standing at the boundary between water and sky: half of her suspended above the surface, legs submerged below. Above, bright sunlight and thin clouds. Below, the color of the water changed through strata—light blue near the surface, then bright green, then dark green deepening toward black.
The scene lurched.
The world shook beneath her and she nearly lost her footing. She caught herself before her eyes could open. This is not real. This is God giving you a sign.
The water was rising—or she was sinking. Within moments, what had been above the waterline was below it. Red fish appeared at the skeletal windows, first a few, then dozens, then a dense, ribbon-like school circling the invisible barrier. The water darkened from green to a dull black, then to complete darkness, and the vision ended.
Zero surfaced, breathing hard. It was the most vivid such experience she had ever had, and when the darkness swallowed her sight she had felt the genuine sensation of drowning. No useful information, though—the secret histories noted that the second painting’s contents were never the same. One observer had recorded a giant eyeball; another, a volcano spewing yellow smoke; another, a bottomless abyss lit from no visible source. Not one duplicate in centuries of records.
She rested until her heart steadied, then moved her attention to the third painting.
Nothing. Dark and utterly silent, the way the space outside the frame was dark and silent.
The secret histories mentioned that something had inhabited it at the start of the First Battle of Divine Will—but that record was so ancient that the pages were tattered past legibility. What was certain was that roughly a hundred years after that battle, the painting went black and had not shown anything since.
The fourth painting appeared nowhere in the secret histories at all.
Zero had never understood why. As if every record-keeper had reached a common, unspoken agreement to leave it out—and if even the Pope, the sole conduit of secrets, had no right to know what it contained, then its secret would pass into permanent silence.
The painting showed a wall.
An ordinary, unremarkable gray stone wall.
The paint was chipping in places, exposing cracked blocks beneath. It had clearly stood for a very long time. Beyond the wall there was nothing—no room, no landscape, no figure or shadow. Just the wall itself.
Zero lingered there.
She could not have said why it held her attention. It was the most mundane thing in the entire vision: a piece of construction, worn by weather and years. And yet she found herself unable to turn away for a long time, as though the simplicity of it concealed something her 200-year-old intelligence could not yet name.
When exhaustion finally won, she opened her eyes.
The dark world and the five paintings dissolved. The dim room reformed around her—cone ceiling, Magic Stone light, hard floor. She steadied herself against the wall and made her way back down the narrow staircase, only recovering fully after drinking off a cup of cold black tea in the library below.
God had given her no direct answer. Her anger from before had dissolved completely.
Isabella knows nothing about God. But I do.
Zero looked out the window at the figures moving below the tower—tiny, purposeful, finite—and felt her sense of mastery return. Two hundred years had given her a thorough contempt for most of what the world contained. But since she had become Pope, she had discovered how thin her understanding truly was. A whole new mystery waited at the edge of everything she knew, and her immortality was perfectly suited to pursuing it.
She felt in her bones that she was the person God had truly chosen.
Even four hundred years would be worth it, if she could draw close enough. Even a thousand.
Chapter 484: The Distance to God (Part II)
Translator: TransN Editor: TransN
The first painting had the richest contents.
It depicted a throne constructed with swords and bones, and blood red long windows and tall black columns were behind it. It seemed to be a part of a palace. If she completely submerged her consciousness into it, she could even see the city outside the window with endless spires. What caught her attention the most was the Stone Gate that peeked through the city—if the spires around it were the buildings of Hermes residents, then the Stone Gates at least five times as tall as the church’s Tower of Babel, which completely went against common sense.
What was more unbelievable was that the inside of the gates was black, as if a large and smooth cloth was covering its middle. However, as she looked closely, there seemed to be an immeasurable depth to the darkness… The more she stared at it, the more uneasy she felt.
Zero only focused her attention on the window for a while and soon turned it to the throne.
She did not see the lord of the throne today.
The things she saw in her mind would sometimes change. For example, she could occasionally see an armored warrior sitting on the throne, his head covered with a frightening black helmet, only revealing a faint red light through his eye sockets. However, this was not very common, and the throne was usually empty.
According to the records of secret history, this painting depicted the city where the demons originated from and first appeared—the Northwestern corner of Land of Dawn.
Zero agreed with this theory. The painting’s blood red colors and black spires were very similar to the demons’ living environments, and the helmet of the owner of the throne had a distinct demonic style. The only strange part was that its body was exactly like that of a regular human, and not like the strong and horrific bodies of the Fearsome Demons or Lords of Hell recorded in the Holy Book. Thus, there were many speculations about its identity. Some popes believed that it was the source of evil, while other witches thought that it was a member of the demons that guarded the secrets of God.
The second painting was much more mysterious.
It had few contents, which seemed to keep moving. At least in Zero’s limited number of observations, she had never seen the same scene twice.
This time, she saw water.
The light blue water rippled backward against three large skeletons, which were completely hollow inside, but the water was somehow held outside the bones by an invisible barrier. It was as if the giant skeletons were keels supporting the side ports, and she felt like she was in a boat and looking out through the window—except these windows spanned the entire wall.
Zero was quickly enthralled by the strange scenery in front of her… She was standing at the border between water and sky, with half of her underwater, and the other half floating above. She could see the bright sunlight and sparse clouds above her, but her legs were encased in water. Under the sun, she could clearly see the color of the water changing from light blue on the surface to bright green, and then dark green, as it went deeper and deeper.
Suddenly, the scene began to shake, and Zero felt the world tremble below her and almost fell over. She subconsciously tried to open her eyes but stopped herself at the last second. “This isn’t reality,” she told herself. “This is God giving you a sign.”
The water was quickly rising and almost drowned out the sky.
Or, perhaps the water was not rising, but she was sinking downwards.
Soon, everything outside the window was covered by water, and she even saw red fish swimming by the skeletons. First, there were only a few of them, but then there were more and more, and the dense schools of fish surrounded the invisible barrier like a red ribbon. The water gradually changed from dark green to a dull black, until the scene was shrouded in a complete darkness and totally disappeared.
Zero broke out of the painting, panting. This was the first time she experienced such a clear vision, and when the darkness covered her eyesight, she felt like she was about to choke. However, she did not find any useful clues—according to the secret history, the contents of the second painting were always changing. Some recorded seeing a giant eyeball, others saw a volcano spewing bubbles and yellow smoke, and others saw a bottomless abyss giving off a faint light. No observers had ever seen the same thing.
She rested for a while and turned her attention to the third painting.
However, there was still nothing in it… it was like the world outside the frame, dark and dead silent.
The secret history mentioned that in the beginning of the first Battle of Divine Will, there was something in the painting… but this recording was so ancient that its pages were tattered and basically illegible. However, she was certain that a hundred years after the Battle of Divine Will, this painting turned black and never showed anything ever again.
The fourth painting was not at all mentioned in the secret history.
It was difficult for Zero to understand as if they were all in agreement to hide something—if even the sole messenger of secrets, the pope, did not have the right to know, then the secret would be unknown to everyone forever.
The painting depicted a wall.
It was an unassuming rough gray stone wall.
Parts of the gray paint were chipped off, revealing the cracked stone blocks under it. It had obviously stood here for a long time. Besides this wall, there
was nothing else.
After staying in the painting for a while, Zero started to feel exhausted.
Reading God’s signs took a lot of energy, and even she could not do it for a long time.
Zero opened her eyes to disconnect from the sphere of magic power, causing the dark world and giant paintings to disappear, and she was back in the dim small room.
She sighed deeply and stumbled down the stairs, only recovering after drinking off her cold black tea in the library.
Although God did not give her any response, her anger before was completely calmed. “Isabella knows nothing about God, but I do.”
Zero looked out the window at the busy figures under the tower, and her feeling of control returned. Her experiences during the past 200 years made her disregard everything in this world, but after she became the Pope, she realized that she had only scratched the surface in understanding the world— now, she faced a whole new mystery, and her immortality was perfect for solving it.
Zero felt in her heart that she was the real person chosen by God.
If she could approach God, it was worth the 400 years’ wait, even thousands of years.