"-My lord! My lord! Don't sleep! Lord Cyra! Wake up, please! ”

In the faint sound of a call, Cyra struggled to open her eyes.

His vision was distorted and blurred, and his breathing was hard and rapid.

Cyra's hands were shackled, her ankles were chained, and the other end of the chain was nailed deep into the wall, like a sinner about to be executed.

He was dressed in a tattered, mud-stained white linen robe, and his torn sleeves showed dark red blood stains that had long since dried up, as if they had been two weeks earlier. But his spine was no longer straight, his face was sallow, and his cheeks and eye sockets were deeply sunken like an abyss. His long, platinum-blond hair, which once shone with pure light, had lost its lustre, and his eyes, which were as blue as a lake, had become cloudy and dark.

"Ah...... I'm fine. ”

Cyra took a deep breath and spoke like a gossamer.

Dry and hoarse to the point of being deformed, a hoarse voice like a crow slowly squeezed out of his throat. He lifted his lowered head with difficulty, looked at the kneeling prisoners with bloodshot eyes, and it took a long time to confirm their identities, and pulled out a thin, pale and ugly smile.

His situation was quite different from before.

He is no longer simply nailed to the wall. Twenty feet beside him was fenced with iron, and as if a murderous devil were imprisoned, several iron chains thicker than his thighs were repeatedly wrapped around it.

This is to stop the prisoners from serving him and giving him water and food.

Every three days, the warden would come and beat him. Before the execution, all the prisoners were locked in a cell by the guards before the warden could enter Syra's cell and torture him with a barbed iron whip for a whole day.

In the beginning, there were also prisoners who tried to attack the warden. They insulted him and beat the guards. The saints who tried to save them. Their rescue of Cylla.

However, after the warden had executed eighty prisoners that night, the corpses of the spears hanging from the skylights finally succeeded in deterring the fanatical prisoners. Blood flowed from the corpse that ran through the spear, and the dark red blood left a dark red mark on the ground and walls. You can even see the milky white marks left by fanatical prisoners as they hit their heads against the walls.

Only then did the prisoners calm down a little. And the indistinct angry shouts of Cyra, whose tongue had been cut off, finally stopped their actions completely.

Perhaps to continue to intimidate the prisoners, the blood on the ground of the corpses was not disposed of. If it weren't for the cold weather. I'm afraid there are already a lot of flies attached to it.

Since then, no prisoner has rioted while Cyra was being tortured. They would just fall on the ground and weep bitterly and pray for Cyrah in a loud voice.

These prisoners are all people who have made great mistakes.

The vast majority of them are cunning, evil, ruthless, and twisted in their hearts. Yet, they are now moved by that holy prophet. The souls are washed together.

However, this is not to say that they have begun to worship Tyre. Rather than regaining their awe and worship of Tyre, they began to turn their heads and worship Cyra.

That's right - they don't worship some god, not some devil. Rather, it was an ordinary, fragile mortal who was tormented every three days. A prisoner who is even more inferior than they are.

Even though his injuries would always heal, he was not allowed to eat or drink, and his body hung in the air, unable to sleep. Cyra's spirit was declining day by day.

Seeing this scene, the prisoners couldn't help but panic.

They worried that Cyrah would never wake up again after falling asleep - they began to find a way to get food and water over, but they undoubtedly failed.

Cyra looked at the prisoners who were kneeling at her, tears of pain on their faces. A look of relief appeared on his face.

He had also wondered what it meant to restore the good to this group of prisoners who could no longer see the sunshine of freedom – they could not help others. Nor can he spread his teachings. It was as if it was just a waste of Cyra's time.

However, after seeing them return from a day of hard labor, Cyra stopped fighting each other and began to care for their companions, no longer despair and resentment, and began to accept this life. And when he started exercising and thinking again, he was sincerely gratified.

True, he has lost the opportunity to change the world. But he can at least change these people around him.

Maybe one day, these things he brought to them will get out. Then one person can change two people, and two people can change four people. A family can change the people of a city, and a city can influence the climate of a country. Maybe in the end, he can even change the world-

The sentence of less than a month will change Cilla's life. He began to think about things he would never have thought about in his entire life.

He began to think about why people were evil. He began to analyze the deeper meaning of what Jupiter IV had done before, and whether he could do it better than him if he had allowed himself to do it.

The final answer was frustrating for him.

He finally reaffirmed that Jupiter IV was a great pope. He may not be a qualified pastor, but indeed a qualified pope.

The Pope should be the spokesman of the gods, the leader of the flock, the loyal dog of the flock, but he should not be a fanatical lamb.

All can be religious, all can be religious, all can be fanatical, but he can't. His heart cannot be fully relied on by Tyre, he must give half of himself to the believers.

If even the Pope is lost in fanaticism, how can others find their way to worship?

Now, every time Cyra was tortured, he confessed to Jupiter IV from the bottom of his heart. He finally understood what Roland had said to him.

However, if Jupiter IV appeared in front of him again, Cyra would still choose to kill him.

Because, at last, she realizes that she is not religious.

From the beginning, he didn't give his heart to Tyre. He still leaves room for reflection and questioning.

It's not so much that he's worshipping Tyre, it's that he's worshipping himself.

This may be the reason why he can still cause miracles in the iron city where the eyes of the gods are cut off.

However, the time taken for Cyra to recover began to get longer and longer.

Finally, today, for the first time, he passed out in the middle of a mission.

"You ...... And thou shalt not forget my teachings, and let thy heart keep my commandments. ”

In a tone of confession, Cyra said in a deep voice: "Do not let mercy and truth depart from you, but tie them around your neck and engrave them on your heart." ”

"Listen—henceforth you shall not resent, hate others, but be tolerant of your brothers and sisters. You must remember that there will be good recompense in the end, and you must not act for the heavens. ”

Looking at the worshippers who were looking at her in fear, Cyra kept muttering in a hoarse and deformed voice.

There seemed to be some realization in his heart.

…… His own hour is about to come. (To be continued.) )

PS: Let's celebrate our birthday today, and I just got home shortly after dinner_(:з"∠)_

So you know, the second chapter is still very ......

(Set up a counterflag for yourself first)