Chapter 244

"This is the Hall of Knowledge, this is the Gate of Truth; behind it stands the statue of the God of Knowledge. I never understood why the statue's expression looked so lecherous—turns out it's realistic. You look exactly like this. I felt an instant sense of familiarity, so I just asked casually—and Meixiangdaozhen triggered the Whisper of Truth. By the way, I've called your divine name before, so why didn't you respond? Do you only dare answer when I shout your name face-to-face?"

Obonli led the way ahead, chattering incessantly; even her tone dripped with resentment.

But Nagelis had no interest in Obonli's resentment now—it stared, dumbfounded, at the perfectly preserved Hall of Knowledge, its expression on the verge of tears.

I never expected—I never expected—the Prime Material Plane still held one of its temples. Oh heavens, its believers hadn't forgotten it.

"Yes, yes, yes, they didn't forget you—but they're all dead now. This temple was built by my teacher through immense hardship, yet it served no purpose whatsoever. No matter how much they prayed, they never received a divine response. Everyone assumed you were dead, so they moved on to other things. I only come here every few decades to clean up—just to honor my teacher."

As Obonli continued her explanation, Nagelis finally grasped what had happened.

Obonli's teacher was a fanatic devotee of the God of Knowledge—but this devotee emerged nine hundred years ago, when Nagelis was already sealed and unable to respond to prayers, all because of a knightly novel.

When young, Obonli's teacher had read a knightly novel that briefly described the God of Knowledge, claiming that praying to it before an exam could grant divine protection and guarantee passing.

At that time, Obonli's teacher was facing his most important exam—the one that would determine whether he advanced to Intermediate Mage and received triple the salary. Desperate, he prayed to the God of Knowledge.

Since Nagelis was sealed, it naturally couldn't respond to the prayer—so Obonli's teacher predictably failed.

But he didn't blame Nagelis; instead, he believed it was because he hadn't been devout enough. After all, he'd only prayed a few times right before the exam—hardly true devotion. That's why he received no divine response.

From then on, Obonli's teacher began seeking out all information about the God of Knowledge: besides exam protection, there was the Whisper of Truth, the Aura of Enlightenment, Mental Vigor, and Hair-Prevention Through All-Nighters—practical skills seemingly crafted for the dissemination of knowledge.

If granted the God of Knowledge's protection, he'd surely become an Intermediate Mage in three years, an Advanced Mage in five, and a Grand Mage in ten.

Once a person develops an obsession, anything conflicting with it is unconsciously ignored. From then on, whenever Obonli's teacher failed an exam, he blamed it solely on lacking the God of Knowledge's protection—not his own talent, and certainly not his habit of going out to play instead of studying.

Why didn't the God of Knowledge respond? Obviously, because he wasn't devout enough. So he grew even more fervent in his worship, gradually becoming fanatical.

Hearing this, Nagelis nearly choked to death—so all along, it had no fanatics because it responded too readily?

Answer every prayer, and believers lose reverence. Too easy to obtain, so they don't value it?

But when you ignore them, they fixate on their unfulfilled desire, digging deeper into obsession, becoming fanatical?

Once a person has an obsession, everything they do gains momentum. Obonli's teacher had mediocre talent, but his obsession drove him to work harder and harder, eventually rising to become an Advanced Mage.

The Mage's Guild had originally assessed him as capped at Intermediate Mage level—now that he'd broken through to Advanced, it was an unexpected blessing.

Wasn't this the God of Knowledge's blessing?

Well, without Nagelis's knowledge, the believer had accomplished a divine favor himself. From then on, Obonli's teacher became even more fanatical.

To spread the faith of the God of Knowledge, Obonli's teacher learned that at the desert's end, where three seas met, there was a peninsula where desperate non-human races gathered, calling themselves the Land of Stars.

Obonli's teacher journeyed far to reach this place, intending to spread the faith of the God of Knowledge among them. Having studied countless texts and legends, he constructed a psychological portrait of Nagelis—and inherited Nagelis's habit of pointing fingers at others, constantly lecturing the creatures gathered there.

Slowly, some began learning magic from him—Obonli was one of them.

Some people had mediocre talent but exceptional teaching skills. Especially since he worshipped the God of Knowledge, he drew upon Nagelis's abilities and invented numerous teaching methods.

For example, the Whisper of Truth—he modified it into constant muttering, repeating it endlessly before his students until they mastered it.

Whether by accident or design, he ended up producing many outstanding students.

Beyond teaching, Obonli's teacher built the Hall of Knowledge, hoping his students would also worship the God of Knowledge.

At first, it worked somewhat—but after his death, people gradually abandoned the faith. Not everyone obsesses over things; after a few prayers went unanswered, then dozens, later prayers became mere formalities.

After Obonli's teacher died, the Hall of Knowledge grew emptier. As his direct students passed away one by one, even fewer came.

Only Obonli still remembered this place, occasionally coming to clean and remember her teacher's face and voice. A flame ignited by a fanatic had thus faded away.

After Obonli's teacher died, his students didn't disperse. During that time, the Church of Light brutally persecuted heretics and pagans, and many fled here. Inheriting their teacher's habit of teaching, Obonli and her senior and junior students gladly taught anyone willing to learn.

Gradually, more and more mages gathered here. Someone suggested building a Mage Tower.

So a crude Mage Tower was constructed—and over the next century, it was continuously expanded and renovated, eventually renamed the Starfall Mage Tower.

Those were truly arduous years. The hardest was Obonli—she was the only undead among all students. As her seniors and juniors passed away one by one, she still had to teach their students.

As the Mage Tower grew larger and more outstanding students emerged, Truth Mages even appeared, increasing its fame until it became the holy land all mages in the realm aspired to.

After repelling several Church crusades and forcing them to the negotiating table, the Starfall Mage Tower's leadership decided: why not establish a nation? Their scale and power had outgrown the purely educational structure of a Mage Tower.

Thus, the Starfall Republic was naturally established.

From the day Obonli's teacher arrived until the founding of the Starfall Republic, it took 324 years—seven or eight generations of effort—finally making the stars shine at the edge of this land.

After hearing Obonli's rambling history and gazing at the grinning bronze dragon statue in the hall, Nagelis felt a bitter, tangled mix of emotions.

What was this feeling? Like a goblin guild lottery: you drew third prize, while someone who borrowed money from you to buy a ticket won the grand prize.

Your believer is more powerful than you? What kind of nonsense is this? This power wasn't achieved through your guidance—it was built entirely by their own chaotic, improvised efforts, with zero involvement from Nagelis, yet their achievements surpassed even your own.

What kind of nonsense is this? You worked hard, answered every prayer—and got zero fanatics. You were sealed, unaware—and suddenly a fanatic appeared, trained a whole cohort of students, and built you a temple.

Doesn't this mean everything you ever did was useless—and even counterproductive? Wasn't doing nothing the right approach?

"But how did the God of Knowledge end up like this? If your divine name hadn't responded, I wouldn't have believed it—how did you get so thin?" Obonli flicked her fingers, sending sparks drifting to light the oil lamps within the hall, filling it with bright illumination.

"Alas, it's a long story. I was sealed then, unable to respond to your prayers," Nagelis said.

"So that's why. My teacher firmly believed it was his own lack of devotion that caused your silence. From the texts he collected, you were the least arrogant god—always responsive, except during exams," Obonli realized.

"I don't help with cheating. I'm the God of Knowledge, not the God of Cheating," Nagelis scratched its nose, embarrassed.

Embarrassed because, back then, the most common prayer occasion was exams—these people never thought of the God of Knowledge unless they were about to take a test.

"By the way, I still don't know your teacher's name," Nagelis asked.

"I don't know my teacher's name, but we all called him Red Star," Obonli said.

"Red Star?" Nagelis murmured. The moment the name was spoken, the entire hall brightened—tiny specks of light converged toward it, forming a red star before Nagelis.

Obonli couldn't see this star—only Ang and Nagelis could. Clearly, this was a force of the faith plane. Nagelis casually grasped the red star, planning to study it later.

Turning to leave, flying ten meters, Nagelis suddenly remembered something and turned back: "Obonli, are you my believer?"

Obonli smiled apologetically: "I no longer believe in any god. I have touched the mystery of Truth itself. I am Truth."

Truth Mages are called Divine Mages because, to a certain extent, they possess power rivaling that of gods, understand the world's secrets, and know what a "god" truly is—how could they wholeheartedly worship a deity weaker than themselves?

"I knew it would be like this. When you spoke my divine name, I received zero knowledge feedback. Since you're not my believer, it's simple—your students ran off without paying. You'll settle their bills."

Nagelis pulled out a long scroll—the parchment for recording debts stretched all the way to the floor.

"What did they even buy? So much? Let me see," Obonli had taught hundreds of students over centuries; paying for students' debts was common, so she expertly took the scroll.

But when she reached the end and saw the total, she screamed: "What's so expensive?! Are you robbing people?!"

Nagelis wore that familiar, grinning smile again: "Faster than robbery—but the prices are set, and your students all agreed. No fraud involved."

"I don't believe anything in this world costs this much! Did they buy divine artifacts or enchanted gear? Let me check—if I find even one item you overcharged for, I'll tear your place apart," Obonli fumed.

"Pure Skin Brightening, Teeth Whitening, Hair Growth? Fortify Kidneys, Enhance Vitality… What even is this? You dare charge this much for healing spells on living bodies? I'm tearing this place down—"

Before she finished, Nagelis added: "Liches can use them too."

Obonli froze, staring at Nagelis, then at the list of services. After a long pause, she crumpled the scroll: "I'll verify with them first. If they all bought these willingly, the Starfall Republic won't default. I'm taking this bill with me."

That night, cloaked in a cloak, Obonli quietly traveled to Meishencheng to verify each item on the list.

Riding the bone dragon from the Star Republic to Meishencheng, Nagelis gazed at that tiny glowing red star, sighing deeply.

Riding the bone dragon from the Starfall Republic to Meishencheng, Nagelis stared at the glowing red star, sighing deeply.

I never expected the Starfall Republic had such deep ties to me—it was founded by my own fanatic believer. Too bad, sealed as I was, I sensed nothing, so my divine flame died, and the stars were severed from me.

Alas, it's lucky I sensed nothing—if I had, they might've stopped believing. They'd never have remained so fanatically devoted.

Now I'm left with just this red star—what can I even do with it?

Ang tilted its head. Throughout the journey, Ang had said nothing—but it had heard every word. Seeing Nagelis's melancholy, it asked curiously: "Do you want to rebuild your faith?"

Ang's question made Nagelis pause, then shake its head rapidly: "No, no, no—not at all. I finally understand—I'm not suited to be a god at all. Even a knightly novel had more impact than I did."

"Looking back, I've always just liked pointing at others—not wanting to be a god. This is fine. I just feel sorry—I've never had a fanatic. Now I have one so powerful, and I never even got to respond. What a pity. I wonder if I can do something for him."

Ang tilted its head and touched the red star.

Instantly, the red star blazed with light—a firm conviction spread from it: Gods have fallen, stars have dimmed, but the Red Star shines… clad in armor, draped in robes, ancestral spirits guard the homeland…

【78】 Nagelis gasped: "This is a spirit of the fallen!"