Chapter 985: Never Been Burned by a Devil

The space here changes according to fixed patterns; within the same grid, coordinates shift at regular intervals. The Dawn Goddess has only calculated a small portion of these coordinates and does not know those beyond that range.

Beyond these coordinate ranges, nothing from outside can be teleported in, which is why the concept of a “teleportation window” exists—it must wait another three to six months until the grid rotates back to a familiar position before the window reopens.

Why three to six months? She doesn’t understand the pattern herself. Yet this human has managed to teleport in even after the window closed—does he know the shifting pattern?

Anthony silently muttered: Huh, could it really be, as Negril said, that the Dawn Goddess herself can’t calculate the grid’s movement pattern, hence the “teleportation window” restriction? If so, I need to reassess her power.

As he pondered, Anthony studied the Dawn Goddess before him: her upper body was a cold white light phantom, her lower body a massive robe woven from multicolored dawn energy, the robe’s size several times that of her upper body, an exaggerated proportion like those in stylized sculptures.

Ordinary sculptures often exaggerate for dramatic effect—ultra-thin, elongated limbs to suggest speed, enormous bellies to imply clumsiness—this exaggerated robe was just such a stylized treatment.

To an ordinary person, this might seem unbalanced, but as an old con artist, Anthony could see the truth: this was a native deity.

What is a native deity? One who has been a god since the moment consciousness first formed.

Many gods ignited their divine flame from other species—like Ang, Negril, the Light Gods—and thus retain their original forms.

Ang, regardless of his power level, always appears as a skeleton; his current construct form is purely due to his avatar.

Native deities, however, have abstract forms—they follow the collective imagination of their worshippers. But worshippers imagine all sorts of chaotic things, inconsistent and unstandardized; they only form a unified image when the statues are carved in a certain way. Hence, native deities tend to resemble sculptures.

Moreover, native deities are very “pure”—lacking much human nature—so dealing with them is best done directly.

Though Ang is not a native deity, he lacks “humanity” too, making him similar to native deities: say what you need plainly. But with Negril, if you praise him a few times, his tail will wag—he’s easier to deal with.

So once he confirmed she was a native deity, Anthony immediately adjusted his strategy and asked directly: “Can’t you teleport in once the window closes? Why?”

The Dawn Goddess blinked warily, saying nothing.

Anthony pressed: “Is it because you can’t calculate coordinates beyond the teleportation window?”

The Dawn Goddess nodded: “The space moves chaotically. I can’t calculate it.”

“Normal,” Anthony said casually. “There are 736,921 possible variations. Most can’t calculate them.”

The Dawn Goddess’s eyes widened instantly: “Seven hundred thousand? That many? Can you calculate them?”

“Heh, child’s play. Too easy. Our Alliance of Gods includes all kinds of deities—including the God of Knowledge, who has calculated all 736,921 coordinate shifts. Want to join our Alliance? We provide food, lodging, five insurances and one fund, and we’ll even give you the pattern of coordinate changes for free…”

“...” The Dawn Goddess was bewildered. What are you talking about?

She was a native deity—barely understood human social customs—and he was offering her room and board?

But that was exactly Anthony’s goal: confuse her. “Did your priest tell you why I came to visit?”

The Dawn Goddess nodded.

“Here’s the situation: the Philet Empire has produced a Godslayer who has slain many deities. Survivors fled to the Light Alliance, where the Grand Councilor took them in and permitted us to spread our faith within Alliance territory.”

“A single god is weak, but united, our power becomes limitless. Before reaching the Alliance, the one hundred and two surviving gods aboard the airship signed the Pact of the Gods, forming the Alliance of Gods, pledging mutual development and shared worship.”

“After arriving here, I met your priest, a woman named Faradi. I noticed she’s in poor condition—her robes are frayed and worn at the edges. Don’t you provide your priests with uniforms?”

“Huh?” The Dawn Goddess’s eyes widened.

“Her living quarters are dilapidated. She heats water using sunlight alone—how pitiful. Don’t you pay her a salary?”

“I...” The Dawn Goddess was stunned. Her worshippers sent things here, but she never sent anything out—couldn’t even send anything out—and nothing ever came in.

Anthony subtly showed a hint of disdain: “Nothing at all? They’re working for you for free? Serving you while having to earn their own living? They’re impressive. How many worshippers do you have?”

The Dawn Goddess whispered: “About fifty thousand.”

“Pfft—” Anthony genuinely spat out. Not faked. “Fifty thousand?”

The Dawn Goddess nodded, hopeful: “Is that... a lot or a little?”

Anthony was speechless. She didn’t even understand the scale? Only fifty thousand worshippers? Less than the Harvest Goddess had in her prime. Anthony suddenly felt less inclined to recruit her.

All this effort? Just hand out a few dozen eggs in a village on a major plane—you’d gather more casual worshippers than that.

Still, Anthony forced patience—Ang needed Dawn Energy. “Too few. Too few. At its peak, the Radiant Temple had over four hundred million worshippers. No wonder your priest looks so shabby—her robes are frayed. In our Radiant Temple, such clothes are used as rags. What we wear are full sets like this.”

As he spoke, Anthony summoned his crown, robe, and scepter, then asked: “Will you join our Alliance of Gods?”

After all that bluster, the Dawn Goddess was half-dazed—she’d forgotten he’d merely come to pay respects. How had it jumped straight to joining the Alliance?

“W-What does the Pact of the Gods entail?” the Dawn Goddess asked.

“Mutual development, shared worship, mutual aid, collective defense,” Anthony said.

“That’s it?” The Dawn Goddess was stunned by the simplicity. “Fine, I’ll sign.”

Anthony raised his palm, holding it before him.

The Dawn Goddess stared blankly at his palm.

“Clap. Clap like this.” Anthony taught her for a while until she finally understood. Their palms struck together—*snap*—a vow mark flared: Mutual development, shared worship, mutual aid, collective defense—Lord of Radiance.

“Seal it with your mark,” Anthony instructed.

“Oh, oh.” The Dawn Goddess imprinted her mark, then said: “Mutual aid—now help me leave this place.”

At this, a flicker of cunning finally appeared on the Dawn Goddess’s face.

Anthony’s face mirrored an “annoyed” expression—inside, he was laughing. Still too young. Never been burned by a devil’s contract.