Ice Vapor Goddess

Chapter 40 No Return from the Snowstorm
There was a moment of silence on the radio, as if giving people space to think.

"Is it God? Is it faith? Is it angels, hymns, the cross, or the Son of God?"

"No, it's our will and belief! It's our expectation for life, it's our strength!"

“We say at the dinner table, ‘Thank God for our daily food,’ but where do those breads and peas come from? And who gave them to us?”

Siren stepped down from the bishop's seat and strode out of the church, while Joseph bowed devoutly at the doorway.

"Is it absolutely necessary to go, Bishop?"

“They’ve already issued a challenge,” Xiren sighed. “Why can’t I just be a charlatan in peace?”

The oak door opened, and fierce wind and snow rushed into the room, coating the air with a layer of frost. A black robe and shawl suddenly billowed up, covering the body in white snow, with purple embroidery appearing and disappearing in the wind and snow, and black hair dancing in the wind.

Siren took a pair of black deerskin gloves out of his pocket, put them on, and gripped his shepherd's staff.

Joseph sighed: “You will die. The governor is only wary of your influence on the believers, and he is turning that around. If you go there now, you will only be delivering yourself to him.”

“...And he’s right, our daily diet isn’t a gift from God…” Joseph said softly.

"—But that wasn't a gift from him!" Siren's voice resonated through the wind and snow. "It was planted by people's own hands, and after being exploited and distributed by the so-called [Managers], it became a gift from Renn!"

"What managers? They're just former factory owners who've changed their names and are continuing to rule Speyer!"

"Joseph, I ask you, why does the Pope wash the feet of the poor every year (Note 1), and why is St. Martin sharing his cloak with the poor (Note 2) praised by the Church? Which side are we really on?"

Joseph lowered his eyelids: "Over there, on the side of the suffering people."

"So I have to go."

The sound gradually faded away, and Joseph could only see the black robe billowing in the wind and snow, like the surging night.

"Lord," he exclaimed, closing the oak door behind him and locking the church for the first time in the early morning. His already thinner body trudged through the snow.

He knocked on the door of the Knights.

"Logan! Kyle! Fafnir! Go get help!"
-
"Now the world is covered in ice and snow. To put it bluntly, the end times have come. But there is no Last Judgment as described in the scriptures, nor can we see the beautiful world that the church proclaims."

On the brass-plated radio, Ryan was still speaking.

“Or perhaps the reason we are struggling to survive in this desperate, icy landscape is because we have been condemned as sinners by God?” Renn let out a laugh devoid of any real mirth.

—At the entrance to the Guardian Tower, the guards warily raised their guns, and a dark figure gradually appeared in the distant snowstorm.

The brass-plated radio continued, "God has not descended, nor has He judged. Does God exist? Or is He testing us? But if God is testing us, I—reject faith in such a God!"

—Sirlen had two bayonets pressed against his chest, but he ignored the guards and walked straight ahead. The guards were sweating profusely, retreating and lowering their guns. They could have ended the man's life with a single thrust, but they dared not exert any force.

He pushed open the door of the Guardian Tower.

"Because he disregards life, he destroys civilization, he devours hope. We pray day and night, but we cannot satisfy him. He brings disaster without uttering a word. He is high above, wanting us to pray, wanting us to repent, wanting us to kneel down!!"

—The people inside the tower stood up as the figure in black robes strode in, accompanied by the swirling snow outside, with a powerful and imposing presence.

"But what did we do wrong!"

The roar echoed throughout Speyside, and people were deeply moved, some even shedding tears.

"Yes, what did we do wrong!"

"Waaaaah... my home..." "The cow died... and we didn't even bring the wheat..."

"We just finished planting, how could it all be gone..."

"God, why did you take my Ken away? If I am guilty, why don't you punish me alone..."

"God...have you abandoned us?"

"..."

"..."

Countless people wept and cursed, but the people of the third floor, seventh district, remained eerily silent.

Suddenly, a distorted, screeching sound came from the brass radio, followed by a pleasant, clear male voice.

"Hello everyone, I am Bishop Spessell, you can call me Siron."

West London...

West London...

His name echoed in every corner of the shelter, and everyone who knew him was immediately struck by his presence.

The residents of the third floor, seventh section, shouted excitedly!

"Now it is my turn to give you my last words. If I am unfortunate enough to pass away later, please burn my body to ashes."

A calm voice came from the broadcast, while on the other side, in the broadcasting room on the first floor of the Guardian Tower, a full thirty guns were pointed at him.

Renn looked at him, his face terribly grim.

Just five seconds earlier, this man suddenly pushed open the door of the broadcasting hall, and none of the many soldiers outside could stop him, or even fire a shot.

He walked to the other side, placed his right hand on the table, and spoke the first words over the spare loudspeaker.

"I suppose our Governor Hoffman, who made such bold pronouncements, wouldn't be afraid to debate with a young man like me? Or is your speech actually completely untenable and merely an emotional outburst?"

Renn looked at him, and despite his grim expression, he still spoke in a light tone: "Of course, please, Your Excellency. You are the guest speaker, why would you use words like 'last words'?"

At this moment, countless guns were pointed at him, but Ryan spoke as if the two were having a friendly talk—maybe they'd even be filming Brokeback Mountain later.

Xilun stared blankly at the dark gun barrels all around him.

His left hand was trembling so much that he could only hold onto the table with his right hand.

He had never had so many guns pointed at him in his life, but he was only afraid, not terrified.

"...Since I've already died once, I might as well die again. Maybe I'll get assigned to an invincible protagonist novel?" Xilun joked to himself.

He began calmly, “I listened to the entire speech you gave. What you meant was that you have made outstanding contributions to Speyside, that the sanctuary is currently functioning well, and that you hope people will abandon false gods and follow you to create a new life, is that right?”

Ryan said coldly, "I am not a god, of course I cannot be perfect. I can only guarantee that I have done the best that is within human power in the face of disaster, while the omnipotent god you claim to be has done nothing."
-
Note 1: The ritual originates from Jesus washing his disciples' feet before the Last Supper and instructing them to wash one another's feet as an example of service. Since then, every Holy Thursday, the Pope washes and kisses the feet of the poor, embodying the concept of "power as service."

Note 2: When Saint Martin was still an ordinary Roman soldier, he saw a beggar who was almost frozen to death in the winter. No one around paid any attention to him, so he cut his military cloak in half with his sword and gave one half to the beggar.

(End of this chapter)