On the Self-Cultivation of the Evil God’s Puppet

Chapter 4

Digging Out an Eyeball  

"Alright, I understand."  

Sylvia sat there with a calm expression, replying simply.  

Angels were certainly troublesome, but they were not the worst... perhaps?  

"Your Grace, there is one more thing."  

At first, Loruze hesitated for a moment, seemingly weighing whether to speak, but in the end, he decided to inform his superior:  

"The youngest daughter of the Lancaster family is praying on the ground."  

"Hmm?"  

Sylvia looked at Loruze with a slightly puzzled gaze.  

"Your Grace, the Lancaster family holds the hereditary title of Earl. As an old noble house with land holdings, their fief is located in the Plant District, and thus they wield considerable influence over this land."  

"And this youngest daughter of the Lancaster family is someone I have been preparing to develop as an agent for the King of Hatred and Envy."  

"Her status within the family is not particularly important, but she is favored by the current Earl."  

Hearing this, Sylvia nodded thoughtfully, her fingers unconsciously tapping the table:  

"So, you want to change this young lady's faith and make her a follower of my Lord?"  

Loruze nodded respectfully:  

"Yes."  

"Very well, I will go take a look."  

As the chair slid back, Sylvia stood up. However, as the sound of tearing echoed, her brows gradually furrowed.  

Staring at the edge of the cloak that had somehow gotten caught under the chair leg and was now torn, the purple-eyed girl said slowly:  

"Loruze, you are responsible for preparing a new cloak for me."  

"Yes, Your Grace."  

...  

Night fell, and under the silvery bright lamplight, the clear moonlight appeared feeble.  

Through the high glass windows, the broken moon hung faintly in the sky.  

Having returned to the ground, Sylvia felt the accelerated recovery speed brought by active spirituality.  

Among the Nine True Gods, the one who held the authority over spirituality was also called the "Mother of the Moon."  

However, the moon in this world looked as if it had undergone a terribly violent explosion, now appearing broken and damaged, which was truly strange.  

Turning her head back, the puppet girl cast her gaze on a figure sitting in the first row of seats, head bowed in prayer.  

Her smooth golden hair was intricately styled, and the white veil she wore accentuated the pallor of her skin.  

Yes, pallor—a near-sickly paleness.  

In a corner of the church, there was also a wheelchair...  

"Wheelchair?"  

Sylvia's gaze involuntarily lingered longer on the wheelchair, which had numerous intricate but useless decorative structures.  

Having been in this place for a week, she had already gained a general understanding:  

This was an era of steam and industry, where technological innovation was driving each nation forward.  

And the source of all this lay in the reforms promoted three hundred years ago by the Church of Industry and Machinery.  

As one of the six Orthodox Churches, the Church of Industry and Machinery worshiped the God of Industry and Machinery, one of the Nine True Gods, advocating "progress, innovation, and reform" as their ideals, thus setting off a grand industrial revolution.  

However, in her view, the grand momentum of the industrial revolution seemed to have come to a sudden halt, as if it had been abruptly stopped just as it was about to step onto the next level.

For nearly a hundred years, neither technology nor society had undergone any new changes.

The sudden recess was highly unusual, but from another perspective, it is perfectly reasonable—

The existence of "gods" and “greater beings”.

Even if such matters only circulated among the upper layers of society, it did not negate their influence.

Perhaps some being, or several beings, had intervened in the course of industrial reforms.

But if that were really the case, then what about the God of Industry and Machinery's intention, who had initially driven this world forward? To just abandon development? What actions would he take?

Of course, all of this had little to do with her at the moment. Unless her true body could descend, those True Gods were far beyond what she could contend with.

Gazing at the exquisitely crafted wheelchair, Sylvia's eyes narrowed slightly.

Then, she shifted her gaze to the owner of the wheelchair. Black aura shrouded her body, masking her existence.

This was the authority called "Sloth," allowing her to enter a state of "invisibility" to a certain extent.

After doing this, Sylvia walked toward the girl sitting in the front row seat, while recalling Loruze’s earlier words:

The youngest daughter of the Lancaster family had carried a terrifying curse of unknown origin since birth, a curse that even the blessing of the Lord of Radiance could not remove.

Even Hethorik had described the curse as "troublesome."

As she approached step by step, a strange light flickered through Sylvia’s deep purple eyes, and the colors of the world faded from her vision.

In the next instant, aside from the pure white radiance blooming atop the dome and the brilliant starlight on the altar, deep purple permitted the world, originating from within the body of the Lancaster girl.

At the sight of this color, Sylvia involuntarily raised her eyebrows.

This... seemed to be divinity!

Only those lofty gods and the apostles who walked the earth could possess such divinity!

Sensing the aura emanating from the deep purple divinity, Sylvia’s brows gradually furrowed.

Pure purple, in occultism, symbolized the God of Death among the Nine True Gods.

Moreover, the deathly aura leaking from this divinity seemed to echo the presence of the Great One atop the River Styx.

What was going on? Was she sitting in front of an apostle?

No, it did not seem like it.

The deep purple divinity was deeply buried within the girl’s spirituality and had not fused with it.

In other words, this power was not under her control but had instead become her burden.

No wonder her body appeared so frail and sickly.

Nodding slightly, Sylvia drew even closer to the girl, who was still bowing her head in prayer.

Yet, at that moment—

"Who is it?"

Sylvia's brow suddenly twitched, and the girl before her turned around sharply, like a frightened rabbit.

In an instant, a pair of azure eyes, clear as a pristine lake, met her own.

"Hmm? You can sense my presence?"

The gray-haired puppet girl did not feel annoyed at being discovered; rather, she asked with great interest.

After all, not even the Bishop of Alova Diocese could see through her “Sloth” concealment.

Was this the side effect of the divine curse?

It seemed this little one already possessed some traits of an apostle.

While Sylvia pondered, the girl's voice reached her ears:

"You... no, who are you?"

Although it was just a simple question, it caused a slight oddity to flicker across the puppet girl's expression.

The girl’s expression seemed a little complicated. And it changed rather quickly?

At that moment, Sylvia, through the precise control of physical senses granted by "Lust," captured the sequence of emotions flashing across the girl's face—

From initial surprise and panic to inexplicable joy, and then that fleeting joy was suppressed, replaced once again by terror and unease on her delicate features.

Hmm? She seemed to have some potential for drama?

After silently complaining in her heart, Sylvia's lips curved into a faint smile:

"Me?"

"I am the apostle of my Lord, the executor of His will."

Upon hearing this, the expression of the gray-haired puppet girl’s counterpart first showed a flash of realization, then quickly shifted into another facade.

At the same time, Sylvia noticed that the other party seemed to want to glance at the statue atop the altar but forcibly restrained the impulse as soon as it arose.

Tsk, she really did enjoy putting on an act.

However, her acting seemed more like a form of self-protection.

Sylvia silently mused while also paying attention to the girl's words.

"Are you an angel?"

The girl's eyes gradually lit up, the azure within them rippling like a lake stirred by the wind.

"I can be."

The gray-haired, purple-eyed puppet girl’s smile widened little by little, and as the joints connecting her neck and head emitted faint cracking sounds, her head lowered closer and closer, her eerie smile drawing nearer to the girl before her:

"What do you think?"

At that moment, Sylvia saw fear and panic flash across the girl’s expression.

The girl could no longer maintain her composure.

Satisfied upon reaching this conclusion, Sylvia straightened up:

"Alright, there’s no need for meaningless acting anymore."

"I know you can see certain truths."

As soon as the words left her mouth, the puppet girl’s expression turned impassive.

"I..."

The girl opened her mouth, seemingly wanting to explain, but Sylvia cut her off directly:

"Since you can see through my concealment, then surely you also noticed the changes atop the altar."

"Am I right?"

The girl’s eyes flickered through various emotions before finally settling into a weak and innocent expression. She murmured softly:

"Yes."

"Substitution happened before, it happened again, today."

Sylvia then chuckled lightly:

"As far as I know, the Lancasters are loyal servants of Radiance, devoted to the Lord of Radiance for generations."

"Yet you, after discovering such anomalies, chose not to report it but instead prayed to it. That is very strange."

"Could it be that you have betrayed your faith?"

"No!"

"I... I just want to live!"

The sickly girl loudly interrupted.

"Hmm?"

"Since the day I was born, I carried a curse."

"Neither the bishops of the Church of Radiance nor the pastors of the Church of Industry and Machinery could do anything about it."

"But they did come to a conclusion—"

"That when I turn sixteen, the curse will completely overwhelm me, and I will die."

"And now, there are only a few months left until my sixteenth birthday."

"Since birth, I have dragged this frail body, never once feeling the beauty of the world!"

"I... I just don't want to die yet!"

"Is that wrong?"

The girl's voice carried a hint of sobbing, and Sylvia, gazing into the deep purple divinity emanating death from within her, gradually fell silent.

After a few seconds, Sylvia’s voice sounded softly:

"It is not wrong."

"Then, if you wish, I can lift your curse."

"In exchange, you must become a servant of my Lord."

As she finished speaking, her right hand slowly rose, and under the girl's horrified gaze, Sylvia dug out her left eyeball.

At that moment, her lips curled up slightly. Extending the hand holding the crystal marble toward the girl, she said:

"If you can accept it, then—"

"Eat it."