Chapter 268: The God

Franz had refused offers from all the various factions, choosing to remain in Mozambi, the slum.

The conditions in the slum were abysmal, with even basic living standards being a challenge, let alone supporting a wizard’s cultivation.

Yet, despite these hardships, Franz had managed to ascend to the rank of a crystallized-level wizard.

To have cultivated to such a level with so few resources was a testament to Franz’s exceptional talent.

Many people couldn’t understand why Franz would stay in a cesspool like Mozambi when he had the potential for a much brighter future.

But Franz believed that Mozambi was his home, and he wanted to make a difference there.

If he left, Mozambi would remain the same—just another slum, unchanged.

For years, Franz had stayed in Mozambi, not only offering free medical care to the residents but also teaching the children.

Whenever he discovered a child with the potential to become a wizard, he would personally mentor them. If they showed promise, he would recommend them to Seranthiel or other smaller factions.

Many talented individuals had emerged from Mozambi, but Franz had never left.

He had become a spiritual leader to the people of the slum, earning their deep respect.

Those who had left Mozambi often returned, if only to visit Franz.

“Time to eat,” Franz said after stirring the pot for a while, seeing that the food was ready.

The slum residents, holding all sorts of bowls, lined up in an orderly fashion.

Franz ladled food into each person’s bowl.

Everyone who received food would bow slightly to Franz, showing their respect.

Once the food was distributed, a young man beside Franz began directing others to clean up.

Franz didn’t personally distribute food every time—he only did so on Wednesdays at noon.

On other days, the younger men handled these tasks.

Franz was getting older, and his body wasn’t what it used to be. He rarely appeared in public anymore.

Typically, a first-level official wizard could live up to around 300 years, so at 178, Franz wasn’t considered very old.

A first-level wizard of his age would usually still look like a middle-aged person.

But Franz appeared unusually aged, for reasons no one could explain.

“Bron, come see me after you’re done here. I have something to discuss with you,” Franz said.

Bron was the leader of the young men helping out. He had been an orphan, raised by Franz.

He had the potential to become a wizard, though his talent wasn’t great. He was currently a third-tier wizard apprentice.

Some smaller factions had tried to recruit him, but Bron had always declined, saying that Franz’s health wasn’t good and that he needed to stay and take care of him.

Franz no longer ventured out much, so he entrusted many tasks to Bron.

In the Mozambi slum, Bron was seen as Franz’s representative.

Bron glanced at Franz, knowing from their long relationship that something important was about to be discussed.

He nodded. “Alright, I’ll come by once I’m done here.”

Franz sat in his backyard, reclining on a bench and basking in the sunlight.

His yard was one of the few in Mozambi, and it was well-kept, a stark contrast to the rest of the slum.

Two young men stood guard at the entrance, acting as sentries.

These young men had been raised by Franz since childhood and were fiercely loyal to him.

Franz closed his eyes, resting peacefully. The surroundings were quiet, with no noise to disturb him.

This area was considered forbidden in Mozambi, and no one dared to approach without permission.

After a while, Bron entered the yard. The guards nodded at him as he passed.

Bron knelt on one knee before Franz and asked, “Master, what do you need me to do?”

Franz opened his eyes and looked at Bron. “A few days ago, I received another message from the God.”

Bron’s head shot up. “What did the God say?”

His eyes were filled with fervor, his excitement barely contained.

“The God rebuked me, saying we haven’t done anything of value. But the God is merciful. He has bestowed upon me an item, and we must use it wisely,” Franz said, pulling out a red claw. It was unclear what kind of creature the claw had come from.

“What is this…?” Bron looked at the red claw with reverence, though he was unsure of its purpose.

Franz explained, “By sacrificing six people, we can activate it. Once activated, the God will turn His gaze upon us and strike this place with a fraction of His power.”

Bron was filled with excitement.

To him, the God was holy and the most powerful being in existence.

Even a fraction of the God’s power was beyond mortal comprehension.

Bron thought for a moment and asked, “How can we make the best use of this?”

A gift from the God could not be wasted. It had to be used to its fullest potential, or they would be squandering the God’s favor, which would surely lead to His disappointment.

For the followers of the God, disappointing Him was the greatest sin.

Franz’s voice was grave as he replied, “The day after tomorrow, there will be a party at the home of Israel, a second-level wizard, on Silver Sand Street. Many wizard array masters will be attending. Wizard array masters are very important to these corrupt wizards. If we can eliminate them all at once, it would be a small but worthy offering to the God.”

Bron nodded. “I understand.”

“Remember, you are to arrange for others to carry out this task. You are not to do it yourself, nor should you send any of our people. Do you understand?” Franz instructed.

“I understand,” Bron replied.

Bron knew exactly what Franz meant. The first thing to consider was the possibility of failure.

If the mission failed, neither he nor Franz could be implicated. There must be no connection between them and the event.

That was why Bron couldn’t carry out the task himself. His relationship with Franz was well-known in Mozambi.

If something happened to Bron, Franz would be dragged into it as well.

Moreover, their faith in the God had to remain hidden. If the wizards discovered their beliefs, they would be thoroughly investigated and eradicated.

“Remember, all our power comes from the God. We cannot afford to disappoint Him,” Franz reminded Bron once more.

Bron nodded silently, carefully placing the blood-red claw into his spatial ring before leaving to make the necessary arrangements.

Franz lay back on the bench, gazing up at the sky, murmuring to himself, “Corrupt wizards… One day, the God will descend and cleanse this world completely.”

A flash of blood-red light passed through his eyes, disappearing as quickly as it came, unnoticed by anyone.