Veldor had beco an old man.
Since his departure from the "Afterlife Town" of the god of lies and deceit, only a few decades had passed, but to Veldor, it felt as if centuries had flown by.
"I don’t know if the world has aged by hundreds of years, or if it has grown by hundreds of years."
Veldor mumbled to himself, as if no one else were around.
"Father, it’s ti for the scripture reading."
A monk whispered softly.
"Oh, oh..."
Veldor snapped back to reality. He glanced at the dozens of believers behind him and began to recite the scripture loudly:
"My Lord, you ascended the Hill of Death..."
Over the years, Veldor had long since ceased to be a monk; more than twenty years prior, he had been appointed by the Danschel Pastor and had beco a Priest.
He followed the Sects, preaching throughout the dwarf nations. After the passing of the Sects’ Priest, he took over as the acting Priest to continue leading the Sects in their preaching. Ten years later, he went to the Danschel Empire and received an official appointnt.
Ti flies, and now he had left that Sect, becoming the Priest of a church, permanently settling down to enjoy his twilight years.
Over the years, he witnessed the great changes that had occurred in the Dwarf Kingdom of Kaelonde.
After the previous King was assassinated, Prince Mura took the throne and spent nearly ten years as a puppet. He was supposed to remain a puppet, but who would have thought that the dwarf nobles involved in the assassination would die in a series of accidents, one after the other.
Naturally, King Mura regained power and carried on his father’s policies, vigorously developing steam technology. During his puppet days in the previous decade, steam technology and the craftsn who mastered it were strictly suppressed and repressed.
The once-stagnant cogs of ti began to move again thanks to the lubrication of oil—the developnt of steam technology advanced rapidly.
What struck Veldor most during this rapid change was that fewer and fewer people in the market were selling candles.
Now, an innovative lamp—the kerosene lamp—beca the main source of lighting in the Royal Capital.
It wouldn’t have been just the changes in steam technology among the dwarves that made Veldor feel the world was changing too fast.
Not only the dwarves, but other races as well, seed to be riding the winds of change, almost as one.
A strange new power arose around the world, known as the Divine Creation Path.
On his journey to Danschel, Veldor had witnessed this power and the drastic changes it brought to Danschel.
Danschel began to see a variety of Alchemy Guilds, where Alchemists were no longer despised but instead welcod as honored guests by the Nobles. The open sale of various witchcraft books and Alchemy Manuals comnced, nearly rivalling theological books.
People began to learn about the Divine Creation Path spontaneously. In a short ti, various factions and ntorship traditions ford. Even the Church began systematic research and planning for the Divine Creation Path and, after the Great Council, made new changes, establishing specialized monk groups for studying the Divine Creation Path.
Everything was changing. The Wizards, once active only in the countryside, now seed to be everywhere.
Veldor had a hard ti adapting to these changes.
He was not overly enthusiastic about the Divine Creation Path and knew only a few words of the Ancient Language. In his view, the power of Scripture far exceeded any worldly force.
But reality did not conform to his wishes.
Veldor had no choice but to silently accept the changes of the world.
After finishing all the day’s ceremonies, Veldor, touching his pale beard, sat down on the church bench, lowered his head, and seed to fall asleep.
"Father, here is a letter for you."
A mont later, a monk interrupted his rest, and Veldor hurriedly lifted his head, took the letter, and opened it.
It was an invitation to the Great Council.
"Another Great Council is to be held. In these past few decades, there have been more Great Councils than in the previous centuries combined."
Veldor sighed and said,
"However, it seems right, as people are still not prepared to receive the grace of God."
The young monk replied,
"If we wait for people to be ready, perhaps God’s grace would never descend upon us."
After hearing this, Veldor nodded in agreent.
Although many who were open-minded in their youth beco stubbornly set in their ways in old age, clearly Veldor was not one of them.
He had witnessed Miracles.
Now that he was old, even the appearance of the Godfather was mostly forgotten, yet he still rembered each mont of that journey and the words of the Godfather.
"Pack my belongings for , let’s set off the day after tomorrow,"
Veldor commanded.
...............
More than two decades later, Veldor once again embarked on the journey to Danschel.
If he were human, at his age, such travel would not be suitable, the rigors of the journey taking a harsh toll on an elder, but the constitution of a dwarf is far sturdier than that of a human. Beyond occasional bouts of motion sickness in the carriage, Veldor felt fine during the travel.
"Blessings upon you, one who has seen the Prophet."
Upon arrival in Danschel, the local Bishop warmly welcod Veldor.
Decades had passed, and Xilan’s return to the Mortal World was no longer a secret known to only a few. Regardless of how reclusive and esteed Hermits were, no matter if they hid themselves deep in the mountains, cut off from worldly affairs, history would still record their nas. And since Xilan was seen across nations, performing many Miracles, his tales too spread far and wide.
And Veldor, probably one of the very first in the world to have seen Xilan perform Miracles, was thus held in considerable respect even within Danschel.
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