The fanaticism in the plaza reached its peak the moment the divine statue was erected.
However, fanaticism couldn't feed empty stomachs. As the tidal wave of shock, awe, and hope receded slightly, a much more practical question confronted everyone—what now?
The statue stood tall, the nobles were dead, but what came next?
Hundreds of thousands of survivors stood in the freshly cleaned plaza, looking around in bewilderment. The stench of blood in the air had dissipated, replaced by a profound confusion about the future.
Suspended in midair, Allen took in the entire scene. He knew all too well that the will of the people was like water—it could carry a boat, or it could capsize it. Now, it was time for him, the new god, to fulfill his promise to ensure that everyone had enough to eat.
Gabriel's voice echoed once again. This time, absent the icy tone of judgment, it was filled only with a solemn declaration.
"Year One of Truth. The first Oracle."
