Not A God

Chapter 68

In the underground experimental base, alarms sounded. The guards that had been thickly packed in the ground floor area were summoned to the first few floors to reinforce the defences, giving Rickon and the others the opportunity to get closer.

Bang Bang - !!!

After taking care of the few guards and researchers nearby, Rickon first entered the area that was separated by a special metal. There was a single domed room, with pure white walls and ceiling giving a sense of bewilderment as soon as one entered. The centre of attention was focused on a transparent glass container in the room. In the cylindrical vessel was a figure in a white robe, hovering upright with his eyes closed as if he were sleeping.

Rickon was the first to enter the room, and he saw the figure at once. It was the same figure he had seen before in the coffee shop, but a little different. Compared to the human named Mike Corrison, this figure's skin was a sickly pale, as if it had been left out of the sun for a long time. Black, half-length hair floated behind him, each strand shimmering in the laboratory beams, and the silent, closed-eyed slumber had an icy divinity that no human could ever possess.

There is a coldness to this young man, Mike Corrison, that is more than the dark-haired, white-skinned human being of old. There was a sense of sacredness and greatness, a sense of inviolability and majesty.

If there was a Son of God, it would probably look like this.

Even if the skin is pale, one can still perceive a sense of extreme beauty that cannot be ignored, beyond gender, but simply a sense of perceived beauty, just like the angels described in the Bible, although this deity does not seem to be right with God.

Looking at the god not far away, sleeping as if he would awaken at any moment, Rickon, who had never believed in the God of Grey Mist, was surprised to feel a sense of awe. He clenched his wrists and reassured himself that he would succeed. Even if it really was a God, this flesh-and-blood god would be reduced to ashes under the high-tech weapons researched and developed by the entire resistance. Ricken hid the surprise and awe on his face and was ready to press the button at any moment. But before that, just in case, he searched for the button to open the glass container, ready to wait until it was opened before activating the weapon, to ensure that the source of the tragedy would be completely destroyed.

On the other hand, even more, shocked than Rickon were the other two.

"The God of Grey Mist? ......"

Kenaril stared in awe at what was before him and couldn't help but approach, tears slipping down her face, moved to the point of incoherence. Although she had never seen the God of Grey Mist in real life, at this moment, she was sure as never before that this was the God she had always believed in.

There was no mistaking it.

Only a God could have such a compassionate face that even slumber seemed incomparably holy and unblasphemable. She reached out her hand to touch the glass container outside the torso of the God of Grey Mist but was unexpectedly stopped.

"Don't touch Him with your dirty hands!"

The boy's voice was shrill and full of malice as he loathed it to the core.

"What?"

Kenaril snapped out of his daze, dumbfounded, and stared wide-eyed at the white-haired teenager who had opened his hand before him. The short white-haired youngster, who had been full of childlike innocence, now had a tight frown on his face and his mouth was turned down in undisguised disgust.

Kenaril couldn't believe her eyes. She couldn't understand what was going on, how the teenager, who had been vulnerable and innocent, had become what he was, and why he was speaking ill of the man who had saved his life. Rickon also looked at the teenager in surprise and caressed the lump at his wrist warily.