Chapter 11 Atheism
"Artisans? Lokos welcomes craftsmen, we can guarantee that. We respect those who maintain their skills, and Lokos will always be the best place for craftsmen to display their talents." Damex said.
"So, Morse, will this boy be the legendary divine son from the mountains?" He looked at Perturabo.
Morse didn't need to say anything, Perturabo took a half step forward.
His clothes were still stained with the enemy's blood, and underneath the scratched, blood-stained cloth was new, delicate skin. Neither the dust on his cheeks nor the torn clothes detracted from his appearance.
His calmness and composure, as well as the slightest trace of unexplained scrutiny, are evidence that he is extraordinary.
No one can deny what a wonderful and exquisite creation Perturabo is. This is an objective fact.
“I don’t know if I came from the mountains, or if I ever slew wild beasts in Qadithia.”
“You really don’t know?”
“I don’t remember, these memories are not in my mind.”
Perturabo looked down at his hands. The skin on his palms was still bloodshot red.
He remembered again the many failures he had experienced under Morse these days, those sculptures that had failed again and again, the talent he had been deprived of, his weakness and impulsiveness, his failures again and again, and the icy gift of Morse.
Is this such a person who once came from the mountains and left a reputation in the mortal world?
Morse sneered more than once. After losing his ability, he was as weak as an ordinary mortal.
He made a fist and put his hand back to his side.
"But I am not the Son of God."
A small commotion broke out in the crowd, the soldiers remained as still as statues, and the courtiers began to whisper to each other.
+Guess what they are talking about? They say you don't even want to call Damex your King. +
Perturabo followed the good example and looked directly at Damex: "And you are not my king, I do not belong to anyone."
A high-ranking courtier said to Damex Max said: "How can you be so rude!"
Damex moved the scepter between his knees and raised his hand gently: "It doesn't matter. If he doesn't remember anything, how can he force the guests to abide by our polite rules? We don't teach etiquette either. Invite our god-descended boy to study, right?”
“I am not a god-descended boy either,” Perturabo corrected with all his strength, the determination in his words was stronger than steel.
He looked forward, "I don't even know what a god is. I don't know Alka or Anoyinke you mentioned."
The voices of the courtiers talking louder Well, this time there was no need for Morse to be a psychic microphone. Perturabo himself could hear their arguments, which were nothing more than clichés such as "arrogant and rude", "ignorant" and "disrespectful to God".
He let the words enter his eardrums and found that he didn't even feel the heat of anger rushing to his brain.
Perturabo looked into his mind and made some assumptions, and found that even if these people cursed him, the irritation he could feel was nothing more than Morse's simple sarcastic grin at the stone sculpture in his hand. One-tenth of.
He roughly told Morse's pale face to get out of his mind and continued to confront Damex head-on.
Damex's scepter turned in his palm, and Perturabo knew that every small movement this man made was a hint of authority.
The king made a footnote on the existence of God: "The gods are on the mountains and in the clouds. That is the Lord of creation who is higher than us. He looks down from the top of Terraphos to judge all living things. Existence is a holy spirit that cannot be reached by ordinary people, cannot be disobeyed by the common people, and cannot be opposed by the people.”
The tip of the golden scepter points to the side of the throne. "The twin god-kings gave authority to the city-state. This is the image of Gorzik and Kalafais."
+I thought they were Anubis or something like that. They looked really dark-skinned, and their shapes were also retro to before AD. +
Morse's characteristic cold tone, never forgetting to be sarcastic, crawled past Perturabo's ears like a snake.
+ Last time I came to the city, I should ask more about their legends, so that I can use them as your bedtime stories. +
Perturabo suppressed the thought of turning back and glaring at people, and returned his attention to the conversation with the Lokos.
"Have you seen these beings, Tyrant?" he asked.
The tyrant's scepter struck the armrest, making a crisp sound.
"I do not have this honor." said the tyrant.
"So, has anyone seen these existences?" Perturabo chased. He didn't need to make extra physical movements, and the words themselves had enough power.
Among the courtiers, another gorgeous robe squeezed out from the courtiers of different colors, and then Perturabo saw his shaved, smooth head, and the zenith electric light reflected in the sweat drops on his head. .
A priest, or a priest, or a stargazer—Perturabo didn't know what he was.
"How can we see the majesty of the gods?"
The voice of the visitor was high-pitched and high-pitched. "Mortals are not part of the great plan of the gods. The gods reside outside the celestial sphere. We can only glimpse their glory through the various reflections of the gods' kindness in real life. How can you question them like this? Is your heart so dirty and closed that you have never been inspired by the gods?”
He has only been created by a creator and a crazy craftsman. Destroy.
“All human knowledge should begin with experience.” Perturabo said.
Before he spoke, countless thoughts were automatically woven into ropes and cables, forming an intertwined network in an orderly manner in the vast space of thought. He lets words travel along this web.
“No knowledge can be born before experience. We connect and separate the ontology of the object from the image projected by the object’s stimulation of all our senses, making perceptual cognition become knowledge about the object. Intellectuality and sensibility , category, time, space... Can you find clear evidence of the existence of gods from any experience? "
"Of course it is!"
The priest's anger burned his thin body. The remaining energy was used as cotton thread and wax oil, burning in his cloudy eyes. "Looking at all the coincidences and fates in life, isn't it enough for us to realize the brilliance of the gods?"
"All coincidences have their causes and consequences, and things are bound to be interconnected. When you admit coincidences, It denies the reasons behind the appearance and presupposes the conclusion in the premise, so that it is unwilling to obtain confirmation from experience. ”
"Of course things are connected. This rule is made by our gods."
"I doubt it." Perturabo said simply.
“I don’t accept making such metaphysical presuppositions about feelings, or even assuming that there is some objective entity behind the feelings, so I doubt it. And you never use reason to reflect on your own speculations.”
The priest took a sharp breath and almost choked on his own breath. He punched his chest violently until his face returned to its normal red color.
"What qualifications do you have to doubt us? Can you prove your qualifications?"
Perturabo could no longer hide his sneer.
“Boom.”
The golden scepter struck the stone chair.
Damex stared at Perturabo, a little smile on his face, "Tell me your name, child."
"Perturabo."
"Is there a meaning?"
"I will give it meaning."
Dameix's smile widened. "Perturabo, forgive my subject, perhaps at this moment, there is indeed no more effective way of persuasion than proving your identity."
Perturabo looked at Damex until The other's fake smile couldn't be maintained. They all knew that Perturabo had won a victory, and they all knew that Perturabo would not be satisfied with just one victory.
“You want to test me?”
"If you will."
"What can I gain?" said Perturabo. "One effort in exchange for another gain, what are you willing to exchange with me?"
"It depends on the situation. I am not an unscrupulous person. If you pass the test, feel free to ask for it. I will not be stingy." Damex guarantees.
Peturabo nodded. "Tell me the content of the test."
Dameix raised his hand and introduced at the same time: "We will provide you with the best casting table, the most outstanding bellows and quenching pool, the latest anvils and The best steel.”
The door on the side of the hall opened with the king's raised hand, and someone had to carry the tools into the hall on the spot.
Perturabo's nails dug arcs into the palm of his hand.
+Look, you asked for it. + Morse said, crossing his legs on the wicker chair.
Perturabo finally turned around and glared at him, not wanting to know where Morse took out the wicker chair or how he made the whole room turn a blind eye to his slumped chair and rocking back and forth. .
"I can't start forging now." The boy said bravely, but fortunately his confidence was disguised well enough. "Like I said, I'm not a god. I need to learn."
"How long will you study for?" Damex looked solemn.
“One day is enough.”
(End of this chapter)