"Step aside."
The villagers parted reluctantly, unsure of who this stranger was or what he intended. The woman looked up at him, her tear-streaked face filled with confusion and fear.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"I am someone who can offer a solution," he replied coolly, kneeling beside the man. His gaze flicked briefly to the crowd, then back to the dying man.
"There's nothing that can be done," one of the villagers said, his voice rough. "This wound is fatal."
He ignored the comment, focusing on the man's weak pulse, tracing the lines of his injury with a practiced touch. The curse had granted him power, but that alone wouldn't be enough. It was all about timing and perception.
He straightened up, turning to face the woman again. "You believe he's beyond saving," he said, his voice low. "But what if I told you there's a way?"
The woman's eyes widened, hope trembling behind her tears. "What do you mean?" she asked, clutching the man's cold hand desperately.
He didn't answer at first. Instead, he knelt beside the man, his expression calm and unwavering, as if he had done this countless times before. The crowd leaned in, straining to catch a glimpse of what he would do.
With a subtle flick of his wrist, a small cut appeared on his palm, a single drop of black crimson blood forming. His eyes glowed briefly, the blood in his palm shifting, shimmering with a sudden, radiant gold hue.
Murmurs swept through the villagers, their eyes widening with shock. He tilted the man's head slightly and let the golden droplet fall into his open mouth.
The crowd went still, holding their collective breath as the man's body seemed to react instantly. His skin regained a hint of color, the ghastly wounds knitting together, slow at first, then with visible rapidity.
The woman stared, her eyes brimming with a mix of disbelief and awe as the man's chest lifted with a sharp, sudden breath.
The murmurs turned to gasps, a ripple of astonished whispers spreading among the onlookers.
He rose slowly, the faint shimmer on his skin fading as he met the eyes of the stunned crowd. He didn't speak, didn't smile.
The silence that followed was louder than any proclamation. The man on the ground was breathing, saved by a touch of the miraculous.
Letting his gaze linger for just a moment longer, he turned and began to walk away. The eyes of the villagers followed him, their expressions shifting from doubt to a fearful reverence.
He had given them a miracle, and now, he only needed to let them believe what they would: that he was more than just a man.
...
"Did you see that?" one woman murmured. "He brought him back… like it was nothing. Just one drop of blood…"
"Not ordinary blood, though," an older man interjected, his voice barely above a whisper, reverent and shaken. "I saw it change. Like molten gold. That wasn't the work of any human I know."
A younger villager scoffed, though his gaze darted nervously to where the stranger had stood. "You think he's some kind of… god?"
"Not a god, perhaps," the older man replied, voice trembling. "But not a man either. Something in between, maybe."
Nearby, a group of children huddled close to one another, their wide eyes fixed on the woman whose husband had been saved. They leaned in, captivated, as she relayed the moment over and over to anyone who would listen, her words tumbling out with a frantic mixture of awe and fear.
"He just knelt beside him," she said, eyes still wide and glistening. "Didn't say a word of prayer or incantation, just… gave his own blood, like it was nothing." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "And his eyes… they glowed."
Several of the women in the crowd crossed themselves.
Just at some distance he was hiding behind a house hearing all these gossips he giggled as his plan has gone as perfect as he had imagined
"System, what... I mean, will I become powerful or something by having these people worship me, have faith in me?"
[Faith is a mysterious force. It's not just belief or trust—it's a metaphysical energy produced by sentient beings when they channel intense belief, reverence, fear, or awe towards something. Faith can affect reality itself because it serves as a bridge between the inner consciousness of beings and the outer, tangible world. In simple terms, if one has enough faith, they can shape reality.]
"What exactly can I do with this faith?" he asked, his curiosity burning.
[With enough faith. You could enhance your physical power, manipulate the elements, influence the emotions and perceptions of others, and even change the laws of reality itself. Faith is an energy that can be molded, expanded, and amplified. The more followers you have, the more potent their collective belief becomes, feeding your abilities and amplifying your influence.]
A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"What else can faith do for me?" he pressed, already tasting the potential of such power.
[Faith will make you unstoppable. The more faith you gather, the greater your abilities. Your connection to reality will deepen, and the very laws of existence will bend to your will. The world will reshape itself in accordance with the strength of your belief. And you, as its focal point, will become an unparalleled force. Faith has no limits as long as the belief behind it is strong enough.]
He felt a surge of excitement. No limitations. No cost. Just power.
"Can I use it to… change anything? Anything at all?" he asked, voice full of anticipation.
[Yes. The power of faith transcends what is considered possible. Time, space, matter—they are all malleable. You can shape them with the sheer force of belief. ]
He stood, letting the words sink in. He could shape reality. He could become a force so powerful that nothing would be beyond his reach. The more people believed, the stronger he would grow—limitlessly. No backlash, no consequences. Just growth.
He looked back toward the village. It was already beginning.
"System," he asked one more time, a wicked smile curling on his lips, "If faith can do all this... how far can I go?"
[As far as you believe.]