Only God
Chapter 118 - 104 What Kind of Person Are We to Execute?!

Chapter 118: Chapter 104 What Kind of Person Are We to Execute?!

Dorias’ last visit to Basel was on a night beset by stormy winds and rain.

Having spent the past three days together, he had set aside all his contempt.

Basel was to be escorted to the square to be executed later that night, so Dorias still had time to visit him.

When Dorias arrived outside the cell, he saw Basel still standing deep within its confines.

This time, his arms weren’t flailing but were drawn in; he stood silently beside the wall.

"Basel, it’s me."

Dorias called out.

Basel turned his head. Without delay, he walked to the cell door and sat down, as always.

Dorias watched Basel, then after a moment of reflection, he said,

"You will be executed soon."

Basel nodded, signaling that he was aware of this.

The old Priest looked at Basel, then continued to ask,

"Do you have any last words? Any wishes?"

"Speak up, Basel, I will do my best to help you."

Basel shook his head, still choosing not to say anything, even until today.

Dorias hoped Basel would say something. In the past, the Poet’s stutter made every Priest impatient, including Dorias, but today, Dorias found himself hoping Basel would say something, even if it were just one word.

But Basel remained silent.

Thus, the two of them sat in silence for a long time, with no one breaking the atmosphere.

Rain poured down outside, and the King and his son had made up their minds: they wanted to execute Basel, lead the people to throw sharp stones at him, to lacerate him until he was beaten to death.

Thunder rumbled distantly.

After some time, Dorias spoke again:

"How could a man like you be accused of blasphemy?"

"Basel, don’t you have anything to defend yourself with? Why did you keep silent in the palace?"

Dorias knew very well that Basel would not answer him; his questions were nothing more than a monologue.

"Now...I...apologize to you, Basel, for the scolding you received that day in the Pattern Garden."

After saying this, Dorias fell silent again, with nothing left to say but a sigh.

After a while, the footsteps of the prison guard could be heard outside.

The time for execution had come.

Dorias suddenly realized that time was of the essence; he pressed his hands against the cell door, staring directly at Basel.

"Basel, say something!"

The old Priest’s pupils trembled as he looked at Basel, his brows furrowed, his heart tormented, his body shaking, his aged face full of entreaty.

He hoped the Poet would say something, even if those words were insults, no matter how harsh they might be.

"What are your last words, Basel, say something...

Basel, what do you want me to do for you? Anything I can do for you, I, I..."

Dorias asked Basel with a trembling voice, pleading with all his might, hoping to hear Basel’s voice.

Basel’s silence tormented Dorias deeply.

Finally, the prison guards arrived at the cell, pulled Dorias away, and amidst the sound of rain, they led Basel out of the cell.

The old Priest stood in stupefied silence inside the cell, staring at Basel...

But until Basel’s figure vanished from sight, the old Priest still had not heard a single word.

It was as if Dorias had suffered the greatest shock of his life; he bowed his head and wandered outside the cell.

Like a soulless man, he paced step by step and slowly entered the cell where Basel had been.

He could imagine Basel’s death, could envision the dawn of the next day, with scattered stones lying all around, amidst them a bloodied corpse. On this stormy night, the rain incessantly fell upon the old Priest’s heart.

Without realizing when, he had reached the depths of the cell.

A bolt of lightning cleaved through the night sky, illuminating everything around as bright as day.

Boom!

Amidst the rolling thunder, Dorias’ eyes widened.

On the deep walls, one word after another had been carved!

"I am innocent!"

Dorias shook all over as he murmured the words that had been etched above.

Unintentionally, Dorias wandered to the depths of the cell and saw the defense Basel took seven days to write.

"Why have I been sentenced to death? Because I refused to stand with those who sentenced me to death. I refused to stand with those who enslave others.

I have never desecrated God, on the contrary, I believe that the people of Logos are the children of God. Our feet tread upon the earth, looking up to the divinity on high mountains, just as Prophet Al did, and so do we.

You say, being God’s children gives us the right to enslave the Three-eyed Ape People, but aren’t the Three-eyed Ape People also human?!

Why do we please God?

The Prophet once said,

Because in this world, only we are called ’humans’.

Children of God,

Why should one group of humans plot against another group of humans?!

You are conducting another sacrifice, do you not understand?!"

Dorias’s heart trembled with the text, so powerful, so magnificent.

That was Basel’s defense against the judgment.

Only on this wall filled with text, among sentences brimming with passion, could the lesser Poet speak without stammering.

"What are you doing, people of Logos!

You are killing, you are enslaving!

Someday, one day, a whirlpool of greed will destroy this place, because you have trampled upon the laws you built, you have destroyed your last vestiges of goodness, and then, what meaning will faith have?

You are destroying what is most precious to you, and ultimately, one day, you will kill each other like beasts.

I am to meet death.

My death is insignificant, I believe I will return to God’s side.

But what about you?

When standing before God,

And God asks you why you have shed blood, why you have made sacrifices?

What will your answer be?!"

"What will we answer..."

Dorias murmured, each word sending the Priest’s soul into a tremble.

"When we die and stand before God, what will we answer?

Is this a sacrifice to God,

Is this our desire?

Basel, what on earth are we supposed to answer?!"

Thunder flickered outside the cell, the old Priest staggered as if struck, he looked at each word, blood marking the spaces between lines.

The stammering Poet,

On one wall, he forcefully carved out all his defenses, the rebuttal of a kind heart, the roar of a silent soul.

"However, it is time to leave.

I am going away, leaving you,

I am going to a place after death,

There,

Grace awaits me."

In the end,

The Poet’s fingers broke, his defense was over.

Dorias shuddered profoundly, each of his bones snapping in echo, and those words washed over his spirit.

The old Priest’s eyes glittered with tears, he knelt down,

"God,"

"What sort of man are we actually executing?!"