Elias shook his head dismissively: "That ritual is for outsiders; this mark is already on your body, so we need a different method."
However, he turned around, his hollow eye sockets directed toward the corpse of the little boy Gary lying cold in the corner, and the faint soul of the boy hovering beside it with a bewildered expression.
"Perhaps, you can help Gary fulfill his final wish. That will be the key."
"His wish..." Alex repeated this word softly, looking toward the small soul: "Do you mean the reason he refuses to reincarnate?"
"Correct. Obsession is the source of power."
Elias considered the situation for a moment, deciding to reveal to Alex some basic knowledge about the identity he was about to acquire.
"Alex, you are about to become an extraordinary person, crossing the boundary of ordinary people. Even if you do not achieve this supernatural power through the traditional method of drinking potions or praying, many rules of this world still apply generally to you."
Alex listened attentively, swallowing every single word; for him, these were completely fresh pieces of information, opening a door to another world he had never truly seen.
"This mark originates from the Shadow Realm," Elias said, his voice lowering significantly: "That is the divine kingdom of The Goddess of Darkness, where light cannot touch."
Alex revealed an expression of extreme astonishment.
The Goddess of Darkness, the taboo name. That was the only Orthodox God who could directly compare with the mighty existence of The Goddess of Light whom the church worshipped.
The two deities governing the two extremes of the world could be said to be sworn enemies since primordial times.
The concept of the divine kingdom related too deeply to the essence of the universe; Elias worried it would cause discomfort and mental pollution to Alex, so he spoke cursorily with only a few sentences about this concept.
He continued: "I cannot judge who exactly in the Shadow Realm this mark originates from." The Goddess of Darkness held too many strange and mysterious authorities; the Shadow Realm under Her rule also assumed the responsibility of guiding the souls of the dead. Besides ordinary people, it was hard to avoid having some extraordinary beings hiding within it.
No one could say clearly how many deities existed in this vast world, nor judge how many strange authorities were existing in parallel.
Alex was naturally able to see souls and had a strange affinity with the undead; this was enough to support him in trying to become a Necro-Speaker.
Elias admitted to himself that he made such a choice having his own private motives.
As an angel holding the authority of war, the destructive power he held was also related to a part of death and ruin.
If Alex chose to become a Necro-Speaker, Elias could provide the best guidance. Even if one day the true master of the mark awakened and wanted to take back this mark, he could also rely on his authority of death to contend with Her for a bout, protecting Alex.
Moreover, this path perhaps could achieve some matters that other paths could not, for example, helping him recover his strength faster.
"Necro-Speaker?" Alex heard the strange word uttered from Elias's mouth; he muttered the translation to himself: "Consorting with corpses?"
"Fine then," he answered without hesitation, his eyes determined: "Isn't the work I am currently doing exactly consorting with corpses? I have been doing this since the moment I learned to walk."
The job of a Corpse Collector was transporting, enshrouding, and burying unclaimed corpses in the city every single day. The scent of death had soaked deep into his flesh and bones.
Alex was too familiar with corpses to realize the worry hidden in Elias's words.
"Alex," Elias continued to explain, his tone serious: "It is not like you imagine. It is much more dangerous."
"Huh?" Alex did not understand, tilting his head in query.
"A Necro-Speaker is indeed related to the dead," Elias spoke slowly and deliberately: "Their power is to command corpses to stand up and fight, and to control souls to serve themselves. That is blasphemy against rest."
"In the eyes of the public and the Church, this type of power is certainly evil and filthy. Therefore, Necro-Speakers are listed by major churches, especially the Luminous Church, as heresies needing to be purged. If discovered, you will be hunted down." Elias voiced his worry clearly: "Becoming a Necro-Speaker means that for a very long time, you must hide your identity, living a life skedaddling in the darkness, never allowed to reveal yourself under the sunlight."
Alex fell silent; the space in the room seemed to freeze. A Necro-Speaker was indeed a bit different and more terrifying than his simple imagination.
"Am I not currently living a life of hiding and being shunned by people?" He lowered his voice, laughing bitterly at the irony.
"I know you are worrying about me," Alex looked at Elias, his gaze sincere: "I already said, I am not afraid of death, I am only afraid of living without a purpose. You are an angel; perhaps you do not understand my destitute situation, nor understand my desperate mood when turned away by the whole world."
Alex took a deep breath, the moldy smell of the old house rushing into his nose.
"This is an opportunity, a once-in-a-thousand-years opportunity to change fate. I consider it a rare gift of destiny for an unfortunate person like me."
"I am a Corpse Collector; every day I come into contact with the dead. Among these bodies, there are too many people with no name, no status; they die by the roadside, under bridges; no matter how they end up, no one cares. Such people, vanishing without anyone detecting it—are they not very suitable for me to use?"
A Corpse Collector with no place to rely on, no family, abandoned by society—Alex truly could not think of anyone more suitable to become a Necro-Speaker operating in the darkness than himself.
"Alex," Elias sensed the intense emotional fluctuation of the young man; he called his name, his voice deep and warm.
"I am fine," Alex said, trying to suppress the choking in his throat: "I just feel I am too suitable. Truly, too suitable to the point of being ridiculous."
"Alex," Elias stood up, the shadow of the skeleton stretching long and distorted on the wall: "Becoming the minority is not scary. Power has no fault; leaning toward good or leaning toward evil is your own choice."
"Do not be sad because you are not accepted. Solitude is the price of power."
The scarf-wearing teenager raised his head, his eyes red. Elias understood the real reason making him sad.
Because after this white skeleton appeared, the boy had pretended to be strong like that time and again; even though finding all sorts of logical reasons to justify his feelings, he still could not deceive Elias.
That was right, he was a deity. How many petty thoughts of humans could escape the eyes of a deity?