After settling on a cautious attitude toward that phantom ocean, Silas gradually formed a plan.
He thought to himself:
"Keep getting stronger, keep learning more secrets about my transmigration, find out the origin of that sea as soon as possible.
Until then, I still need it. I can't give up ownership of it just because the True Creator is on the other side."
"The True Creator is already hating me. Even if I don't compete with Him for that sea, He won't be grateful.
He'll only take the opportunity to further attack my spirit."
Showing weakness to an enemy wouldn't bring peace.
Before Lanevus died, the True Creator had always eagerly responded to Silas's prayers.
Looking at it now, He was very likely just trying to erode Silas's consciousness as soon as possible, to make Silas become His fanatic believer and voluntarily give up ownership of that tide.
In other words, from the moment Silas transmigrated, the conflict between himself and the True Creator had already been established.
"I'm just a Sequence 5, yet I have to oppose an evil god. This is really..."
Silas couldn't help but mutter in a low voice, falling silent.
A few seconds later, the dejected expression on his face was gradually replaced by a ferocious, cold smile.
"Screw it, so what if it's an evil god?"
He said.
Even facing an evil god, he had to resist!
Resistance might not lead to victory, but if he didn't resist, after the enemy killed him, they'd still step on his head and mock his incompetence.
With his vindictive and resentful personality, Silas always felt that even if he died, he couldn't die so humiliatingly.
Even in death, he'd splash his blood all over the enemy!
"If I really reach a dead end, I'll blow it up with Him!"
"When that time comes, I'll pray to [Fool], use the collision between that deity and the tide to destroy that sea!"
Silas thought viciously.
The True Creator wanted to compete for this sea? Fine. Even if he destroyed it himself, he'd never give it to Him!
Fierce and mad expressions kept surfacing on his face until they slowly calmed down several minutes later.
"What time is it now?"
He turned to look out the window and found it was dim outside, as if evening was approaching.
Recently, as his mental condition deteriorated, he often fell into madness, regaining lucidity intermittently.
Often, with just one blink of the eyes, several days would pass.
Lanevus had been dealt with, the "Shadow Ascetic" and "Rose Bishop" potions were digested.
These were all good things, but new troubles had emerged because of his actions.
He had swallowed a portion of divinity and incurred the True Creator's hatred.
As for the Aurora Order's divine envoy in Backlund, Mr. A, he hated him to the bone.
Unlike his semi-mad self, Mr. A was a Shepherd in good condition. If they faced off, it would be very troublesome.
"I heard the Nighthawks are still hunting down the Aurora Order. I hope the Goddess blesses them and lets them catch Mr. A soon."
Silas sincerely blessed them.
He got up from the bed, enduring the chaotic, noisy voices in his head, slowly left the bedroom, and went downstairs.
First-floor living room.
Coming down the stairs, Silas saw his sister sitting in front of the fireplace, staring blankly at the burning flames.
The time had already reached mid-November, and temperatures were dropping slowly but steadily.
Cold rain mixed with fine snow fell on the ground in the East Borough, making the road conditions increasingly worse.
Often the roads were muddy during the day and frozen into ice at night.
Charitable organizations' corpse-collection carts had to pass by every few days, pulling out the frozen stiff bodies of homeless people from the East Borough to give them soul repose and burial.
The living room wasn't lit, appearing somewhat dim. The firewood in the fireplace was burning vigorously, emitting orange light and warmth.
The flames crackled, and outside there was the patter of cold rain. The black-haired girl sat before the fire hugging her knees, her azure eyes reflecting the dancing firelight.
Everything seemed so peaceful and tranquil.
Looking at his sister's figure, much of the violent energy in Silas's heart dissipated. In this cold winter, he genuinely felt at ease and warm.
"Brother, you're awake?"
The girl heard Silas's footsteps, turned to look at him, and showed a happy smile.
The warm firelight illuminated her delicate profile. Her smile was more radiant than the flames.
She stood up and came over to support Silas's arm. Because she'd been near the fireplace, her body was warm and gave off a faint smoky smell of burning wood.
"Cecilia, what were you thinking about while watching the fire?"
Silas looked at his sister, unable to help but show a smile.
Even with chaos and madness in his mind, even with an evil god's hatred hanging over his head, facing the girl who carefully cared for and loved him, facing his only relative in this world, he tried hard to show his best side.
"I was thinking we could perhaps use the fireplace to roast meat and make it today's dinner."
The girl said with a smile.
"If we roast meat, the grease will get on the carpet, and our landlady will go ballistic..." Silas laughed, smoothing out his sister's hair.
"Also, don't get too close to the fireplace. Look, your hair is a bit singed."
As he said this, he suddenly recalled his distant past life. His grandmother's house cat also liked to warm itself by the fire in winter and ended up with its face all black and sooty, but even so, it never changed its ways...
"Ah, it really is."
The girl saw her hair was a bit curled, looked a bit surprised, then said to Silas, "Brother, my hands are dusty from grabbing firewood. Could you help me tie up my hair?"
"Happy to serve the lady."
Silas emerged from his melancholy memories, said with a smile, and took the hair tie his sister handed him.
The industrialization promoted by Roselle had increased rubber production, giving the women of this world such convenient things to quickly secure their hair.
Of course, such items were mainly popular among the middle class. Upper-class noble women had ample time and personnel to arrange their hair.
Silas stood behind his sister, his fingers roughly smoothing her hair and gathering it together with his left hand.
Thus the girl's snow-white, gracefully curved nape was revealed from behind the jet-black hair, slender like a cat's.
Right, cats.
"Cecilia, do you like black cats?"
Silas asked while arranging her hair.
"I like them. I like all cats."
His sister's voice came from in front.
"That's good. I encountered a stray little black cat on the street the other day."
Silas said.
"In a few days, when my illness gets a bit better, I'll take you to find it and bring it back to raise at our place, okay?"
"Really?"
The girl's voice conveyed delight, as if she was very happy.
But because her hair was being tied, she couldn't turn around to talk to Silas, so she just twisted her shoulders, appearing somewhat eager.
"Of course."
Seeing his sister so happy, Silas couldn't help but laugh too. "It looked a bit malnourished and might even be sick. We can first go find the fat guy Darkwill and have him treat it."
"Mr. Darkwill is a Beyonder. Would he agree to treat a cat?"
"He'd be dying for us to go find him."
Silas snorted with a laugh.
The hair in his hands passed through the hair tie and was secured into a smooth bundle, falling neatly against the girl's slender back.