Becoming a God Starts with Acting-Chapter 189: Asta’s Meaningful Life

The words spoken by the esper outside the temple left Frank and the others momentarily stunned.

Reacting at lightning speed, Fiona dashed out and grabbed the message-bearing esper, asking repeatedly, "What did you say? Is the captain still alive? Is that true? This isn’t something you can joke about!"

It wasn’t their fault for being skeptical. After all, Drake had failed to leave the dungeon before it closed, which was a clear sign of death. More than two days had passed—any lingering hope had already given way to utter despair.

Frank and Ron quickly followed, their eyes locked onto the esper.

The esper couldn’t help but feel the pressure, then reaffirmed his statement, "It’s true. He suddenly appeared at the Prophet’s shrine. He’s still there right now!"

Without saying anything, Fiona released him and sprinted straight for the Prophet’s shrine, leaving Frank and Ron behind.

"Did you hear that, Frank? Drake is alive! Captain Drake is still alive!"

Frank was momentarily caught off guard by Ron’s excited outburst.

He turned to look and saw an unusually radiant smile lighting up Ron’s usually expressionless face. It was as if even the sun shone brighter in celebration of this joyful news for the entire continent.

Frank couldn’t help but smile as well. He nodded and said, "Yes, this isn’t a dream."

Ron wasn’t much slower than Fiona, and they both arrived quickly at the Prophet’s shrine.

The shrine was grand—fitting for the first god who helped humanity.

After the news of Drake’s death—rumored to be caused by the Prophet—spread across the continent, there had been no shortage of public dissatisfaction. Some had even tried to cause trouble at the shrine, only to be met with harsh government penalties and imprisonment.

Now, outside and within the shrine, a large crowd of the Prophet’s believers had gathered.

They wore black cloaks, each embroidered with a golden eye on the back that shimmered under the sunlight—strikingly contrasting the shrine’s white-dominant architecture.

They were all kneeling, heads tilted at a forty-five-degree angle, eyes closed, praying reverently.

Anyone entering the space instinctively kept silent.

At the front, Drake’s powerful voice rang out:

"I, the Prophet’s foremost believer, have returned to prove a truth: that the Prophet is the greatest, the strongest god! The one who will lead humanity to the end of this war. Follow the Prophet, and you will receive only true blessings—no false promises! I died and came back to life, and I vow to spread the Prophet’s faith across the entire continent!"

His voice was full of conviction—it was unclear how many speeches he had given since his return. His face was bright and full of life, completely different from the usually irritable and unstable version of himself.

The believers kneeling on the ground even trembled with emotion, their expressions more devout than ever.

On the floor were cameras, and drones broadcast the entire event above them. After all, even spreading religion had to be modernized in this era.

"I’m not dreaming, right?" Fiona couldn’t help but mumble.

Then came a pained whisper from beside her—Ron:

"Why did you pinch me?!"

He dared not raise his voice, fearing the believers might retaliate if disturbed.

But the pain proved it wasn’t a dream. Their captain had truly returned. Though... he seemed more obsessed with his god than ever before.

Suppose he had previously been like a clueless elementary school kid who didn’t know how to express himself. He fully leveraged his status as the Prophet’s top believer in that case.

In a pitch-black room, the green glow of a screen lit up half of Leonard’s face, most of it hidden beneath his hair.

He bit his lip, his hands digging into each other—bloody scratches forming without him noticing. On the screen was the scene of Drake’s grand sermon.

"No, no, no, this can’t be happening! How could this happen? The more handsome Nerio is, the kinder and stronger he is—he’s the strongest god! At this rate, the Prophet’s believers will surpass his. Nerio won’t be happy. I can’t let him be unhappy—this is not okay, not okay at all! These humans are so fickle, going wherever the wind blows. They can’t even see who’s truly the best. Nerio is perfect. Perfect. Way more perfect than anyone else!"

Leonard kept muttering nonstop, looking borderline unstable. His eyes seemed to glow a bright red. Even his assistant, standing nearby, couldn’t help but shiver.

Only she knew just how deeply devoted her company president was to Nerio—it had reached an obsessive level, a compulsion to see Nerio take the lead. On the surface, he always acted timid and strange, but behind the scenes, he constantly pushed to recruit more believers for Nerio. The selection criteria were strict, but the benefits were nothing to scoff at either.

Compared to Drake, who had only ever expressed disdain for his position, Leonard was a top-tier believer worthy of the title. Thanks to him, Nerio’s believer base was nearly double that of the Prophet’s. freewēbnoveℓ.com

But now, after this incident, it seemed like the Prophet’s popularity would explode—like a full-blown phenomenon.

To Leonard, that was utterly unacceptable.

Sometimes, even the assistant felt powerless. Honestly, it is evident to anyone that Nerio didn’t pay much attention to Leonard. He even seemed amused by his suffering. And yet Leonard, like a dog—no, a mad dog—only grew more loyal the more he was beaten down.

"Expand Nerio’s believer recruitment! And, of course, they must truly believe in him! I want to spread Nerio’s power worldwide—I won’t let those people surpass him!"

Leonard roared, then returned to his endless muttering.

Given his orders, the assistant took a long breath and quickly exited the room. The bright sunlight outside instantly made it easier to breathe. It’s the middle of the day... how did the president make the entire room pitch-black like that?!

"A bunch of fanatics..."

On the street, broadcasts were playing news about Drake’s return, loaded with praise for the Prophet—practically elevating him to the heavens.

But didn’t the Prophet nearly kill everyone not long ago? A young man took a bite of his sandwich, deep in thought.

He had bright red hair and sharp amber eyes full of spirit. Though only 1.7 meters tall, he wasn’t scrawny—his build radiated strength, and every movement carried an easygoing flair. Combined with a handsome and well-known face, he naturally drew attention on the street.

Asta is renowned as the strongest free esper on the continent. He wasn’t affiliated with any organization, had no fixed teammates, and had cleared numerous dungeons before they even started mutating. He cleared some dungeons alone, a testament to his incredible ability.

"Asta, are you coming to hang out with us tonight?"

Suddenly, a flirtatious voice called out.

It came from a stunning young woman with chestnut hair and sky-blue eyes. Her outfit was especially revealing.

A strapless top showed off her deep cleavage, highlighting her massive H-cup chest. Below, she wore a tight black mini skirt—so short it barely covered anything.

Her high heels made her already long legs appear even more elegant. Her honey-toned skin glowed sweetly under the sun. Any partygoer would immediately recognize her—Ariana, the owner of the capital’s most famous underground bar.

The serious expression on Asta’s face instantly melted into a dazed look. He locked eyes on Ariana, as if literal hearts popped into his pupils.

"Aaaaah, I’m coming right now!!"

Asta let out a high-pitched squeal, voice shrill with excitement. He threw his arms wide and leaped forward, burying his entire face into Ariana’s massive chest, rubbing back and forth with glee.

This feeling... this life... this is truly meaningful!

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