Black mist descends, and I and the witches take refuge in the dungeon.

After saying those words, the old priest turned and walked into the church.

"Do you want me to keep apologizing? That's really disrespectful to an elderly person. Please come and help me, considering my age."

Under the illumination of the soul lamp, his hunched back cast a long shadow, making him appear extremely thin.

Mil stood there, watching the old priest's back, then turned his head to look at Andre Bell.

No matter what, he listened to Anderbel.

Even if Andrebel wanted to leave now, he would agree.

As for things under the Vatican, they can come in any way they want.

At that moment, Anderbel met Mil's gaze, her eyes slightly red.

Then, Andreber gently tugged at Ramil's sleeve and whispered:

"I...I know you did this for me, but...but honestly, please don't do it again next time. Put yourself first. I'm used to that kind of thing. Don't let something like this..."

Mil nodded, interrupting Andrei directly:

"Okay, I understand. Next time you get yelled at, I'll just turn around and walk away. No... that's not a good idea. I'll just keep my head down and stay silent."

Having said that, Mil, carrying the soul lamp, followed in the footsteps of the old priest, also pulling Andrebel along.

Upon hearing this, Andre Bell was taken aback for a moment, then, thinking of his own words, felt a mixture of helplessness and...warmth in his heart.

"real?"

"It's more genuine than my faith in the Goddess of Light, and more genuine than the alchemist's Gate of Truth."

The old priest coughed:

"Cough cough, saying such things in a place like this, I really want to pour holy water on you two. Also, I work part-time as an alchemist. After this black mist incident, I will definitely send you to the Alchemist Guild so you can train properly."

"Can a priest do this as a side job?"

"Faith can't put food on the table. The monthly salary from the Vatican is very low. After all, he's a priest, and it's not good to take too much. Besides, the empire's finances don't allow it. If he doesn't do some side work, he'll starve to death. Where will he get the money for charity?"

The old priest answered Mil's question directly, constantly challenging Mil's preconceived notions about the Vatican.

"This... is really different from what I imagined the Vatican to be."

The old priest smiled and continued:

"What? Your impression of the Vatican is that it's all show and no substance, that it helps civilians just to win people over, and that it's actually done a lot of bad things behind the scenes, and that it's just a bunch of mindless fanatics, right?"

Mir didn't speak, he just nodded.

The old priest sighed, and then said:

"If my impression is correct, they all exist, but most of them are good people. Otherwise, the Goddess of Light would have fallen from her divine position long ago. Alright, let's not talk about that. Come and cook me some porridge. There are less than 200 living people left in Norton Town now."

But feeding 200 people daily is a burden even for an old man like me to bear alone.

Looking at the old priest's hunched back, Mil continued to ask:

"Where's that female believer who was with you earlier? Wasn't she quite young and strong?"

The old priest took off his white robe and slowly said:

"Rennie, she led the rest of the people out to rescue the remaining survivors, and brought back some food. Thank you for your hard work, it's so dangerous out there."

Mil paused for a moment, then continued:

"The black fog outside is so thick, there's almost no one alive here."

"Yes, the Soul Lamp on the other side of Norton Town's walls protected the town for a period of time. Of the two hundred people here, only a little over 160 were originally there; the rest were all rescued by Renee."

Mil didn't say anything, he just picked up the axe and started chopping wood and adding fuel to the fire.

"It's not worth it, that's what you're thinking, right?"

The old priest stirred the porridge and suddenly asked Mil a question.

"It's not quite right to say that, it's too inhumane, but purely from a rational point of view, yes."

The old priest did not answer immediately; he turned to Andrebel and continued to ask:

"And you, Miss Witch, do you think so too?"

"I'll listen to my husband."

"That won't do. Women should have their own independent opinions."

The old priest smiled and shook his head, then continued:

"Those bastards outside have done a lot of smearing of the Vatican, but how should I put it, there are still quite a few people in the Vatican who are willing to do things."

Furthermore, we ourselves know perfectly well whether it's worth it or not, but if even we don't care, then who will?

Besides, we joined the church precisely because of this kind of foolish naivety and kindness.

What kind of person would you be if you didn't put your beliefs into practice?

The old priest coughed, choked by the smoke from the burning paper.

"You brat, find some dry firewood, you've got to use damp stuff. Are you trying to turn me into smoked meat by the time you finish cooking this meal?"

Hearing the old priest's accusation, Mil's face turned red. He had been so engrossed in listening to the old priest that he had carelessly tossed a few wet pieces of wood aside.

Anderbel smiled and quickly handed over some dry wood to ease Mil's embarrassment.

"As for what happened here, I actually don't know myself."

The old priest wiped the dust from his face, his expression calm, and continued:

"After the black fog arrived, according to our initial estimates, it shouldn't have been this strong."

At least, the Soul Lamp in front of Norton Town should have been able to keep the town safe for more than two days, but in reality, it went out in less than half a day.

This disrupted the refugee evacuation process, resulting in heavy casualties.

To ensure that ordinary people could successfully enter the Holy See, the paladins formed a line and went to fight against the black mist.

They didn't even carry soul lamps; they just poured some holy water on themselves.

Well, its effect is barely noticeable.

However, the burning flame of faith, fueled by their own lives, slowed the progress of the black fog to some extent, maintaining the safety of this small area for a few minutes.

However, that's how it ended.

Hanging on the cross is my disciple, Leos.

The old priest spoke these words with little fluctuation in his tone, as if he were talking about something that had nothing to do with him.

"It's very similar to your name, so you must be more than just a disciple."

"Yes, he's my son too, but that's not important."

"Feel sorry......"

Mir lowered his head apologetically.

The old priest did wipe his face, his face crinkling with smiles:

"What are you apologizing for? This is the legendary way an archangel dies. Maybe my son is already an archangel in heaven."

Alright, let's not talk about that anymore. The rice porridge is ready. Come with me. After I distribute the food, I'll continue to talk to you about the rest.

This black fog is truly extraordinary.

Mir nodded, took a packet of fine salt from his pocket, and threw it into the rice porridge.

"What is that?"

"Salt."

"Such beautiful salt?"

"Would you like to try some?"