I am God LSLCCF

Chapter 107: The Conditions for Opening the Door to Godʼs Realm

Stan Tito had another dream. In it, he found himself in a grand palace, carving in a corner.

This place was a manifestation of his will and spirit. He preferred solitude away from the bustle of the world, enjoying the quiet to do his own work.

This was his place of peace, his spiritual home.

Compared to before, his dream now contained not only ancient scriptures but also many of his own works.

He stood before his unfinished work, “The Marionette of Fate,” tools in hand.

The craftsman looked up at his incomplete creation.

“A dream!” he exclaimed. “Could it be… a dream spirit?”

“The being who witnessed the great poet’s audience with God.”

In his hazy state, Stan Tito had a sudden flash of insight. He finally remembered who he had seen before, even recalling their name, the sacred name recorded in the “Final Chapter.”

“Hila?”
As soon as he called out, the entire dreamscape changed.

With the sound of his voice, ripples of golden light spread outward, and an ethereal dream door opened above.

Stan Tito turned to look outside.

A dream spirit, enveloped in fantastical starlight, a breathtakingly beautiful mythical being, descended into his dream.

She wore a dazzling golden robe adorned with sun, stars, and divine dreams. Her bright golden hair danced in the air.

Finally, like a falling petal, she alighted before Stan Tito.

“Marionette named Stan,” she said.

“Were you looking for me?”

Stan Tito gazed at her, mesmerized.

He had guessed, but never imagined it could all be true.

Long, long ago, he had been noticed by God’s messenger.

This was a being who stood alongside the Mother of Life, Shelly, at God’s side.

“It really is you, God’s messenger, the dream spirit who wields the power of creation.”

“Hila, the divine messenger standing at God’s right hand.”

The dream spirit smiled. “God is the great one. I am merely a spirit basking in God’s light.”

After a long moment, Stan Tito finally processed the dream spirit’s earlier form of address.

He laughed self-deprecatingly and explained.

“Noble and holy messenger of God, I am not a marionette.”

“Though my name means ‘stone tablet,’ I am not merely a reproduction of others’ tablets, but can also become a tablet for carving my own works.”

“I can drift with the river of fate, but I can also leap out of the water according to my own will.”

The dream spirit asked him, “Have you mastered your own fate?”

“Or rather, do you understand the meaning and purpose of your life?”

Stan Tito shook his head. “I have not yet fully grasped the realm of the great poet, but I have come to understand many things.”

The spirit examined him closely. “Indeed, you are different. You have changed.”

Dream spirit Hila smiled and said, “Is this what Tito meant by the heart transforming through trials?”

“Well then!”

“Why did you call for me? What do you wish to do?”

The spirit asked Tito.

Although somewhat rushed, Stan Tito had many questions that had long existed in his mind.

What he wanted to know most was the secret left behind by the great poet Tito. Would God truly bestow upon the Trilobite Men the power to create everything?

“Divine messenger,” he asked earnestly, “if we open the door to God’s realm, will we receive God’s blessing?”

The dream spirit told him, “There is no key to open the door to God’s realm. The so-called ‘Final Chapter’ in your possession merely records the story of Tito’s life.”

“Whether God bestows the power of creation depends on how you choose.”

“Only when the Trilobite Men give up the power of destruction will the door to God’s realm open.”

“Hope and light will descend upon the world, and the power of dreams and creation will usher in a new era.”

The divine messenger vanished from his dream, and Stan Tito opened his eyes, awakening.

He sat up and looked out the window.

The moon was eternal, the waves unceasing.

“Only by abandoning destruction can we create light.” —

At the seaside cottage.

King Henir’s envoy arrived, finally meeting Stan Tito.

But Stan Tito was completely different from a few years ago. Now he had inherited the great poet’s power and legacy. In the realm of the Trilobite Men, apart from the king who controlled the beast’s power, few could be more powerful than him.

This change was evident not just in his appearance, but in his demeanor as well. He had grown more mature, steadier, and more self-assured.

He was once high above others in God-Servant City, called the Child of Fortune, but it gave people a sense of emptiness and frivolity, as if floating in midair.

Now, though he had lost his former status, people felt he possessed more.

He sat quietly by the sea, truly like a giant rock standing by the ocean, blocking the surging waves.

It seemed that no matter how the huge waves crashed, he would remain unmoved.

Henir’s voice transmitted from the speech bug on the envoy’s shoulder, directly reaching Stan Tito’s mind.

“The war is about to end.”

“The centuries of infighting, killing, and attrition among the Royal Bloodline will finally come to an end. The glory of Yinsai will be restored.”

“If you return,” Henir continued, “you’ll still be the Child of Fortune. I’ve kept the position of God’s attendant in the Sky Temple open for you.”

He came to see this old friend, and also to show off and boast about his achievements.

Stan Tito didn’t turn around, focusing only on his stone carving.

“I know you didn’t kill Her Majesty the Queen, but you stood by and watched her die without intervening.”

“You have no loyalty, only ambition and greed in your heart.”

Henir was unconcerned: “I’ve heard such words many times. What of ambition and greed? What of schemes and tricks?”

“These things I cannot wash away, nor do I intend to try.”

“Let them talk. I am who I am, and I am King Henir.”

“As long as I can surpass other kings and achieve the unprecedented, no one will care about these things.”

“Come back, Stan Tito.”

“I am the king, and you are God’s spokesperson. Together, we will create a new era.”

Stan Tito remained immersed in his work, ignoring Henir.

After a long while, he finally stopped his carving knife.

“Why must you choose me?”

“Hasn’t the other branch of the Tito family always wanted to become the inheritor of the saint’s will?”

Henir’s voice suddenly changed, turning to mockery and disdain.

“Because,” Henir sneered, “they are unworthy.”

Stan Tito turned around. “And am I worthy?”

Henir nodded. “Of course, you are worthy of the name of the saint’s descendant, because you are the one who truly inherited the will and power of the great poet.”

Stan Tito didn’t answer, but suddenly asked Henir a completely unrelated question.

“Are you willing to give up the power of the beasts?”

Henir was taken aback, feeling this question was so familiar.

“This question…” Henir mused. “God’s messenger once asked me the same thing.”

Stan Tito turned his head, asking with concern.

“How did you answer?”

Henir: “I refused.”

Stan Tito looked at Henir, perplexed. “Do you know?”

“Your refusal may have given up the future of the Trilobite Men.”

Henir told Stan Tito: “I can’t see the future. I only know to seize the present.”

Stan Tito withdrew his gaze and resumed carving his work.

“You might reunify Yinsai and achieve great things, perhaps even becoming a king as renowned as Yesael of old.”

“But I see no hope or light in you.”

Henir was even more confused: “Isn’t being comparable to King Yesael enough?”

Stan Tito let out a low laugh. “For a king, it’s enough.”

“But for the Trilobite Men, for the descendants of Redlichia, for our civilization.”

“It’s not enough!”

“Far from enough.”

Stan Tito stretched out his hand, looking towards the sea.

“The world is moving forward, the river of time flows on.”

“Why are we alone standing still?”

“The civilization created by King Redlichia, could it have already become the setting sun in his son Yesael’s era?”

“I don’t believe it.”

“This is not what King Redlichia would want to see.”

Henir said no more. He felt the Stan Tito before him had completely changed.

He once greatly admired Stan Tito, thinking they would become friends, but now he felt the other was different. He even saw the shadow of the great poet in him.

That was…

The existence known as a saint.

As the power of the divine technique faded, Henir’s voice slowly dissipated.

“You truly are different now. You are no longer a marionette, nor the Child of Fortune.”

“Someone like you won’t remain here as a craftsman forever.”

“I will be waiting for you… at the Sky Temple.”