Chapter 154: The Man Of Absolute Faith

Chapter 154: Chapter 154: The Man Of Absolute FaithNicolau stared at the horrifying holographic projections for what felt like an eternity, the images of shriveled husks and reptilian monsters seared into his mind. Five minutes passed in thick, heavy silence, broken only by the faint hum of the command center’s unseen machinery. His initial shock began to crystallize into a grim understanding, a terrifying clarity.

He finally tore his gaze from the displays, turning back to Richard, his voice rough. "Assurances," Nicolau said, leaning forward, his eyes suddenly burning with an intensity that rivaled Richard’s. "I need assurances. Safety for my family, for the families of my men. If this... this harvest is true, then surely more will disappear. I may be a criminal in the eyes of the law, Mr. Santamo, but I am a man of principles. The reason I oppose my government, the reason I built this empire, is their corruption, their crimes. They steal from the people. I... I sell drugs to give my people money, a hope that they can eat every day. But this... this is different. There’s no reason I won’t help you now that I’ve learned the truth."

He paused, a flicker of raw vulnerability crossing his face. "Some of my men are just young men. Boys, really. If I do what you ask, if we fight other cartels... our human enemies... and now these aliens," he gestured vaguely at the holographic images, "many will die. Their blood will be on my hands. I need to know they’ll have a chance."

Richard listened, his expression unyielding, yet a subtle empathy softened his silver eyes. "You don’t have to worry about that, Mr. Nicolau," Richard said, his voice calm, reassuring. "Do you remember Ciano’s first appearance? How he fought?"

Nicolau’s brow furrowed in thought. He remembered the whirlwind of impossible strength, the way Ciano had ripped through TCP attackers, the sheer invincibility he had displayed. "Yes," he said, nodding slowly. "He is strangely... supernatural. He can easily lift heavy objects. He also seemed invincible to bullets. I always believed in supernaturals, in the legends our people tell to their kids, the old spirits of the forest. But seeing it in person... it was quite unbelievable, to be honest. More than that, it was terrifying. And fascinating."

Richard smiled, a hint of ancient wisdom in his expression. "Mr. Nicolau, what Ciano possesses, what protects him, is what your legends call an amulet. It is a belief, a long-held tradition passed down through generations, connecting to ancient spirits and energies." Richard then reached into a small, velvet pouch he’d produced from seemingly nowhere, extracting a simple, polished stone pendant on a leather thong. It felt warm to the touch. "This, Mr. Nicolau," he said, extending it, "is one of those amulets."

Nicolau cautiously took the necklace, his fingers tracing the faint, swirling symbol etched into its surface. It was intricate, almost hypnotic. He looked up at Richard, then at Ciano, who remained stoic, unblinking.

Richard nodded to Ciano. "Ciano, if you please."

Ciano, without a word, drew a pistol from his waistband. The metallic click of the safety disengaging echoed unnaturally loud in the high-tech command center. Nicolau’s eyes widened, a sudden surge of adrenaline flooding his system. He instinctively flinched, dropping the amulet. "What in the—"



BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

Three sharp reports ripped through the air. Nicolau felt three distinct impacts, like heavy blows, directly on his chest. He gasped, falling back into his chair, bracing for the searing pain, the tearing of flesh, the end. But the pain, though sharp and concussive, was not the pain of a bullet piercing his body. It was a dull, thudding ache, as if someone had hit him with a hammer.

He looked down, his eyes wide with disbelief. The bullets, now flattened and distorted, lay harmlessly on his shirt, having seemingly disintegrated upon impact, leaving only scorched fabric. He touched his chest, feeling the tender spots where the slugs had struck. It was quite painful, but he was safe. He was alive.

Nicolau stared at the flattened projectiles, then at Ciano, then at the amulet clutched in his hand. His jaw dropped. "This is... impossible," he whispered, his voice hoarse with awe. "How could this have worked?"

Richard’s smile deepened. "Like I said, Mr. Nicolau, it is a work of the spirits. An energy that protects the one who holds it. An energy that responds to something very profound within us all." He leaned closer. "For the past two months, I have spent countless hours working on symbol imprinting on objects, refining ancient techniques. And I’ve finally got it to work consistently. This amulet’s symbol attracts energy and beliefs, drawing them in for it to work. Which is also the case for the amulets and talismans back in the Philippines, and indeed, in many ancient cultures around the world. By channeling beliefs, certain energies are attracted to the symbol, thus refueling their usage. Which is why, in most cases, rituals are common."

Nicolau ran a trembling hand over the amulet. "Refueled? Rituals?" He was completely bewildered, yet utterly captivated.

"Precisely," Richard affirmed. "But Mr. Nicolau, these amulets have limited use everyday. They need to be refueled. Think of it like a battery."

Nicolau, confused, listened intently.

"Back in my hometown," Richard continued, "certain groups of mystics, of faith healers, already possess this kind of tradition and beliefs. What you see on Ciano, and what you just experienced, is an extension of that. These amulets grant protection, but not indefinitely. They will need energy for it to work again. Most of us, we refuel them through rituals, through focused prayers to the holy one, or to the spirits of the forest, or to the ancestors."

"Any strong belief works. What’s important is how strong your faith is. We humans, we have a unique resonance with the energy around us. Strong faith and beliefs attracts energies invisible to the naked eye. These amulets work by channeling our beliefs through a certain item, a certain symbol."

Richard then conjured a complex geometric symbol in the air above his desk, a shimmering, multi-layered construct of interlocking triangles and circles that pulsed with a faint, internal light. It looked like something from an ancient, alien blueprint. "A simple triangle," he said, pointing to the most basic shape within the complex projection, "is a simple energy storage unit.

"But depending on how many sides and layers, how complex the geometry, that dictates how strong it is, how long it holds energy, and how long it takes for you to understand them and develop a complex energy field around an item."

Nicolau stared at the floating symbol, then back at Richard. "So any item works fine, with the right symbol. But what I don’t understand is how beliefs and religions are connected to them. What does my faith in... in God, or the saints, have to do with stopping a bullet?"

Richard leaned forward, his silver eyes piercing, connecting. "Nicolau, when you pray, truly pray, with all your heart, do you feel that burning sensation? That sense of holiness, of connection, of power flowing through you?"

Nicolau hesitated, then nodded slowly, remembering moments of intense, desperate prayer in the depths of the jungle, or in the quiet hours before a raid. "Yes," he admitted, "I do."

"That feeling," Richard elaborated, "that energy, that is what we are talking about. Sometimes, for a religious man, doubt breaks that energy, introduces chaos, dissonance. But a truly faithful man, a man whose belief is unwavering, can utilize that energy, channel it, through a symbol, through an amulet."



"Your belief, Nicolau, is your permission slip. It’s your key to your own energy conduit, to the infinite power around us. That same feeling you get when you are closest to your God, that sacred sensation—if every man or woman were as faithful, as unwavering in their belief, they would become gods themselves. And through a symbol, one can utilize and manifest the powers of a god. Hence, this amulet."

Nicolau slumped back in his chair, the amulet clutched tightly in his hand. His mind, accustomed to the brutal realities of cartel warfare and the cold logic of profit, was now grappling with concepts that shattered his entire worldview. Gods. Energy. Bullets stopping on faith.

He looked at Ciano, then at Richard, a dawning, terrifying, yet exhilarating realization blooming in his chest. This... this is the real power. Not money. Not guns. This is something ancient, something divine. And this man... this man can wield it. And he’s offering it to me. His breath hitched as a new kind of fear, and a profound, intoxicating hope, washed over him. The world had just cracked open.

"Are your men as religious as you are?" Richard asked, his voice cutting through the lingering silence after Nicolau’s revelation.

Nicolau nodded, his gaze distant. "Yes, they are. Even when life takes a shit around us, when everything goes wrong, they never stop believing. I even order them not to work on Sundays, to spend it with God. They, too, despite our life, they never stop believing. I believe they are as faithfully strong as me, or maybe even stronger." He paused, a flicker of pride in his eyes. "They are tough men, Mr. Santamo. But they are men of God."

"Mr. Nicolau," Richard said, a glint in his silver eyes, "would you be interested in an experiment?"

"Ho- what do you mean?" Nicolau asked, his brow furrowing, a mix of apprehension and intrigue on his face. "Another one of your impossible tricks?"

"A tattoo. A mark," Richard explained, his voice low, almost a whisper that still carried perfectly in the vast chamber. "If your faith is undeterred, if it holds absolute, you will live without harm. You will die whenever you feel like it. No bullet, no blade, no Krill claw will touch you against your will."

Nicolau’s eyes widened, then a fierce resolve hardened his jaw. He began unbuttoning his polo shirt, his movements deliberate, almost reverent. "Yes, please," he said, his voice firm, tinged with a raw desire. "I would like to prove my faith to God. To see if it is truly as strong as I believe. To know that His protection can be absolute."

Lina chuckled softly behind Richard, a rare, almost imperceptible sound that was more a gentle exhalation of air than a laugh. Ciano, too, allowed a faint smile to touch his lips, his gaze fixed on Nicolau with a shared understanding.