Becoming a God Starts with Acting-Chapter 42: [Frog] - The Prophet’s Part (17)

"For the sacrifice to succeed, a human must die."

Silas’ heavy voice rang out, plunging the entire space into near silence.

They had to survive the sacrifice, but for it to be successful, a human life was required. That meant one of them wouldn’t be leaving this place... Things were growing more dire—no one wanted to be sacrificed.

[Honestly, whether the sacrifice succeeds or not, the monster will still appear... High-level dungeons never give humans an easy way out.]

[That’s right, but if they don’t perform the sacrifice, they won’t even complete the mission of surviving through it. They won’t have a chance to leave at all. This dungeon is cruel... I love it, hahaha!]

[Exactly! Just thinking about these humans tearing each other apart to decide who gets sacrificed makes my blood boil excitedly!]

[Silas probably regrets not saving those two Dark Espers earlier. If they were still human, they could’ve been used as sacrifices! After all, the ordinary people outside wouldn’t care if Dark Espers were the ones being offered up.]

[Silas always considers everyone else. Please don’t talk about him like he’s some villain.]

[Hahaha, anyone who’s a hypocrite knows it themselves. He could see the fates of the weak ones. He must have known Robert and Ely’s outcome from the start, but he did nothing. Stop putting Silas on a pedestal, haha.]

Silvanus silently read the comments, his gaze drifting toward Silas. The man’s eyes were tightly shut, his slightly long black hair making him look gloomy. Silvanus hadn’t expected Silas’ abilities to be this terrifying. He was undoubtedly an exceptional support, the mastermind of a perfect team. It made complete sense that his name was placed alongside Drake’s.

Drake suddenly pointed behind him and casually said, "Just use him. He’s going to die anyway, isn’t he?"

Robert, the one Drake had pointed at, flinched so hard he fell onto the ground. Instinctively, he scrambled backward, his face—mottled with patches of frog-like skin—twisted in sheer terror.

The patches of frog skin had fully transformed, blending seamlessly with his body, as if he had been born that way. Worse still, they were spreading at an alarming rate. By now, the frog skin covered more of him than his human skin, sticky and repulsive.

He might become a monster by tomorrow—just as the Prophet had foretold.

"No! You can’t do this! You’re government officials! There are countless people across the continent watching us! How could you even think of doing something like this?!"

Robert trembled as he protested, his bloodshot eyes revealing the immense fear and pressure he had endured.

Drake curled his lips into a mocking smirk. "Do you even have the right to criticize us? Why don’t you tell everyone what you’ve done? Consider it an honor to sacrifice yourself for humanity!"

The way Drake was acting... At this moment, he seemed more like a villain than any actual villain out there—a pure lunatic with no cause, no justification.

Robert shuddered, his gaze darting desperately to the others, especially the Prophet.

But the Prophet lowered his eyes and said, "We can’t use him. He’s no longer human."

Robert froze, staring at the Prophet in disbelief. He had known this outcome all along, yet hearing the Prophet say it again shattered the last shred of hope he clung to. He plunged into despair and roared, "No, that’s impossible! I’m still human! I’m still human! As long as we leave this dungeon on time, nothing will happen! You guys need to think of something—you’re the strongest, right?! We have to get out of here, and we have to leave this place!"

His frantic screams were now louder than the incessant croaking of the frogs outside. Even his voice had begun to change—it was louder, more resonant, like a frog calling endlessly in the dark. As his hysteria grew, the patches of frog skin spread even faster across his body. Yet Robert seemed oblivious to his transformation, continuing to scream madly.

"Tie him up," Silas ordered.

Austin stepped forward immediately, swiftly restraining Robert. Strangely, despite usually being powerless against Austin, Robert now seemed unusually strong. Austin had to exert considerable effort to subdue him.

Even so, Robert kept thrashing, writhing like an enormous cocoon. His eyes slowly turned a bright, unnatural red, and thick mucus dribbled from his mouth. He refused to accept that he was becoming a monster, but he was already one.

It was clear now—they honestly couldn’t use him anymore. Drake knew that he wasn’t the only one feeling regret about this. Silas was undoubtedly thinking the same thing. After all, they couldn’t sacrifice themselves, nor could they casually kill someone else.

"I... I can..."

At that moment, a frail voice broke the tense silence.

A small figure stood off to the side—July. She hesitantly raised one hand, her face still timid yet filled with more courage than ever before.

Alice frowned, speaking lowly, "This isn’t something to joke about. If you take part in the sacrifice, you’ll die for sure. We don’t need anyone to sacrifice themselves yet!"

She spoke firmly, but deep down, she knew how difficult this was. Someone had to die—there was no way around it. Yet she couldn’t accept losing someone like this.

July looked at Alice and smiled, tears glistening in her eyes. "I know my abilities are weak. The only reason I’ve survived through countless dungeons is pure luck. Even if I volunteer, I wouldn’t be of much use. My powers are practically useless—I can only give myself courage. When I entered this dungeon, I was certain I was going to die. But thanks to all of you, I’ve made it this far. I’m grateful... So if someone has to be sacrificed, let it be me."

Her voice was filled with unwavering determination. Even without activating her abilities, she had never been braver.

The others fell silent. No one wanted to admit it, but this seemed the best option.

Damian covered his face, murmuring helplessly, "Is there no other way...?"

"There is. We still have another way."

The Prophet’s calm voice rang out, startling everyone.

All eyes turned toward him in shock.

The Prophet, sitting quietly in the corner like a phantom, was now standing. His gaze was unreadable as if everything that had just transpired hadn’t affected him. Yet the words he spoke carried an earth-shattering weight.

"There’s another way? Then why the hell didn’t you say so sooner?! Do you enjoy watching people suffer? You don’t even look the slightest bit moved after all this!"

Drake lunged forward, grabbing the Prophet’s shoulders and shaking him furiously. But the Prophet remained perfectly still, his expression utterly emotionless.

Drake didn’t want to admit it—but July’s words had shaken him. Even the most minor, most fragile lives could still contribute to the world’s future peace.

"Enough! When are you going to stop being so damn rude?!" Alice shouted, rushing in to pry Drake away from the Prophet.

Even Silas spoke up. "Show respect to the divine, Drake."

Drake’s expression darkened, his gaze ice-cold. But what infuriated him the most was the Prophet’s reaction—he looked at Drake, curled his lips into a mocking smirk, and said, "You should learn a thing or two from your comrades."

Drake: "..."