Chapter 328: When Divine Matters Are Uncertain, Consult [Order] |
Beneath the Prosperity Divine Shade, the alliance was sealed. Above the Canopy Sea, the God War reached its conclusion.
[Prosperity] lost. She was disrupted by [Chaos], bound by [Fate], slandered by [Folly], and finally imprisoned by [Truth].
In this divine battle invisible to mortals, She grew weaker with every exchange, yet no ally ever appeared. And so, isolated and without recourse, [Prosperity] surrendered at the war's end, resigning Herself to being sealed within Her own domain by [Truth].
Redundant cosmic laws and intricate universal truths were forged into chains that cleansed divinity, each one piercing through [Prosperity]'s God Body, binding Her to the tower of essence that [Truth] had constructed for this purpose.
From this moment on, She was no longer the crescendo of [Life] nor the abundance of the spirit—She was [Civilization]'s prisoner, a withered slave.
According to the Pact of Gods, when one of the signatory deities is trapped and deprived of freedom, Their Envoy holds the right to inherit the true god's Authority.
Thus, when [Truth] achieved the anticipated victory, He stood atop the Canopy Sea before all the gods and used [Truth]'s methods to extract the bloodline from the utterly defenseless Barren Walker, Eposka, and graft it into His own body.
Life, biology, heredity, grafting—every one of these was His specialty. And so Eposka died. No—it should be said that Dizel died. All that remained of Him was the soul sealed within the Gift of Sores, while His body—or rather, His identity—had been stolen by [Truth].
A "Dizel" still existed in the world, but He was no longer [Prosperity]'s second child, because a different god now occupied that role.
"Brilliant. Truly brilliant. Willing to become [Prosperity]'s son for the sake of merging faiths—how very [Truth] of you. After all, truth is about achieving the most complex goals through the simplest means."
"I'm starting to admire you."
A pair of eyes painted with spirals and starpoints opened beside the white ones, and their tone was icy:
"[Truth] has already taken the first step down His path. And you? When does your grand plan begin?"
"Stay away from me, [Fate]. Don't let your [Misfortune] rub off on me."
"You want a fight?"
"Crude. Irritable. Utterly devoid of logic."
"I was merely expressing my feelings. If you want a fight, go find [War]. I see He's been lurking in the back watching for quite some time now. Perhaps He's already itching to join in."
A pair of heterochromatic eyes swirling with blood and fire fell silent upon hearing this. After a moment, a low, hollow voice rumbled:
"...The Pact... must not... be violated..."
"Tch—I'd truly love to know where that courage went—the courage you had when you and [Order] were purging the universe and marching into the Sea of Desire."
"Don't tell me you ended up the same as [Order]—defeated in the Sea of Desire, torn to shreds by endless wants?"
"Hm? Are you [Fear (War)] or [Shut-In (War)]?"
"..."
No god responded to that. No one could endure [Folly]'s relentless mockery. The gods despised Him, and few bothered engaging.
But just then, another pair of eyes painted with spirals and starpoints opened before the heterochromatic eyes of blood and fire. The moment they appeared, they grinned at the war god:
"If you have reservations, why not follow behind me? I'll lead the charge, and we'll take down that foul mouth together. What say you?"
The instant those words landed, even the white eyes radiating endless derision clamped shut.
In any place where [Deceit] was present, no god was willing to engage with Him either.
Before long, more and more eyes opened above the Canopy Sea.
[Life] sent two, but neither offered any comment on [Prosperity]'s defeat.
[Descent] had only one representative, who was still lamenting not having been able to get a piece of the action during the battle.
[Truth] was still mid-fusion. [War] was meek and mousy. [Chaos] had shown up in full force, but had now fallen entirely silent.
From [Existence], only [Memory] was present—[Time] seemingly never appeared at these kinds of affairs.
And the great [Void]? One watched coldly from the sidelines. The other only knew how to giggle.
Once [Truth] completed His fusion on the divine level, He began to seek inheritance rights to [Prosperity]'s Authority under the Pact.
And at that very moment—just when the gods assumed the matter was settled—[Deceit] spoke up. He appeared beside [Truth] with a playful grin, His voice dripping with "sincerest apology":
"Sorry, bookworm, but you're not the only one who can inherit [Prosperity]'s Authority. I've got a claim too."
At these words, the eyes of every god darkened.
No one wanted [Deceit] to grow stronger. Other gods might exercise caution and restraint due to this concern or that, but not Him. He only ever pleased Himself.
For the sake of entertainment, there was nothing He wouldn't do.
So when [Deceit] uttered those words, every god except [Fate] furrowed their brows.
[Truth] seemed to have anticipated interference, and so He stepped aside, gesturing for [Deceit] to go first.
Seeking an inheritance of Authority under the Pact was not a matter of mere words. All rulings pertaining to the Pact required Justice—[Order]—to appear in person and exercise judgment according to the rules.
[Truth]'s meaning was clear: He was certain [Deceit] could not convince Justice, because He bore not a single thread of connection to [Prosperity]. Without a connection, there was no grounds to inherit [Prosperity]'s Authority.
And just as the gods were cautiously watching [Deceit], waiting to see what sort of entertainment He was engineering this time, He did something unexpected—He summoned Justice before anyone else could.
A set of Scales, sketched from starlight and luminous streams, materialized before the gods. The instant it appeared, the universe resounded with a rigid, booming voice woven from countless intertwined rules.
All of spacetime began to boil. The Canopy Sea sank infinitely, the blazing great sun rocketed upward, reality stretched and thinned until it was gossamer-frail—and then every god present was wrenched into a brilliant starry sky.
Here, light and dark held perfect order. The galactic river flowed along precise tracks. Every star that freely twinkled and orbited did so in such sublime harmony that it seemed some pattern—invisible to mortals and gods alike—was constraining them, rendering every corner of the universe absolutely [Ordered]!
Even the gods had been forcibly arranged in symmetrical positions, becoming part of this harmonious cosmos.
"You have summoned Us. For what purpose?"
Spirals reversed, starpoints flickered softly. Those eyes with their upturned corners glanced at [Fate] beside them, then at [Memory] across the way, and giggled:
"Don't play dumb, you old relic. You heard me. I'm claiming inheritance of the Mother of Prosperity's Authority. Oh, and [Truth] wants it too, so let's split it between us."
The stars within the Scales rose and fell for a moment, as if evaluating the qualifications of the two petitioners. Before long, the powerful voice of [Order] rang out again:
"The Mother of [Prosperity]—by what cause was She imprisoned?"
"How would I know? You'll have to ask [Truth]."
Before [Truth] could speak, [Folly]—positioned opposite [Truth]—beat Him to it.
"The Pact does not inquire into cause and effect. Since when have you become a gossip?"
"Could it be that [Fear (Order)] has already merged with you?"
"..."
[Deceit] let out a derisive snort, then turned to [Folly] with a mocking grin:
"Well, this is rare. You're actually siding with [Truth]? What—has the great [Folly] already bowed before the even greater [Truth]?"
"..."
And with that, everyone shut up again.
On the pan of the Scales, a pair of eyes inscribed with the axioms of order opened. They fixed upon [Deceit] and issued an icy denial:
"[Deceit], you do not possess the right of inheritance."
"Old relic, please spare us the obvious. I'm not about to fight over who gets to be the Mother of [Prosperity]'s son like some gods do—so of course I don't have the right."
"Then you summoned Us and convened the Assembly of Gods Convention—for what purpose?"
"Hee~"
"Naturally, to open the door ahead of time for someone who does have the right of inheritance—saving you the trouble of dragging your ancient limbs all the way here."
With that, those grinning eyes blinked once—and two figures instantly appeared before the gods. Two thoroughly bewildered human figures.
"Behold—the eldest daughter of [Prosperity], Frazor. She has arrived."
The moment those words fell, the gaze of every deity present converged on the two humans who had no business being here.
Feeling a pressure like a mountain crashing down upon him, Cheng Shi's entire body shuddered. He forced out a pallid smile.
Hong Lin beside him was even more terrified, but she at least managed to hold her composure—and then simply shut her eyes. Out of sight, out of mind.
'As long as I can't see the gods, their gazes aren't on me.'
This warrior of [Prosperity] had finally learned a new skill from Cheng Shi: self-deception.
"A meaningless act of folly."
Just as [Folly] voiced His mockery, the previously silent [Memory] suddenly spoke. He gazed at Cheng Shi with keen interest, and within His eyes flashed the entire history of the Mushroom-Footed People.
"Cunning never changes. You truly are the spitting image of your Benefactor."
Cheng Shi didn't dare make a sound, but [Deceit] had no such reservations.
He let out the same derisive snort and fired back three words: "Want a fight?"
[Memory] withdrew the history from His eyes and returned to silence.
At that moment, [Truth] turned His gaze toward Hong Lin, His eyes reflecting the unraveling of cosmic laws, layer by layer, thread by thread.
He merely reviewed everything that had transpired today—and from that alone, He discerned every cause, effect, and twist. Then, with neither joy nor sorrow, He spoke:
"Since when have [Deceit] and [Memory] stood on the same side?"
[Memory] gave a soft hum and offered no reply. He never explained memories to anyone, for all of history was His collection—and what lay within that collection was for Him alone to decide.
Seeing [Memory] close His eyes, [Folly] spoke up again from the distance.
"If rewritten history can still be called history, then why can't grafted faith be considered true faith?"
"By that logic, did [Prosperity] even violate the Pact at all? Was everything I just witnessed nothing more than a joke?"
"If so, why don't we all just embrace [Prosperity] and merge with Her?"
"It appears She saw through the universe's truth a step ahead of the rest of us. Heh. How laughable."
?
'That passive-aggressive thing has to be [Folly], right?'
Cheng Shi listened in stunned silence. He carefully stole a sideways glance at those white eyes, then grumbled internally:
'No wonder Your followers are all like that. Hm, suit Yourself.'
'But seriously—who says rewritten history can't be called history? And why does Your "let's all merge with Her" have to drag me into it?'
Cheng Shi panicked. He glanced back at his Benefactor, and seeing no intention to stop him, raised his hand: "I object!"
That juvenile voice drew every deity's attention. [Folly] let out a contemptuous snort, and the Scales resonated with a solemn declaration that swept across the cosmos:
"The Assembly of Gods Convention—humans hold no right to participate."
"..." Cheng Shi had no choice but to sheepishly lower his hand. But in that same instant, two other voices rang out across the stage.
One cold as an abyssal abyss. One light and giggling.
"I object."
"I agree."
...
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