Chapter 392: Incitement |
The apocalypse of the First Age brought an end to the first pantheon, burying the worlds, life, and civilizations they had created.
The once-sprawling rules of existence were violently pruned, leaving only the most fundamental principles to coalesce into a single sapling, taking root in the depths of the void.
The last surviving god of that first pantheon awakened beneath the half-withered World Tree. Following the guidance of the rules, this deity began to create the world anew.
Fruits of worlds bloomed at the god's fingertips, falling to the void to sprout and spread into countless planes of existence. Life and new laws flourished upon them, nourishing the branches of the World Tree and becoming part of the rules themselves.
Humans, animals, gods, and ghosts—to the Ancestral God, they were all the same. They were "children" of its own creation, cogs in the grand machinery of the rules.
It possessed no personality of its own and never experienced subjective emotions like anger. It simply, silently, placed all things where they belonged, smoothly erasing any defiance, repeating the process again and again...
This continued until it was tripped by the gnarled roots of the World Tree and bound to the earth by its vines. As the other gods feasted on its flesh and authority, a single tear fell from its eye for the first time. Then, it calmly accepted its long slumber, just as it now calmly accepted its resurrection.
The priest bowed before the statue, addressing his god. "Lord, may I announce Your advent to the faithful?"
The god replied, "Gods and men are all just living beings. When mortals discover that gods can be weakened, that they can be killed, faith and reverence will vanish, replaced only by greed and ambition."
The god replied, "When I was a silent idol, they were willing to sweep my halls. When I manifest as one of them, they will shun me."
The priest asked, "Then how can the world know of Your grace?"
The god lowered its gaze and said, "I am who I am, eternal and self-sufficient. Why must they know? Life itself is the greatest grace."
Father Lacci slept in chaos, and in a daze, he heard the voice of a god—the one he had once truly believed in.
The god seemed to have changed a great deal, yet it remained selfless and merciful, its serene gaze piercing through the vastness of time and space.
He didn't know if he was dreaming. He could only stare blankly into the surrounding darkness, which was suddenly pierced by a golden light.
The light was not blinding, but soft, warm, and serene. It could banish the darkness and protect humanity from monsters, like the first bonfire of a forgotten age, yet it was not so fierce as to burn.
As if compelled, Father Lacci walked toward it. He saw ethereal golden vines dance like a den of snakes at his side, while strange and marvelous visions shifted before him. They seemed to celebrate, to welcome him, solidifying into distinct images before dissolving into a cascade of shimmering motes that quickly bathed the scene in a golden hue.
It felt so familiar, yet he couldn't recall where he had seen it before. Father Lacci stopped trying to think, simply following the primal, phototactic instinct buried deep within his genes, and pressed forward with certainty.
But the sliver of light seemed to maintain a constant distance from him. No matter how he reached for it, it always remained just beyond his grasp, separated by an untouchable, impassable darkness.
A person in a dream is incapable of rational thought. A sudden sense of urgency seized him, and he quickened his pace, stumbling as he ran toward the light.
This time, he finally drew closer. He saw the light in its entirety: a single, gleaming thread, suspended before him, its origin unknown.
He reached out again, praying with piety and despair for the light to wait, to let him see it just once.
This time, as if hearing his prayer, the thread wrapped itself around his finger as if alive, gentle and compassionate.
The instant he felt the cool touch on his fingertip, he saw a divine specter, and a golden oracle inscribed itself in floating text before his eyes:
"The usurping god who stole this nest seeks to feast upon the true god's flesh. Sin has festered and hardened over the long ages. When the apocalypse brings forth the revelation, divine punishment will finally descend."
...
The memory of the scene was read, the object's memory was extracted, and dust coalesced into clues, weaving together scenes from a bygone era.
Qi Si was beginning to understand why he could only control some of the NPCs after entering the Holy City, but not Father Lacci and the other priests.
The reason was simple: the Ancestral God had already taken advantage of the power vacuum, using its gossamer threads to seize control of their souls. It had simply fallen back into slumber afterward, allowing them to act freely.
The Ancestral God's revival was well underway. Since it was already taking steps to reclaim its followers, a full resurrection was only a matter of time.
But its revival was also not yet complete. It lacked the strength to even fully control the clergy; the moment it withdrew its influence, the threads became too faint to detect.
No wonder Qi Si hadn't noticed anything unusual when he first arrived.
That being the case, rather than cautiously avoiding the situation and letting the god execute its plans unimpeded, Qi Si was more inclined to take a gamble.
First, he would help the Ancestral God gather a new body. Then, at the final step, he would use every means at his disposal to seal it away completely. Or perhaps kill it a second time. Both were excellent options.
Even if he failed, the consequence would only be to accelerate the Ancestral God's inevitable revival, making his own contest for the Final Instance more difficult.
If he won, the payoff would be enormous. If he lost, the setback would be minor. The potential gains far outweighed the risks. Besides... Qi Si didn't think he was that unlucky.
Father Lacci, too, was making a gamble.
Lacking the knowledge and perspective of a god, he didn't know that the Ancestral God's revival was fated to succeed, nor did he know that the Holy City was not its only gambit.
He even believed that with Qi Si's interference, the Ancestral God's resurrection was unlikely, which was why he had to humble himself and obey Qi Si's commands.
He was betting that Qi Si's scheme would fail, and that, consequently, the Ancestral God would win this game.
...
In Room 3, Asakura Yuko and Vader sat facing each other. Floating on the stone bed between them were countless orange-red motes of light—the very sparks needed to unlock an ending.
After a brief exchange with the players in the main hall, they had all, without exception, handed over every spark they possessed. This development was undeniably bizarre, but it paled in comparison to the players' behavior.
Silver-gray eyes, robotic movements, the faint glimmer of threads at their fingertips... Asakura Yuko could tell that these people were all puppets of the Puppet Master. She just didn't know if they had been enthralled before or after entering the instance. If it was the latter, it meant the Puppet Master had his eyes on the Holy City, and the situation had become dire.
"No wonder even a guy like Fu Jue went down. The Puppet Master must have sent people to snipe him..." Vader marveled. "I knew it. There was no way those big shots would wait for the Final Instance to start making moves. They've definitely been clashing behind the scenes for ages."
Asakura Yuko shook her head slightly. "Fu Jue might not be dead. He was obviously aware of the Puppet Master's presence. He was exposed while his enemy was hidden, putting him at a disadvantage, so he faked his death to escape, moving from the light into the shadows. Otherwise... an identity card holder wouldn't die so quietly."
"Good point," Vader agreed, then asked, "So what do we do now? What's the deal with them giving us these sparks? Do we just use them, or...?"
"Use them," Asakura Yuko said. "Puppets are considered 'dead' and can't trigger many of the game's mechanics. The Puppet Master clearly wants to use us to push this instance to its conclusion as quickly as possible. With our current strength, defying him won't end well."
"Damn, it sucks being used as someone's tool," Vader shrugged. A thought seemed to strike him. "Yuko, you're an identity card holder too. You don't think they'll just get rid of you once this is all over, do you?"
Asakura Yuko shook her head again. "They won't. My ranking is low. Existences on their level won't bother with a small fry like me."
She said this only to reassure Vader, to prevent him from deciding to use her as a bargaining chip.
In truth, Asakura Yuko knew that once the contest between identity card holders began, no one could remain a bystander.
Sure, the [Silent Dictator], [Fallen Savior], and [Taboo Scholar] cards corresponded to different gods and theoretically weren't in competition. But too many truths had been lost to the river of time. Everything she knew was just a mosaic pieced together from pebbles on the shore; it wasn't necessarily real.
The image of the Ancestral God in the historical fragments troubled her. She was no longer certain which deity her card was truly connected to.
"Whatever, I'm just gonna unlock the ending," Vader announced, grabbing a spark and pressing it to his chest. A kaleidoscope of light immediately spilled from between his fingers.
Fine motes of light drifted and settled around the room like windblown dust. A shimmering veil of light swirled around them, forming a bright, brilliant ring of stars.
The flickering colors rose and fell on the stone bed between them, constructing a half-scale illusion of the Holy City. The temple, the bell tower, the East District, and the cemetery were all rendered in vivid, countable detail.
Runes written in an indecipherable script materialized on the surface of the stone bed, outlining a mysterious and dangerous stone altar.
On the system interface, a large block of text appeared beneath the original ending:
[...Disgruntled believers claim to have received a divine revelation in their dreams and have relayed the god's oracle to all. The god said: "They have forsaken me, using my name to twist the original doctrines, to bully and coerce my devout followers for their own selfish gain. Go, find the scattered records, and restore the truth to the world."]
Asakura Yuko saw two gilded options materialize in the air before her:
[Incitement] or [Salvation]? (Consume 1 spark to choose)
Her [Taboo Scholar] identity card automatically began its analysis, and a large block of text appeared next to the options:
[Incitement: As a rebel and a heretic, you are inherently aware that the original sin of most humans is stupidity. A rational presentation of facts is far less effective than an emotional slogan. The masses don't care about the truth, nor do they need to know it. They only need to know what they *should* know.
[You will extract the most inflammatory information from what you know and relay it to them, using impassioned language to paint a picture of suffering and injustice. They are a foolish flock of sheep, and you are the only shepherd who knows the right path. You will take up the whip and guide them to seize their freedom through violence... or death.
[(Activating this ending will cause the believers to storm the temple. You may ascend to godhood and become the fourth god of the Holy City.)]
Asakura Yuko's heart skipped a beat.
She loathed the description for the [Incitement] option. Everyone had the right to know the truth; it was the conviction that had guided her entire career as a journalist.
One should not cover up faults, but objectively present the full picture of events. The public had a right to know and should not be deceived... She had always proclaimed this, and indeed, for a long time, she had dedicated herself to exposing the Federation's flaws, fighting against its official propaganda.
But now, she was truly in the decision-maker's seat. The stakes were laid out before her, and the price of spreading the truth would be paid by her...
Asakura Yuko's gaze fell on the other block of text:
[Salvation: Your rebellion is not born from selfish desire, but from an inability to ignore the suffering around you. Rather than becoming another corrupt god, you would prefer to be a prophet who leads the people out of this vicious cycle. You will tell them of the church's sins, make them believe in their innate rights. You will inspire them, comfort them, and propose to lead them out of the Holy City.
[The true and eternal promised land should not be a gift from the gods, but found by humanity itself. History has already proven that over-reliance on divine grace leads to ruin. This time, you decide to let humanity save itself and create a kingdom of heaven on earth, without gods.]
[(Activating this ending will cause the Holy City to vanish. All NPCs and players have a chance of becoming lost in the wasteland.)]
The price of truth was too high. Asakura Yuko told herself there was no need to sacrifice a benefit right within her grasp for the sake of some NPCs' right to know. It would only harm herself and others.
In the end, they were all fake. No matter how human they seemed, they were not her kind. It wasn't her place to save them.
"Yuko, what are you gonna pick?" Vader asked suddenly. "[Believe] or [Denounce]? I mean, following the usual trope, you'd pick [Believe], but would the Weird Game really be that simple?"
Different people were seeing different options... Was it because she had the [Heretic] identity, while Vader had the [Believer] identity?
Asakura Yuko made her decision, her expression unchanged. "Choose [Believe]. The difficulty of this main quest lies in acquiring the sparks and dealing with the unexpected events along the way. They usually don't put up barriers in the choices themselves."
With that, she picked up a spark between two fingers and silently chose [Incitement] in her mind.
The spark melted into a warm current that flowed down her wrist before instantly vanishing into the void. A streak of crimson glaze appeared within the golden illusion before her.
Vader also picked up a spark and made his choice at roughly the same time.
Two streaks of red intertwined within the gilded text, flickering like newly kindled flames in a hearth.
New text appeared:
[The faithful are willing to believe the inflammatory words. It seems their god *does* love them; it was the priests who twisted the divine will. The ones inflicting suffering upon them were never the god they worshipped, but their own kind, scheming and duplicitous. Hating humans was always safer than hating a great and powerful being. Enraged, they took up arms and charged toward the temple...](End of this chapter)