Chapter 394: The Day of the God's Birth |
In the East District, after hearing the truth Flor proclaimed, the believers scattered of their own accord. They went from door to door, knocking on every threshold to spread the new faith and its divine decree. Before long, the entire Holy City had learned of the priests’ deception and betrayal.
Their resentment had festered for ages, yet they had never dared to voice it. Only now did they realize that everyone harbored the same sentiments. At last, their collective fury surged into a mighty torrent.
They needed no proof. They only had to believe that the life they lived under the priests’ control was not the one they desired. With that conviction, they readily embraced a frantic, irrational fervor, chasing after another, more ephemeral possibility.
Flor flipped the parchment scroll over and read the text on the back aloud: "The god says He shall be nailed to the cross, and we, with our faith, shall grant Him rebirth."
And so, the believers poured from their homes, gathering in the muddy, squalid streets. They charged toward the grand temple in a rage, shouting broken slogans. Voices crashed over one another, swelling into an indiscernible, chaotic wave.
Humanity is a herd species, its thoughts easily swept away by the current of the collective. When a single voice grows powerful enough to become a flood, all dissenting whispers are inevitably drawn into its resonance—infected, incited, and ultimately shaped into the very same cry.
They may not have been truly fanatical or pious, but when those around them displayed such fervor, they instinctively drew upon their innate talent for mimicry. They would feign an equally, if not more profound, outpouring of emotion, terrified of being left behind, terrified of being ostracized.
Amidst the chaos, Flor—the one who had received the 'divine revelation,' the new prophet acclaimed by the masses—raised his right hand, signaling for silence.
After what felt like an eternity of uproar, the din finally subsided, and the air grew quiet enough for a normal speaking voice to be heard.
The believers roared their assent, surging forward to batter the temple's massive doors with chaotic, brute force.
With a tremendous *CRASH*, the doors gave way. Priest Raqi emerged from the opening, his expression tinged with weariness, yet his eyes remained gentle. He spread his arms wide. "Heretics," he said to the believers, "please, come in."
Though the believers were perplexed by the priest's choice of words, events had progressed too far for such trifles to matter. They stormed past Priest Raqi, pouring into the temple and charging toward the divine statue, where they discovered a long, hidden corridor concealed behind it.
Suspecting that this was where the secrets of ages lay hidden, they rushed forward as one. They pushed open the stone door at the corridor's end and were instantly met with a blinding light.
The temple's courtyard was, impossibly, the Holy City’s cemetery. The two spaces were fused together in a bizarre, unnatural way. Blood pulsed from a stone altar etched with runes, rising into the air until it reached a certain height, where it transformed into solid beams of golden light that flooded the entire sky.
As if sensing their arrival, the golden light suddenly condensed into long, sharp filaments, like spider's silk, and shot directly toward the stunned crowd.
...
In the square before the temple, once the last of the believers had swarmed inside, the players emerged from the shadows. They gathered before a towering black cross.
Vader, pinned between two other players and unable to move, could only glare at Fu Jue. "Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?" he yelled, his voice raw. "Fu Jue, is this your idea of cooperation?"
Fu Jue replied coolly, "Cooperation requires both parties to be on equal footing, where neither can be subdued by absolute force. Only then is it necessary to negotiate a stable, trusting, and mutually beneficial relationship."
"I have analyzed your strength and temperament," Fu Jue continued, "and concluded that you lack the prerequisites to cooperate with me. Nor are you the type to extend your trust after a single negotiation. It is, therefore, far more efficient to use force and turn you into a disposable tool."
The phrase 'disposable tool' was menacing enough. Vader’s gaze shifted to Qi Si, who stood beside Fu Jue. "Qi Si," he spat, "and to think I mistook you for an NPC. You put on one hell of a show..."
Qi Si smiled. "In a way, you could say I am an NPC. After all, I can set up a few death traps for you to experience firsthand whenever I please."
"Shit!"
Listening to their impervious remarks, Vader felt a surge of suffocating frustration. After killing Asakura Yuko, he had believed the threat to his life was over for now. He never imagined it was only just beginning.
He even began to suspect that Asakura Yuko had predicted this all along—that she had deliberately tricked him into binding with the treacherous Taboo Scholar Identity Card just to make him a target for Fu Jue and Qi Si.
And all that talk about Fu Jue being targeted by other players? What a joke. The entire instance was filled with his people. How was he supposed to compete with that?
Recalling the strange condition of the two players pinning him down, a dreadful suspicion took root in Vader's mind. He sneered, his voice laced with threat. "Have you forgotten, O mighty Fu Jue, that even if we die in an instance, we still get half an hour in the real world to leave a final message? I can’t wait to see the world's reaction when they learn that the great Fu Jue is one and the same as the Puppet Master."
Fu Jue offered no reply. It was as if he hadn't heard a word, his gaze fixed calmly on the sky.
The realization slowly dawned on Vader. Of course. The Final Instance was about to begin. Stirring up public opinion on the forums would take time, and no matter the eventual outrage, it wouldn't change the fact that Fu Jue now held two high-ranking Identity Cards.
With both the Fallen Savior and Silent Dictator cards in his possession, he held an undeniable advantage. Everyone else would have no choice but to turn a blind eye and pray he would ultimately side with humanity.
Sigmund sidled up to Vader, offering a friendly smile. "My friend, there’s truly no need to make an enemy of Fu. I, too, was once foolish enough to oppose him. But after I came to understand his grand vision, I immediately saw the error of my ways, turned over a new leaf, and now I practically worship the ground he walks on..."
Qi Si silently tuned out the man's shameless sycophancy and turned his gaze toward the temple.
There, a sacrificial banquet was underway, heralding the birth of a god.
...
The believers’ skin was pierced by fine filaments of condensed golden light. Only on closer inspection did it become clear they were not threads of silk, but the tendrils of a giant tree.
Blood trickled down onto the stone altar, seeping into the carved grooves and spreading in every direction. Then, in a sudden burst, it erupted into new beams of golden light.
The light spilled outward in every direction, aimless and brilliant, like the solar flares from a planet crashing into its sun. The beams burst in the air, sprouting ethereal phantoms of golden vines.
The vines drew in flesh and blood from a distance, and from their tips grew an enormous bud. The golden flower blossomed, growing until it nearly touched the heavens, creating a resplendent sea of flowers above the Holy City.
Layers of crystalline petals cradled a translucent pistil. Motes of light floated within the clear, golden nectar at the flower's heart, spilling over and falling like a sudden golden rain.
Qi Si gazed at the golden flower as visions of sublime beauty flooded his mind. For a moment, it felt as though he had remembered a lifetime of things, and yet, at the same time, nothing at all.
Ancient whispers echoed in his ears. One voice belonged to Li; the other was his own...
"That is the Flower of Rules. It is where we came from, and where we shall return. Perhaps, on the day we are fated to disappear, I will devour you."
"Qi, what is it like?"
"Tch, I almost forgot. Your eyes were just seared by the Ancestral God... Well, it feeds on the flesh I cast aside, drawing sustenance from rotting husks. It's filled with filth and festering sores."
"It sounds hideous."
"It is. But what can you expect when I only ever feed it trash? It’s time for a proper meal. And you, I think, look quite appetizing." Two hazy figures swayed beneath the phantom of the World Tree. Reflected in the depths of Qi Si’s eyes were the undead shambling across the land and rivers of flowing pus. His pupils dilated, then constricted.
What he was seeing wasn't a memory but an objective record of the world itself. The Ancestral God’s influence had never truly vanished; it had once observed every single action of every living being. This meant the original plan was likely to encounter unforeseen complications.
Was this a bluff, or a final warning? Qi Si lowered his eyelids. Deep within the sanctum of his mind, the red-robed figure gave a slight bow, and across the gulf of time and space, thousands of scarlet leaves connected with it.
The Scarlet High Priest greedily absorbed the power of faith, but as the blood-red mist reached the outskirts of the Holy City, it was repelled by an invisible barrier.
High above, the silvery-white eye opened to a terrifying size, bleaching the entire sky the color of day. Countless silken threads began to rain down.
It all unfolded in absolute silence. Even the ambient sounds of the Holy City seemed to dissolve, leaving only stillness. Time itself seemed to slow. Every object, every living creature, froze for this grand ceremony, their gazes drawn upward in an involuntary, childlike reverence.
No proclamation was needed, no message delivered. Simply by existing in this world, the knowledge was poured directly into the depths of their minds. They knew, in that instant: She was the Ancestral God, the Mother of All Things, and She was about to return to the land She had created...
No new notifications appeared on the system interface; it was impossible to tell if it had crashed or if it welcomed the Ancestral God's return. The phantom sensory agony of gazing upon a higher-dimensional being afflicted everyone. All the players, save for Fu Jue and Qi Si, were bleeding from their eyes, ears, nostrils, and mouths.
Sigmund had long fallen silent. He scrambled desperately for cover, diving into a rocky crevice and hastily raising a shield-like item before him.
Vader, still pinned down, saw the silken threads descending upon him. He let out a curse and yelled at Fu Jue, "Hey, we have a major problem! Don't tell me this is also part of your plan! You know what happens when a god revives! It’s not too late for us to work together..."
"If you don't want to die from gazing upon the Ancestral God, bind your Identity Card. Now." Fu Jue’s voice was frigid. Then, he calmly uttered a single word. "Pause."
The instant he spoke, a golden, four-sided die materialized at his fingertip. It spun at high speed, expanding into a massive pyramid that hung suspended above them.
[Name: Fate Dice]
[Type: Item]
[Effect: Slightly nudges the threads of fate. The higher the roll, the greater the nudge.]
[Note: Do gods play dice?]
The silken threads were blocked completely. The pupil in the sky swiveled slightly, its gaze locking onto Fu Jue below. A fresh surge of blood-red mist and golden light billowed from the temple, twisting and devouring one another in mid-air as the believers inside began to chant a chaotic litany.
[The Lord of Gods, exiled beyond the rules of the world]
[The Death Master, who governs creation and annihilation]
[The Great Existence, older than history itself]
The divine titles of two separate gods were merging in a grotesque fusion. Maintaining his composure, Qi Si walked steadily toward the temple.
Beneath the golden flower, the phantom of a sundial hovered in the air, slowly rotating—the authority over space and time.
...
Inside the temple, row after row of believers collapsed upon the altar. Their flesh and blood dissolved into a slurry that coated the stone walls and covered the ground like a layer of crimson soil.
The believers farther back sensed that something was terribly wrong and tried to retreat, but it was too late. A web of fine threads descended from above, ensnaring their limbs and dragging them forward like marionettes.
Flor's corpse, its purpose served, collapsed. It decayed into brittle bones with visible speed, melting into the mass of other bodies. From the mire of flesh and blood, golden motes of light rose like fireflies, coalescing in the air into a vast, shimmering radiance.
Priest Raqi watched the forced sacrifice with a smile, joyfully and contentedly reciting the prayer his god had left behind. The god of old had been too selfless, bestowing her power and very flesh upon mortals without reservation. In return, she received not faith and adoration, but fueled the greed deep in human hearts, making them demand more and more.
But now, the god who had opened her eyes anew had learned to take. She was reclaiming what she had once given. Why should they fear or resist? It was only right for things to be returned to their owner. A god was meant to be this way—sublime, majestic, and fearsome. Only then could she harvest true devotion...
A tear slid from the corner of Priest Raqi's eye. Even after all these years, he still remembered the day he first laid eyes on his god. A beautiful, benevolent woman had knelt before him and gently touched his forehead with her finger. In that moment, he received a revelation, and from then on, he possessed the gift of prophecy, becoming the god's mortal vessel.
He had loved his god for her selflessness, but in time, that very love made her selflessness unbearable to him. And so, he would let this world return to the way it was in the beginning...
The Ancestral God’s gaze acted as an anchor point. More and more eyes—human, ghostly, and animal—converged on Fu Jue, weaving together into a tightly stitched net that pinned him in place.
Qi Si reached for the sundial. The instant his fingertips brushed against its gnomon, the eye in the sky shifted its focus. The countless gazes fixed on Fu Jue began to transfer to him.
His body grew sluggish, the feeling of restraint becoming ever more palpable. From countless gutters, eaves, and darkened corners, shadows solidified, transforming into pairs of pitch-black, ghostly hands that clawed at him.
Qi Si seemed oblivious. From beneath his wide sleeves, blood-red vines snaked out, wrapping themselves layer by layer around the ethereal sundial. They ground away the golden motes of light on its surface, transmuting them into a bloody froth.
Vader finally finished binding the Taboo Scholar Identity Card. His vitality began to recover at a palpable rate, and the blood that had been pouring from his nose started to recede.
He gasped for air, tentacles squirming faintly beneath his robes. The silvery-white eye in the sky, as if drawn by the movement, shifted its gaze once more...
The Ancestral God loves the world and watches its inhabitants' every move. Until her revival was complete, this was an automatic process, written into the very rules of this place and immune to subjective influence.
The status of the three Identity Card holders was significant enough to draw her attention. If they planned carefully, they could steadily contain her power.
This was merely one of the cornerstones of their plan, but it was far from enough. They were all making a wager—betting that it would be easier to use the rules of the Holy City to contain the Ancestral God now than to face her in the Final Instance.
All the believers in the temple courtyard had fallen, transformed into the most lavish of sacrifices for the resurrection ritual. Priest Raqi stood amidst the carnage and walked, step by step, to the center of the altar.
The newborn god knew nothing of compassion. From beneath the golden flower, a fleshy growth extended vein-like tendrils and plunged them into the priest's heart. A single, teardrop-shaped mote of golden light drifted upward, merging into the sea of light above. The flower unfurled its final petal, blooming in full, terrifying glory.
At that same moment, a figure with white hair and white robes began to descend from the sky, stepping down upon the fine, silvery threads as if they were a staircase. Schools of white fish and flocks of immaculate birds flew at her side.
The spirit of the Ancestral God had, at last, been reborn.
(End of this chapter)