Chapter 429: The Gods (One) |
A beast is a god fallen from the altar,
A god, a beast draped in gold and finery.
—Volume VI, Of Gods and Beasts
"Lin Jue, save us! You promised you'd get us out of here alive! Don't go back on your word!"
"You're the top-ranked player! How could you fail? Or do you just not want to help us?"
"You're all we have... the only one with any real hope of winning. You have to... you *have* to lead us to victory..."
Fu Jue stood in the darkness, listening as the pleas and accusations swirled around him, sometimes seeming to drift from a dimension beyond the farthest reaches of space, other times so near they felt whispered in his ear.
With the passage of time, the frantic, desperate voices began to lose their fidelity, twisting into something distorted and strange. For a moment, they sounded like the gibberish of monsters from the depths of a nightmare, a cloying, malevolent sound that sought to drag the living down into hell.
A person sinking into a mire of despair will glimpse the faintest starlight on the shore and instinctively grasp for the last straw of hope. Even if the stalk breaks and they both sink into the marsh, it is better than dying alone.
This was the essence of every conflict and every contest in the Weird Game.
The guaranteed death tolls, the Final Instance... too many people had no control over their own fates. They placed their hopes of salvation in others, killing the weak and worshipping the strong, only to die as lightly as a feather.
Fu Jue lowered his gaze. In the depths of his mind, every voice corresponded to a specific person, a specific event, all cataloged with perfect clarity. The emotions he'd felt at the time had been scoured away by the erosion of feeling, leaving only cold, factual memories.
He observed it all with tranquil detachment, sorting valuable information into categories. His heart was a vast, empty space, a polished mirror reflecting nothing. No matter how agonizing the cries, they could not stir so much as a ripple on its surface.
"Om Ah Hum, may the Savior protect all living things..."
"Om Ah Hum, may the God of Fortune bestow his grace..."
"Om Ah Hum, may the God of Tombs watch over the spirits of the dead..."
An ethereal, sacred song arose, and a soft light pierced the darkness.
Fu Jue walked toward the light, but the singing only grew more distant. By the time he stepped fully into its glow, he was surrounded by absolute silence.
A figure in white stood within the light, their back to him. Without turning, they asked, "Are you the Savior?"
The voice was gentle and clear, carrying a familiarity that spanned time itself. Fu Jue's expression remained unchanged as he replied coolly, "If you mean in the narrow sense of being the holder of the 'Fallen Savior' identity card, then I have been from the very beginning. If you mean in the broader sense of 'one who bears the responsibility of saving the world,' or even in the original religious sense, then no one can be."
"Is that so? That is a serious problem..." The figure turned to face Fu Jue, revealing the face of Lin Jue. His features were gentle, but his eyes were as empty as mist, reflecting nothing tangible.
He extended a hand to Fu Jue in a clear gesture of invitation. "Then, Fu Jue, the Savior is gone. Can you take His place? Just as... you have always wished..."
Countless points of light rose from all directions, weaving themselves between the figure and Fu Jue into a throne of thorns. Vines crept up from its base, blossoming with strange and exquisitely beautiful flowers.
Fu Jue did not move. He simply stared coldly at the figure before him, the glare on his glasses concealing his emotions.
He knew this figure was not Lin Jue. It was merely a calculated design by the instance, something that had nothing to do with him.
The man he had known as "Lin Jue" had died on this very snow-capped mountain twenty-two years ago, during that Final Instance. His bones might be under Fu Jue's feet right now, or perhaps a little farther away, but they would not have left this place. And they certainly would not have crawled out of hell.
Knowing the outcome, the young man had activated the power of the 'Dark Judge,' gambling his own life for a sliver of hope for his companions, leaving behind the remnants of a plan to start a second game.
Afterward, his follower at the time, Fu Jue, had activated the 'Fallen Savior' ability, sacrificing his own soul to resurrect a part of him within his own body. That was all.
The figure seemed to read Fu Jue's thoughts and asked with a smile, "You've come this far, to this very moment. Does it really matter to you who I am? You have schemed and plotted, planning for thirty-six years to reach this point. Isn't this throne exactly what you've wanted?"
Fu Jue glanced at the golden-haloed throne. "What is the price?"
The figure's smile was radiant. "It's something you can absolutely afford. And even if you're unwilling to pay, it seems you can't turn back now..."
Indeed, there was no turning back. He had reached the end of the path visible to mortals. The book of his plan was open to its final page. Even if he refused to move forward, with no other roads to take, he would simply be trapped here until the end.
Besides, usurping a god's position had always been part of his calculations—a necessary condition for confronting the highest law, the Weird Game, and the Ancestral God. Even knowing it was a trap, he had no choice but to risk everything.
"I understand." Fu Jue strode forward, step by step, until he stood before the throne. Then, slowly, he sat down.
The vines writhed as if alive, slithering up his body. He was sealed within a mound of light, becoming one with the throne itself.
An electronic voice, serene and impersonal, sounded by his ear:
[As the Ancestral God, you will sacrifice all that you possess, including your past and future. You will renounce all that you desire, including your existence. In return, all living beings shall receive them...]
The silhouette of a golden scale materialized before him, its two pans completely empty, as if holding a vast and magnificent nothingness.
The electronic voice continued:
[Your "humanity"... can be placed upon the world's scale as a weight... Only by placing a sufficient weight can you obtain the authority of the Ancestral God...]
Fu Jue gazed at the empty pans, his tone as placid as still water. "When I first entered the Final Instance, I had already placed my 'humanity' on the scale, and I lost the first round of the game."
"Based on the available information, I can deduce that I am not the only one vying for the Ancestral God's authority. The one with the greatest total weight will win. Is that correct?"
He looked at the figure with Lin Jue's face beside him and received a nod of confirmation. A silver light glinted behind his glasses. "I want to know, was there also a wager during that first game, one I made unconsciously? And what weight did the other party place on the scale?"
"Divinity," the figure answered succinctly, the word cut short by the electronic voice that immediately followed.
[Your "followers"... can be placed upon the world's scale as a weight... Only by placing a sufficient weight can you obtain the authority of the Ancestral God...]
This time, countless human figures appeared on the scale's pans. As he focused, their faces magnified and flashed before his eyes: the face of Li Yunyang, the face of Lu Li, and the faces of thousands upon thousands of investigators and players...
As if sensing Fu Jue's gaze, they began to call out, one after another, "Senior!" "Director Fu!" "God Fu!"
For twenty-two years, he had accumulated prestige, using public opinion and other means to fashion himself into a radiant, shining idol of a savior. It was all for this very moment.
A memory from the bottom of his mind suddenly became vivid.
It was from a time even more distant than twenty-two years ago, when everyone he knew was still alive, fighting and struggling side by side.
Back then, Chu Yining, whose mobility was limited, loved to scroll through all sorts of topics on her phone whenever she had free time.
One day, she came across the "trolley problem" and asked with great interest, "Lin Jue, if the Weird Game told us that if just one player died, the game would be shut down forever, would you do it?"
Without a moment's hesitation, Lin Jue had replied, "If only one person had to die, then I would take my own life."
"You wouldn't get the chance. I'd definitely beat you to it," Chu Yining had laughed brightly. "For one, you'd be more useful alive, handling the post-war coordination. For another, I've always dreamed of having 'This person saved the world' written on my tombstone..."
The memory fractured. The death and rebirth of twenty-two years ago had not been without scars. With the Twilight of the Gods as a watershed, Fu Jue had lost many of his previous memories, including what had happened in that Final Instance.
But he imagined that the Lin Jue of that time would never have been able to place the lives of others on a scale.
Idealism, naivety—whatever you called it, it was a thing of the past, its failure proven by facts.
Refusing to make necessary sacrifices would only lead to greater disaster... White Crow was also in this Final Instance. As the leader of the Balance Church, she would have no shortage of followers... Perhaps a single moment of hesitation would lead to utter failure.
In just a few seconds, a meticulous analysis of the risks and rewards yielded its conclusion. Fu Jue closed his eyes, his voice calm. "In this game, I choose to place my 'followers' as a weight upon the world's scale."