Chapter 145: Prelude – 3

Chapter 145: Prelude – 3

 

“…A Demon God? A God?”

“As expected, you didn’t know. Well, that’s probably why this place was sealed for so long; they wanted to hide it so badly.”

“…That doesn’t make sense logically, does it? A God and a Demon God at the same time…?”

“Monsters and humans are both creations of this world, so there’s no contradiction. Besides, it’s ridiculous for another God to exist for its creations when there’s already a Creator.”

The ancient prophet was emotionless.

She smiled mechanically, but it was clearly fake, and her words were stiff.

She was just in a state of conveying information, nothing more.

Her expression and tone suggested she was convinced that even if this truth were heard, the world couldn’t change.

Because of that, I was trying to speak calmly on the outside, but my mind had been a mess for a long time.

Specifically, ever since I heard that God = Demon God.

So… if that’s the case, wouldn’t God be a lunatic who makes its own creations fight wars?

“You’re saying that this being called God intentionally disguised itself as a Demon God to incite war between humans and monsters?”

“It seems you know quite a lot. This conversation will be easy. I was wondering how to explain what you already know.”

“…Are you saying all of this is true right now?”

“There’s no reason for me to lie, unless God hadn’t imprisoned me here.”

As the former prophet spoke, a clear murderous intent flashed in her eyes.

More precisely, it was a hatred so strong that it seemed to reveal a desire to kill.

Her mouth and eyes were smiling, but her gaze was filled with hatred and disgust for God.

“God… that being desires its own immortality, and furthermore, true omnipotence.”

“Isn’t it already omnipotent in this world?”

“The moment God creates a world, an enormous amount of power is consumed. Therefore, the current God has lost most of the power it originally possessed.

That’s why there are even Gods who don’t create worlds at all, but instead usurp worlds created by others.”

“What does that have to do with war?”

“It’s simple. The reason God creates a world is ultimately an investment to increase its power. Although an enormous amount of power is consumed initially,

the stronger the faith its creations have in it, the stronger God’s power becomes.”

The next words were easily predictable.

Humans, if not monsters, believe in and seek God even more in times of crisis.

This insane God saw its world’s creations as faith vending machines.

And it simply interpreted ‘war’ as the most efficient way to use those vending machines.

The ancient Great War ended in human victory, and humans worshipped and followed God for a long time, so the strategy itself might have been successful.

“I understand what you’re thinking, but… God was an even more fanatical being. God wanted the war to continue indefinitely.”

“You mean that generates more faith than one side winning?”

“Calculations showed that, yes. As a prophet, I was tasked with inciting war and preventing humans and monsters from uniting, so I can confirm it.”

“…Then the reason the war stopped must be because too many died.”

“Exactly. No matter how much faith each person generated, the absolute number decreased, causing a problem. That’s why they made humans, who had generated more faith, the victors until now.”

It came to mind that the victory of the Great War was recorded as God’s grace in this world.

…In a way, it was true, but in reality, wasn’t it God’s watchful eye?

A watchful eye that followed, demanding endless faith, and marking them as sacrifices for its own power.

“But… it seems human faith has weakened recently.”

“This time it’s a conjecture? You were so confident before.”

“Well, since I’ve been imprisoned here since the Great War, what I’m confident about are the events of that time. However, I merely inferred that human faith has weakened from the fact that the seal here has weakened.

If God’s power were intact, no creature could set foot in this place where I am.”

Indeed, if I were in God’s shoes, anyone who knew all this information would be a top priority for sealing.

More than that… if the ancient prophet knew about the Great War and the true nature of God, did Elena know too?

However, Elena was a person who firmly believed that God started the war to create a better world. She never even considered that God used humans and monsters as faith vending machines.

“…Is the reason you’re bound here because you spoke about this truth of God?”

“To be precise, I had no intention of doing so, but God suddenly felt uneasy and imprisoned me here. Otherwise, I would have just died peacefully.”

“Trying to silence you only made you speak up.”

“Exactly. I had no intention of speaking, but they suddenly said I knew too much and embalmed me here to suffer eternally… so it’s only polite to spill the beans, isn’t it? The truth and flaws of that being.”

With that, the ancient prophet’s words came to an end.

It wasn’t a long conversation, but… the impact of its contents if it were to get out would be unimaginable.

Not only the people of the Holy Kingdom, but perhaps even the Demon King could truly be persuaded.

The one you worship so highly is actually the same as our God, and that being only sees us as faith vending machines.

If I whispered that it had no interest in the revenge you dream of or the lives of monsters, persuading the Demon King might not be a dream.

*’……We of the past were deceived. By God, and… by you.’*

“…Hero…?”

Just as I was about to thank the ancient prophet, the Holy Sword, which had been silent until now, spoke.

Ah, now that I think about it, this person… is a contemporary of the prophet over there.

When you think about it, there was probably no one more wronged than this person, who is now the Holy Sword.

The God they believed in saw them as faith vending machines, and their victory was simply because God thought it would generate more faith.

Most of all… from what I heard, it felt like they believed they had been deceived by the prophet, who knew God’s true intentions but hid them.

And with that single voice, the prophet’s expression changed dramatically.

***

If I were to describe the prophet’s expression until now with one word, it would be resignation.

Resignation that nothing could change, and that she was merely embalmed here.

But… at the words of the Holy Sword, that is, the ancient Hero, that emotion crumbled instantly.

What replaced it, unfortunately, was not a good emotion, but… suffocating guilt and a sinking of emotions.

With an expression like painful memories she had tried to forget were resurfacing, the prophet looked at the Holy Sword.

*’We shed so much blood, and we believed in God, because we believed God loved and cared for us. Because we believed God loved us as beings, not as tools.’*

“……”

*’You were the one who said God had such intentions, and that God blessed us in the future where we won, and through that, you instilled such belief in us.’*

“……”

The prophet remained silent.

However, her expression could not.

Guilt. Her face, which at first glance seemed peaceful and resigned like before, was filled with guilt to its breaking point.

It was an expression no different from an affirmation that the Hero’s words were all true.

*’Even after I died, becoming the Hero’s Holy Sword in accordance with God’s will was also solely due to that belief.’*

“……”

*’Answer me. Why… did you deceive us? Why did we have to believe something that wasn’t true, and believe that God loved us?’*

“…That’s.”

*’I know. If we hadn’t, we would have died. At that time, believing was the best choice.

But… a God who treats its creations as mere tools is not needed from the perspective of its creations. If one day we become beings that vanish at a single word from God, who would like that?’*

That’s true. Most people, if told to die because God wills it, would struggle and deny it somehow.

Only truly devout people would accept it calmly.

But… what if that death wasn’t for other humans, or for the world, but purely for God itself?

It’s natural to feel repulsion unless one is fanatically devoted to the very existence of God.

“…I’m sorry. Other than that… I have nothing to say.”

*’Too many people died. The evil one is God, not you, but… the memories of the battlefield, where those who lived with me every day disappeared one by one, come back to me.

Those who foolishly believed that all these deaths were also sacrifices for everyone, for the world, and then vanished.’*

At those words, tears finally flowed from the prophet’s eyes.

Perhaps because she was half-dead, the tears could not fall to the ground, but flowed endlessly only on the prophet’s face.

From her empty eyes, her last bit of vitality flowed out as tears.

And so, the prophet’s eyes grew darker and more sunken, dying.

In contrast, the Hero’s words within the Holy Sword were calm.

It was not anger, nor resignation, nor forgiveness.

It was simply… a voice that merely stated what he had been through.

*’…Originally, our story should have ended in tragedy like this. You drowning in guilt, and I wandering, denied for eternity.

I am merely reminding you of this, and reminiscing. I bear no special ill will towards you. You merely did what was given to you.’*

“……”

*’However, it seems our story won’t meet such an end.’*

At those words, for a very brief moment, the prophet’s eyes gleamed.

In her dying eyes, a faint but undeniable spark of life flickered.

And that spark of life then transformed into desperation, echoing from the prophet’s lips.

“…Are you saying that’s not the case? Please, please… tell me it’s true.”

*’The Great War is about to begin again. And this time, there is someone who will tell this truth to the Demon King, the Saintess, and the Hero.’*

“You and I cannot. I am bound here, and the moment you speak, God will notice and bind you alongside me. The same goes for this Hero, Saintess, or Demon King who brought you here.

Besides, other creations wouldn’t believe it, and even if they did, they would be annihilated from this world if God willed it. In the first place, ordinary creations can’t even hear my voice or yours in this state.”

*’I know. Yet, there is one. A suitable person to reveal all this truth. Oh, and to add, only the Hero can wield the Holy Sword.’*

“Why such a sudden joke…?”

At the same time, the prophet’s eyes met mine.

In her constantly dead eyes, in her eyes filled with scorn, resignation, and cynicism, a small light returned.

“You… weren’t the Hero, were you?”

“I’m holding the Holy Sword, and I can talk, but no, I’m not.”

*’I told you, there was a suitable person.’*

At those words, a small but clear smile appeared on the prophet’s lips.

Light was etched into her dark, dead eyes.

On her expression, which had crumbled at the Hero’s words, a small hope blossomed.