Ch.1095Turning the tables on someone

Paulus stared at me like I was some rare gem as he continued speaking. With the typical roundabout manner of an old man, where the introduction was much longer than the main point.

“Star of Dawn, Median. Rumors say you’re either a subordinate deity of Ausrine descended to earth, or her successor… but Ausrine is a goddess who died long ago, isn’t she?”

“Yes. She’s dead.”

Ausrine’s death. It’s not exactly a secret story. The clergy who participated in the Alvheim War already know this story, at least roughly.

“Ausrine’s divinity was shattered and scattered before your birth. So your divine nature must be something you gathered and shaped anew from those fragments. Isn’t that right?”

“…What of it?”

“It means you’re fundamentally different from other demigods. Their divinity is merely a gift from the gods, like the powers bestowed upon us.”

Paulus explained the difference between me and other demigods with great enthusiasm.

A demigod’s divinity is typically a product of divine power granted by celestial gods to their agents. It’s not power they’ve earned themselves, but merely a gift.

Because of this, even after becoming demigods, they remain subordinates who must completely obey the will of the god who granted them divinity.

Like Varnir Freyus, who claimed to be the companion and guardian of the World Tree, or Aurelius Garmerlic Pendragon, who’s desperately committed to the madness of creating Belliona.

He says it’s even impossible for them to elevate their status without permission from the god they serve.

For a demigod to elevate their status means, in other words, ascending to become a celestial god.

However, since their divinity is essentially identical to that of the god they serve, it would result in two gods governing the same domain.

It’s like a crown prince trying to take the throne while the king is still alive.

Therefore, there are only two ways for an ordinary demigod to ascend to godhood.

Either pledge absolute obedience to the god they serve and become a subordinate deity, which is nothing more than a high-class slave, or inherit everything from a god whose lifespan has ended and succeed their divine seat as their heir.

Like Garmerlic, if the god they serve is killed and their divinity stolen, the path to ascension is completely blocked until they recover the stolen divinity.

In contrast, in my case, the god who governed stars and dawn is already dead and gone, and since my divinity is closer to something I created myself, I don’t have such restrictions.

“You are already a god. Your status is high, but your power is weak, so you’re bound to the same rank as demigods, unable to ascend to the heavens.”

Though I’m treated as a demigod due to my imperfect body and insufficient divinity, in terms of status alone, I’m no different from the celestial gods, meaning I could ascend anytime if I just became stronger.

At least, that’s what Paulus seemed to believe.

What’s the actual truth? Well, I don’t know either.

I don’t know much about these matters since my religious education consists only of roughly memorizing the doctrines that the Archbishop of Bethania drilled into me.

I never had much interest in ascension in the first place, so I never bothered to learn more about it.

So naturally, Paulus, who has spent his entire life studying religion and whose life goal was ascension, would be much more knowledgeable in this field.

“Fine, let’s say I am a god as you claim, albeit an incomplete one. But… what’s your point? Are you asking me to open a path for your ascension?”

I pulled out a cigarette and asked sharply with a bored expression.

‘This bastard Paulus really talks too much. If you let him give a speech, he’d keep babbling until everyone falls asleep.’

He kept beating around the bush without mentioning the real reason he called me here. It was a frustrating and irritating way of speaking.

“Enough with the digressions, please get to the point. Why call a busy person—no, a busy god—and waste their time? Are you doing this on purpose?”

“…Then I’ll be direct.”

Paulus replied with a more solemn tone, his expression hardening.

“I had questions for the gods, and for this purpose, I tried either to draw the heavens closer to earth or to ascend to the heavens myself. But there’s no need for that anymore. The God of Stars and Dawn walks the earth.”

I understand what he means.

He wants to ask me what he was going to ask Menes. Though there’s a clear difference in power between Menes and me, we are still beings of the same rank.

…Well, if it’s a question I know the answer to, I don’t mind answering. Honestly, I was curious about what this old man was up to.

He was willing to risk the danger of facing me directly, and even after meeting, he built up to it so dramatically—it must be a significant question. I was secretly looking forward to it.

“So, God of Earth, I ask you this.”

And finally, Paulus looked straight at me and asked.

“The Heaven’s Wall that separates the celestial from the terrestrial—do you truly believe it was for the best?”

“…What?”

A question about something so obvious that I’d never even thought about it.

—-

Heaven’s Wall.

The wall of heaven that separates the celestial and terrestrial realms, equally weakening all races and burning those who exceed the limits it sets.

This was the very foundation that allowed humanity, once mere playthings of other races, to suppress all other races and dominate the continent.

“You’re asking if Heaven’s Wall was for the best…? After enjoying the continent’s greatest prosperity thanks to that wall, what nonsense are you talking now?”

Honestly, I was dumbfounded.

Other races might question it, but for a modern human to criticize Heaven’s Wall is shameless beyond measure.

“Prosperity… Indeed, humanity certainly achieved brilliant progress and prosperity. I won’t deny that much.”

Paulus nodded surprisingly readily, acknowledging that much at least.

Judging by his manner of speaking, the next word would surely be “however.” I felt like I could already see the future, though I was no fortune-teller.

“However—”

See? There it is, the inevitable “however.”

“However what? Isn’t that enough?”

“…Under an excessively bright light, there is always a deep shadow.”

Paulus shook his head, his eyebrows twitching.

“Blinded by the brilliance of prosperity, no one realized. No… they realized but turned a blind eye. That behind that splendid curtain, everything was rotting disgustingly. Until the maggots festering within were about to crawl out!”

Whether excited by his own words, Paulus’s voice gradually gained strength.

“Licentiousness and corruption, depravity and vice! Kings and nobles, soaked in desire and pleasure, commit evil acts without hesitation, and even the clergy, who should be devout, are blinded by power and ambition, engaging in collusion and power struggles!”

His tone shifted from lamentation to something more like a speech. It was a tone that made me feel like I should stand up in response.

“You know this too. You’ve seen it, heard it, experienced it firsthand, and sometimes punished it. You know, don’t you? The shadow of corruption and evil karma that hangs over our age!”

Well… what he’s saying isn’t wrong, but hearing such words from the mouth of an apostle felt extremely jarring.

Doesn’t this bastard have… you know?

Any self-awareness that he himself is the representative and leader of such vices?

Not just an ordinary heretic, but an apostle of an ancient god who’s at the forefront of world destruction—what nonsense is he spouting? It’s truly absurd.

Rather than continuing to listen to this nonsense, wouldn’t it be better to send him to Menes and then go hunt the void creatures that would rampage afterward?

Such a question even flashed through my mind.

“…So you’re saying people started to corrupt once their situation improved? And what, you think they were better off as slaves with no opportunity for corruption?”

I cracked my neck threateningly and asked.

“Not at all. Prosperity itself is certainly a blessing… but the problem is that it’s prosperity achieved through Heaven’s Wall. The Heaven’s Wall that brought prosperity and peace to humanity has, in return, separated us from the gods.”

The old man’s wrinkled eyes shone with conviction.

“The voice of the gods has disappeared, the bestowing of stigmata has become rare, and divine punishment has degenerated into mere rhetoric used to justify torture and burning at the stake.”

No, rather than conviction, it was closer to anger or resentment. His expression reminded me of Lacy bringing down her spear on the head of another race.

“True divine punishment has vanished since Heaven’s Wall was erected. What sinners fear is not the punishment of the gods, but the blades of those who follow the gods.

Divine punishment has disappeared since Heaven’s Wall was cast. No one fears divine punishment anymore.

From my perspective, this wasn’t entirely wrong. If gods could freely intervene in this world, there would be many who would have been struck by lightning long ago.

Including this bastard Paulus.

“It is very difficult to hide from the eyes of the gods… but not so difficult to hide from the eyes of the clergy. That is why this world, where the gods have grown distant, overflows with the vices and licentiousness of those who do not fear the gods.”

“Like you?”

“……”

Paulus seemed momentarily speechless, his mouth half-open.

The fact that he couldn’t immediately refute suggests he might have a shred of conscience left.

Despite spouting seemingly rational arguments, they had zero persuasiveness. This is why they say the messenger matters more than the message.

“…I have always wondered.”

After gaping for a while, Paulus finally continued.

“The fact that we humans have grown distant from divine guidance could be said to be a reclaiming of our inherent freedom, free from any interference. Yet the result is deepening vice and licentiousness….”

This makes it seem as if the human species itself was created as an evil being, Paulus said.

Even if that’s not the case and human nature contains both good and evil, the scales are tipped toward evil, which is why evil is never eradicated and good continues to be defeated, he added.

“What do you think? What do you believe is the reason why this world, our human world, is rotting with vice and corruption?”

After delivering such a lengthy speech, Paulus asked me as if seeking my agreement.

Distance from the gods. The inherent evil of humans. The weakness of good. If not for these reasons, what could possibly be the reason this world is so corrupt and depraved?

The answer he wants is probably that it’s because the gods, who should teach, guide, and sometimes strictly punish humans, have grown distant from the earth.

Therefore, he wants me to sympathize with the argument that Heaven’s Wall should be broken so that the gods can actively intervene in this world again.

But here’s the problem.

I have no intention of doing so.

“You’re asking because you don’t know?”

I flicked away my finished cigarette, crushing it with my fingertip, and stood up with a smirk.

“It’s because bastards like you are everywhere.”

The Oath Sword gleamed coldly.