Ch.368Resurrection of the Dead. Precursor (2)

*Rustle, rustle, rustle…*

Massive amounts of data, too vast to be fully displayed even on the giant monitor, fill the doctor’s field of vision.

The data chip given by the Sun. The countless pieces of information sleeping within it were sufficient to reduce those who were once pioneers to crawling insects in a matter of seconds.

“Marvelous…”

“Backup… we need to make backups!”

“Damn it… the computer can’t keep up with the calculations…! Is this the technology of the ancient empire…?!”

The Precursor hospital’s main computer is naturally a supercomputer. The fact that such a computer was struggling not with real-time calculations but merely with retrieving pre-stored information gave the doctors an immense sense of deflation.

They too were people living in the Age of Mortality, and had seen many traces left behind by the ancient empire throughout their lives. But 1,200 years had passed, and technology had been restored to the point where most artifacts could be reproduced, albeit at much higher costs, so they thought they could somewhat compare to the ancient empire.

But no. How could one claim that the current generation’s technology had restored that of the ancient empire when it takes hours of delay just to access data for a single cold medicine?

With that thought, their minds suddenly turn to the “war funds” given by the Sun. Thousands of crates filled with brilliantly shining gold coins… With these, covering 100 years of operating costs would be no challenge at all, but the hospital director and doctors unanimously decided to use the funds to install better equipment and reform the hospital.

This too was the Sun’s will, so ultimately it was a most desirable scene where human wishes and divine intentions aligned.

“First, let’s replace the computers… and look into whether there are any medical artifacts among the ancient empire’s relics. With luck, we might find something like these data chips.”

“Let’s do that. We’ll also need to expand our staff… I’ll put out large-scale recruitment advertisements.”

“We should increase the number of exchange students too. Expand the dormitories, hire teachers… and enhance various infrastructure.”

“Damn… it looks like I won’t be able to go home this year if we have to process all this… but let’s do it anyway!”

The doctors clenched their fists.

They finally had an opportunity. Not just to gather fragmented souls after death, but a heaven-sent chance to manufacture medicines, perform surgeries, and train disciples to prevent more people from dying.

And the doctors of Precursor would absolutely not miss this opportunity.

The dead cannot come back to life a second time.

No matter how one scrapes together souls to reassemble them, injects memories from their previous life, and teaches imitated behaviors. The fact that it is merely a replica that has inherited the thoughts and memories of the deceased was common sense to those who had performed “resurrections” thousands of times.

Therefore, one must save lives before death. One must hold onto the soul before it departs for heaven. But there had been no method. The human brain was a machine so intricate that it couldn’t understand itself, and the human body was a sensitive instrument that, once broken in one place, could never be repaired.

But now that the Sun had descended and given them another chance, they would not let it slip away. They would teach this to their disciples, hold seminars, give lectures, and spread this knowledge.

This was neither their right nor their desire.

This was their duty.

*

“The Sun caresses your wounds. Be strong, little child.”

“Waaah waaah.”

The Sun had still not left Precursor.

Though he had not descended again, as a Living-Totem he was spreading the warmth of the Sun throughout Precursor, and thousands of priests had come down to anoint those with fatal illnesses with holy oil and bestow blessings upon them.

Yet despite this, those destined to die continued to perish. Those who were too weak or too young could not accept the Sun’s power despite receiving his blessing, and ultimately closed their eyes forever.

Those too old or too young to expect physical resurrection were cremated under the tears of their guardians and buried in the land of white gowns, while the Sun’s honor guard, also dressed in white uniforms, patrolled the enormous grounds of the Precursor hospital, spanning thousands of square kilometers, watching for any possible intrusions.

The Sky Warden was boarding and disembarking dozens of shuttles daily, taking on the role of feeding patients recovering from serious illnesses the taste of the secular world (military food), while subtly showing off its overwhelming armaments to startle thieves who were eyeing from afar for something to steal.

Yes. Truly deplorably, bandit groups were trying to raid even hospitals without their own armaments. And this was where the Sun resided, no less.

Whether it should be called incredible audacity or greed that blinded them to human decency, the Sun, upon hearing the report, ran his hand down his face and gave orders to handle it “appropriately.”

And so, the bands of thieves that had been stealthily gathering nearby began to be crushed by a strike force of about 6,000 men carried by 10 shuttles that secretly launched under cover of darkness, and the bandits, unilaterally struck by artillery forces led by howitzers, could not resist the Sun’s executioners who represented divine wrath.

“These traitors dared to try to plunder the place where the Sun resides! Show no mercy!”

“Hail to the Lord of Fervor!”

The bandit groups, whose leadership and even rank-and-file members were torn to pieces by strike team members armed with fanatical faith, were completely annihilated, and the battle, which lasted barely two hours, ended in an overwhelming victory.

The people of the world needed to know that anyone who tried to attack the place where the Sun resided would be utterly fucked.

*

“It’s over, sir.”

“How many died? I mean, my men.”

“Thirteen dead and two hundred twenty wounded, sir.”

“I see.”

The Sun’s expression hardened.

First Isabella, and now so many others desperate to rob the hospital… it was truly… something that vertically dropped his trust in the human species.

This is a place crowded with critically ill patients on the verge of death. Although medicines and medical supplies sell for high prices, medicines are only meaningful when people consume or inject them, and without ultra-low temperature, freezing, or cold storage facilities, they instantly lose their effectiveness or become poisonous.

Those who try to steal medicines to sell elsewhere without having such equipment and facilities—if they didn’t know this fact, they became thieves due to their intelligence; if they knew and still did it, they became thieves due to their character.

Greed and desire.

Without those two, humans would become machines and perish, but with the harm of those two happening right before his eyes, Victor could only furrow his brow.

Of course, they must have had their circumstances. The Sun knew well that blindly condemning them could easily develop into extremism that calls for the purging of society’s outcasts and other “worthless” individuals.

He knew how desperate humans could become from hunger, and how wicked they could become from poverty.

Because he had personally seen on the coast of Parsifal, which was a living hell, how human life could sometimes be worth less than a single egg.

He also knew that some are born with a thirst for blood, social maladjustment, and desires that can only be satisfied through destruction.

He also knew that those born with socially condemned orientations like pedophilia must endure by killing themselves inside for their entire lives. And that such endurance is extremely painful. The coast of Parsifal accepted everyone, and also swept everyone away like sandcastles before the waves.

Embracing everyone is not so different from being hated by everyone. The Sun knew this too, but nevertheless, he would ultimately embrace all of humanity in his arms.

Not because he was merciful. Not because he was arrogant.

It was because he was not a weak god who would fall to the hatred of mortals.

“You there.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Do you have any commands?”

“Bring me news of Parsifal. I wish to hear about my homeland after so long.”

“Understood, Your Majesty.”

Troubled, Victor ordered his subordinate to bring news of Parsifal, then opened a bottle of apple brandy and drank straight from it.

The cruel truth that while human goodwill has limits, human malice has none made Victor, the sum of all humans, very sad.

Even sadder was the fact that even if the world became one again, humans would not change.