Ch.392Faith’s Burial Ground. Mount Dikere (2)

The inside of Mount Dikere resembled a mine.

In the past, Viktor, who had worked in mines in Parsifal, had seen miners set up crude living quarters with beds and cooking utensils inside the mines. Mount Dikere had a similar feel to it.

Any notable artifacts had already been taken by someone, leaving the place empty. One might have expected the desolate atmosphere typical of abandoned mines, but surprisingly, it wasn’t so pronounced.

Though the mountain terrain was treacherous, limiting the number of pilgrims, there were still quite a few. They gathered in small groups, lighting campfires and cooking thin porridge.

“We used to be like that too. Damn… I miss it already.”

“You sound like an old man… I can’t stand seeing a young person acting so pitiful.”

Currently, the Iron Walker party was suppressing their divine aura as much as possible.

Of course, their high-quality attire meant they could never pass for ordinary adventurers, but at least they didn’t appear godlike, which was sufficient.

“I wish we had something that could read the past.”

“Those kinds of artifacts have probably been taken by someone already. How about examining the walls?”

“The walls…”

Following that suggestion, Viktor placed his hand on the wall and concentrated.

Suddenly, a large spark erupted, and Viktor stepped back as if shocked by static electricity.

“Hmm…”

Viktor retreated momentarily to catch his breath.

Come to think of it, this place was the final sanctuary of a religion that rejected the sun and moon—a burial ground for gods gradually being forgotten.

“Not working?”

“It’s not that it doesn’t work… but… it wouldn’t be respectful, would it?”

These gods had already fled from the sun’s radiance. If he wanted to, uncovering their hidden secrets would be easier than a bulldozer crushing a child’s sandcastle.

But whether that would be morally right is another question.

In this ossuary, swept up in the great transformation of the world, where only traces and lingering thoughts remain after all faith was lost, a curse would befall anyone who uses force to get what they want.

And there was no need to risk that.

No matter how weakened they might be, gods are still gods. They deserve proper respect in their shrines and temples.

Even if those temples have turned into tombs.

Viktor led his party members further ahead.

Stairs. Beds. Bathrooms. Theaters. Traces of facilities sufficient for human habitation. Only traces remained in these ruins.

The remnants of gods once worshipped by humans were now damaged beyond recognition.

Yet they never demanded the blood of others until the very end, which was precisely why they received the sun’s respect.

Gods need human belief. Even if it comes through forced conversion, belief is still belief—by imprinting their existence in human consciousness, they gain the power to maintain their existence.

However, the forgotten gods of this land refused glory forged in blood, choosing instead to fade into a corner of history.

Like it or not, Viktor, who knew all too well the immense sacrifices humanity had made due to the destruction brought by the Four Great Gods, couldn’t help but respect those who chose to be forgotten and crumble away rather than resurrect themselves using others as sacrifices.

“Become a monster by surviving… or disappear by dying… They chose the latter.”

The challenging lives of those who lived here were evident in the architectural style. Near the entrance, from the early pioneering days, there were sophisticated and elegant reliefs and engravings that preserved ancient architectural styles. But as one moved further from the entrance, these decorative elements decreased, expressions became simpler, until eventually nothing remained but indiscriminate excavation and shabby supports.

Whether they ran out of time, lacked skilled craftsmen, or had insufficient resources is unknown. Perhaps it was all three.

Or maybe they had no choice at all. By the time the Age of Solar Eclipse began, they had already exhausted all their divine power, and there was no one left to believe in them.

The final believers either left their temples to survive somewhere else or died, so there was no one left to hear their faint, fading voices.

Thinking about it this way, all that remained was a sense of pity. What situation would gods face when there’s no one to remember them, no one to worship them? They must be wandering in a tiny world, trapped in a cramped room without windows or doors, endlessly crying out screams that no one can hear.

While he couldn’t fully comprehend their suffering, he could estimate it. During the Age of Solar Eclipse, when faith in the sun was eroded more rapidly than a stock market crash, he had experienced unbearable pain despite his entire body already being on fire.

Limbs severed, skin flayed alive, poison coursing through every muscle, bone, and nerve, and even the space to writhe in agony being cut away as if sliced by a knife—the memory remained vivid.

Even after 1,200 years, the sun’s pain had not ceased.

And as long as the cosmic sun shines, that pain would never end.

“Is this the end?”

“Seems like it. Is there… no exit?”

As they continued walking, the path eventually came to an end.

What remained was an empty clearing.

When did this clearing, once filled with the belongings of all sorts of people, begin to empty? Did they leave or die? If they left, where did they go, and if they died, how did they die?

The questions remained unanswered, circling endlessly. The answer lay right before them, but uncovering it would violate an ancient covenant, blocking any easy path to discovery.

“…Someday, we’ll find out.”

As Viktor muttered this, Simon nodded. All that remained was to leave this place and surrender once more to the bitter cold.

Like exiles who hid in darkness, away from the sun’s gaze.

*

“Snow has accumulated this much already… the power of nature.”

Despite having melted the permafrost with divine power, the peak and middle slopes of Mount Dikere were once again covered in pristine white snow.

Was there no place for warmth on this towering mountain range? The snow particles reflecting the sun’s radiance seemed particularly resentful.

Yet defying nature would be foolish.

Just as blocking rain leads to downpours and damming rivers causes floods.

When it rains, you inevitably get wet; when it snows, things inevitably become slippery.

Shuuuuuu…

Slowly, a massive shuttle descended.

The door of the messenger from the distant Sky Warden opened, and the Iron Walker party entered, clutching their collars.

“Welcome back, my lord. Shall we depart now?”

“…Yes. Let’s head back.”

Return.

Come to think of it, the fugitives of Mount Dikere must have had homelands too.

Yet they willingly abandoned their homes and carved this treacherous mountain to worship their gods, showing just how immensely valuable deities were to humans.

Someday, in a future so distant that even the sun might fall, the Yangwol Order might also decline like the recluses of Mount Dikere.

Everything reaches its peak and then descends. A child becomes a boy, then an adult, and eventually passes through middle age to face the twilight of old age before closing their eyes, never to open them again.

What matters is what legacy one leaves in this endless cycle of life, and how much one has accomplished. Nothing else.

The Victorian Empire… would the empire he would establish be his achievement or his legacy?

Looking at Mount Dikere gradually receding into the distance, Viktor wore a complicated expression.

Did they have a choice? Did they have the right—or privilege—to determine their own fate?

Now, no power can unearth the secrets of the past buried in frost and gravel. They have completely passed into the hands of mortals.

The secret might be revealed tomorrow, or it might never be revealed at all.

If so, one should simply forget. Like feeling frustrated at seeing an empty clearing, some secrets and histories may never come to light.

That was the law of the human world under heaven, and even gods couldn’t defy it.

“Farewell, ancient gods. Your names are still long, and your destinies still distant. May you find peace until no one can remember you.”

With these words, the sun bid farewell to Mount Dikere.

Did the endlessly falling snowflakes hear his divine voice?