Chapter 9: The Priest's Journey (2)
‘It’s so vivid.’ It was so realistic it was almost terrifying. If I became too immersed, I’d wander in this reenacted history forever. ‘I have to stay sharp. I’m not just experiencing any miracle, but an Outer God’s miracle.’
Now, this scene of a primitive city is the moment when the <Forbidden Transformation> miracle was first used. For a priest’s miracle, its first recorded use like this is a crucial point.
‘This must be the biggest difference between magic and miracles.’ Magic creates phenomena by understanding principles and causing a direct change. That’s why magic requires high intelligence and study, but miracles are different. ‘No need to understand them. No, understanding itself is impossible.’
Unlike even the highest and most complex magic, which still has principles, a miracle is more like a special phenomenon born from the will of a god and a priest, with no underlying principle at all. When a miracle is used for the first time, someone records its details and the prayer the priest used. Through that record, other priests can reenact the miracle by reciting the same prayer. This is the principle of miracles.
‘In that sense, I still prefer mages over priests.’ Compared to magic, which can be modified and changed according to the user’s will, a miracle can only produce a predetermined phenomenon. Because of this property, priests gain experience by meditating on a miracle’s history and experiencing it directly.
‘Still, I never would have thought it would feel this realistic.’ The ancient city and the blood-stained situation were one thing, but there was something else unsettling. The first user of this miracle, the Prophetess, was a woman, and I was experiencing her female body. Movement was difficult and my body felt heavy. When I looked down, I understood why. ‘...She was pregnant.’
Along with a bad premonition, some of the Prophetess's memories and thoughts began to flow into me. ‘She wasn't religious, but she was a person of high mental strength and unique sensitivity.’ Other than that, I could see she was more ordinary than I thought, just someone with a normal family. But the fundamental form of worship in this city was human sacrifices, and the fact that she didn't feel any revulsion toward it was alien to me.
‘Lowly creatures. How can they do this to fellow humans?’ It was reminiscent of the Aztec Empire's human sacrifices and cannibalism, and the methods in the Prophetess's memory were utterly horrific. ‘To think that monsters like these were destroyed... it feels like they got what they deserved.’
This city was practically built of blood and bone. It had developed through the offerings obtained from human sacrifices, to the point that some families would bear children specifically for use as sacrifices. Of course, the invaders weren't exactly saints either.
"Forward!" I felt the rope around my neck tighten. It was so coarse that it scratched my skin, sending a wave of pain through my body. Experiencing pain so vivid that I almost mistook it for my own, I walked toward the execution platform, just as the Prophetess had.
‘Looks like I’m about to be decapitated again.’ It wasn't an execution platform with a guillotine or a gallows. It was simply a beheading, where they’d sit you down and bring a sword down on your neck.
"[The Sleeper in the Netherworld]... our King..." the Prophetess recited a prayer as she was dragged along. Annoyed, the soldier who was leading her kicked her, but she managed to stay on her feet. When the Prophetess closed her eyes, I could see a blurry black thing—the form of a being she had summoned in her mind.
‘This woman... with her high mental strength and unique sensitivity, she was meeting the Outer God through dreams and visions.’ She had a talent for it, in a way. A very unfortunate talent. ‘It’s a wonder she hasn't gone insane yet, but she was going to in a year or two anyway.’ Ultimately, those involved with an Outer God are destined for ruin.
But the Prophetess, by offering everything she had in this moment, dreamed of revenge against the invaders who took her husband and daughter.
[He is indifferent.] The Prophetess's thoughts echoed in my mind. [He feels greed and joy for the offerings we send, but to Him, we who worship you are nothing but insects.] The Prophetess understood perfectly. Just as all the priests who followed [The Sleeper in the Netherworld] did. Just as her father, a priest himself, had once taught her.
—He is interested in the offerings, not us. He desires the sacrifices, not our love.
Some make the mistake because He provides rewards corresponding to the offerings, but in the end, an Outer God is just an Outer God. The only thing that being seeks is a sleep full of laziness. To draw the attention of such a god, a very special offering was needed.
‘Wait a moment... this woman, surely she isn't?’ The scripture had only said that the Prophetess had offered a very precious sacrifice. Only now did I realize what it was.
"You... can’t even properly bring down a single woman." The Prophetess provoked the soldier who kicked her. "Judging by your face, you’ve never been able to subdue a woman, have you? I heard you barbarian heretics are pathetic when it comes to serving a woman at night." The prayer she had murmured earlier was also for him to hear.
Enraged by the Prophetess's words, which had struck a nerve, the soldier threw her down in the middle of the procession to the execution platform and began kicking her. As he spat curses and unleashed brutal violence on her body, the crowd simply cheered enthusiastically for the new spectacle.
"Agh! O Great [Sleeper in the Netherworld], look upon me. I offer you my most precious treasures..." A terrible pain spread through her belly. It was followed by a silence only a mother can feel. The life growing inside was extinguished; it no longer kicked her stomach or squirmed. The fetus, killed by the soldier's rough kicks, was the only offering the Prophetess, who had lost everything, could give.
"O [Sleeper in the Netherworld]..." In the Prophetess's blood-filled eyes, she could see him. Perhaps it was just a hallucination, a delusion, or maybe just the shadows of people that looked like something more. "Finally...! Finally, I see you!"
"She’s lost her mind completely. Drag her away!" Dragged to her feet and hauled to the execution platform, the Prophetess saw, beneath the crowd of people, a black shadow that seemed to be taking a certain shape. it was vast and bizarre.
‘Is it more than just an illusion?’ To my eyes, it looked like a demon, and at the same time, it reminded me of an amphibian, triggering a particularly nauseating and unpleasant feeling. At the same time, it also looked like nothing more than the shadows of people.
"O Great One, I call upon you. Grant me your grace..." From the Prophetess's mouth and mine... no, from a mouth I couldn't identify, the prayer began. A true prayer, spoken with divine inspiration. "Grant me the blessing that leads to the darkest... netherworld."
The miracle began. The Prophetess felt a strange power flowing in her veins. She felt her mana being dyed by something else.
Thud! And her head was cut off. Or rather, half of it was. "Tch, this blade has gone dull..." When it didn't cut cleanly, the executioner began to saw through her neck with his rusty, chipped sword.
"Wooowaaah!" The crowd's cheers erupted. An execution was always an entertaining spectacle, and everyone, young and old, watched the thrilling death of the defeated. But gradually, they began to notice something strange.
"Doesn't something look weird?"
"Why isn't there any blood?"
No blood flowed from the severed neck or the head held high. Experiencing the Prophetess's body directly, I knew. There was no longer blood in this body.
"Look! It’s moving!" The decapitated corpse of the Prophetess jerked and began to rise. As the soldiers fired spears and arrows at it, the body collapsed.
"Is it over?"
"Disgusting things, anyway... huh?"
Then, her bloated stomach split wide open, and instead of a fetus and amniotic fluid, it began to pour out something black. Black, liquid-like matter shot from the severed neck in an instant, enveloping the executioner's head and melting it instantly.
"R-Run!" The festive atmosphere was now filled with screams and chaos. The Prophetess was transforming into one of the Formless Creations, and by experiencing it, I could understand this miracle as well. Just as with Alvega, the retribution against the soldier who struck her neck wasn't revenge, but divine punishment.
‘Punishment for harming someone blessed by the God. So that is the principle of this miracle.’ The Prophetess, who had talent but lacked skill as a priest unlike me, couldn't regenerate her body and immediately transformed into one of the Formless Creations.
"Kill it! It’s just a single abomination!" The soldiers attacked the Prophetess who had become a Formless Creation, but physical attacks were useless. The Formless Creation mixed with the rainwater, gradually swelling in size and beginning to swallow its surroundings.
"O Sleeper of the Netherworld!" The city of those who believed in the Outer God. Its inhabitants cheered and voluntarily allowed themselves to be swallowed by the Formless Creation. They mixed and transformed, eventually becoming new Formless Creations and joining the consumption of the city. The priests and mages who arrived late unleashed a barrage of attacks, but it wasn't enough to stop the Formless Creations that had grown to an enormous size.
"Run! The attacks aren't working!"
"It melts you if it touches you! Don't let it touch you!"
Having swallowed the corpses and grown larger, it swung its formless bodies to strike, crush, swallow, and chew.
‘This feeling is...’ I thought the Prophetess would feel some kind of release. The joy of revenge, the ecstasy of finally reaching the Outer God. But the Prophetess felt nothing.
‘I feel like I've become a machine. How horrific.’ To the Prophetess who had become a Formless Creation, only her master's command, [The Sleeper in the Netherworld], took precedence. She felt no emotion in killing the soldiers who had killed her family; she simply eliminated those who desecrated her master's city for her master's sake.
"Glory to [The Sleeper in the Netherworld]! Worship our Great God!" The fanatics ran wildly, joining the black wave, only to fall silent after being swallowed. The buildings they built with their own hands crumbled, and the invaders who failed to flee in time were devoured.
‘Everything is drowning.’ In the wake of the Formless Creations, nothing remained but a mixture of blood and flesh, mud and all kinds of filth. The city had vanished. Only desecration remained.
"Hah!" Dripping with cold sweat, I emerged from my meditation. As I wiped the sweat and ran my hand through my hair, I glanced at the back of my hand. The dice seemed to have rolled again. The green light was gradually fading. It must have been a check for mental damage.
"Sir?"
"Ah, sorry..."
Right. We were in the forest, and Thalia was on guard. I felt a twinge of guilt toward Thalia; I seemed to have been meditating for a long time. "It took a while, didn't it? I’ll take over the guard n—"
"No? It hasn't even been five minutes since you closed your eyes." From the puzzled way she looked at me, it wasn't just a kind gesture—that seemed to be all the time that had really passed. It felt as if hours had gone by, but in reality, it was only about five minutes.
"Haaaah..." Even in the quiet of the forest, I could feel the Formless Creations writhing deep within the earth beneath me. At their master's command, they would drown the world in desecration again one day.
"......Desecration." Ironically, and terrifyingly, I had become unable to feel fear for that terrible future.
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