Chapter 649: The Story (3)
The Archpriest of the Pater Church spoke.
"He mentioned that perhaps the Almighty Himself desires the End."
Depending on how one perceived it… No, regardless of who the speaker was, it was a profoundly shocking statement.
It was as if the Creator Himself was abandoning the world He brought into existence.
However, Oliver showed no notable reaction upon hearing it.
He had heard something similar in the past.
Through Ewan and Merlin, he had come across a similar story.
"…In any case, if the clock has started ticking, it suggests that evil has filled the world to the extent that even the Almighty's patience has reached its limits. In a way, it’s the beginning of a countdown to the End."
Oliver recalled Ewan and Merlin's past comments on the End.
Their words were alike.
It was a desperate tale of the world being so overwhelmed by sin that the Almighty could no longer bear it, wishing for the End to come.
Oliver questioned himself.
Why was it that, both then and now, he felt so little emotion upon hearing such stories?
Roderick must have also sensed Oliver’s detachment because, without being asked, he offered an explanation.
"I suspect it's a form of cognitive dissonance."
"Cognitive dissonance?"
"Simply put, it refers to a state where emotions, attitudes, and actions conflict in an unstable balance. When this occurs, do you know how people typically feel?"
"Not exactly."
Although Oliver was adept at reading emotions, he wasn’t as skilled at comprehending them.
"They feel discomfort."
"Do they?"
"Without a doubt. Humans are generally contradictory and self-conflicted beings, yet they ironically seek consistency. It’s seen as virtuous. There's nothing quite as pitiful as someone whose words and actions don’t align."
Oliver understood, more or less, what Roderick was saying.
"Now, here’s a question... what do people who feel discomfort usually do? They either rationalize it or misinterpret the situation to suit themselves."
"I can understand rationalization, but what do you mean by misinterpretation?"
"Like deciding that the End isn't a manifestation of divine wrath, but rather a trial. They believe that the Almighty still loves them, and that the End is only meant for unbelievers. They convince themselves that as long as they hold true faith, they’ll be fine… Hmph."
Roderick chuckled.
His laughter carried a mixture of irony and bitterness.
"I honestly don't understand this reasoning. Truly, how can love and trials coexist? Isn’t it strange? Yet astonishingly, many people genuinely think this way. Can you understand?"
"I'm not sure I can... How about you, Your Grace?"
Oliver’s words betrayed his lack of any real emotion.
Roderick pondered for a moment before answering.
"To be honest, I can’t say I don't understand. If they didn’t interpret it that way, they’d probably go mad."
Roderick spoke the final word with emotion, and this time, even Oliver, who was usually unmoved by others’ feelings, could relate.
The Almighty, who watches over us from the heavens...
The Pater Church taught that He was the omniscient and omnipotent Creator of the world and humanity, a deity who loved mankind.
For such a being to desire the world’s end out of disappointment with humanity...
It was an almost unbearable reality for those who had devoted their lives to His worship, even if Oliver, as a practitioner of black magic, could remain indifferent.
If the Almighty truly desired the End, it would be inescapable.
No, it might be an issue beyond mere life and death.
It could mean the negation of one’s very existence, a terror far worse than death.
Having grown up in an orphanage, Oliver had witnessed something similar.
Children who had been abandoned by their parents...
For those children, that day was akin to death or perhaps something even graver.
This gave Oliver an opportunity to approach the concept of the End from a new perspective.
Though he wasn’t entirely inclined to dwell on it.
However, thanks to Roderick’s eloquence and earnest emotions, he found himself unwittingly engrossed.
Oliver tried to regain his focus and distance himself from the topic, but Roderick was quicker to continue.
"Of course, I’m not entirely different... Do you recall that I lack deep faith?"
"...Yes, Your Grace."
"But don’t misunderstand. Although my faith may be faint, I’m not so foolish as to doubt the existence of the Almighty. The evidence is too clear to deny."
Roderick extended his hand, gathering holy power to illuminate the space around them.
Oliver silently watched that radiant light.
The sacred force that weakened magic and rendered black magic powerless...
"Do you have any questions?"
"Sorry?"
"I sensed you had something you wanted to ask."
Roderick had seen through Oliver’s thoughts with uncanny precision.
And indeed, Oliver did have a question.
It was a fundamental curiosity: was holy power truly a gift from the Almighty?
Because Edward, the Crown Prince of the United Kingdom, had once remarked that holy power wasn’t a gift from the Almighty.
"...He wasn’t lying."
Oliver recalled his past conversation with the prince.
To his surprise, Edward had spoken the truth, sincerely.
At the very least, the prince genuinely believed that holy power wasn’t given by the Almighty.
This naturally raised a question in Oliver’s mind.
If holy power, which weakened magic and neutralized black magic, didn’t come from the Almighty, then from whom?
Although he was curious, the current situation was too complicated for him to pursue this line of thought.
"No, I have no questions."
After some brief contemplation, Oliver answered.
"Very well then... Now, how do you think I should respond?"
"Pardon? Respond, Your Grace?"
"I asked how a servant of the Almighty should respond if the omnipotent deity truly desires the End."
Oliver remained silent. It was too brutal and profound a question to answer lightly.
"Rationally speaking, the right choice would be to give up everything. Opposing an omnipotent deity is not only impossible but also sinful. Even if the End brings about the death of all humanity, it would be best to submit and accept it."
"I don’t know. After all, I am a black magician."
"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"
Roderick laughed derisively at Oliver’s evasive answer.
Strangely, even though Oliver was usually unbothered by others’ opinions, Roderick’s laughter unsettled him.
"...Why are you laughing, Your Grace?"
"It’s amusing. I’m speaking about the End, which spares no one, and you react as if it doesn’t concern you."
"It’s just not something I can easily connect to."
"If that were the case, I wouldn’t have come this far to discuss it."
Roderick saw right through Oliver, recognizing the lie in his words.
"You’re much more human than I’d heard. You’re as contradictory and self-centered as anyone else. You may move to protect those right in front of you or people you care for, but you can just as easily ignore the bigger issues."
"..."
"Oh, don’t misunderstand. I’m not condemning you... In any case, returning to the original topic, if the Almighty desires the End, should I, as a believer, humbly accept it?"
Roderick slowly shook his head.
"No matter how I think about it, I can’t do that. It’s unjust. So, I’ve sought a way to resist the End with like-minded people."
"Is there a way?"
Oliver tilted his head.
According to Roderick, the End was essentially the will of the Almighty, and therefore opposing it should have been impossible.
"If it cannot be avoided or stopped, then we’ll control it. We will create a savior to deliver us."
Roderick’s words defied all logic.
However, Oliver instantly understood what he meant.
He had heard something similar from Merlin in the past.
"Are you referring to the Son of Angels?"
"As expected, you know. Among the many versions of the apocalypse, there’s a passage like this: when the world is filled with evil and the Prince of Hell opens the gates, the Son of the Most Holy Angel will sacrifice himself to save humanity... If the End has begun, and we cannot avoid or stop it, then perhaps we can redirect its course toward survival."
"Control the End... Is that even possible?"
"It’s not about whether it’s possible. It’s about desperately trying to make it so."
Oliver was at a loss for words. Roderick was right.
Since the End had already begun, if it could neither be avoided nor accepted, one had to attempt a solution, whether it succeeded or not.
"We named this endeavor Deus Ex Machina."
"Deus Ex Machina?"
Oliver murmured to himself, recognizing the term from a book.
Directly translated, it meant “god from the machine,” referring to a plot device in literature where an unexpected power resolves all conflicts in an instant.
Characters, stage elements, and more.
For instance, a deity might descend at the climax, introducing themselves and punishing the wicked while rewarding the just.
Roderick tasted the word as he spoke it.
"Deus Ex Machina... Ancient playwrights defined it as a method never to be used. That’s precisely why I’m fond of the name. To counter an unreasonable catastrophe like the End, we must also have an existence that defies reason."
Oliver remained silent.
"There’s one more reason I like the name Deus Ex Machina. Do you have any guesses?"
"No."
"It means ‘a god created by human hands,’ or ‘the god from a machine.’ Isn’t that splendid?"
At that moment, Roderick radiated intense emotions.
It was a fierce blend of resentment against injustice, determination for life, and an overwhelming desire for something greater.
In that flash of complex feelings, Oliver discerned what Roderick truly yearned for.
"Do you wish to control the Almighty?"
"Seeing a god who wants to end the world on a whim… controlling such a deity doesn’t seem so bad, don’t you think? Do you think it’s possible?"
"Well, honestly, I think it’s unlikely."
Oliver answered based on his understanding of the deity from scripture.
The Almighty wasn’t a being that could be shaped to one's will in that way.
"Heh, for a black magician, you have quite a devout heart. Seeing that, I’m suddenly reminded of something."
"What might that be, Your Grace?"
"When you asked after Bonifa’s wellbeing in the Magic Tower."
Bonifa—the Holy Knight who had intercepted Oliver in Wineham.
Oliver still remembered him well.
Understandably so; the knight had descended from the skies with wings made of light.
It was a striking sight. Because of his radiant appearance, some people even called him an angel, the Son of Angels, or a savior.
But Oliver had simply described him as a man with wings.
After all, he was merely a person with wings on his back.
In a way, it was like calling a crow a crow, no matter how its feathers might shine with vibrant colors.
Of course, that wasn’t to say Oliver disregarded him. On the contrary, he held the man in high regard.
The knight had soared through the air, effortlessly dismantling complex spells and black magic with his holy power. His strength was undeniable.
However, Oliver’s clearest memory of him was not for any of these reasons.
Rather, it was due to a certain embarrassing recollection.
A moment when, driven by rage, he had relentlessly attacked the knight, inflicting collateral damage on innocent bystanders in the process.
He remembered that time vividly...
When he had kicked Bonifa, sending him crashing beyond a wall; when he’d struck his spine with a knee, torn the luminous wings from his back, then mercilessly pummeled him until a building collapsed around them, nearly squeezing the man’s eyes as if they were ripe fruit.
Driven by a single, consuming intent: to inflict pain.
And then, in that frenzy, he had locked eyes with a family cowering in fear.
...
They were a ragged, impoverished lot, dressed in ill-fitting clothes. Clearly, they were people who lived day-to-day, with nothing more than what little they could earn.
In his moment of rage, Oliver had trampled upon their fragile world, and in that instant, he felt shame.
It was his impulsive anger that had wrought harm upon them.
"Are you still curious? About Bonifa?"
"...Is he well?"
"He’s not doing particularly well. He’s dead."
"...How did he pass away?"
"He never recovered from the injuries he sustained in Wineham."
Oliver responded sharply.
"Wasn't he able to heal with holy power?"
"We certainly tried, many times. But it was futile."
"Is that... possible?"
"I, too, wondered. Bonifa shouldn't have been wounded that severely in the first place."
"...?"
"He was, after all, the first successful creation of the Deus Ex Machina project."
"The Son of Angels... you mean?"
"Exactly. We nearly declared him the Son of Angels officially."
"...I'm struggling to understand this—was he truly the Son of Angels?"
"Don’t you think he was?"
"To be honest, though he was formidable, he still seemed human."
Oliver’s blunt response denied the very foundation of Roderick’s ambition.
Yet, rather than appearing displeased, Roderick smiled, as if he’d received the answer he was hoping for.
"You’re right. He was human. Even so, he was celebrated as the Son of Angels because he successfully drank the sacred water. The holy blood, no less."
"The sacred water... meaning—"
"...I don’t mean the replicas sold by the temple; I’m speaking of the true sacred water, created by an angel specifically for the Pater Church."
"An angel, you say?"
"Yes, it may surprise you. Holy power is not exactly a gift from the Almighty Himself. Rather, it was granted through an angel—the most beloved and holiest angel He could have chosen."
This unexpected revelation lit a spark in Oliver’s eyes.
"It’s an old legend passed down within the Pater Church. They say that to govern the land below, the Almighty sent down His most beloved son, who blessed a pool of water. That water became the sacred water, and the Holy Palace was later built on that site. The Holy Knights gain their holy power by drinking from those waters."
"The sacred water to become the Son of Angels is..."
"It is the sacred water, infused with a drop of an angel’s blood—a treasure guarded in secret by the Church."
Flooded with new knowledge, Oliver was bewildered, yet one thing became abundantly clear.
"Are you sure it’s alright to tell me this?"
Indeed, most people were unaware of what Roderick had just disclosed, and it was certainly not something to be revealed so casually.
If Roderick was confiding such secrets in Oliver, it could only mean he had a purpose for doing so.
The problem was, Oliver did not wish to know.
Roderick resumed speaking.
"At first, I couldn’t believe it. That Bonifa, who had ingested holy blood, had been felled."
"..."
"A tremendous price had been paid to create Bonifa, after all. A sacrifice unimaginable under any other circumstances but those of the End. Despite his shortcomings, he showed results. Yet, such a being fell to a mere fixer in a provincial town."
"..."
"And even stranger was that your wounds on him resisted all attempts to heal. Neither standard holy power nor concentrated sacred water, nor even exorcism rites, could close them. As a result, some even claimed you were a demon or perhaps a deity of another faith. I nearly came to believe it myself."
"Is that so?"
"Every place you visited, death and ruin followed. Some might say that such recurring coincidence is destiny. And with the many followers you’ve gathered... in centuries past, there’s been but one comparable figure—the Pied Piper."
Roderick paused briefly, then continued.
"Come to think of it, you fought the Pied Piper and survived, didn’t you?"
"What are you getting at, Your Grace?"
"That perhaps even Bonifa’s consumption of holy blood was not a mere coincidence, but a beckoning—summoning someone to this very place."
Creeeak...
As Roderick finished speaking, a subtle vibration with an unknown source began to reverberate in the room.
Oliver, silent, met Roderick's gaze.
Both men looked at each other, their gazes piercing as if probing for truths.
In the lengthy silence that followed, just as one of them was about to break it, someone opened the door and entered.
"Father."
It was Pandora.
Her sudden arrival dissipated the tense energy that had filled the room. Oliver turned his gaze toward her.
Pandora hesitated as she saw Oliver’s face, but she quickly steadied herself and stated the purpose of her visit.
"I have news. Someone just arrived to report that the Pied Piper appeared in the small town where you were staying, leading more than a hundred children. They were last seen heading toward Gallos."