Vol 3 Chapter 73: “The World”

No one knew where that existence had come from.

Just as no one could say which came first—the concept of “God” or the entity crowned as such—that existence simply appeared in the world of the gods, as though it had always been there.

It could not be described as something that “was.” The gods, to varying degrees, all possessed beautiful and majestic appearances. Yet, that existence was grotesque, resembling an ugly infant or perhaps a shriveled, decrepit elder.

It neither moved nor acted. It merely lay there, rolling across the world. However, all the gods simultaneously became aware of a singular, shared emotion:

I want it to end already.

This was a fleeting emotion born within the eternally existing gods. Or perhaps… this feeling had existed before that existence came into being.

No, that must have been the case.

It was because this emotion had arisen within the gods that that existence was created.

The gods had looked upon humanity and come to understand something they themselves did not possess. Over time, they began to desire it.

Perfect eternity.

The gods, who had experienced eternity in its completeness, no longer desired anything.

Somewhere deep within themselves, they had begun to yearn for an end.

And then, with the birth of that existence—the God of Death—it slowly, yet all too swiftly for the gods, met its own demise.

In that moment, the gods came to understand the concept of death.

What followed was swift. Even so, compared to the history of humanity, the process was exceedingly slow. Bit by bit, gods began to choose death.

No matter how perfect a paradise, no matter how blissful a life one led, at some point, the longing for an end would arise.

The number of gods dwindled, and with them, the angels also began to fade.

Even in the absence of gods, divine oracles, magic, and blessings had been set to function automatically for humans.

And so, in the world of the gods, only one angel and one god remained.

“I see.”

The god had come to understand.

Death.

“And then, you were summoned.”

The angel spoke, its anger seemingly rising as it glared bitterly at Sukui.

“Why did the gods accept death?”

Why did they summon an existence like you?

“As the gods’ final mission, I transferred you to this world.”

A transfer could only occur after death. A different world meant a different body. Unlike Sukui’s temporary presence in this world now, a complete transfer could only happen by calling forth the soul after death.

Thus, Sukui was completely killed, and his existence was transferred to another world.

“What was transferred were your body’s data, your soul, and a knife. Along with two spells.”

Two spells. Sukui already knew what they were.

“Death magic, correct?”

“A parting gift from that existence.”

Had Sukui been able to carry over all the experiences he had accumulated in life, he would likely have retained a wide variety of spells.

In life, Sukui had naturally come into contact with fire, water, plants, and earth. It would not have been surprising if he had been able to wield all those forms of magic to some extent.

Yet, among them, only two spells fulfilled the conditions during Sukui’s lifetime and were carried over through the transfer.

The magic of immortality, gained through dying.

The magic of killing, gained through killing.

“So, because I died and was transferred, I obtained the magic of immortality?”

“No, that’s unrelated. Even without the transfer, you repeatedly performed acts that were deemed as dying and coming back to life.”

Sukui recalled his days as a mercenary.

Indeed, Sukui had continued to fight, even when his body was in shambles, his sight was lost, maggots infested his wounds, and his body was discarded in the dead pile.

“There are no others who have tread so closely between life and death. The transfer itself is irrelevant. It was simply your way of living that qualified you to learn the magic of immortality.”

Similarly, the knife had cut through countless things, repeatedly breaking and being repaired, fulfilling the conditions to become a magical artifact of unbreakable durability and absolute severance. Thus, it, too, was sent to this world.

“At the same time, the magic of immortality is defined as an S-rank spell. It’s not counted among the five greatest magics, but it holds similar weight. That entity chose you as its recipient.”

The God of Death.

It is ironic that the most powerful magic held by the gods—the magic of the God of Death—was immortality.

This magic required its recipient to experience death. Such was its nature.

And so, the God of Death chose Sukui, who resided not in the human world but in another.

Even with that choice, Sukui was unable to use magic in his original world.

Yet it was for this reason that Sukui was sent to this world.

“What is the gods’ purpose?”

“Your directive is to live as you wish.”

To Sukui’s question, the angel gave the same answer as before.

“I cannot say more. I will not say more.”

The angel glared at Sukui.

“I hate death.”

I hate you. I hate the God of Death.

The angel spat those words bitterly.

“Why was it necessary to abandon this paradise? Everything was within reach, everything was ours to command. Without the concept of death, the gods could have continued to live happily in this world.”

We should have remained happy.

We should have remained fulfilled.

But the concept of death seeped into their midst.

And because of it, the option of death was born.

Death took the gods from me.

“I never wanted to summon you. Whether you’re a calamity like that entity, spreading death wherever you go, or a halfwit incapable of meeting the gods’ expectations, it makes no difference.”

It doesn’t matter.

I hate you, and I’m not interested in you.

She simply carried out her orders.

“You provoked the priest Mistl, didn’t you?”

Sukui, accustomed to anger being directed his way, paid it no mind and asked what he needed to ask. He refrained from pointing out the angel’s blasphemy against death.

“Ah, you mean the matter of the divine oracle.”

The divine oracle was programmed to respond automatically to certain questions.

“The gods did not focus solely on you. That oracle was also something prepared by the gods.”

In other words, just as Sukui had been summoned to that world, the priest Mistl had been given that oracle for the same reason.

“Being able to hear an oracle that was once unheard… it’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

After all, it’s just an extra feature of sorts.

It’s not something you need to concern yourself with.

“Don’t trouble yourself with why you were summoned to this world. All you need to do is live as you please, spreading and cultivating faith in death in that world.”

That is the gods’ wish.

“You understand now, don’t you? It’s time to send you back.”

“Three.”

Sukui interrupted the angel, who seemed annoyed by the amount she had spoken and was turning her back to him.

“There were three in this world. You, the one remaining god, and one other.”

As he spoke, Sukui realized he didn’t even need to ask.

So, another one was born.

“Now, there are only two gods left in this world.”

One of them oversees the heroes.

How ironic.

Without asking what that statement truly meant, Sukui’s consciousness began to drift back to his original world.