People Only Believe What They Want to Believe

They say inciting a crowd is easy, but refuting the lie requires a mountain of evidence. Why? Because people only believe what they want to believe. And whether they are constellations or mere humans, what people in these online communities want to believe is always the same: whatever is the most entertaining. Better yet, if they can drag down a high-and-mighty figure and beat them to a pulp, they will jump at the chance.

Of course, with even a shred of common sense, anyone could see that the Ruler of Serpents and Darkness had no reason to send me such a photo and grovel. Although the Serpent was only a mid-high grade constellation, they had the backing of the Underworld nebula. On the other hand, while I was a supreme-grade constellation, I didn't have any real forces to my name yet. Granted, since the constellation of the incarnation they had stolen had suddenly risen to supreme-grade, they did need to offer some form of apology—but there was absolutely no need to go to such humiliating extremes.

But that didn't matter. No matter how logically the Serpent tried to explain themselves, the sensational narrative of them acting tough in public while secretly bowing their naked head in the backrooms was far more stimulating.

On top of that, what if the Serpent and the Underworld nebula had already built up a massive stack of ill will from other constellations by constantly acting obnoxious on the forums and in the lower worlds?

And what if suspicious anonymous accounts—who spoke suspiciously like the constellations of the 72 Demons nebula and had long considered the Underworld an eyesore—were spamming the constellation forum to manipulate public opinion?

Yep, it's definitely burning down.

Furthermore, there was the phrase I had written in my post: "the three shameless bastards who tried to offer a contract to my incarnation." Combine that with the fact that my grade had recently been adjusted from lowest-grade constellation to supreme-grade. Putting these two pieces together, the other constellations quickly pieced together what had happened.

Ah! He had his incarnation stolen because he was just a lowest-grade constellation!

Although lowest-grade constellations couldn't access the forum, the next most populous group was the lower-grade constellations. Many of them had promoted from lowest-grade, and even lower-grade or mid-low grade constellations had plenty of experience having their incarnations snatched away by stronger deities. Naturally, these constellations felt a deep sense of shared sorrow. Had they not all dreamed of one day ascending to supreme-grade and taking revenge on the bastards who stole their precious incarnations? Of course they had.

And so, projecting their own desires onto me—the one who had turned that dream into reality—they were now united in bashing the Underworld on the forum. With all these factors aligning, the public opinion of the constellations was blazing furiously, exactly as I had intended. Naturally, I had risen to the center of attention once again. In fact...

These notifications kept rolling in. After all, if something became a hot topic among the constellations, there was no way rumors wouldn't spread to their incarnations. Constellations who were close with their incarnations would gossip about it, or perhaps curse my name.

Maybe factions like the Underworld even issued a collective warning to all their incarnations.

In any case, having infamy spread was far better than being a complete nobody. Sure, it wouldn't have been bad to make a quiet debut like everyone else, adopting a dignified concept that fit my modifier. I could have quietly received apologies regarding my former incarnations, settled things amicably behind closed doors, joined a decent nebula, and contracted with a decent incarnation. That wouldn't have been a bad path, but it would have made me just another 'decent' constellation.

Calling a supreme-grade constellation 'decent' might sound like an understatement, but I would have ended up as the most average, run-of-the-mill deity among the supreme-grades. But then, some lunatic had gone ahead and set the stage for me...

Why wouldn't I take advantage of this?

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠best part of all was that this lunatic was actually a genius mana-less individual. In a world where aura and magic ran rampant, those born without mana or unable to use it were treated like dirt. They faced implicit discrimination, and without mana, rising to a high position was out of the question. Since there were virtually no mana-less individuals among the nobility and the vast majority of them were commoners, they were openly despised by society.

If that was how the mortals of that world perceived them, how would the constellations view them? Naturally, the constellations' prejudice was far worse, never better. After all, most constellations were transcendent beings who had surpassed mortal limits to achieve godhood. When many of them already viewed the humans of the lower world as mere pets, how would they look at someone who couldn't even use mana? They probably wouldn't even see them as ants.

That was precisely why the Underworld assumed there was a mastermind behind this incident. In their minds, it was utterly impossible for a mana-less human to invent such weapons and carry out a terrorist attack all on their own. And to top it off, that human didn't even have a sponsoring constellation?

Ah, the masterminds chose an ordinary human to use as a scapegoat!

That was the only logical conclusion they could reach. Once their suspicions drifted in that direction, they naturally assumed the mastermind was their rival, the 72 Demons nebula. But what if I stepped forward and claimed that I was the actual mastermind? Then, in their eyes, I would become a constellation possessing that exact level of terrifying capability.

My current self? I was a supreme-grade constellation in name only; I had no incarnations, no credits, and my actual power was utterly pathetic. But by bluffing that I was the mastermind behind this incident, I had transformed into a terrifying entity in the eyes of the other constellations. A rare supreme-grade constellation. A deity possessing the knowledge to create mysterious weapons they had never seen before. Weapons that allowed a despised, mana-less mortal to blow up the Pantheon from a distance without any restrictions.

The fact that the explosion was weaker than expected? To the other constellations, it looked like I had intentionally calibrated the blast yield to deliver a precise warning, targeting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠nothing but the statue of the Ruler of Serpents and Darkness.

Well, in reality, I didn't make those weapons, and the whole thing was just a massive coincidence.

Regardless of the actual truth, a single post had painted me as a mastermind who had orchestrated this entire sequence of events. And to follow that up, I had declared war not on a mere mid-high grade constellation like the Serpent, but on a fellow supreme-grade constellation, the Great Warrior of Tartarus. Just as I had planned, the constellations were wild with excitement over the newly emerged 'Seeker of Supreme Knowledge'.

What if the other constellations decided to come find me?

Not a chance.

Interdimensional travel was practically impossible. Even a brief descent to the lower world required strict protocols and an unimaginable amount of tribute. The reason there ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠were limits on the blessings a constellation could bestow upon their incarnations—along with cooldowns and credit costs—was because interfering across dimensions was incredibly difficult. Furthermore, I was the sole constellation of this dimension. When my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠grade was adjusted, the system itself had confirmed that I was the only constellation residing here. In other words, no matter how much chaos I stirred up, I was perfectly safe.

I checked my inbox on the forum. It had been flooded ever since I promoted to supreme-grade, but after this incident, it was literally bursting at the seams.

"Let's see... Anonymous, anonymous, anonymous... Ignore the anonymous ones... This one is a constellation from the Underworld..."

I frantically scrolled through the pages. Once before, I had opened an anonymous message and nearly had my mind corrupted. There was no need to read the messages from the Underworld faction right now, either.

"This one is... the Ruler of Serpents and Darkness? Leaving this unread for a while will make them even more anxious... Ah, found it!"

After searching for a long time, I finally found the name I wanted. I was looking for the constellations of the 72 Demons nebula. Since I had antagonized the Underworld in this incident, the 72 Demons would naturally side with me under the logic of 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend.'

Of course, the 72 Demons weren't idiots. They wouldn't just say, 'Oh, you attacked the Underworld? Great, you're on our side!' They would blame me for dragging them into a fight with the Underworld, and if they had any brains, they would use it as leverage to extract an apology or squeeze some benefits out of me.

So, after scanning the names of several constellations belonging to the 72 Demons, I opened the chat window of one particular deity.

The Princess of Frost. She was the constellation who had been most offended by the Underworld in this incident. Currently, she was throwing a massive fit, vowing to tear the Underworld—specifically, the Great Warrior of Tartarus—limb from limb in real-time.

"Hmm... Aren't we being a bit dishonest?"

Having already witnessed the Underworld and the 72 Demons tearing into each other like they had both found the perfect opportunity, it was glaringly obvious that she was only pretending to be angry to extract an apology from me. Therefore, I would not apologize. The moment I apologized, it would truly become my fault.

There's a reason politicians never apologize when they mess up, instead crying about political persecution.

Instead, I would act as if everything had gone exactly as I planned. Time to lean into the concept...

Since things had already turned out this way, I shouldn't be a constellation who got caught up in the crossfire by accident. I might as well become the mastermind who had orchestrated the entire thing.