The Power of Trying to Understand You
The moment the shaman, with her ability to the extent of trying to understand, uttered the word "Gigachad."
A chilling sensation gripped her heart like an icy vise—and with it, the terrified screams of saints fallen into hell swallowed the entire world. Even covering her ears and closing her eyes couldn't block the cries. The acrid smell of greedy flames devouring corpses as fuel, mingled with sulfur, entrails, and filth, stabbed at the shaman's nostrils.
The world had ended. Every human, saint, and angel had plummeted into hell.
"……."
Clank—
Iron chains burst from thin air, seizing the shaman's wrists and ankles. Agonizing, searing pain burned from her captured wrists.
And amid that horrific hellish cacophony, one man's voice rang out.
—"What the hell are you doing?"
It was the voice of the Nosferatu Duke.
This hell and these chains were illusions crafted by the duke.
—"Why try to tell Priscilla my true identity? Is this the will of the Scales?"
Despite the nightmarish hallucination, the shaman remained composed. These chains were mere illusions, after all. They couldn't exert any real physical force.
Judging thus, she took a single step forward.
"Ugh?!"
In that instant—the surrounding scenery accelerated wildly, as if she'd kicked off the ground with monstrous strength. The wall rushed toward her, defying perspective, spinning dizzily.
The shaman slammed her head into the temple wall, charred black by hellfire.
If the scenery hadn't moved at all, if these chains had simply held her in place, she could have trusted her senses and memories to move.
But even a tiny step propelled her too far, shattering her spatial awareness completely. Now she couldn't even tell if she was standing or lying down.
—"Cut the bullshit and explain yourself."
"Isn't it... not a combat ability?"
—"It doesn't work on demon lord-tier foes. How the hell do you hallucinate a lunatic sharing vision with tens of thousands of demons? The heroes would sniff out evil anyway, so it's pointless."
"……."
Crunch— The ceiling collapsed.
The shaman looked up at the sky. The universe... was distorting around a single point. Overwhelming gravity warped it into a vortex.
Rumble— The world shook. Gravity crushed down on the shaman's body.
A colossal—absurdly enormous—palm lifted the temple higher than the stars. A giant holding up the world in its palm gazed down at her and spoke.
—"At best, I can only ape the Buddha's palm like this."
The giant's face matched the Nosferatu Duke's, as she knew it.
Is that really his true face? If everyone's been under illusion from the start, she has no way to know his real appearance.
—"You're boring Priscilla to death with Bible verses from Genesis onward, so let's chat slowly. What's your angle?"
"……Her becoming a shaman would benefit you too."
—"I don't get it. How does sabotaging my plans help me?"
"She feels a strong attachment to the existence called 'Gigachad.' As long as she suspects Gigachad is real, if she becomes a hero, she'll go around inquiring about it. That raises the chance of its existence becoming known, one way or another."
—"Intriguing. Go on."
"But if she becomes the shaman of the Scales, she can't disclose anything about 'Gigachad' due to the contract. The Scales' contract is absolute."
["We shall not interfere through the shaman or reveal secrets."]
—"So, this is all for my sake?"
"Yes."
—"Then why scheme this cutely behind my back?"
"Because I know you're constantly monitoring Priscilla."
—"No need to explain? Since I'd see it anyway?"
"Yes."
—"Hmmm. Convinced!"
The duke's palm, propping up the temple, tilted. The temple—the world—slowly slid off his palm.
Gravity crushed the shaman once more. From the void beyond the stars, a mountain-sized palm approached her.
With this world caught between palm and palm.
*Clap—!*
"Eek!"
The sound of applause. The hallucination vanished, and the scenery returned to normal.
The shaman realized she had collapsed to the floor.
—"Stand properly. Clear your throat. I'll cut off the hallucination voices for Priscilla. Act calmly."
"…Yes."
Truly terrifying power. The shaman steadied her pounding heart with effort and spoke in a composed voice.
"…I shall begin the baptism."
……
Priscilla stood before the baptismal font. Though blind, she gauged its size from the water's gentle lapping.
The shaman's hand grasped her.
"It's dangerous since you can't see, so I'll support you."
One careful step into the font. Splash, cold water touched her toes. Deeper, until her feet met the bottom. The water rippled at chest level.
"Hold your breath, relax your body so no water enters your lungs. You'll be fully submerged, head and all."
The shaman supported Priscilla's waist, immersing her completely.
Sounds muffled, breath stifled. It felt like drowning any second.
"……."
In that terror of suffocation, Priscilla suddenly recalled memories.
What she had built. And what she had forsaken.
"Shatter the witch's cauldron, kneaded for a millennium, baked for a millennium, boiled for a millennium."
She had shattered the witch's cauldron. Forsaking all her powers as a witch.
Choosing to die as a human, not a witch.
The Scales tipped.
The god of Scales and Contracts placed another weight on the opposite side.
Balance restored, a new authority dwelled in Priscilla's soul.
The ability to the extent of shattering a witch's oath.
Priscilla became the witches' nemesis, the demons' adversary.
She would shatter any unjust fate.
"A witch's love is tragedy. A witch's end is only gruesome death."
She had forsaken cozy family happiness.
For her family's safety, she let go of their hands.
The Scales tipped.
Another weight rose. A new authority dwelled in her soul.
The ability to the extent of not being hated.
In distant lands, Priscilla would earn goodwill; a day together would make her family-like.
"A month is plenty of time to become family……."
She had forsaken eternal life.
Choosing not to survive on others' deaths, but to die alongside them.
The Scales tipped.
A new authority dwelled in her soul.
The ability to the extent of dying together.
Priscilla became the foe of immortals, the chain of doom.
She would not die by lifespan or anything else.
'I see nothing…….'
She cannot see ahead. Only thick, pitch-black darkness, not even an inch forward—that is her entire world.
The Scales tipped.
A new authority dwelled in her soul.
The ability to the extent of not losing her way.
Priscilla received eyes to discern truth from lies.
She would not fear even in the valley of death's shadow.
"Now it's time to walk on your own."
And she had lost her one true understanding companion.
She held no will in that fact. It was mere inevitable disaster, an Act of God.
The Scales tipped.
The final authority dwelled in Priscilla's soul.
The ability to the extent of trying to understand you.
"……."
In that moment, the world brightened.
Replacing the utter darkness, a never-before-seen scene unfolded before her eyes.
Books in unknown script. A square metal box. Lights as bright as the sun. A thin box emitting light. A typewriter clacking with each tap.
Priscilla beheld an incomprehensible landscape.
In that bizarre scene, a man sat in a chair, typing away.
A familiar name slipped from the man's lips.
"Soul-killing poison. With this, I can kill the great witch Priscilla."
"…Priscilla?"
……
"Hm?"
"My lord Duke, what's wrong?"
"No, nothing."
The High-Performance Telepathy link with Priscilla cut off briefly.
Seems the god of the Scales pulled some trick.
Watching the baptism through the shaman, it looked fine. Probably receiving revelation that "I"... that is, "Nosferatu Duke" was actually Gigachad.
Since the Scales swore not to interfere with my plans, no issue.
Priscilla wasn't the priority now anyway.
"Alright, let's stop the doom."
From here, all focus on blocking another "Doomsday Button.".