The Touch of God (13)
"Ah...?"
The voices of the two women, locked in opposition, overlapped. They let out bewildered groans at a situation they had never anticipated.
Miraj stared at the fingertips of the avatar with a completely frozen expression, while Seraphina gently opened her closed eyes, focusing entirely on the touch she felt upon her hair.
Rustle, rustle...
The avatar, formed from gathered fragments, possessed a peculiar form. It was a shape that mimicked a human as countless tiny dots and dust particles coalesced. Thus, the act of stroking her hair also unfolded in a slightly different manner.
The girl's golden hair slipped through the gaps between the particles, brushing against them. It was less of a caress and more of a merging—a communion akin to a brush drinking in paint. Yet, this extraordinary contact was more than enough.
Seraphina understood the emotion imbued within the touch. It was something only she could do. Having lived her entire life exposed to gaze, she had honed her talents specifically to read the intent behind it. The girl read the affection, the worry, and the pride carried in the avatar's actions.
Tears welled in Seraphina's eyes—tears born of a completely different nature than before.
"...What is this?"
Miraj, who had presided over the descent ritual, felt the abnormality just as keenly. The Cardinal was seized by shock and despair. The shock stemmed from a sight so contrary to her expectations; the despair, from a plan gone utterly awry.
"T-This makes no sense...!"
Of course, she had no means of reading the avatar's emotions. Though her innate talents were quite exceptional, Miraj's gaze detection was woefully amateurish, as she had served the Order of Order from the moment she became a priest.
However, her authority of connection allowed her to read the flow of the atmosphere. No, in truth, she would have noticed even without her authority. The subtle air flowing between the avatar and Seraphina was distinct enough to be perceived without any special technique.
It was gently stroking her hair. It was even wiping away the tears pooling in her eyes. Whether this was mercy shown to a lamb who served him, or an expression of affection toward a beloved family member, she could not tell. But either way, it was an action predicated on mutual trust and goodwill—
"I said, it makes no sense!"
—and either way, it was not the picture Miraj had envisioned.
'Something is wrong. Something is definitely wrong.'
The smile that never left Miraj's face finally cracked. Her playfulness and composure vanished, replaced by sheer bewilderment.
There was no other god in this world. Though she could not use gaze detection, she had confirmed it through the authority of Mercury. There was only one gaze peering into this other world. Then was there a problem with the descent ritual? She hurriedly examined the golden lotus, but there was nothing wrong with the magic circle. The ritual had proceeded flawlessly.
To project one's will from afar using a medium connected to the subject as a vessel. Those tiny particles were undeniably fragments of a god, properly imbued with mana to act on behalf of the constellation's will. The waves of energy that sent prickles across her skin every second proved as much.
To initiate the descent ritual, every single mana stone stockpiled by Haninhae over the years had been used. Thousands of mana stones had been condensed and bound together to serve as the power source. Mana was the material that manifested will. The mana absorbed by the divine fragments drifting in the air operated solely to achieve 'what was desired' by the owner of that gaze. An immense amount of magic had been entirely consumed just to manifest that entity's will for a single fleeting moment.
Considering how unimaginably distant the entity's realm was, the consumed mana alone was enough to reduce an entire city to ashes. It was not a torrent that could be interfered with by petty magic or cheap tricks.
'Then why? Why on earth is he doing this?!'
Countless answers flashed through Miraj's mind. Multiple personalities. A blood relation. Yet none of them offered a satisfactory explanation. In the end, only one possibility remained.
'No way... No, it can't be. It can't!'
Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. Having excluded every impossible scenario, only one truth stood before Miraj.
The evil god of this other world. The progenitor of the cursed beasts invading the Continent, the sum of all madness that must have orchestrated this ruined world, and the owner of a gaze so chilling it was impossible to believe it belonged to a living creature. An entity that never handed down revelations or guidance even to the church that worshipped him, prompting even his own Saintess, Seraphina, to consciously refer to him as an evil god. A god of a church whose very first doctrine dictated that even rewards and grace demanded a price...
...cherished a trivial woman like Seraphina. Like a mere human. Or like an ordinary constellation. He held emotions and communed with someone. Miraj could not bring herself to face that truth.
"...No, that's impossible. This must be an act. He might rip her head off any second. Or maybe he acts this way to everyone he meets..."
The Cardinal muttered, spiraling into panic. It was utterly incomprehensible to her common sense.
It was understandable for a constellation to cherish a human. Humans kept pets, after all. They loved and cared for cats and dogs. But for that kind of entity to cherish a human made absolutely no sense. Most humans could not feel affection for a single ant. They might watch it with brief curiosity and occasionally toss it a grain of sugar, but they could never truly harbor feelings for it.
Moreover, the thing before her eyes was not even a normal human. Look at the state of this other world. It was a psychopath painting its own living room with blood. Look at the wretched state of the survivors. It was a slaughterer brutally crushing the bugs that originally lived in its room. Look at the grotesque forms of the cursed beasts. It was a pervert that tore off the legs and wings of insects only to stitch them back together in twisted configurations.
And yet. That evil god. To a single ant. To a single girl. Could possess something like emotions?
"There's no way... There's no way that's true...!" Miraj groaned.
'If this is the case, then...'
Her plans would be ruined. The plan she had prepared from the moment she learned of this other world's god. Though it was not her original purpose for coming to Earth, it was a long-cherished wish she thought she might finally fulfill.
'I need to ask him how to summon back the three lost Great Constellations!'
With the Gate incident, the Constellations of Order had vanished. The Cardinals had been thrown into chaos. They had attempted every ritual at their disposal, but all had failed. They could not find where they had gone, nor why they remained silent.
Years passed. Miraj had half-given up, dedicating herself to the Council. But the moment she felt that colossal presence in the sky, she recalled the possibility she had forgotten. If it was an evil god with a gaze far grander than even the Great Constellations, surely he would know a way to recall the departed Constellations of Order. Miraj was prepared to sacrifice everything she had for that answer.
Even an answer stating it was impossible would have been fine. Even a reply of "I don't know," or "It is beyond my power" would have sufficed. If it was completely impossible, or if even the evil god's power fell short, she could have cleanly given up. She could have abandoned the hope and moved forward. But the current Order could not even do that. Bound by futile hope, they fractured and feuded. She—the Order of Order—needed a definitive answer of some kind.
'And I thought I was finally going to get it!'
Her hope shattered. It crumbled to pieces at a single gesture from the god. If the god harbored affection for that girl, every single premise was warped.
To Miraj, the evil god was a set of laws. A vending machine that dispensed rewards when satisfied. She had thought so because the gulf between the god and his believers was absolute. Thus, she had resolved to steal it. A vending machine wouldn't care whose money was being inserted, after all. But what if that wasn't the case?
What had Miraj done to the child the god cherished? Whose work was those swollen hands and bruised skin? Would the god of this other world ever deign to negotiate with the one who had harmed his pet? She already knew the answer.
"..."
Step, step, step.
With a hollow, soulless expression, Miraj walked toward the descent ritual circle. She approached the avatar, which was still stroking the girl's head.
Rationally, she knew this was foolish. Yet she could not stop her feet. She had summoned the god with her own hands. She had awakened the fragments drifting in the air into a vessel capable of carrying his will. Unless every single one of those particles was destroyed, the evil god would descend to this world whenever sufficient mana was supplied. It was already too late. There was no winning this fight. Escape was impossible.
She had pushed her authority to its absolute limit to perform the descent ritual in this other world where mana density was low. Though aided by countless mana stones, most of her own mana had been depleted. It was the investment of a lifetime, a gamble she had staked her everything on, only for it all to be aborted by a single entity's whim. She had dug her own grave.
Now, the only thing Miraj could do was cling to one final, faint hope. She prayed that the god was still an unfeeling entity. She hoped that gently stroking Seraphina had been a mere coincidence. She knew it was an absurd expectation, but it was the only thing she had left to lean on.
"O God. Please, grant your touch to me as well—" Miraj whispered.
At that moment, the avatar's head turned. Though the black mist composed of gathered fragments possessed no facial features, Miraj felt, for some reason, as if her eyes had met its gaze.
And then—
Swoosh.
It reached out. Particles burrowed toward Miraj's throat. The mana contained within the fragments reacted to its master's will. The mana absorbed from thousands of mana stones was processed, manifesting a physical phenomenon.
Crack!
A low, muffled sound was swallowed into the mist of particles.
It was a strange feeling.
My body was definitely sitting in the familiar chair of the celestial observatory. The slightly plush touch of the backrest and the weight of Wilson resting on my thighs were vivid. Yet my eyes saw something else. My ears heard something else. Even my sense of touch had a new sensation layered over the feelings of the observatory.
It had started when I saw the magic circle drawn in the annex laboratory. The moment I turned my gaze to guide the next target after confirming Yeomyeong had defeated Lee Seokin, I saw a golden geometric shape. In an instant, new information was overlaid onto my five senses.
At first, I became space itself. I was drifting in the air, swept by the wind, and rolling with the dust in a corner of the ground. My eyes were fractured into countless facets, like those of an insect. A field of vision split into an infinite mosaic, each tile reflecting a different scene.
It was a flood of information incomprehensible to a human brain. My head grew hot, and a headache throbbed. My heart pounded, thrashing wildly. I saw the girl's face. I saw Yeomyeong, the crazy arsonist old man, and the Haninhae staff who had turned into monsters under Miraj's curse.
Then, the change began. My infinitely divided vision, the information, the very existence of 'me' coalesced into one. It was a process akin to cells forming a human. Or perhaps the completion of a massive gu poison. The world merged into one. The definition of 'me' shifted. From individual cells to the sum of the collective. My perception was inverted.
When that terrible sensation—one that felt strangely refreshing yet was something I never wanted to experience again—finally ended, I was standing in the middle of the laboratory I had been watching through the observatory monitor.
'...This is.'
A world similar to the one when I fought alongside Yeomyeong welcomed me. The information transmitted by countless cameras was reproduced like reality, redrawn around me. But the difference was also clear. Unlike the immersive observation where only my gaze drifted, this time, I had a body.
The cameras serving as terminals for the celestial observatory had coalesced into a human shape. It formed the body I envisioned, identical in height and build. Feeling a bizarre sensation, I raised my arm. The movement was akin to a VR game controlled by brainwaves. My physical body was definitely still, yet the arm of particles before my eyes moved exactly as I willed.
And that wasn't the only difference.
'...The world is strange. No, is it me that's strange?'
The world was overlaid with bizarre colors. It felt like I had been forced into a game with terrible graphic design. The world in my sight was entirely black and white, yet a few objects possessed what could be called color.
My body. The heart of the fallen Yeomyeong. The flesh of the horrified Miraj, and the golden ritual circle spreading beneath my feet. Each emitted a different color and form. But among them, there was one thing that truly caught my eye.
'...It's my first time seeing her like this.'
She was right in front of me. I acted on reflex. Though my mind was dizzy from this novel experience and I was as confused as if I were dreaming, my action was completely natural.
Slowly lowering my raised hand, I gently stroked the girl's hair. The girl who was the only one to recognize my existence. The child who had become a beacon and hope in my listless life. I didn't know what my gaze meant to her. But at the very least, this girl meant everything to me.
The hope that found me in a time when I felt like going mad. The duct tape applied to a cracked heart. The woman who made me not just exist, but actually live. Pouring all those emotions into the gesture, I stroked her golden hair. I wiped away the tears pooling in her ruby eyes. Hoping that even a fraction of my feelings would reach her, I endlessly caressed that melted gold.
Even in the midst of a chaos where reality didn't feel real, I felt a certain sense of fulfillment. I wondered how much time had passed like that.
"O God. Please, grant your touch to me as well—"
A new voice intruded upon the communion between the girl and me. I turned my head reflexively. I recalled the identity I had forgotten because my brain was practically boiling.
Miraj. The priestess from the other world. I didn't know exactly what her relationship with this girl was, but she was the woman who had brutally assaulted my hope. She was muttering with a hollow expression. God. Touch. In my confused state of mind, I couldn't fathom what those words meant, but the moment I saw that pink hair, a surge of pure rage boiled up inside me.
The memory of her trampling and beating the girl belatedly rushed back. In that instant, a primal, visceral disgust flared in my mind.
'You dared to toy with my light? My hope? My salvation?'
'How dare you?'
My body moved on instinct. I reached out. I gripped her throat. And... I acted.
If I were to offer a brief excuse, it was a side effect of using the celestial observatory for far too long. When you spend your time watching all the harsh, ugly sights of the world from a first-class seat—when you thoroughly witness every single facet of humanity—sometimes, when you lose your composure like this, a certain thought crosses your mind.
That humans are no different from bugs.
I infused my will into my outstretched hand. I simply imagined the sight of crushing a bug to pieces.
My will was realized.
The bug's neck was crushed.