Chapter 200
Chapter 200
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 200
Chapter Title: God's Mercy (5)
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Shirone gritted his teeth. There was nothing else he could do.
He felt he could cast a spell, but teleporting in his current state would shatter his body.
‘Damn it! I have to move, somehow.’
If time passed like this, Kanya's mother would die.
No, everyone would die. The last one standing would be a hideous giant whose name he didn't even know.
“Resign yourselves, foolish humans. No one can interfere with the Law of Ra.”
Igirin looked on with satisfaction at the sight of all the humans kneeling.
This was authority. Obedience wasn't forced; it was given willingly.
“Damn it, why is this so heavy?”
Igirin's face hardened at the sound coming from behind the statue.
Then came the sound of footsteps, *thud, thud*. Everyone turned to look, as if a ghost were emerging.
Tess's face lit up as she shouted.
“Rian!”
Rian grimaced, forcing himself to walk.
It felt like his body weighed a ton.
The only reason he wasn't crushed was that the weight was distributed throughout his entire body.
“You, what did you do to me? My body's incredibly heavy.”
“How can he move…?”
This wasn't a spell one could endure with mere physical strength. The load was proportional to muscle mass, so the stronger someone was, the heavier their body would become.
If he could move, there was only one possibility. He had to exert strength beyond his physical limits.
Of course, that wasn't something a normal human could do.
‘Exerting power beyond the physical body? No, that's impossible. This is one of the highest-level arts of the giants.’
While Igirin was lost in thought, a murky sound came from where Shirone's group was.
“Kekeke, what a ridiculous spell. This is why battles are so much fun.”
Harvest shot up from Canis's shadow.
Seeing Rian and Harvest, Shirone realized something.
A relative load was being applied, not an absolute one. This was crucial information, as a different activation principle meant a different countermeasure.
“Let's see you catch me.”
Harvest rushed at Igirin. But the fairy captain's flying ability was not to be underestimated.
Shirone, who had been momentarily mesmerized by the chase that resembled a hawk fight, shouted to Rian.
“Rian! There's no time! You have to destroy the statue!”
As Rian raised his greatsword before the statue, Igirin's face, mid-flight, filled with shock.
The shadow chasing her wasn't human, but the swordsman was made of flesh and blood.
To swing a greatsword while under the effect of the Irregular Art, one's control over their body had to be near 100 percent.
Rian let out a yell and struck the statue, a loud *CRACK* echoing out.
The devotees were startled, but the statue wasn't even scratched.
Rian gritted his teeth.
He wanted to smash it to pieces, but all he could do in this situation was land another blow.
“Damn it! If it weren't for this weird magic!”
The liquid in the orb was halfway full. The subjects had already closed their eyes in resignation.
From their perspective, they probably resented Rian. If they hadn't been interrupted, everything would have been peaceful by now.
Arin spoke through the mental channel.
-We have to find a way. Restricting the movements of hundreds of people with just a verbal command doesn't align with the principle of equivalent exchange. There must be a condition we don't know.
Shirone thought the same.
No matter how extraordinary the abilities of an Irregular Art were, they still operated within the zero-sum game of equivalent exchange.
Considering the intensity of the ability, there had to be a way to break free from the restraint.
Shirone recalled Marsha's advice.
Irregular Arts are deeply connected to the caster's disposition.
Igirin was the fairy of authority. Therefore, it was highly likely that the premise was related to the concept of authority in some way.
“Hyaaaah!”
Rian didn't give up and continued to strike the statue.
With each deafening blow, the faces of the devotees grew paler one by one.
Then, at a certain moment, Amy's Red Eyes flared. Her memory of self-image had instantly detected a change in her body.
-Shirone, the binding force isn't fixed. A moment ago, the load lightened by five kilograms. Now it's seven kilograms, nine kilograms… The weight is decreasing every time Rian swings his sword.
Shirone's eyes flashed. Through Amy's words, he understood the mechanism of Igirin's Irregular Art.
“Rian! Keep hitting it! The Art of Transmigration isn't some regeneration spell! It's just murder!”
-Shirone! It just lightened by sixty kilograms! Could it be…!
-Yes! I'm not certain, but it seems Igirin quantifies authority to generate physical force. The more people who doubt, the weaker the load will become.
As if to prove Shirone's theory, Igirin's expression twisted.
The count of doubters suddenly soared at the shout that the Art of Transmigration was murder.
It wasn't a desperate cry. It meant the heretics had finally figured out the spell's activation condition.
Irregular Art: The Authoritarian.
Igirin could apply a scale that measured belief and doubt to targets within her domain.
The moment she uttered the incantation, all living beings around her were divided into believers and doubters.
Currently, there were 318 targets gathered in the central plaza, and the ratio of believers to doubters was 293 to 25.
If everyone believed Igirin, the load applied per unit area would be 100 percent of their physical strength, making movement theoretically impossible.
Conversely, if the ratio of believers dropped below half, the 'Price of False Claim' would activate, and Igirin would have to pay the price of being subjected to a 100 percent load for 24 hours.
Shirone understood why Rian's actions were affecting the spell. The fear of Heaven's symbol being damaged was planting seeds of doubt in the devotees' minds.
Indeed, with every blow Rian landed on the giant's statue, the load weakened, albeit slightly.
“Everyone, snap out of it! The Art of Transmigration is a lie! It's a spell that kills you!”
He continued to pressure the devotees, but the load didn't weaken any further.
Hardship strengthens faith.
While some were terrified, others were clearly strengthening their resolve.
“Shut up! You're the ones deceiving us!”
“Kill them! Kill the heretics!”
The act of desecrating the statue pushed the most fervent devotees to the peak of their anger.
As more turned into fanatics, even the doubters began to reconsider.
Shirone knew this but didn't give up. It was the only resistance he could offer while immobilized.
“You think the Art of Transmigration is a spell of regeneration? You're next! Why don't you see that?”
“We will follow the Law. We will live out the lifespan given by Ra and return to our original bodies!”
Shirone gritted his teeth. Irregular Art or not, the closed-mindedness of the devotees was suffocating.
“You can live longer! The subjects of the Art of Transmigration don't have to die today!”
As if by magic, the devotees' outcry ceased. Everyone stared at Shirone, their faces filled with shock.
Taking the sudden silence as a cue, Harvest gave up his pursuit of Igirin.
There was no winning this way, anyway.
He judged it better to sway the devotees through psychological warfare with her than to just be a distraction.
Igirin frowned. The ratio told her just how effective that last statement had been.
267 to 51.
Seventeen percent of the total subjects had begun to doubt. It was a number significant enough that the weakening of the load could be felt on the skin. The rapid change in sensation would also work against her in maintaining authority.
“We can live? We… can live longer?”
“Yes. If the subjects were truly dying because their lifespan was up, you could at least hold a funeral. But they're not dying. The Art of Transmigration cannot be your grave!”
-Shirone, what are you talking about?
Amy couldn't believe it. Weren't the devotees following because the lifespan registry was absolute? If this was just an improvisation to get out of the situation, the consequences would be severe.
Shirone hadn't said it with conviction either. However, it was a conclusion he had reached after agonizing all night, one that wasn't entirely without possibility.
“I met heretics in Purgatory. Some of them weren't born in Heaven. So they don't know their lifespan. But their lives aren't controlled by anyone either.”
“That's because they're heretics, obviously…”
“Snap out of it! Don't you get it yet? They can't do it because they don't know their names. It's not that they won't, it's that they *can't*! If God is omnipotent, why would he need names!”
Igirin's expression turned grave.
229 to 89.
If the ratio of doubters exceeded half, her authority would vanish. Only 70 counts remained to reach that point.
An enforcer shouted.
“Silence! That is merely a principle of the Law! The fact that we gain eternal life or are regenerated according to Ra's will does not change! Do not mock the devotees with heretical logic!”
“It's not a Law! It's magic! Whatever Ra's ability is, if it's related to magic, then these people can live longer!”
The word 'magic' was effective. If the sacred phenomenon brought about by the Law was merely magic, then the divine status of God would inevitably fall to human standards.
“How can we live longer? Do you have any proof?”
Someone from the crowd of devotees shouted.
Igirin glared at him fiercely. The doubter count had just gone up by one.
“I have studied the properties of time. To state the conclusion first, time is relative. It applies differently to everyone here.”
Among the devotees, there were those who studied time. The mages of Norn and the opticians of Mecca.
Their number was probably around six. 222 to 96. Those who understood Shirone's words began to doubt.
“Even if that's true, so what?”
“If the ability to grant lifespans is related to time, then the lifespans of the Art of Transmigration's subjects are not exact. Even if a lifespan is set at forty years, they cannot die at exactly forty years. Because the perception of time is fluid.”
“But that's just a hypothesis. If it's a Law, not magic, then we won't even have a chance at regeneration.”
“It's not a hypothesis. I can prove it. Even if everyone had ten years taken off their lives, they were all born at different times. So why doesn't the Art of Transmigration account for that?”
206 to 112.
Forty-seven people left.
Igirin checked the glass orb. It was filled with black liquid. The body begins to decompose from the moment of death, so if a drowning victim appeared, the spell would be as good as successful.
“If you can live for a few more hours, no, even just one more second, then the Art of Transmigration is murder. It's nothing more than an act of drowning the subjects and desecrating their corpses!”
The enforcer's eyes widened.
“Silence! Even if you're right, what changes! The value of life isn't determined by time! Are you telling us to deny Ra just to live one second longer!”
“That one second is the second that determines whether you end your own life or not! Why aren't you thinking about that!”
Igirin saw an opportunity to recover here.
243 to 75.
As expected, the number of those who returned to belief increased.
Shirone had made a foolish judgment. The control over one's own life wasn't actually important to humans.
All they wanted was personal gain.
There was nothing to be gained by slightly extending their lives. The devotees would willingly jump into the Art of Transmigration, hoping for a better future.
As if proving the numbers on the scale, the devotees began to curse Shirone one after another.
“Damn it! I was almost fooled! In the end, our lifespan was already set! Nothing was going to change!”
“You went around scamming people as a Nephilim, and now you're spouting nonsense again? One second? What can you do with just one second? What could *you* do?”