Chapter 122
Chapter 122
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 122
Chapter Title: Doubts and Divinity
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* * *
Let’s rewind time just a bit—
In the Old Continent, in Igugwoden Cathedral located in the imperial capital of the Empire.
Linea, who was managing the religious order in place of Saintess Erin, was receiving a report from Cecilia, the high-ranking nun who had served the Saintess.
“Is that so? You’re saying they left safely without issue?”
“Yes, Lady Linea.”
Not long ago.
The expedition that had departed for the New Continent returned.
Unlike when they set out, they came back carrying only Ophelia, so at first everyone was shocked, wondering if something terrible had happened—
Fortunately, it didn’t seem like there were any problems with Erin or the rest of the group.
From what she’d heard, the situation in the New Continent wasn’t one of conflict or rejection toward them. Rather, their “god” had utterly devastated them, to the point where they needed direct intervention and aid.
Ophelia had demanded various supplies, additional cola, fertilizers developed by the Wood Magic Tower, and building materials, saying she had to return immediately—
And to secure labor for rebuilding the village, she’d made contact with the Demon King.
In the process, a few Igugwoden Church priests had volunteered to board the ship, both to spread the word of God and to assist with the reconstruction.
“This time, we’ve also sent along a few priests who wish to settle there, so now the Plain Facts of Lord Igugwoden will spread widely across the New Continent as well.”
“Come to think of it, how does the Igugwoden Church handle its missionary work?”
“Lord Igugwoden’s key tenet is never to force faith without rewards, so we simply demonstrate it through our actions. Enough to make them think, ‘Ah, following the Igugwoden Church would benefit me.’”
It felt a bit more complicated than other religions in history… but unlike those that vanished over time, the Igugwoden Church had endured and seized dominance over the continent, no doubt largely due to its uniquely tolerant stance.
“I hope it all goes smoothly.”
“It will. The Plain Facts of our God are always with us.”
After Cecilia finished her report and left—
Linea cautiously gazed out the window.
‘A new continent… a new god, huh.’
What Ophelia had told her was deeply shocking.
A false entity presumed to possess powers akin to a god: Dtamuk Thinking Army.
And the atrocities it had wrought upon the New Continent using that power.
She’d even heard that sharing the Plain Facts with the severely wounded异種—Kanps—was the will of God.
Of course, the religious order officially refused to treat those god-like powers as evidence of another deity, no matter what.
The sole god of this world had to be Lord Igugwoden, and no one else.
Linea had seen it all with her own eyes—as a Holy Knight, she had witnessed God’s miracles up close.
She believed now. She no longer doubted Lord Igugwoden’s existence.
God was definitely watching over them.
However.
Was Igugwoden truly the “sole god”?
Given the example of Dtamuk Thinking Army, weren’t there perhaps multiple gods?
Linea carefully opened the Holy Scripture.
Though she’d carried it with her constantly since becoming a Holy Knight, unlike Ophelia or Luca who read it daily, she rarely opened it, so it was relatively pristine.
Racking her memory, she checked the passage that nagged at her.
It was from Genesis, chapter 1, verse 2.
‘Plain Fact number two: All evidence that Igugwoden is the sole god is in the donation records…’
The Holy Scripture was written from a human perspective, using fairly accessible words, but there was one thing—even high priestesses, popes, and even the Saintess herself couldn’t fully explain.
That was the term “donation records” from Genesis 1:2.
It was bizarre. How could a concept mentioned in Genesis—the highest-priority book among the three Scriptures, the sole proof that Igugwoden was the one true god—remain unexplained for centuries?
Why is Lord Igugwoden the sole god? —As the Scripture says, it is all clearly laid out in the donation records.
What are the “donation records”? —They are the language of God, in a realm too profound for mere creations to comprehend.
Linea clearly remembered a conversation between His Holiness the Pope and her mother, Lady Eirene, before the Saintess appeared.
It was around the time they were laying the groundwork to send her to become a Saintess Candidate.
Lady Eirene had smiled politely during the talk, then come back scoffing in disdain. Her mother had been displeased, saying it was all wordplay with the Scripture and no real evidence. That expression was still vivid in her mind.
Considering what Lady Eirene was like now… the Saintess’s arrival had truly changed so much.
Linea posed a question to herself.
—So why was she dredging up old memories now and fixating on Genesis 1:2?
Her mind’s eye locked onto the sentence again.
Among the words in “donation records,” “records” could probably be taken literally—
But “donation” had no direct equivalent in any language they used.
If they thought of it like the “cola sales records” the church was compiling now—as a literal ledger or statement.
Then “donation records” could be seen as a ledger summarizing acts of “donation.”
In that case—
――By performing “donations”… one could ascend to godhood, right?
In other words.
There was a place called the “world of gods” above the heavens, where Lord Igugwoden resided.
And by conducting “donations”—a kind of grand ritual there—one could become a god?
The clear discomfort she’d felt during her bath not long ago stemmed from this: God’s mindset resembled that of an ordinary man in his mid-to-late twenties.
After all, God had suddenly gathered a bunch of women for a bath via Erin, or fixated on large divine power pouches—women’s breasts.
No matter how she thought about it, it lacked the gravitas expected of the one true creator god.
However, if one could become a god by performing this “donation” ritual beyond mortal comprehension—
‘Wouldn’t that easily explain not only Lord Igugwoden, but also how Dtamuk Thinking Army wields divine powers?’
But it was just a hypothesis.
A blasphemous one she could never voice aloud.
It was flimsy too—lumping everything under “donations” without truly grasping the concept.
If an ordinary person claimed “Lord Igugwoden isn’t the sole god,” they’d deserve a heresy trial and burning at the stake. And if a Holy Knight chosen by God said it?
The Igugwoden Church was history’s most tolerant toward heretics, so they wouldn’t burn someone over mere words like those lost religions—unless it directly insulted the near-divine Saintess—but she’d still face massive backlash.
Especially now, when from the Empress to the commoners, far more believed in the Igugwoden Church than not.
She didn’t want to cause trouble for her fellow Holy Knights over careless words, and above all—
‘Even if not the sole god, the warm love bestowed upon us is real.’
After meeting Ares, who had completely changed without even facing the Saintess—
Linea had sorted out her own thoughts on Lord Igugwoden.
The conclusion was simple.
Lord Igugwoden showered them with boundless, warm love.
God demanded nothing of them.
And that wasn’t a given, as Dtamuk Thinking Army on the New Continent proved all too well.
So what did “sole god” even matter?
No.
If anything, if Igugwoden wasn’t the sole god, they had even more reason to serve diligently.
If Lord Igugwoden ever stopped cherishing them, unimaginable horrors would surely follow.
Linea carefully closed the Holy Scripture.
And for the first time since becoming a Holy Knight, she prayed directly to God.
‘Lord Igugwoden. Please do not take offense at my thoughts. Have mercy on this foolish human who must agonize to better understand Your will.’
‘No matter what kind of being You are, I believe all You have given us humans remains unchanged.’
‘So please… continue granting us Your Plain Facts henceforth. If You do that, then I, Linea von Ainsberg—as my mother does, as the Saintess does, as my fellow Holy Knights do—’
—will serve You, our God Lord Igugwoden, with all my body and soul.
Strangely enough—
The emergence of something akin to “another god” finally allowed Linea’s faith—untouched despite countless miracles—to bloom at last.
A fall into faith.
Not the rapid, compressed fall like her aunt’s, but—
Her niece, sharing the same blood… was gradually, yet unmistakably, soaking in Igugwoden’s color.
* * *
As the Demon King had declared, the demons began restoring the village at an astonishing pace.
Using detailed guidance from the Kanps, they diligently built structures similar to the homes the Kanps had lived in.
The houses were basic forms made simply from wood without much craftsmanship, so the difficulty wasn’t high—
Even so, erecting homes spacious enough for two or three Kanps in just hours was nothing short of miraculous speed.
Moreover, these demons had recently contributed greatly not only to their own village but also to expanding the challenging Wood Magic Tower.
Having accidentally become construction specialists, there was no reason to doubt their skills now.
At this rate, they could restore the once-vibrant village at an unbelievable speed, so the Kanps were all pitching in to help the demons with the rebuilding.
And there was one more surprising thing—
"◎◀▷◈▣(๑˙ ▿ ˙๑)"
"×××,××××……."
"▶◀◁●◇■△(◍ • ヮ •)ﾐ☆"
—despite their languages not matching at all, they somehow communicated without friction.
The redefinition of “demonic energy” by Igugwoden played a role, but the Kanps seemed unbothered by the demons’ horrific appearances compared to humans.
“The spirits dwell within them too. Outward looks mean little compared to the spirits inside.”
“I see…….”
Erin nodded, deeply moved.
Living with them revealed that Pibiola’s kin, the Kanps, were incredibly polite and courteous.
They’d eyed them warily at first, but given what they’d endured, it was unavoidable.
The more she thought about it, the less sense Dtamuk Thinking Army made—what had these people done to deserve such horrors?
On the fifth day since everyone banded together to rebuild the village.
“My goodness…….”
“It’s done already?”
"◆◁●◇▷◈ʅ（‾◡◝）ʃ"
"××××……!!"
Amid weeping Kanps and proud demons, a young girl approached with an intimidating smile.
Click, click, click, click.
" Heh heh heh… As expected of my children. You’ve achieved results two days faster than I anticipated."
The Demon King turned to Pibiola, who was staring at the completed village with four white eyes.
“What do you think, Kanp? Of the village my children built?”
“This is… Rentilden Village…….”
…Sniff.
Tears streamed from her eyes.
Far more than she’d shed in Eirene’s embrace.
“Our village… before Dtamuk Thinking Army destroyed it…….”
Then she collapsed to her knees, sobbing openly.
Even if they’d given rough instructions, facing their lost hometown again—restored as if time had turned back—was overwhelming.
Before meeting Erin’s group, it had been ages since she’d cried, as if a drought had parched her heart……
Click, click, click.
The Demon King cautiously approached Pibiola, kneeling and weeping.
She stroked her head and spoke in a childlike voice.
“Cry as much as you need. Mortals must shed all regrets of the past to move forward.”
—It was truly wise counsel.
But it didn’t quite suit the sight of a childlike figure patting an adult woman’s head.