Chapter 1503
: Is a moment's faith all it takes?
The abyss remained as dark as ever. The enormous wound left when the dragon burst forth brought a precious—or rather, a light that the creatures of the abyss shunned—to this long-gloomy underground world, but it did not last long. The abyss was alive; every inhabitant within its vast belly firmly believed this. Therefore, like a wild beast, it would mend its wounds, licking them with its tongue and covering them with its blood. In just one day and one night, revitalized veins filled the gap, and creeping mud and sand filled the cracks, as if an invisible spider were spinning silk in the darkness, patching and mending until the light vanished completely and darkness returned.
This is the environment that the inhabitants of the abyss are most familiar with and comfortable in. They have lived like this for ten thousand years and firmly believe that they will continue to live like this for the next ten thousand years. Little do they know that the most indestructible things in the world are often the most fragile. A single turn, a ray of sunlight, or a plague that sweeps through the darkness can extinguish all life.
The mycelium crawled slowly along the dark rock face, making a slippery, viscous wriggling sound. The abyss two thousand seven hundred meters below was shrouded in deathly silence, devoid of its former vibrancy. Elder Momogu could no longer hear the surging dampness and the whispers of the wind in the crevices, nor the warm yet wild breath of the predators lying in wait in the dense fungal forest. This should have been a good thing, but now his heart was filled with only sorrow.
In the village square, not a single normal gray mushroom person can be seen anymore.
Half of Elder Momogu's cap had turned grayish-white, and the once soft flesh was gradually hardening and becoming brittle, like the last leaf of autumn shattering in the wind. This was a sign that cyanosis was coming to an end. The elder was not afraid of death; for a mushroom person of his age, lifespan was merely an extra gift from time. His only worry was what would become of the tribe after his departure. The young were too impetuous, while the old were senile and decrepit. The former were still unaware of the cruelty of the world, while the latter knew too much but had lost the courage to face it.
However, if no one survives today, the Gray Mushroom People tribe will cease to exist, and all these worries will be in vain. Perhaps, from beginning to end, only he himself has been agonizing over those past events? The origins of the Gray Mushroom People, the curse of ashification, and the goals his ancestors so desperately wanted to achieve—in the end, he realized they were all meaningless.
The world is no longer what his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather knew, the old mushroom man thought sadly. A young gray mushroom man, still possessing some strength, whispered to him, "Will we all die today?" He couldn't answer. That was the truth, but why say it aloud? If he didn't say it, could he pretend that hope still existed...?
"Elder Momogu." A voice called out to him, making the elder feel as if he had been transported to another world.
At the end of death, can one hear such a clear call?
However, that was not an illusion.
It is light.
It cascaded down from the crack at the top of the rock like an inverted waterfall, illuminating every inch of darkness at the bottom of the abyss. Ovira's figure coalesced in the light; she did not fully reveal her form, but descended in a state between reality and illusion. Her silhouette was outlined by flowing text, geometric shapes, and star charts, every inch of light and shadow speaking of the rules of the universe. The air at the bottom of the abyss suddenly became fresh; the pervasive stench of decay was replaced by a strange aroma, like a leaf specimen tucked between the pages of an old book.
“You are…” The old mushroom man recognized her. She was a traveler from the earth, who had come in search of the legends of the Nibelungen. She had promised that if she could retrieve the power of the Holy Grail, she would lift the curse that had plagued the Grey Mushrooms for a thousand years. But she had vanished with the resurrected dragon, never to be heard from again. The elder had initially held out hope, but later gave up. Now, seeing her return, she was no longer the quiet and mysterious girl she once was.
Noble, illusory, unpredictable, almost like... a god.
“I have acquired the power of the Nibelungen, and therefore I have come to fulfill my promise.” She spoke succinctly, unwilling to elaborate, as if she were racing against some terrible catastrophe, with the lives of countless people, including the Gray Fungus before her, at stake. “But,” she said calmly after a brief pause, “this will come at a price.”
Even at this point, the old mushroom man remained cautious, perhaps because he had never forgotten why his tribe had fallen to this state: "What price?"
"Belief."
The two simple words caused Elder Momogu to fall into deep thought.
He was forced to recall once again the history of his tribe and the origins of the Gray Fungus race. In the past, his ancestors had mistakenly regarded the Nibelungen as a great miracle of the mortal world, seeing in it the hope of the tribe's rise to power. Ultimately, however, it was proven to be nothing but an illusion, leaving behind only a name filled with suffering and sorrow after the devastation. Since then, the old Fungus had always been wary of so-called faith and gods. The vast and cruel abyss was a natural breeding ground for faith, and naturally, it was not lacking in the attention of false gods and evil spirits. If one was willing to offer their faith to these gods, the Mushroom Force tribe would not need to hide in dark corners, living a precarious life. But the Mushroom Force elder never considered doing so, because he was unsure whether it would lead the tribe down another wrong path, or even back to the time when they were still bowing and praying to the Nibelungen.
A curse born of faith—must it ultimately be dispelled by faith itself? Elder Momogu hadn't expected Ovira to make such a condition, and perhaps was even somewhat disappointed. So, are the promises of the earthlings really no different from the temptations of Nibelungen? When she solemnly vowed to lift the curse on the Grey Mushroom People, was she truly sincere, or had she simply lost the power to see through people's hearts due to her long isolation from the outside world?
Please don't misunderstand.
Ovira said softly, “I will not ask you to become my believers, vassals, or servants. All I need is your faith—wholehearted and unreserved. The past cannot be repeated, the future is unpredictable, and I only pursue the destiny of this moment. Therefore, I only need your faith in me, at least for this period of time—a moment, a minute, even a second. You can consider this a transaction.”
"trade……"
Elder Momogu remained silent, lost in thought. Although the Gray Fungus tribe had been far removed from the civilized world for many years, living a primitive and simple life and long since lost the concept of trade, the experienced old fungus man was no stranger to it. He was merely somewhat surprised that the young girl would so bluntly reveal its true nature. The protection of the gods and the faith of believers were essentially a transaction, but on the Eastern Empire of Fantasia, many people always cloaked it in a veneer, embellishing and whitewashing it, sometimes describing it as sacred, and sometimes as cruel, but no one would ever say that they were equivalent.
Equivalent exchange is the fundamental principle of transactions.
Would a deity proactively promise its believers that the more faith they dedicate, the more it will recognize their piety and bestow more blessings upon them? Would a believer dare to actively demand of their deity, "You must give me more blessings before I can dedicate more faith?"
This act of treason was destined to be unacceptable to the world. However, it meant nothing to the Gray Fungus tribe, which had already reached its end.
There was only one question that the old mushroom man couldn't figure out.
"Is temporary faith truly useful?" He struggled to comprehend the thoughts of the people on Earth. From the animistic believers on the continent of Sigria who sought the return of the saints, to the ancient deities on the continent of Eastern Empire who seized the willpower of living beings to pave their own thrones, they all regarded believers as weeds in a field. They both disdained their plight and expected them to be inexhaustible, providing them with a perpetual source of precious faith. Even if temporary faith could shape a god, it would likely be short-lived. Like the fleeting daylight at the bottom of an abyss, what meaning could it hold, even with its brief illumination?
“It’s useless to others.” Ovira gave him a deep look. “But there are always some people who want to use a moment of light to illuminate the whole long night. I don’t know if I can be that kind of person, but I’m willing to try.”
A moment of light illuminates the long night; but will darkness not return once the light fades? Elder Momogu still couldn't understand Ovira, but he had lost the will to continue questioning her. On one hand, his tribesmen were on the verge of death, leaving him no time to hesitate; on the other hand, he had sensed the girl's resolve and confidence in her voice, knowing that no amount of doubt could shake such conviction. Therefore, he might as well trust her.
Elder Momogu surveyed his people—those who were disappearing, those who were struggling, and those whose eyes were regaining a glimmer of light. He recalled the tribe's ancient teachings, the regrets of his ancestors, and then he realized that in this long battle against cyanosis, the Gray Fungus had always been the passive party, without a choice. Therefore, even such a faint hope, he had to grasp at.
The old mushroom man took a deep breath, even though his fungal body no longer needed to breathe. He faced Ovira and slowly lowered his partially petrified cap.
"The Mushroom Power Tribe accepts this deal." His voice was old but clear. "Please keep your promise, traveler. And at this moment, we entrust you with the last bit of hope we still hold for this world, all our expectations, and our purest faith."
"Then let it be the witness."
Ovira raised her hand, and the fairy sword Hydras fell into her palm. She swung the sword lightly, the movement as casual as severing a knot that had been entangled for a thousand years. In that instant, every Grey Fungman felt something being peeled away from their body; the feeling was not painful, but rather a sense of relief.
Ovira's figure began to fade, and she looked at Elder Momogu, her gaze seemingly able to pierce through time and space: "The price of faith has been paid, the agreement has been fulfilled, please do not forget your promise."
As her words faded, her figure vanished completely, and the cascading light from the rocky peak receded. Darkness returned to the abyss. The members of the Mushroom Force tribe, filled with a complex mix of surprise and bewilderment, faced the unknown transformation within their bodies, gradually rediscovering the memories hidden within their ancient bloodlines. Only Elder Momogu remained, gazing silently into the void. The young woman had simply departed, without even intending to oversee the Mushroom Force tribe's fulfillment of their promise. Perhaps she knew that no one needed to supervise them; these Gray Mushroom People, who had escaped the despairing plague and been freed from their curse by her grace, would spontaneously offer their pure faith. For such is the nature of all beings in the mortal world; possessing emotions, they cannot suppress feelings of gratitude and reverence, and these two emotions are precisely the cornerstones of faith, nurturing countless hopes.
As for why she insisted on making a deal with Elder Momogu before taking action, even though she clearly held the initiative, it was truly puzzling. However, the old mushroom man could barely come up with a reasonable explanation... perhaps it was to distance herself from those false gods and evil gods.
Undoubtedly, she is a special deity.
Such a unique deity, seeking the power of faith from living beings, could hardly be seeking to seize power, covet authority, despise humanity, or manipulate hearts like ordinary false or evil gods. If that's the case, entrusting the Mushroom Tribe's faith to her isn't entirely a waste. Although in this world, mortals don't have the right to choose their gods—reality is often the opposite—it is precisely this that offers the old mushroom man some solace.
Elder Momogu was unaware that the mortals chosen by this deity were not limited to the Gray Fungus tribe at the bottom of the abyss. Similar scenes were unfolding in every corner of the Atoligara land: in the dark, imposing fortress, the leader of the Holy War Army, respected and followed by 100,000, pondered something deeply, finally nodding slowly after a long while, making a promise that there would never be a second time in his life; in the desolate wilderness flooded by torrential rain, the old shaman, bearing the fate of his tribe and the hopes of his people, withdrew his sorrowful gaze from the numb corpses in the rain, solemnly kneeling on one knee before the only deity willing to lend a helping hand, offering his loyalty sworn in blood; on the battlefield where blood flowed like rivers, both commanders, driven nearly mad by the capricious calamity of fate, simultaneously broke their swords to save the lives of their remaining 10,000 soldiers and to regain their sanity, promising to dedicate their faith to the first deity to witness this place…
Ovira faced everything calmly.
She doesn't demand absolute, pure, and enduring faith from everyone; it's enough that they can be her god for this moment. Perhaps Perec is right: if the human heart is infected by despair, faith will corrupt and become powerless. But what if they can pass this test? Then, their faith will surely be elevated, becoming purer and more devout.
The sudden plunge into despair followed by the sudden glimmer of hope—in these dramatic emotional ups and downs, a flawless crystallization of faith is formed. However, due to the unique nature of human emotions, this flawless faith cannot last long and will inevitably be tainted by external influences, gradually becoming tarnished.
But all Ovira needed was this temporary faith.
This is something only Ovira could do. Because she is the King of Mysteries, she knows everything about this land, including the suffering and desires of its creatures; at the same time, she wields the power of the Holy Grail, giving her the ability to grant wishes, at least on the land of Atorica.
O all-knowing and all-powerful, benevolent and merciful God.
All she needs to grant you all your wishes and save you from suffering is this moment of faith.
For her, at least for this moment, Atorica could only have one god. (End of Chapter)