Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint - Chapter 563



The Story of the Past, Humanity and Sin – Conclusion

Yet Ankra survived.

How was that possible? Even Ankra did not know. In truth, he was in a state where he could not think. He had been torn apart, wandering through this vast jungle.

He consumed a thousand lives each year, and the number of those he killed exceeded ten thousand. Each year, he scattered overflowing vitality as if to flaunt it. The ragged soldiers of the Anka tribe were imbued with his flesh and blood, and his flesh and blood were treated as sacred offerings by the Anka tribe.

Though he had never consciously acknowledged it, Ankra was a master of dark magic, already having scattered his abundant vitality throughout the jungle. Even in defeat, his power was akin to that of a god.

His robust vitality clung to life, even as existence was torn asunder… until, at some moment, he opened his eyes as if awakening from sleep.

He was parasitizing some barbaric tribe living in the jungle.

Having already lost his physical form and scattered most of his power, he possessed no strength at all. Without even the power to seize a body, he merely borrowed a form to maintain his consciousness. Grateful for existence, he survived, parasitizing while still breathing.

But a problem arose. The host was on the brink of death.

The reason was absurd. While pushing through the underbrush, he had been scratched all over by thorns. The host bled profusely, waiting only for the day of death.

In the jungle, death was so common that it could occur for any reason. Whether from excessive bleeding, infection, or a beast drawn by the scent of blood. It was so common that it hardly made for a story.

Yet for him, it was a grave situation.

If the host died, he would die too. He had barely regained consciousness, and now he would vanish again, leaving only power to wander. That could not happen. He had to survive. For reasons unknown, only the desire to live remained, driving him to act.

He seized the opportunity when the host weakened, taking control of part of the host’s body and restoring it with his power. The host, healed from mortal wounds, knelt in awe at the unexpected miracle, calling upon the great spirit, the essence of nature, the name of the Earth Mother.

It was the moment when he, merely a parasite, became a god. His will transformed into the will of a god, moving the host. Though he did not possess the dominance or will to completely control the host, he felt no need to. The host accepted and followed his intentions as divine revelation.

Borrowing the power of the host, he gathered the scattered pieces of himself spread throughout the jungle. The fruits of trees that had grown from the flesh he had scattered. Fragments that flowed into the bodies of other animals. Remaining bones, and so on. Driven solely by the desire to survive, he sought out and collected the remnants scattered across the jungle.

Thus he gathered, and gathered, and gathered again. After cutting and reattaching, accumulating strength.

Ankra was resurrected, transcending centuries.

When he opened his eyes, he was called a god, and the humans who received his power became immortals. Now, having finally taken on substance, he molded his own body from the forms of his followers.

That was the essence of the offering god.

Having read through the entirety of the past of the human once called a god, I was not only surprised but also bewildered by the unexpected information.

—

I possess the ability of mind-reading, through which I perceive the present of humanity. I can read the past of an individual, but for the broader history or the grand currents of nations, I must learn like any other human—through books.

It is a power befitting the king of beasts. Those who claim to represent the entirety of a species do not concern themselves with the past that has long since faded away.

In any case, due to some incident that stripped me of my power, I had little opportunity to learn about that forgotten past… However, this time, while reading Ankra, I gained a considerable amount of information. The five lords, the prophet, and even the king of humans from the past.

Isn’t it more beneficial than I expected? I never anticipated such an opportunity would arise.

As I organized the information I had read, the priestesses of the offering deity were taken aback by my revelation.

“Ankra? That must be the ancient malevolent ruler passed down through oral tradition in this land.”

“How dare you speak such blasphemy against the offering deity!”

At that moment, the offering deity raised a hand. The stitched-together flesh moved grotesquely, each piece possessing different powers and speeds. It was as if the flesh, struggling to hold itself together, exuded overwhelming strength even amidst its instability, as the offering deity gestured.

[I do not consume humans. I merely gather and nourish them.]

And then the offering deity rose from its seat. Though its body was unbalanced, it somehow managed to maintain its equilibrium.

[I do not rule over the jungle. I merely protect and observe.]

Standing about 3 meters tall and wider than that, the intimidating presence of its numerous wounds and stitched scars was terrifying.

[I am not Ankra. Now that his flesh has been scattered upon the ground and his blood has seeped into the rivers, Ankra no longer exists. I am solely the offering deity of the immortal.]

The offering deity spoke in a voice full of majesty.

Of course, that is true. Having experienced death, nearly perished, and survived by gathering the bodies of others, the offering deity is different from before.

Yet, that does not erase the past of being Ankra. Above all, I can clearly read your thoughts, so where do you think you’re hiding?

“Not right now, perhaps. But the source of that power and dark magic belongs to Ankra, doesn’t it?”

[You, who came from beyond the plains, I have personally conveyed my words. Do you dare to doubt?]

So you’re determined to deny it? This is even a lie with a reason behind it. Ankra has a history of being defeated by the human king and the first saint. If you suddenly start probing into your identity, you have no choice but to make excuses.

I found myself caught in a slight conflict. Right now, I have the means to definitively expose his lies and reveal the truth. Very clearly.

The problem is whether that is acceptable. To unveil his identity, I would have to reveal my own, which carries its own risks.

Hmm. What to do? Should I ask and move on? Or should we both play nice?

[Get lost at once. If you do not leave this place immediately, I will make you a part of my body.]

“Is that so? Can I just leave this place without consequence?”

[What did you say?]

“Don’t you want to know how I figured out your identity, how I recognized you the moment I saw you? Isn’t that something you’re curious about?”

[It is a trivial matter to me.]

“Not at all, I’d say. Who knows who might come next? It would be better for you to hear it from me, who has approached you with goodwill and curiosity.”

[….]

Oh, I don’t know anymore. Honestly, it’s not a secret anymore, is it? Let’s just go for it.

I boldly confessed before the Offering God.

“I am the king of humans. The very king who struck your head with an axe.”

Oh, there is a meaning in that resolve.

Axe, king of humans. The keywords are too clear to dismiss. The memory of defeat against the king of humans in that distant past remains only with the Offering God. It’s not something to boast about, nor is it recorded in history. Truly, a lost past.

If there is a being that mentions that memory, it can only be one of two: the Offering God or the king of humans.

And since I am not the Offering God, I must be the king of humans.

[No way!]

At the mention of that distant past, the Offering God reacted violently. The face, though grotesque, was once dignified, now twisted without mercy.

[Why! Why have you come to find your true self now!]

And the faces of the priestesses moved erratically in response. The Offering God’s, or rather the body that was offered, began to resonate with the emotions of the Offering God. The priestesses, bewildered by feelings that were not their own, looked at their deity.

The Offering God shouted in terror and rage.

[The true self has ruled over humans since becoming a god! Instead of oppressing, I nurtured; instead of killing, I saved; instead of consuming, I fed! I did all this, so why do you persecute me!]

“Persecute? I don’t think I’ve particularly persecuted you.”

[Then why have you come now? The true self did not challenge you! I neither consumed nor killed humans! I built the altar with my blood and flesh instead of bones! In this tiny patch of land, I merely shared my essence with my followers to maintain this flesh!]

The immortal is a limb of the Offering God. A part of the colossal body known as the Offering God. Just as excitement tightens the hands and makes the eyelids tremble, the priestesses were also confused as they received the emotions of the Offering God.

‘The Offering God…’

‘Is afraid?’

Inferiority, feelings of defeat, despair, anger. And beneath it all, a subtle fear writhed like a whirlpool. The Offering God half-cowered and half-swelled as it shouted.

[With this power, I merely held the lives of those weak subjects! So why have you come again!]

It was too successful. I didn’t expect the reaction to be this intense. Should I try to soothe it a bit?

“Um, well. Just to let you know, my coming here was purely coincidental. I just happened to meet a familiar face while passing by and helped out for a moment.”

[Your right arm?]

“Exactly. I didn’t come with any bad intentions.”

To be precise, it was the blessing of the saint that guided me, and this Offering God is likely the ancient evil that the saint asked to be dealt with. But I have no intention of killing the Offering God. That’s why I deliberately left the returner behind.

“And I only spoke to you out of courtesy. There are hardly any left who remember the king of humans from those days.”

[Courtesy? No way.]

“I’m serious. The king of humans who split your head back then didn’t come for any particular reason either, right? He just responded to your blatant treachery.”

Despite my nonchalant remarks, the Offering God still held onto the thread of tension.

[This time, I have plotted nothing!]

“I know. You did. You’ve been living quietly since your defeat by the king of humans. I don’t particularly plan to do anything to you.”

Your memory was the purpose, and now that I’ve read it all, there’s nothing left to say. It would have been enough to leave quietly like this.

Yet, there’s something I feel regret about.

“-And I no longer have the strength for that.”

[…What?]

Once, Ankra harbored ambitions to overthrow the king of humans and engulf the world, but after dying once, he changed his mind and now reigns quietly as the god of a small village. Well, that’s quite a common tale. Facing overwhelming reality and giving up on dreams is something everyone experiences.

I think that’s fine too.

However, I’m a little curious.

“What do you mean? It’s strength. Even a god of offerings like you didn’t recognize me at first. If I had truly been the king of humans with real power, you would have noticed me the moment you saw me.”

The king of humans is the embodiment of the concept of a species. Even in the distant past, he was so powerful that there were no rivals on earth. With such strength, he should have recognized me instantly.

But now, I am a mere husk, devoid of presence. An ordinary human that even a god of offerings couldn’t recognize at first glance. The god of offerings, sensing the power emanating from me, responded slowly.

[…What happened?]

“It’s similar to your situation. I too was betrayed by the prophet and those five, stripped of my power and vanished. Now, I am just a shell. I managed to return somehow, but compared to then, my life is like that of a bug.”

In the past, he was undoubtedly evil. Yet, now, cowering in fear while reigning as a god, it’s hard to label him as absolute evil. Even if he survives by feeding on the flesh of his followers, he promises them immortality and continues to keep them alive, so if we judge solely by actions, isn’t he a benevolent god? Or is he a malevolent god, parasitizing their bodies with the power gained from devouring humans?

Whether the god of offerings is malevolent or benevolent, whether he has been reborn after being cleaved by an axe, or is simply holding his breath in fear, no one knows. Not even me, who can read hearts.

You won’t know until the situation arises. If you don’t know, you can’t judge. If you want to judge, you must know.

“It seems you’ve regained some strength. Haah, I have no way to regain mine.”

[…Does that mean the prophet betrayed you too?]

“Yes. It seems he was displeased with something. He stabbed me, tore me apart, and shared my power. Those glorious and powerful days are now just a memory, and I’m left as a shell, running away.”

[The king of humans runs away? From whom?]

“From the descendants of that prophet. Do you know of the Seonghwangcheong? Haah. What did I do to deserve this miserable existence? They could have just taken my power; why do they have to do more?”

Muttering to myself in lament, I felt a slight tremor from the god of offerings.

Fear, shame, anger, helplessness, a sense of defeat. But the despair that he could never win was suppressing him. So, the god of offerings hid in this dark cave, intermittently waking from sleep, peering outside in very limited ways through his followers.

Fearing that the king of humans might come, that the prophet might find him. Like a frightened bug burrowing into the ground.

Yet, the words I whispered touched the wind deep within him. The god of offerings, cold and settled, spoke.

[…Then. If I devour you. My true self will no longer have to fear.]

“Excuse me? What do you mean all of a sudden?”

The god of offerings pointed at me with his finger.

[Those who have become my followers. Kill this one.]