Chapter 93

Chapter 93
Alon was aware that Chief Cardinal Anderde was a figure absent from the original narrative. Even if the man had existed, he had never been part of Psychedelia’s story. This knowledge kept his face impassive while his thoughts raced.

‘Was this part of the intended plot? Or has a deviation occurred?’

Naturally, such questions offered no answers. Alon’s knowledge was limited to events from a year in the future; anything before that was a blank.

He looked over at Yuman. In the future, Yuman was fated to save the world with Eliban, securing Alon’s life of ease. Now, Yuman was employing his holy power to defend against Anderde’s assault.

‘A saint’s power is unmistakable. He can channel divine energy without a single word of prayer.’

Alon remembered how Yuman’s abilities in the game activated instantly, never wasting a combat turn, and he felt a measure of comfort.

‘That’s one thing we can count on.’

The main reason Alon had taken on his Thunder God Form to race here was to save Yuman, the guarantor of his future comfort. If this incident was part of the destined course, then Yuman would live. But if it was an anomaly, Yuman could have perished.

‘Well, in the end, he blocked the spell, so rather than just saving Yuman, I ended up completely disabling Anderde.’

Yet, in his heart, Alon felt a primal certainty.

This was not the end.

“The Marquis Palatio, I believe?”

Chief Cardinal Anderde spoke with effort, his arm destroyed by Alon’s Thunder God Form and half his face charred black. His lips still held a gentle, kindly smile.

Even with injuries that should have been fatal, that smile never wavered. It was as if he felt no pain—or perhaps—

As if the smile had been painted on.

“Correct.”

As Alon answered, the priests, frozen until now, began to pray. Simultaneously, the paladins drew their blades, made the sign of the cross, and summoned their holy power. The cardinals who had survived, though barely, declared Anderde an undeniable heretic.

But even then, Anderde, wearing that fixed smile, looked down at Alon from the platform.

“That is good. Very good.”

Unexpectedly, those words left his lips.

“What…?”

By the time Alon responded, the clergy had finished their incantations and were assaulting Anderde.

Some launched spears of light.
Some swung their maces.
Some brandished swords.
Some called down lightning.
And some hurled the pure essence of divine power at Anderde.

A deafening roar followed.

Bolts of lightning woven from sacred energy fell from the heavens.
White holy magic, shimmering with the blue moon’s radiance, poured down in a relentless sequence.
Like a violent storm.
Or like a shower of falling stars.

The crushing wave of holy magic smashed into the platform where Anderde stood.
Even Alon felt a sense of veneration at the sheer scale of the divine violence on display.

When the storm of holy power finally faded and the ruined platform was visible—what stood there was…

—

Anderde, still on his feet, though his body was completely broken.

His arms were missing.
Gaping wounds pierced his chest and abdomen.
The top of his skull was gone.

It was a condition that should have meant certain death.

Yet, Anderde’s benevolent smile remained perfectly intact.

The priests, the cardinals, and even Yuman were stunned into silence at the sight.

“It would have been a pity, you understand. Your ‘potential’ is truly exceptional.”

Anderde murmured in a tranquil, even tone, his expression not shifting.

“I did not wish to lose you.”

With those words, an odd sound started to come from Anderde’s body.

A disturbing, grotesque noise, like something forcing its way out.

Then, it occurred.

The benevolent smile that had been on Anderde’s face mere moments ago was gone, replaced by something much more terrifying.

From his ravaged form, scarlet branches began to burst forth and extend.

Rumble… Rumble…

The ground of the great square, where the clergy stood, fractured in a clean line.

“Aaaah! Aaaah—!!”
“Run! Get away, now!!”

Screams filled the air as priests scrambled to flee the breaking earth.

Through the chaos of the shattered plaza, a huge tree trunk began to force its way up through the ground.

Scores, no, hundreds of crimson branches exploded from the soil, spreading in all directions.

The fissure stretched past the square, reaching the white city inside the inner sanctum.

Crackkkkk—!

And then, it started to unveil itself.

The first thing to emerge was a pair of monstrous, contorted hands, wound about with squirming red tendrils.

Next came the vision of a gigantic statue’s head, rising as if being birthed at the expense of consuming the white city.

After it, the enormous body of the statue began to force its way out.

And in that moment, everyone there grasped the reality:

The benevolent Anderde who had been before them was merely a marionette.

Crashhh—!

In a flash, Anderde’s body, which had been sprouting innumerable branches, was drawn into the giant statue.

Crackkk—!

At the same time, the face of the colossal statue, which resembled a human countenance, split into four segments like blooming flower petals. From within, countless crimson branches burst outward.

And finally, it revealed itself—devouring the whole eastern section of the white city as it rose.

[By your will, I have come.]

It turned its eyes to the clergy and spoke:

[Worship me.]

With those words, it proclaimed its arrival to all.

[I am Machina, the god of humankind.]

An outer god had arrived.

***

The priests, the paladins, the cardinals, and even Yuman stood in stunned silence under the blue moon, staring at the outer god that had manifested before them.

The entity, which had crawled out while consuming the white city, extended its branches as if it meant to devour everything.

Even Alon was not immune to the staggering shock.

“Machina…?!”

Alon was bewildered. He had never encountered the name of an outer god called Machina.

Of course, this timeline was unknown to him, but even so, the being in front of him was unmistakably otherworldly.

‘What in the world is this…?’

Amid his confusion, Alon’s eyes stayed locked on Machina. Then, he saw something—something that hit him with a cold, familiar dread.

Black smoke, seeping from every part of Machina’s huge form, twisting through the tree-like vines and saturating the atmosphere.

“The Abyss…?!”

Instinctively, Alon recalled the keyword and a rumor he had once heard:

An Abyssal Entity with the power to bestow divinity upon powerful individuals had infiltrated the Holy Kingdom.

With that, Alon understood the truth.

The being before him was a creation of the Abyss.

“…An artificial outer god?”

Alon muttered the words, trying to make sense of the creature in front of him.

“L-look there!”
“S-someone’s—!”

His contemplation was cut short by the frantic shouts of priests, drawing his focus to the area below the massive outer god.

There, he witnessed a horrifying scene.

There, amid the turmoil, were people.

The citizens of the Holy Kingdom, limp and lifeless, trapped by scarlet vines.

[Do not fight. What I do is to care for you all equally.]

A voice resonated—sacred, yet eerily artificial, filling the air.

The scarlet vines started slithering toward the priests.

“Stop them!”

The paladins rushed at the approaching vines, hacking at the twisting branches.

Soon, the priests unleashed their holy magic, tearing through the blue night and striking at the outer god.

The spectacle that had earlier left Alon in awe repeated itself.

Thud—Crash!

In a moment, one of Machina’s massive arms was severed and crashed to the ground.

A spark of hope lit in the priests’ eyes as they watched, firing their determination.

But that resolve was brief.

“I-it’s healing…?”

What they saw was unbelievable.

The very arm that had been annihilated by the holy assault was regenerating as if it had never been damaged.

At an astonishing rate.

Branches wove together like forming veins, and in moments, the right arm was whole again.

The priests were horrified by the ghastly display.

“Aaaahhh!”

Meanwhile, the paladins who had been cutting down the advancing scarlet vines started to fall, one after another.

Those caught by the vines had red branches sprouting from their bodies, transforming them into lifeless wooden statues in an instant.

***

Terror moved through the paladins.

It spread like a sickness, affecting everyone present.

Soon, the vines that had consumed the paladins reached the priests, poised to seize them as well.

At that moment—

Flare!

A massive barrier blocked the oncoming vines.

“Ugh!”

It was Yuman who had halted the vines.

Encircled by a tremendous aura of sacred energy, he had formed a huge holy wall that protected the priests.

The priests gazed at him in admiration, but his own expression was grim.

The vast wall of divine power, something only a saint could produce, was quickly sapping his strength.

And then—

[To declare equality and to deliver it, I have come. Yet, you remain so unaware.]

As the huge hand of Machina lifted high into the blue-lit sky, the priests saw it.

A hand that, moments before, had been too small to hide the blue moon was now expanding.

Hundreds of scarlet branches wove together, swelling until the hand was large enough to swallow the moon itself.

“Lady Sironia…”

Faced with the overwhelming vision, the priests instinctively called upon the goddess Sironia.

The cardinals, their faces marked with hopelessness, released heavy sighs.

Even Yuman, straining to uphold the massive divine barrier, could only stare at the enormous hand in shock.

“What is that?”

His eyes were filled with powerlessness and despair as he looked at the gigantic hand.

[Accept me, all of you, for I am the god of humankind you have made—]
[—and I will treat you all equally.]

As Machina’s voice echoed, the huge hand descended toward the holy barrier Yuman had raised.

Clang—

Abruptly, the sound of something breaking cut through the air.

“Hah—”

A soft sigh followed the noise, catching Yuman’s attention. With effort, he glanced behind him.

There, standing composed amid the despair, was someone crushing the pieces of a broken potion vial under his heel while drinking from another.

It was the Marquis Palatio—or rather, the Silver Saint.

His face was blank, untouched by the desperate circumstances, and he said:

“Endure just a bit longer.”

Then, as if bracing for what was next, he asked:

“Can you manage it?”

Yuman, as if spellbound, replied at once:

“I will try.”

The Silver Saint—or rather, Alon—gave a nod at Yuman’s answer.

“Good. Be certain to leave the top of the barrier open.”

He briefly inspected the shining white necklace around his neck before issuing a command:

“Array of Thunder.”

Crackle—!

Lightning, charged with the blue moon’s glow, started to surge and flicker over Alon’s form, buzzing with untamed energy.