Chapter 59: From Strong to Deity
At that time, Teacher Nostradamus calmly pointed the way for me: "Pain? Feeling unbelievable? That's right. The truth always hurts more than lies. Though forced, you have at least seen the truth of this country—weak, riddled with contradictions and suffering. In your heart right now, you must genuinely want to change all of this."
"So, for you, for me, for this country, for all the people who uphold the Diamond Family as their imperial house, you must become strong. At least, transform from the current naive, weak person who can be sent to the front lines with a single word, into a strong person with your own convictions who can decide your own future—change yourself, and then change the world. If you become strong enough to be emperor, then anything is possible."
The teacher's words were always calm. He wasn't looking at me, but at the barren, vast northwestern plains with not a single soul in sight: "In this way, I can become the Imperial Tutor, gain status and power, obtain the authority to reform this society. You can become the emperor, gain this scarred and broken country. And our wishes can both be fulfilled—as long as you become strong enough for me to assist you in attaining the supreme throne."
At that moment, I seemed to hear crying. I heard the weeping of villagers whose villages had been burned. I saw the tears in the hearts of numb and apathetic knights. I felt the darkness and suffering that shrouded this country, even the entire human civilization—all beings suffer. Class division, oppression, and exploitation are inherently part of civilization.
And the root of all this suffering is that, in this world full of miracles, people are like ordinary mortals without miracles—without power.
[Conviction]
From then on, conviction took root in my heart.
I began to pursue strength, to chase power. I started to tap into potential within myself that I had never discovered before. After arriving at the front lines, I constantly fought against orcs, battled alongside the army. I bathed in blood daily, was wounded time and again. My madness made even the orcs fear me. My strength made even my allies uneasy—until one day, I single-handedly held off a thousand troops, broke through the orc central army on the Tartarus Plateau, and beheaded three orc generals. I became a legend, defeated all my competitors, forced the scheming ministers to submit, made the calculating great nobles acquiesce, and thus ascended to the throne of 'Emperor.'
From that moment, I made an oath: I would use my own will to reshape this world—and that was precisely my legendary power.
—At this moment, within the golden divine cocoon, the awakening deity unconsciously opened its eyes, revealing golden-orange pupils like the sun.
The massive divine cocoon began to burn fiercely. Illusory yet real, endless divine power transformed into flames that drifted and flickered through the atmosphere, beginning to forge a body for the true god about to be born.
And it was at this moment.
'I' recalled memories from after becoming emperor.
Memories even darker and more oppressive than the blood-soaked, corpse-strewn front lines.
Memories of the root of all darkness shrouding civilization.
Beneath the surface of peace and humility lay the sinister political struggles and conspiracies of the nobility. Beneath the harmonious facade of the imperial capital lurked the hidden exploitation and oppression of various major powers. But even this was relatively good. Local nobles arbitrarily added taxes, fabricated laws at will, demanded the right of the first night, and freely conscripted freemen into their own peasant households. They annexed land, seized property by force, treating law, honor, responsibility, and human dignity as nothing.
Nobles, the strong, and great merchants stood high above. They held wealth and power, so they could abuse commoners at will, treating ordinary people like livestock. And supporting all of this were the rights granted to them by imperial law and the violence bestowed by supernatural power.
At that time, the empire was like a decayed mummy. Years of war with the orcs had drained all the resources needed to maintain a stable situation. It was morbidly structured, giving those who held force—the strong and the nobles—excessive power. The imperial authority compromised with them time and again, handing over rights repeatedly, turning these beings who should have been protectors into evil dragons that exploited blood and sweat. But was the imperial authority any better? As the greatest noble and the strongest wielder of violence, every month the entire nation transported enough resources to launch a small-scale campaign to the imperial capital. Countless rare treasures and precious supernatural resources were plundered and offered up, merely to satisfy the daily needs of the imperial family.
And I, in the past, thought this was only right—because I was a member of the imperial family. My family protected the entire empire. Their contribution was taken for granted.
Ugh.
Just recalling it makes me feel sick. These people who flaunt their wealth, their mines, their power without restraint never think about how many bones lie behind it all. Every time I take a magic potion, I can't help but think about the hardship and blood and tears condensed behind it. But at that time, even knowing all this, I couldn't act. I had to smile and converse with them, listen to their flattery and sycophancy, endure the nausea, and let these damned human-shaped demons kiss my scepter.
As for why, the answer is simple.
These nobles, at worst, abuse their own 'property' on their lands, oppress the serfs they are 'entitled by heaven' to oppress. This is an order passed down for a thousand years. They also need attendants to serve them, so no matter how crazy things get, there is a limit. But if I were to kill them arbitrarily, causing the foundation of imperial power to shake, the consequences might be millions displaced, even tens of millions plunged into disaster. Other local nobles in the empire, sympathizing with their own kind, might rise in rebellion to resist, plunging this vast empire into turmoil overnight.
The consequence of acting recklessly might be that everything I fought for on the battlefield returns to zero. And the orcs, whom I barely managed to suppress on the Tartarus Plateau at the cost of nearly incurable hidden injuries, might take the opportunity to counterattack. While we are busy with civil war, they could reclaim a large area of high-quality pasture on the northwestern plains and recover the vitality they've lost over the past decade or so.
The great edifice cannot fall—at least not now.
Orcs. Nobles. Criminal organizations. Rampaging superhumans. And commoners with no power to resist. The empire's pustules, its weakness, its tumors. I once swore to change all of this. That was my conviction, the belief that supported me in becoming a legend, in becoming strong. I used my last strength to solve one of these problems, but I had no strength left to eradicate the others.
Hidden injuries had worn me down.
Feeling the most blasphemous and evil curse of the orc High Priest constantly eroding my remaining life, even I fell into despair at that time.
"Not enough time... Can't change all of this?!"
"Even as emperor, having become emperor, can't I do it?!"
I, can't I do it either?!
Watching my own children grow up in the same privileged environment of the imperial family, gradually becoming the same as my former self, my father, and my brothers—but not one, not a single one, attained the same awakening as I did. I sent my eldest son into the common folk, hoping he would experience the suffering of ordinary people. I sent my second son into the military, hoping he would feel the cruelty of war. But both disappointed me. The eldest was bought off by nobles and became the most traditional of aristocrats. The second saw revenge and power as his only goals, caring nothing for the cries of the people. Rage mixed with despair burned my heart, making me decadent and irritable. I even gave up on myself, thinking it would be better to just die.
—But conviction.
Conviction alone must not be forgotten.
The conviction to change all this darkness kept me alive, barely surviving. I sat coldly on the throne, waiting for death to come, and in facing this enemy, I tried as much as possible not to forget my original intention, not to become the kind of person I once hated most.
Until that day came.
A minor disturbance in the imperial capital. A familiar black-haired warrior. He solved the problem effortlessly and then casually handed me a pure divine crystal.
—Power.
Beneath the Myriad Realms Sacrificial Ground, in the sealed hall, the golden divine cocoon began to peel away layer by layer. One could see a humanoid form radiating infinite light gradually emerging from the cocoon.
—Everything stems from this.
Because of their great power, superhuman strongmen naturally become the rulers and nobles of a superhuman civilization. Whether in how they see things, do things, or live their daily lives, their perspective on matters is completely different from that of commoners without supernatural power, from 'weaklings' who have nothing. In essence, they are not even the same race, the same kind of life.
And the identity of 'Emperor,' from a certain angle, is the same.
They cannot feel the suffering, worries, and sorrows of common people.
The hometown locked away by mountains, the rugged road leading to the outside world. The narrow and dangerous living space between valleys and high peaks. The provinces in the north with inconvenient transportation, blocked by heavy snow every winter. All the suffering and torment that ordinary people can clearly feel—whether it's climate change, geographical location, or the trouble of returning to and leaving their complicated hometowns—the strong feel none of it.
Because they can fly. They can split mountains, carve paths. They can change the weather, control the climate. Even without such great power, they can easily ignore all of this. They simply cannot experience the pain.
The strong can never truly understand the inconvenience of the weak. So superhuman civilizations are extremely difficult to change. They have no needs, so naturally, they don't think about progress.
Unless such a person appears.
A person who genuinely wants to help the weak, protect the weak, and wants to make the weak strong.
A person who represents 'justice' and possesses 'might.'
—At least, he hopes that the weak can have the power to live a life with dignity.
"I want to thank you, Lord Radcliffe."
Inside the divine cocoon, the light humanoid murmured to itself: "You gave me the divine crystal, allowing me to take a further step in power. Your existence shocked many nobles, drew their fire, allowing Teacher Nostradamus to become a legend in peace. And you also supported my ideas, and exceeded my most beautiful dreams, becoming a legend yourself in just a few years."
What one legend cannot solve, two legends can attempt. And with three legends, success is inevitable.
There is nothing in the Mycroft World that can withstand the combined force of three legends—not even systems passed down for millennia, nor the resistance of countless nobles.
In the endless Great Source, the thoughts and wills of countless people assailed my will, washing away my conviction. But these fragile things could no longer affect me. I recalled more things. I remembered the Heavenly Net System, the Monitoring Throne, the sins I personally burned away, the nobles I ended, the 'strong' I oppressed using the same methods they used to oppress others.
I remembered the superhuman academy Teacher Nostradamus established. I remembered the increasing number of commoner superhumans within the empire. I remembered being scolded by my empress, who said I was destroying the foundation of my throne and rule. I remembered the nobles panicking and uniting, shouting 'The emperor has gone mad,' saying I was digging my own grave.
They understood nothing, comprehended nothing. I don't blame them. Because in front of me, these self-proclaimed 'strong' are also 'weak.'
"I know."
—In this world ruled by the strong, in this history written by the strong, the weak always have no role.
They are the suffering not recorded in books, the numbers not specified in death tolls. They are the heavy taxes never described in adventure stories, the poor people invisible to the knights and adventurers exploring ruins and forests. They are the meager meals—once or twice a day—behind the seemingly vast fields.
They are always forgotten, always overlooked. They support the backbone of this world, yet receive no respect they deserve.
But I.
The god.
'Israel,' will not forget or overlook.
This human's power and conviction come from the desperate cries of those border villagers, those weaklings, forty-three years ago.
[The weak have no reason to exist—the history of civilization is the process of the strong continuously defeating the weak!]
A grand voice came, the conviction of a civilization from another world crossing time and space. It was a truly alien race, fundamentally different from humans in its very foundation of birth, in its process of civilizational development and social form. Their voice was grand, their conviction firm.
Wrong! Completely wrong!
The weak indeed have no reason to exist—because the purpose of dividing strong and weak is to allow the weak to strive to become strong, and to allow the strong to remember that they were once weak. The purpose of dividing strong and weak is to make all the weak become strong, and then begin the next cycle!
Civilization is the process of the weak becoming strong!
Civilization is the process of justice gaining power!
The history of civilization is the process of the weak continuously growing and advancing, gaining conviction, firming their goals, step by step overcoming all difficulties, and then becoming strong, bearing everything!
—Inside the light cocoon, behind the divine humanoid, a sun-like rune condensed. Radiant divine light began to spread, filling the entire hall with gentle yet powerful divine power.
Israel completely awakened from the dream of the Great Source. He opened his eyes, once again gazing upon this world he had left for many years.
[Are kings and generals born with superior seeds?]
Even so, in this world with supernatural power and bloodline inheritance, kings and generals truly are born with superior seeds.
He himself was a product of this.
For ordinary people to become strong, they need ten, a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand times more effort than someone like him. But didn't he also work hard? The hardships he endured from childhood, the training he received, were ten, a hundred times more scientific and ten, a hundred times more intense than ordinary people. He didn't even need to worry about living—only about becoming stronger!
But does that mean the strong can only be like shepherds tending flocks, using their power to shear wool and strengthen themselves?
But does that mean the strong must suppress everyone, maintain their advantage in power, and preserve their rule?
—This is wrong.
If after the strong, no stronger ones can emerge; if the strong degenerate into mere shepherds managing the weak; if the strong fall, no longer pursuing the pinnacle, only seeking to manage their weak subjects well, becoming despicable people who 'make others weak so that they themselves can be strong'—
Then a superhuman civilization is doomed.
Because no stronger existence can be born from within. This civilization will grow weaker and weaker, more and more base, until it silently disappears in the turn of time, or encounters a powerful existence from another world and perishes in wails.
"Everyone must be able to become strong."
"Everyone must have the opportunity."
So kings and generals—everyone can be one.
The divine cocoon shattered. Endless light spilled forth from the sun-like divine emblem—warm, powerful, so bright and striking.
Israel clenched his fists. The humanoid form composed of light gradually condensed into the shape of a man. The former emperor, now the newborn God of Justice and Might, raised his head to look at the surface. His gaze seemed to pierce through the void, seeing the starry gate slowly opening.
Justice... justice is might! Justice is power!
My power comes from conviction, born for all beings!
[Civilization is the process of the strong defeating the weak—Civilization is the process of the weak becoming the strong]
The diametrically opposite voice came from beyond the starry gate. It was the voice of a god, the 'voice of an enemy' that divine office, divine nature, and true gods could sense, bursting forth from the depths of the Great Source of the multiverse.
"That is my divine enemy, the enemy of order."
The god murmured to itself. But faced with this, Israel was not flustered. On the contrary, he even smiled.
Because besides that, he also heard a familiar, kind voice—the voice of a friend.
"Come, Israel!"
A man's grand and deep voice, as if also laughing, crossed the void and the starry river, directly transmitting into his heart: "Come, fight alongside me!"
Haha, the man formed of light chuckled softly. And with the chuckle, endless divine power began to condense. Dark golden hair and the face of the former emperor appeared together, then were shrouded in a golden helmet. Sturdy and heavy, the divine armor covering his entire body was inscribed with a simple sun emblem. A crimson cape fluttered behind him, stirred by the raging wind, making a rustling sound. It was stained with blood—the blood of countless sacrifices—reminding the god of the conviction he swore to uphold forever.
Golden divine light condensed, blasting a straight passage from above the god's head straight to the surface. Israel leaped up. In the process of ascending into the void, he felt countless gazes—gods, the strong, the weak, admiring, surprised. He felt the gaze of his teacher. The old mage, who had almost fulfilled his long-held ideals, looked at him with a gratified and emotional gaze. All people and gods, at this moment, made way. They and they yielded this opportunity.
And the god, without hesitation, transformed into a golden-orange divine light like the sun, speeding toward the starry gate that was gradually opening and expanding. The divine light was vast and bright, as if it would illuminate the entire dark starry river.
"I'm coming!"