PGVCW 53

 

Playing God in Various Catastrophic Worlds

Chapter 53: The Despair of the Faithful and the Turning Tide

Inside a castle draped with luxurious, heavy curtains, a middle-aged man tightly clutched the hand of a young girl lying upon the bed.

"My poor Aisha, my treasure, Father will not let the pestilence take you away—most certainly not."

The girl was frail and feeble, her breathing faint to the point of being barely perceptible. The man's tears fell upon the bed; gritting his teeth, he turned his gaze toward a tray handed over by a servant, upon which rested a dagger inlaid with a magic stone. He abruptly stood up, seized the dagger, and strode toward the exit.

The housekeeper hurried in from outside: "My lord! What are you planning to do?!"

"To the Holy Temple!" The man's face was dark with fury. "I am going to bring back holy water for Aisha! Holy water can cure all illnesses in this world, yet those people at the Holy Temple are hoarding it and refusing to bestow it!"

"My lord! Such an act is utter blasphemy against the gods!"

"Blasphemy, then let it be blasphemy!!" The man finally snapped, bursting into loud, frantic roar. "When my wife was consumed by pestilence and died, where was the god?!" "When my son was taken away by this disease, where was the god?!" "Now I have only Aisha left!! And now, she too is about to be torn away from me!"

His eyes were bloodshot: "If the god refuses to protect my Aisha, then why on earth should I continue to worship him?!"

The Clashing Tides of Faith

This was an act of grave blasphemy; all the servants dared not utter another sound, leaving only the heavy, ragged gasps of the man consumed by rage and grief. And... the quiet weeping of other servants who had likewise lost loved ones in successive plagues.

Indeed, they had revered the God of Light with such profound devotion. They were the children of the God of Light. Yet why, when their families were snatched away, could the God of Light not rescue them from this catastrophe?

Wisps of black faith-power surged from their bodies, weaving together as they streamed upward toward the heavens. Simultaneously, from other castles and humble cottages alike, wave upon wave of black faith-power emerged. These emanated from those who had lost loved ones or contracted the sickness themselves; they tangled together, charging toward the celestial realm with towering resentment.

Alongside them rose streams of pure white faith-power. These untainted white energies likewise originated from various households, representing the lingering devotion still directed toward the God of Light across the magic world. The white faith-power desperately wound itself around the black currents, attempting to fuse with their essence and neutralize them; slowly, those malevolent energies dissipated alongside the white light.

Had anyone possessed the sight to witness this phenomenon, they would have beheld a breathtakingly shocking spectacle. Across the breadth of the entire continent, countless streams of black and white faith-power soared upward—white wrapping around black, black assaulting white, resembling a magnificent display of monochrome fireworks. Yet the volume of white faith-power was far inferior to the black, and it appeared feeble, lacking the glorious momentum of three hundred years prior, often failing to keep pace with the black currents at all.

Within the ruined celestial kingdom, the throne remained enveloped in an expanse of brilliant white radiance, while below, those pure white prayers were blocked at a distance by countless heavy chains. Conversely, the miasma laden with heavy resentment surged upward unimpeded, penetrating straight into the core of the white radiance.

The white brilliance gradually dimmed as it absorbed an overwhelming influx of dark qi. A pair of gigantic wings slowly materialized into view. They were once pristine and immaculate, seemingly capable of embracing all creation. Yet, choked by the suffocating density of the black qi, the base of the wings—once equally blindingly white—was slowly stained black.

The figure upon the throne trembled faintly, while the white faith-power below battered desperately against the restraints, failing by every measure to breach the deity's physical vessel. He absorbed hatred, terror, agony, cowardice, and resentment, while joy, bliss, hope, and longing were blocked entirely outside.

The deity was no longer impartial—He slowly unclosed His eyes, revealing a pair of stunning golden orbs whose whites were choked with twisting, creeping black tendrils.

"Click-clack—"

Standing directly before the throne was a massive ocular entity towering over a man's height, its surface mapped with squiggling red veins as it stared unblinkingly at the deity.

"Click-clack—"

A mechanical voice echoed from beneath the giant eyeball: "Conversion commencing—" "Class-A powerhouse captured, continuous conversion underway—"

Just as the black threads crept step-by-step toward the golden pupil, preparing to blanket it entirely, their motion abruptly halted.

The Hopes of the Masses

Down below, the man was rushing toward the gates of his castle when an armored knight came charging inside.

"My lord! A method to save Miss Aisha has been found!!" "Within the Albert family domain, there is an otherworldly princess who possesses the power to cure this pestilence!!"

The man halted in his tracks, instantly consumed by wild ecstasy: "Really?! Quick! Bring my horse around! I shall ride to petition Her Highness the Princess this very instant!"

Murmurs and whispers erupted everywhere.

"I heard they possess a specialized remedy capable of treating this plague, and people have already been cured." " Countless folks are heading over there, and Her Highness has also announced that she is recruiting apprentices to assist with medical treatments due to manpower shortages." "Even serfs were cured—so many serfs have been healed! If they're willing to treat mere serfs, we are free citizens, surely we can be cured as well?" "Father, I will take you to see the physician right away! Hang in there just a little longer, you'll be healed in no time!"

Survival was the instinct of all mortals, and once hope flickered into existence, a singular conviction dominated every mind: Spare no effort, head toward that sanctuary.

The surging black qi that had been swelling aggressively suddenly weakened and dissipated, while the white faith-power surged forward like a tidal wave to launch a counter-offensive—only to strike empty air. Wandering in bewildered circles, the white streams aggressively hunted down any remaining black currents.

Back in the celestial kingdom—the dark tendrils rapidly faded from the eyes of the deity upon the throne, leaving behind only isolated black blemishes at the base of His wings.

"Click-clack—Conversion aborted, insufficient faith-power, conversion suspended."

The giant ocular entity scanned left and right, then slowly closed its eye.

The Migration to the Albert Domain

"What on earth is happening?" A32 stepped forward in alarm and fury to inspect the apparatus: "We were on the verge of completing the conversion, why did faith-power suddenly drop to zero?"

Furious, it scowled darkly as it checked the diagnostics. B06 strolled over: "Perhaps too many people died, leaving them with no strength left for resentment?"

"How did you run your onboarding training?! The greater the mortality rate, the heavier the corrupted faith-power fueled by resentment should become!" A32, already enraged, found its irritation compounded by its subordinate's perceived stupidity: "Something must have gone wrong down below! I am going down to investigate! You hold this perimeter and ensure no riots break out here."

As it spoke, it caught sight of B06's face. B06 wore the appearance of a middle-aged man, tall and robust with a ring of facial hair; catching A32's gaze, he blinked innocently, flashing a grin resembling a blossoming chrysanthemum.

A32: "..."

B06 simply did not inspire confidence. Could leaving him to guard the God of Light trigger an unforeseen disaster?

It instantly altered its directive: "Never mind, I shall guard the God of Light. You lead a team down."

Unfazed, B06 maintained his nonchalant demeanor, inquiring slowly: "Squad Leader A, can you handle this alone? Shall I leave a few squad members behind? I hear this God of Light was quite a handful; it cost us many A-group operatives just to trap Him." Despite the polite inquiry, his gaze radiated profound distrust in A32's competence.

A32 barked angrily, "Get lost!"

"Will do!" B06 bolted away at high speed, taking the remaining five squad members with him. Before departing, he cast one final backward glance toward the colossal throne where the God of Light sat in silent opposition against the dark miasma.

The Crowded Fiefdom and Xia Wang'an's Solution

Meanwhile, the Albert domain was packed to absolute capacity.

The sheer expanse of the Albert territory had previously stunned the background analysis teams. Although the aesthetic resembled Blue Star's medieval era, the landmass of the magical world eclipsed planetary proportions. To put it into perspective, Count Albert was merely a minor noble relegated to a remote backwater, yet his fiefdom alone exceeded the total geographical footprint of Country K. According to the Count's records, his territory's census last year recorded a population of fifty million. That explained why he parted with three thousand serfs without batting an eye.

Though a significant portion of that population had likely perished during the recent wave of calamities, the absolute demographic scale remained astonishing. Yet, despite hosting such millions, the domain's vast acreage had previously kept it feeling spacious.

Now, however, seekers of medical aid flooded every square inch of the territory.

Two industrious medical students stationed in the quarantine sector poked their heads outside, only to be greeted by a sea of humanity stretching endlessly into the horizon: "People, people, people everywhere..."

The medical students fell silent for a brief moment, before their spirits surged with burning professional zeal. Medical students on Blue Star chronically suffered from a shortage of clinical patients; thanks to the systemic immunity boosts following the great catastrophe, generalized population resilience had skyrocketed. Simply put: people rarely fell sick. Chronic malnutrition caused marginal sub-health issues, but genuine pathologies were scarce. Consequently, Xia Kingdom's medical graduates frequently faced the ironic predicament of possessing stellar training without clinical caseloads.

Now, however, patients were available—in overwhelming, astronomical abundance.

Up on the rooftop observatory, Qiu Zhuang stared down at the endless ocean of crowds, his jaw nearly unhinging: "Hold on, exactly how many people live on this planet?!"

"I've already checked," Xia Wang'an replied with relative calm, having witnessed massive populations previously. "While high-tier powerhouses of this world have gradually fallen in battle, their arcane manufacturing traditions survived intact." Thus, communication tools like long-range magic scrolls remained operational, ensuring rapid information dissemination among affluent circles.

"Long-range magic scrolls? Why haven't we heard of those?"

"Because the Albert family was too impoverished to afford a magic tower," Xia Wang'an explained helpfully, translating the concept: "A magic tower functions similarly to our communication signal towers. Magic scrolls only operate within the broadcast radius of a magic tower."

The rest of the Five Tongs Squad: "......"

The House of Albert wasn't merely poor; they were isolated. Only two or three elite households could afford communication scrolls in this region, making the construction of an expensive magic tower commercially unviable for merchants.

The calculus had shifted overnight. With millions flocking to the territory seeking medical salvation, entrepreneurial merchants quickly identified the commercial windfall, deploying dwarf construction teams to erect brand-new magic towers at strategic vantage points. Consequently, visitors stationed across the hillside could now be observed operating self-levitating remote communication scrolls:

"Hello? Ah, my mana reception is weak here, the tower was just completed." "Dearest Madam Kava, I have arrived within the domain; your commission is fulfilled. I am currently monitoring whether the patient achieves full recovery—might you transfer the deposit to my account now?"

Xia Wang'an fixed her unblinking gaze upon the floating communication scrolls, her mind spinning into overdrive. Since mana can facilitate remote telecommunication, spiritual qi ought to achieve the same result, provided one utilizes an appropriate physical conduit akin to their scrolls.

Cai Cai's eyes glazed over: "Wang'an, this isn't the moment for academic research! Look at this crowd—how on earth are we supposed to manage them?!"

The continent was expansive beyond measure, and the exploration vanguard had yet to chart its borders. Furthermore, the initial poverty displayed by the Albert domain had misled the Blue Star expert panels regarding the mobility and resourcefulness of the broader Maca population. For ordinary peasants, traveling across vast distances for medical care was a formidable ordeal; however, for affluent urban residents residing in major metropolitan centers, liquidating familial assets to purchase teleportation scrolls was a trivial expense.

Compounding the crisis, the magical realm's medical tradition was practically nonexistent. While people understood diseases were contagious, it never crossed their minds that ferrying plague-ridden patients across multiple cities would ignite catastrophic contagion waves. Fortunately, the dominant pestilence sweeping the Maca Continent belonged to a singular strain, sparing them from multi-strain pandemic mutations.

Meanwhile, commercial opportunists—who would refuse to surrender a profit margin even if the world ended—were already petitioning domain authorities for permits to construct permanent magical transit arrays.

Thus manifested the greatest operational bottleneck encountered by Xia Wang'an's expedition: An unmanageable influx of patients exceeding all processing capacity.

A significant fraction of the arrivals hailed from aristocratic lineages, possessing retinues of mages and warriors. Accustomed to elitist privileges, they immediately began demanding luxury lodgings and demanding immediate audiences with the domain lord. A smarter faction, conversely, melted silently into the populace to assess the sovereign's temperament.

And what was the sovereign's temperament?

Xia Wang'an elected to carve out a cliff.

Driven to the brink of insomnia by the ceaseless clamor, the Xia Kingdom's princess emerged from her quarters in a silk nightrobe, striding up to a flat meadow and executing a single, ferocious downward slash with her blade.

In an instant, a sheer, towering cliff face was carved directly into the plains of the Albert domain—a geological anomaly shattering millennia of flat terrain.

The Princess of Xia and her retinue relocated upward, taking up residence atop the pristine heights of the newly formed cliff.

Down below, the roaring multitude fell deathly silent overnight, adopting an attitude of hushed, tip-toe reverence.

The Commercial Boom and Lux's Awakening

Merchants immediately flooded the masses, aggressively hawking newly engineered "silent communication scrolls" for five silver pieces apiece—capable of linking up to thirty users simultaneously within a dedicated group chat channel.

"What? Struggling with overcrowded temporary lodgings? No worries! Give us five more days and our residential housing scrolls will hit the market, allowing two distinct families to share a single scroll domain!"

Watching merchants mimic Xia Kingdom medical personnel by donning white protective suits, covering their faces, and passionately pitching products using self-invented sign language, Yuan Ning could only shake his head in quiet awe. One had to hand it to these locals—their psychological resilience was truly remarkable.

Though noisy and bloated in scale, Xia Wang'an made no move to expel the masses. She simply conjured a towering cliff to isolate herself from the noise, retiring to restful slumber alongside 007.

Inside the adjoining chamber, Lux—possessing a magnificent pair of feathered wings—lingered quietly by the window, gazing down at the dense sea of humanity below. Countless individuals remained awake, craning their necks within the cordoned zones established by Xia Kingdom guards to observe the distant quarantine sector. The rows of white medical pavilions blazed with electric light, illuminated medical staff and automatons moving in and out with crisp efficiency.

"I heard thirty-some people have already been fully cured! Look over there by the campfire—those wearing blue-and-white patient uniforms are the ones cleared for discharge!" "Look, look! A child is being led out for a stroll!"

Newly arrived families vibrated with eager anticipation, whispering words of encouragement to one another: "We are in the queue now, our turn will arrive shortly..."

Words of hope and resilience echoed continuously through the active communication scrolls, drifting upward to brush past Lux's ears.

"Lux..."

The angelic youth murmured his own name softly, his wings fluttering gently.

Far away within the ruined celestial kingdom, the white strands of faith-power restrained beneath the anchoring chains seemed to awaken in response to a silent summons. Abandoning their futile attempts to breach upward, they reversed direction, cascading downward directly toward the mortal realm.

Torrential waves of pure white faith energy poured straight into Lux's mortal frame.

"Lux."

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