"Gods, in truth, are a concept. An imagining. The embodiment of humanity's fear of the unknown."
"Therefore, gods as a whole cannot be killed."
On the long stone staircase, countless corpses lay scattered everywhere. Murphy held a blood-dripping greatsword in his hand and walked slowly up the steps.
"And yet each of you as individuals can still die. You can still be devoured by other beliefs. The human heart is like a hollow in the ground. Even if you drain all the water from it, when the next rainy season comes, it will always gather into a pond again. But the fish and shrimp that once lived in that pond will all die amid that change."
"I have heard many stories about you. You have killed many gods, and they also say you possess a weapon that controls fate." At the very top of the stone steps, upon the throne of the divine lord, a giant with three faces spoke. "You truly are as arrogant as they said. You call gods fish and shrimp, then what are you? A fisherman? A godslayer?"
"Me?"
"I'm just a lost traveler here to earn a little travel money," Murphy said, and the greatsword in his hand swept lightly.
The blade abruptly oscillated one hundred and thirty-seven times between quantum and material states, striking the Three-Headed God with precision as he stood motionless, as though frozen in terror. The edge, so thin it was only a single atom thick, easily split open the god's skin, which was as tough as metal, meeting no resistance at all, as if it were slicing through empty air.
All three faces showed fear and disbelief.
"I made one hundred and thirty-six prophecies, escaping to a different position each time, but every time I was struck by you. Why..."