As Long As I'm Alive, I Have to Do Something

"Where?"

"The Land of Fallen Gods in the west. Not only is there a fallen god there, but also magic capable of killing a god."

Gods are immortal and indestructible—this is a concept all creatures in this world take for granted.

Take the Elf race, for example. They merely have infinite lifespans, but they can still be killed by external forces.

An elf is killed, and it dies.

A very simple truth.

And gods cannot be killed. At least, none of the magic known so far can truly kill a god.

Yet in that region, there lies a fallen god. Even the elves cannot determine the exact time of its fall. The divine power released after its death shrouds the entire area, making it impossible for any magic to probe what lies within.

Ever since she heard about the Land of Fallen Gods in the west from other elves, Serie had wanted to go. Now that the opportunity was before her, she had to consider whether this was the only chance she would ever have.

Rhode was taken aback. "The Land of Fallen Gods?"

What was with a name that sounded like a final dungeon?

That said, could gods actually die? From the way the Age of Gods ended later in the storyline, it did seem possible.

Serie's lips curled slightly. "They say no creature that has ever entered has come back out. Are you afraid?"

Rhode shook his head. "No, I'm just curious—why do you want to kill a god?"

Serie's smile grew even brighter, the purest, most unreserved, and utterly genuine smile she had.

"Because if magic isn't aimed at killing the target, then it's meaningless. The same goes for gods."

How twisted. Was this what the Ancestor of the Mythical Era was like?

He found it hard to imagine how she would view the future—when the Demon King was vanquished, humanity triumphed over the demons, and the world welcomed an era of peace.

Probably the sight she least wanted to see, right?

But what did that have to do with him? After all, the things that would happen thousands of years later, he wouldn't live to see.

He wasn't like the elves, blessed with infinite lifespans. This world had no magic to extend a human's life—otherwise, Himmel would have used it on himself long ago.

A human's life was ultimately too short. Even if he spent his entire life by Serie's side, to her, it would likely be nothing more than a brief adventure.

But right now, Rhode didn't want to think about that.

He stood up, stretched, and said, "Alright, let's go take a look. I don't have anywhere else I want to go anyway."

Still, he added, "But at least wait until the humans of this era have learned magic."

Since he had come to this world, he had to do something. As long as he was alive, he had to do something for the weak race that was humanity.

He was very weak. The only offensive magic he could muster so far was a single Light Arrow, but that already made him stronger than the vast majority of humans.

He didn't know how humans in the Mythical Era had learned magic in history, but he didn't mind being a pioneer.

"This era? That sounds a bit strange."

"Ahem, a slip of the tongue. To be precise, I meant my fellow people in this era."

Rhode quickly explained. He had no intention of revealing his identity as a transmigrator—that secret he would take to his grave.

Fortunately, Serie didn't dwell on it. She simply looked at him and nodded lightly. "Alright. We leave tomorrow."

Serie naturally wouldn't take Rhode to the Land of Fallen Gods right now. He was too weak; going would be useless.

Night had fallen.

Rhode sat by the campfire, occasionally turning the skewers of mushrooms on it. This was their dinner. He had originally wanted Serie to check if there were any creatures like the Grayhorn Rabbit nearby, but after a search, they found nothing.

In his spare time, Rhode looked up at the starry sky of this world.

It was more brilliant than Earth's sky, as if every star was within reach. The moonlight gently spilled across the land—a sight he never grew tired of, no matter how many times he saw it.

"What are you looking at?"

Serie walked over, having just finished casting a warning spell.

"The stars." Rhode smiled. "In my homeland, every star represents a world."

Rhode didn't know if he could see the Blue Star from here, or his homeland.

Probably not, he figured.

Serie glanced up at the starry sky and said flatly, "In elven legends, stars are the eyes of the gods, watching over everything in the world."

She had been looking at the stars for centuries. She didn't find anything interesting about them at all.

Truly a short-lived life, to be interested in something like this.

"So that means everything we do is being watched? Man, those gods must be pretty bored."

The thought of possibly being watched by the gods at all times made Rhode feel like an itchy woolen garment was crawling on his skin.

"Some elves see it as the gods' favor toward them, while others loathe it to the extreme." Serie's tone was very cold.

Rhode turned his head and teased, "So you're the latter, right?"

Serie didn't answer. She just silently stared at the starry sky. Sometimes, silence itself was an answer.

"You said earlier that in your homeland, every star represents a world—is that true?"

Ever since she had grasped the concept of the starry sky, Serie had harbored the same question.

What exactly were these stars?

The elves saw them as the eyes of the gods, watching over all things in the world.

The dwarves regarded them as gems set into the world's vast crown—whoever unified the world would become the master of these stars.

The demons simply loathed these luminous beings, calling them the minions of the God of Light.

And now, Rhode had proposed a new notion: every star was a world.

An utterly absurd concept, but intriguing.

"Of course it's true."

Rhode was speaking the plain truth, but he had no idea how to explain to Serie that these stars were planets in the universe, and thus could indeed be called worlds.

After all, wasn't there something wrong with introducing science into a Western fantasy setting?

Besides, in this kind of fantasy world, it was entirely possible that the stars really were the handiwork of some deity.

Serie gazed at the starry sky, her golden eyes reflecting specks of starlight. The silver moonlight spilled across her cheeks, lending her an air of sanctity that made Rhode's heart skip a beat without him even realizing it.

"If every star is a world," she said softly, "then in someone else's eyes, is our world just a star too?"

Rhode looked at her in slight surprise.

He hadn't expected Serie to grasp the concept so quickly.

"That's right." He nodded.

Serie turned back and chuckled lightly. "A nice legend—at least better than the elves' so-called eyes of the gods."

This isn't a legend at all.

Rhode thought to himself with helplessness.