I Am Not a God

His breathing grew heavier, and his eyes reddened slightly.

A huge benefit lay right in front of him, so why did he feel... disgusted?

Yes, disgusted. He was disgusted by this feeling.

Just like at the dock, when he saw that ugly, swollen monster before him, even knowing this world possessed Transcendence, he had still tried to use his own knowledge to uncover the truth.

Some things were etched deep into the soul.

He knew little about this world, yet he still tried his best to piece together its original shape from the clues in his hands.

Doubt and thought—the civilization of mankind had been born from them, and modern science was the abundant fruit they had borne.

Even if the world had changed beyond recognition and his knowledge had become worthless scraps of paper, he had never abandoned doubt and thought.

What about gods?

Gods only demanded obedience, while science encouraged people to question.

In his previous life, he had been nothing more than an ordinary man. He hadn't believed in gods, only in himself. He had fed himself with his own hands and chased his dreams with his own feet.

In this life, his origins were unknown. Gods might truly exist in this world, but was he supposed to bow before them—or let the Banshees before him place him upon a divine throne?

Was walking the path of those before him and pretending to be a god all he was capable of?

Theus closed his eyes and clenched his fists.

So what if gods existed? And what if they didn't? The humans of his previous life had been immensely arrogant. They had measured the world with their own feet, and the star charts they built with science and conviction hadn't even left a place for gods.

Theus, you had witnessed the glory of mortals, and now you were going to yield to desire?

Gods? Curses? Prophecies?

What he had seen was clearly a group of slaves bravely standing up and shattering their own shackles. And now he was going to claim that crown for himself?

Theus suddenly opened his eyes.

The chaotic, distracting thoughts scattered at once. His will, tempered by temptation, was hard as steel, and there was no longer any hesitation in his eyes.

"Rise, Banshees. You should not worship me!" Theus shouted. The Banshees raised their heads, their eyes full of confusion as they looked at this small human.

He turned to his side. "Ash, tell me. Was what I said about water pressure at the dock right or wrong?"

Ash looked somewhat surprised. "Of course it was right. We've already returned to our original forms."

"I said then that it was all knowledge from books. Do you remember?"

Ash nodded. "Yes, you said that."

"Then was it me or knowledge that freed you from the curse?"

Ash froze, then his eyes widened.

Theus stepped forward and looked around. "Banshees, tell me—who fought a bloody path through the Fishman encirclement? Who withstood the Ghost Ship's cannon fire? Was it me?"

The Banshees froze. They vaguely realized what Theus was trying to do. That terrifying possibility... no, merely thinking of it made their entire bodies tremble.

Some Banshees lowered their heads to stare helplessly at their own hands. Others clutched their heads in anguish, their eyes filled with confusion.

Theus knew they already had the answer in their hearts. They simply didn't dare face it. Now, he needed to add fuel to the fire.

One Banshee hesitantly stood and answered, "We... we fought for you, for our god."

"You fought for freedom!" Theus declared without hesitation. "What I saw were brave, fearless warriors. What I saw were sacrifices made without hesitation. I saw noble rage surging in your eyes. I saw you shatter the shackles of fate with your own hands."

"You are no longer slaves. This was not a gift bestowed by any god, but a victory you won with courage and blood."

The seafloor was as quiet as a snowy morning. The Banshees' faces were filled with shock, even fear. What Theus said was something they had never dared consider. His words were shocking, even blasphemous, but... their god had spoken them himself.

Gods saved Banshees, and Banshees protected gods. This was a ballad from ancient times, a belief deeply etched into every Banshee.

Thousands of years ago, they had sung this ballad while defending their homeland. They had sung it again while enduring the curse. They had believed they would one day sing it to welcome a new god, forever and ever.

But now, someone stood before them and told them that Banshees should be singing praises for themselves.

The Banshees fell into chaos. Cracks appeared in their worldview, only for the human before them to smash it to pieces.

"We... are no longer slaves..." one Banshee murmured softly.

More Banshees raised their heads and tried to think. Before, they had only needed to obey—obey gods, obey slave masters, obey prophecies, obey fate.

But now, the god they believed in was telling them to try thinking.

Slowly, the answer that had once seemed impossible emerged in the Banshees' hearts. What frightened them even more was that the answer had come from their own thoughts.

The silence was terrifying. The Banshees lowered their heads, afraid to acknowledge the dreadful truth that had surfaced in their minds.

Theus waited patiently. He knew that something was ready to break free.

At last, one Banshee straightened up and stared at Theus in terror. "That means you, you, you aren't..." She suddenly covered her mouth and shook her head desperately, as though she could swallow her own words back down.

"Yes. I am not a god."

Hearing this, the Banshees raised their heads in shock to look at Theus. Time itself seemed to freeze.

"I am not a god. I wasn't one in the past, and I won't become one in the future." Theus spoke slowly but firmly. "I am merely a mortal."

The Banshees fell silent once more.

What had they just heard? Their god had denied his own existence.

Even though they had already suspected it, hearing Theus admit it in person still struck them tremendously.

Yet for some reason, they had been afraid when the suspicion first arose. They had trembled as it gradually became real. But when it became the truth, they instead felt a measure of relief.

Some Banshees still couldn't accept reality. They raved incoherently and shouted loudly. Yet others silently lowered their heads, lost in thought. The scene was in complete chaos.

But a few Banshees watched Theus with bright eyes. Their gazes were no longer filled solely with fanaticism. There was something else there now.

Theus sighed inwardly. He wasn't some saint, nor did he possess any moral obsession. He could be greedy and shortsighted too.

But for some reason, when he saw those pairs of sincere eyes, there were words he simply couldn't bring himself to say.

He had already transmigrated once. He no longer needed to fear death. Was he still only going to use lies to conceal his cowardice?

Theus closed his eyes.

He said nothing more. He knew these Banshees couldn't accept this fact all at once; they had never even possessed such a concept. If anyone but him had said these words, the Banshees would only have scoffed at them. Yet it had to be him.

He, the one they had placed upon the divine throne, had stepped down from it himself and returned the glory to the Banshees.

Would the Banshees be grateful to him? Probably not.

Theus smiled self-mockingly and gently closed his eyes.