Time continues to flow onward.
Every year, the Lizardmen carry on their duels to select a Great Warrior, while the Elves and Dwarves sharpen their swords every decade and come out swinging, flailing about in an attempt to knock each other out. Meanwhile, humans, including the lands of Arcadia and others, are embroiled in struggles of war, diplomacy, and politics.
I have made one decision.
“Now, as the Goddess of Life, I wish to reduce my influence.”
Inside the Temple of Life, deep within a room that has no entrance except for Dragon Pilgrims. Filled with Dragons, I look at them and quietly say:
“Huh…? The Goddess’ influence?”
“Uh, is this really true?”
“The greatest of all deities, reducing her influence?”
Surrounded by a large table, the Dragons begin to murmur in confusion upon hearing my words. Well, it’s like saying “I’m closing up shop,” so it’s understandable they’re shocked.
“First of all, calm down. It’s not what you think.”
The murmurs quiet down a bit, but there’s still visible unease among the Dragons.
“Why do you speak such things?”
“That’s right! Spreading faith in the Goddess is our pride!”
“Are you planning to retire from being a deity?”
I shake my head slightly and reply.
“It’s not that. I don’t plan to stop being a god. However, there’s an issue with the faith people send me.”
“With the faith…?”
“How could faith be a problem?”
The Dragons clearly don’t understand how faith affects me. Well, I only recently noticed due to a sudden surge in it, so they wouldn’t know either.
After all, if even I, a god, didn’t realize it, how would these kids?
“The faith humans send me is slowly changing me. I’m transforming into the Goddess of Life they imagine and hope for.”
“If humans desire a Goddess of Life, isn’t that good?”
Hmm… If I were just the Goddess of Life, it might’ve been fine. But that’s only one aspect of who I am.
I dislike changing due to outside factors.
“While I willingly serve as the Goddess of Life, it’s not all I am. I don’t want my essence as a goddess to change because of the faith directed toward me as the Goddess of Life.”
Currently, being the Goddess of Life accounts for roughly 10% of my identity. The Creator Dragon God makes up 5%, and the Destruction Dragon God… well, why is this even here? It’s surprisingly 1%.
Ahem. Let’s erase memories of the Destruction Dragon God. That won’t appear again anytime soon.
Anyway, aside from those 16%, the rest maintains my sense of self. I don’t want that part to diminish. It feels unpleasant to lose myself.
“Therefore, I want to reduce the faith directed toward me. Not that I can wipe out humanity…”
“What do you plan to do then?”
With a snap of my fingers, I answer:
“That’s where you come in.”
“Us?”
“All we’ve done is pilgrimage across the world as your pilgrims… Oh!”
Finally, the Dragons seem to catch on to what I’m suggesting.
“Do you plan to reduce the number of pilgrims?”
“Correct.”
I smile gently at the Dragons.
“Pilgrims have the greatest impact on human faith. Reducing your numbers should help decrease the faith directed toward me.”
“But… with faith in you already firmly established, will reducing pilgrims make much difference?”
I couldn’t deny that point.
Still, I can’t just sit back and do nothing. Since I’m still investigating ways to create a mask-like persona as the Goddess of Life, there’s not much else I can do immediately. And using drastic measures like wiping out humanity would likely result in fear-based faith instead.
Thus, indirectly reducing influence seems to be the best option.
“This is all because you guys have been too enthusiastic.”
“To blame us for this…”
“Ahem. Anyway, let’s cut your numbers by half… No, keep around 30% and ask the rest to step down from pilgrimage duties.”
The Dragons murmur again in response to my words.
“I want to continue being a pilgrim!”
“Me too! Traveling the world is so fun!”
“I enjoy helping humans and getting that warm, fuzzy feeling inside…”
Hm. I didn’t expect such strong reactions.
I thought they’d cheerfully agree, thinking “Free time? Yes please!” But I can’t suppress their passions.
Instead,
“Let’s do it this way. We’ll reduce the number of pilgrims but rotate roles every few years. Say, every five years.”
This approach reduces overall numbers while allowing more Dragons to experience pilgrimage. Five years is like a few months to them, so it should minimize complaints.
“Hmm… That might work…”
“To be honest, I did think there were too many pilgrims anyway…”
Fortunately, the Dragons seem receptive to my suggestion.
As expected, it’s fortunate that Dragons listen to me. Though, problems arising from ignoring my advice are another story.
Thus, the number of Dragon-turned pilgrims affiliated with the Temple of Life sharply decreased.
I left human pilgrims untouched, but with their shorter lifespans, numbers would naturally dwindle over time anyway.
—
As my pilgrims gradually diminished, faith directed toward me weakened ever so slightly.
And alongside this subtle reduction, something new began appearing in the world.
Faint divinity.
New beings born from the beliefs of intelligent creatures regarding unclear phenomena.
Not in the spaces where I and my children reside, but in the empty gaps between, new gods sprouted.
Though their power pales in comparison to Dragons, surpassing humans, these newly budding gods possessed rudimentary intelligence.
They weren’t race-specific deities nor manifestations of natural phenomena, but rather weak entities born purely from human belief.
Looking at these nascent gods, I harbored a small question.
Why were these gods being born? The answer had always rested within me. Truly, I was the cause, though unintentionally.
Take, for instance, questions about the sky.
What is that vast blue expanse? What are the sun and moon that rise in the sky, the stars, clouds, and rainbows?
Before developing intelligence, humans merely held vague respect for the sky.
Later, as their intellect grew, humans accepted the existence of gods through me and my pilgrims, learning to associate abstract concepts with deities.
Thus, humans began imagining gods.
Surely, there must be a master of the vast heavens.
There must be a great god ruling everything under the skies, much like how there’s a Goddess of Life caring for all life.
Perhaps the sun, moon, and stars are treasures gifted by the God of Light to the Sky God.
Ideally, the Sky God should have existed first, followed by Shamash, the God of Light, but… well, what can you do when my children, born from natural phenomena, appeared before humans?
Anyway, humans started assigning names to everything we hadn’t claimed yet.
“I am the Sky God, Baal!”
I glanced sideways at the bratty figure with sky-blue hair prancing in front of me, then turned away.
“What?! Why are you ignoring me?! I’m the Sky God! Amazing! Come on, pet my head! Praise me! You’re supposed to be the most excellent god in this world!”
The brat clings to my side, whining loudly.
Tsk… While the emergence of new gods is welcome, this kind of brat wasn’t expected.
A newborn god, still young and clueless. With proper guidance, perhaps they’ll grow up fine despite the ominous name “Baal.” Who named them anyway? Such a foreboding title… Still, with some nurturing, things should work out somehow…
That hope vanished as the brat flailed around in mid-air, wailing loudly. I sighed deeply.
Sky God… Can I return him?
