Relying on my sensing magic, I teleported and landed before the open main gates.
Beyond the threshold, the cityscape of the capital stretched out before me. There were no traces of war here; the grand buildings and elegant architecture spoke of a long history of prosperity.
However, something was deeply wrong. Not a single citizen was in sight. The streets were deserted, stripped of any sign of life with an unnatural, eerie stillness.
Of course, I already knew where they had gone. They were gathered in the center of the capital. I couldn't be certain of what they were doing, but I could feel the miasma swirling there like a localized storm. Driven by a mounting sense of dread, I teleported to the heart of the city.
I was left speechless by the sight that met my eyes.
Hundreds of thousands of people prostrated themselves as one. They ground their foreheads into the earth, chanting feverish words of gratitude. The object of their fanatical worship was a radiant Golden Tower that loomed over them, rising high enough to shatter the capital's architectural harmony.
I stared intently at the Golden Tower. Across its surface, human faces and limbs pulsed and shifted. I couldn't tell if their expressions were warped by agony or ecstasy; they were simply distorted beyond recognition.
In the front row, several citizens rose from their prostrate positions. As if beckoned by an unseen force, they threw themselves against the tower, clinging to it until they were swallowed whole. Moments later, they emerged on the surface as fresh additions to its grotesque facade.
As the front row vanished, the masses shuffled forward to take their place. Then the new front row was consumed in the exact same manner. The cycle repeated itself with mechanical precision. The people continued to offer their bodies as sacrifices, never once casting a glance in my direction. They had clearly lost their sanity.
(What in the world is this...?)
The nauseating sight stole the words from my throat. The tower itself was the False God. The alien miasma reaction emanating from it was unmistakably the presence I had sensed from afar. As the peak of the Beast of the Outside World, it possessed a divinity and a majesty that made its title feel terrifyingly appropriate.
I felt a gaze fall upon me from the tower. I couldn't discern any emotion behind it. It was a vague, observational stare, as if it were simply watching me exist. There was no immediate sign of hostility.
It seemed the False God intended to consume every person in the city. I could guess the reason why. It was incorporating the desires and worship of the populace in their entirety, aiming to achieve a state where it was one and the same with humanity.
In its current state, the False God had become a collective entity, a literal manifestation of the masses. Conversely, one could say the masses were now the False God.
The people absorbed into that tower sought only their own salvation and peace. To them, that peace was synonymous with the survival of the False God. In their twisted logic, that meant the destruction of the Demon King and the seizure of victory.
The prayers of those absorbed acted upon the Will of the World itself. Consequently, this granted the False God an absurd enhancement. There were likely countless others outside the capital who also worshipped this god and prayed for the Demon King’s demise. An unprecedented, absurd power was being channeled into this entity.
It was a strategy that demonstrated a perfect understanding of the mechanism of the Will of the World. By housing the source of prayer within its own body, the god could manipulate that power to its own convenience. It must have repeated this process many times in the past. That was how the False God had accumulated such terrifying strength.
(At this point, I wonder if it is even right to call it "False.")
This was an opponent on a different level from anything I had faced before. It was as if the Will of the World itself had bared its fangs against me. It felt almost sacrilegious for a single individual to stand against it—a literal rebellion against God.
“...Even so, I will see this through.”
I unsheathed the keepsake sword hanging at my waist and leveled the tip toward the Golden Tower.
On the day I stepped out from the Valley of the Dead, I made my choice. I will use any means necessary to preserve world peace. If I must, I will slaughter even God.
Occupying the throne of Eternal Evil is my duty.
If the False God is left unchecked, it will eventually swallow the entire world. It is an entity that will bring about the end of peace. It must be destroyed here, no matter the cost.
With my resolve hardened, I began my advance toward the Golden Tower.