“What pantheon would you like next?” the Goddess/Dina asked. “I can do Egyptian, Chinese, Babylonian, Norse... You can name whichever one you like. I don’t mind. Or maybe you would prefer fictional gods from manga or novels?”
“Oh? That’s some talk. So what you’re saying is that, if you feel like it, you can use not only mythic pantheons but even fictional deities from the other side?”
“I won’t claim that I can summon all of them, but yes, pretty much anything a person could imagine.”
After hearing the Goddess/Dina’s answer, one of the questions I’d held for a long time was cleared up. In the end, she’s just aping them... And given the sorry state of that previous one, there’s no doubt. She’s...
“A power you can’t reproduce... Would that be the power to create life?” I asked with conviction.
The expression on the Goddess/Dina’s face froze. That reaction told me that I had said the one thing she didn’t want to hear.
“That seems to be the limit of just aping powers. You’ve stood out enough that it’s far too easy to understand what you can’t do. This world itself is already something made from a warped, patched-together version of myths from the other side, but the living things are especially bad. There’s nothing here that is totally original. Though there are some species that have evolved along their own lines, their roots are still traceable back to Earth.”
For example, there were monsters that resembled dogs and ones that resembled cats as well. There were reptilian demihumans and bug monsters too. Not to mention fishlike peoples in the ocean, and the heaven-winged, who resembled birds.
“Like.” “Resembled.” “Basically the same.” Those words could be applied to all the living things in this world. You didn’t say that dogs “resembled dogs,” nor did you do the same for cats. After all, they were all the originals of their kind. If I were to bring over a biologist from Earth who knew every single species on the planet, he would surely at least recognize everything in this world. Why? Because they’d been stolen.
“Pretty much anything a person could imagine? That’s not true. It’s more like you can only do what people can imagine, right? You do not have the power to truly bring about the unknown, the unprecedented.”
Mizgarz’s roots were firmly planted in Earth. It could be that she did actually have the power to create the unknown; she just had no imagination. Because the source of all her ideas and imagination was Earth, everything she put forth would resemble something from Earth in some way. All of that led me to one conclusion. Though I wasn’t absolutely sure, and this was just a theory, my heart was screaming that this was the truth. The fact that she had titled herself the creator but could not create life was strange.
“Alovenus, you are not the creator. You existed as something else before you became a god... Am I wrong?”
The Goddess/Dina was silent for a moment. “That’s an interesting idea. I see, I see... That’s not a bad development. So behind me, there would be a true god of creation who was the real puppet master... Hee hee... Is that what you wanted to say?”
The Goddess/Dina tried to confuse me with an incredible statement, but that wouldn’t work. There was no doubt that she was the mastermind of all this, as well as the one at the pinnacle of this universe. There was no one behind her and no existence higher than hers.
“Of course not. Are you stupid?”
“Wha—?!”
“Alovenus, I believe that you were not originally a god. You are simply someone who left their original world for some purpose and became a god.”
Yes, now that we’d come this far, there was only one answer. There was the twisted form that Mizgarz took, the living beings that made it up, the patchwork nature of its mythology, the copying of not just the other side’s food culture, but culture in general, and most importantly, the fact that Alovenus hadn’t laid a finger on Earth even though she was going so wild over here. It was as if there was something inviolably sacred about Earth. She hadn’t even been able to realize that Dina had hidden herself on Earth. Alovenus viewed Earth as special. That was also why she always chose the main characters for her stories from Earth. She would pull in young men who were in no way suited for fighting and give them favorable treatment. Why was that? It was obvious.
“Yes. You are an earthling, Alovenus. You are not omnipotent or omniscient. You aren’t even a true god. You’re simply a third-rate scriptwriter touting herself as one. That is your true identity.”
Surely she was as close to immortal as could be. She didn’t age, and she’d been alive almost forever by this point, after all. She also had an overwhelming amount of power, enough to destroy this universe she’d built. Given that, it would be appropriate to call her a god. At the very least, she had enough power to be one. At her roots, she was no different from me, however. For something divine, she was far too human and made too many mistakes.
After I pointed out her true identity, the Goddess/Dina’s heart went blank for an instant. She’d probably never expected anyone to guess right. Of course she wouldn’t. After all, I was purely Mizgarz-born. Normally, there was no way I would have any knowledge of the other side, and because of that, I wouldn’t have been able to arrive at this answer.
After some time of dazed silence, she eventually came out with a dry laugh. “Heh... Heh heh heh... Heh heh heh heh heh heh... How long has it been since anyone last called me human? I faintly remember something hundreds of millions of years ago... It has quite the nostalgic ring to it. It’s true. There was a time when I was called that, long ago.” She paused, thinking. “Though even I myself can’t remember how long ago that was.”
With that, the Goddess/Dina wiped the smile off her face as she looked at me. It was not playful like before. For the first time, she looked upon me as an enemy.
“The game ends here. You crossed a line you shouldn’t have.” The Goddess/Dina was quiet for a moment. “Let us end this. I will at least allow it to happen at the hands of the hero.”
The Goddess/Dina waved her arm. When she did so, the mana that had made up the ouroboroses quickly gathered at a single point. The mana’s destination was the Ark, or rather, a single young man inside it. She even forcefully stole the mana that Aigokeros had gathered to himself. Everything was flowing into Sei as experience. It was likely that the Fire and Wood ouroboroses would eventually also become experience. Only Orm, who was under my control, barely managed to escape this fate. Even so, that kid should have gained enough strength to fight me.
“You’re right. The curtain will soon fall by the hero’s hand.”
I agreed with the Goddess as I too looked over to the Ark, though both the Goddess and I meant something entirely different when we said it was the end.
Alovenus, you still don’t understand. That boy is not the protagonist. He is someone who can try to find the right path, even if he has to give up the position of the protagonist to do it. The end is coming. It’s the curtain call on this terrible play. And that is when there will be a brawl behind the stage, where the audience can’t see.