The Outer God Needs Warmth

The world is bright!

I just pushed myself in a little bit more, and the dim interior became brightly visible. So now, what was invisible is clearly seen.

Down below, there are plenty of heretics, and up top, those with iron lids on their bodies are aiming something at me.

It’s fascinating that I can see their entire faces through just eye holes. However, most of the light is quite dim.

There’s only a tiny bit of warmth, and soon, light falls toward me.

Even a single burst would send them falling like rain, but gathering embers won’t provide heat. Instead, I just feel a bit of warmth touching my fingertips, reminding me once again how cold I am.

More warmth.

Hehe.

Since there are all kinds of life forms around me that are good for anything, I should do something!

First, now that my creaky body has become easier to move, I take another look around.

In front of me is a big man with tattoos that seem to have religious significance on his face. He’s at least the highest-ranking person in this place.

Because many up there worry for him, the line of weapons doesn’t cross through him.

Oh?

Does he know why they’re worried?

Even if he says he can read people’s faces, there are all sorts of beings here, some looking like people and others not.

Strangely enough, I can almost grasp the emotions they have. I don’t know what they’re thinking, but at least I can taste their feelings.

Taste?

Ah!

All the countless lights I’ve been licking!

Licking them has let memories flow in, so based on how much I’ve consumed, I can understand the creatures here.

At least I know that the big guy in front of me is really angry. But for now, outside—down below—there are shards of light scattered around.

No, my warmth!

Clink.

Something has stopped me. I know without looking away. There are iron shackles on my limbs, chained to the chair.

I forgot.

“Please calm down, I am not your enemy. I hope the gods will grant our request, so please grant us our wish.”

There are a lot of things I want to say. How many would listen to me when they tie me up like this in the name of gods?

Looking up, I see several people aiming at me from a distance. They’re not using guns but types of bows. However, their size is huge, like a ballista I saw in a game.

Moreover, there’s some unknown power flickering at the tip of those arrows, and I know for sure that if I get hit, this vessel will definitely shatter.

That can’t happen.

Yeah.

There’s warmth in front of me.

But I don’t want to be shot back down without getting any warmth again.

I turn my head. It’s not my head. It’s the girl’s head. When the neurons roll together, I see memories just like when I licked the light.

I was a child from a reasonably well-off family.

I grew up loved.

Moreover, I had some special power that promised a bright future.

But the heretics came with weapons, killing my parents, killing my family, killing the servants. After killing everyone, they stuck something strange on my tongue out of the corpse pile, checking on something before knocking me out.

When I regained consciousness, I found myself amidst people chanting strange spells. Even if I wanted to scream, my body wouldn’t listen to me.

Then, snip.

I died seeing my heart being dug out with a strange tool while a bizarre blade sank into my own heart amidst the agony.

I can’t see where my heart went.

Sticking his S-shaped blade right in my heart is the man’s waist. Even when I look around carefully, I can’t see any pieces of meat.

Well then.

I don’t know why, but the gaping hole in the center of my chest is also gone. The feeling that my power did something lingers, but I don’t have a heart.

To do something a bit more efficient, I switched it out.

Instead of pumping blood, I spin it out, causing less noise. I feel the body is such a noisy thing, and I gaze at the man.

There are many things I want to ask, but first, I need to gauge if what the man wants is achievable.

If it isn’t?

Is there anything more I could do except be shot back out?

“What’s your wish?”

Murmur murmur.

As soon as I finished my sentence, those people wrapped in rags below start murmuring. Oh, did I say something wrong?

I asked in the language the girl knew, so it should have been conveyed correctly, right? This girl doesn’t look like a foreigner.

“Revenge.”

The man answered shortly. But since he spoke rather loudly, the murmurs disappeared entirely.

Is this what they call charisma?

Well, if you’re trying to be the leader of such heretics, you need that ability. But the ability to answer questions? Zero.

If I ask about revenge, how would I know?

“I need more details.”

Then the man fell silent. Oh no, did I mess up the question? I feel like I’ve hit the nail on the head by guessing that I summoned a god into this body by offering my life, but didn’t I speak in the way they want? Does this place have its own specific urges for conduct?

“First, please tell me your name that represents your essence.”

He’s oozing emotions that can kill a person. Is he doubting if someone with a name like a curse would actually be right?

A thought crossed my mind that I should have role-played sooner, but it’s already too late, so let’s get back to my true form.

A name representing my essence.

Do I even have that?

When I was a person, I had a name, but now I don’t have one. I didn’t need a name.

“I’m cold. So I seek warmth. You are light. So just fall. I wait for you at the bottom. The more you fall, the more I’ll burst you. But that alone isn’t enough. You called for me. Fine. Any name will do. Just bring me warmth. More, bring it to me. A chilly light like yours is fine, but I want the warm light that lived happily somewhere in this world. Right? You’re going to give it to me, right? You won’t just let me go after putting it in such a magnificent vessel. Hey. What are you looking at? This is my essence. It’s a name. I said it, didn’t I?”

Kadeuk.

Wow!

The shackles crumbled and fell apart.

Does this mean they’re accepting me? Or did the shackles merely break apart?

I don’t care. What’s important is the warmth slowly fading away.

I move past the man, toward the lower floor.

I approach the pile of corpses.

Squish.

Blood and chunks of meat stick to my soles. There’s faint warmth lingering. I step on it.

Squish.

Wow! This is far warmer than the light that looks up at me! A diverse range of warmth. Some live well, and some lived unhappily.

There’s even someone who sacrificed themselves? What a waste. You are too pale, like a droplet of water fallen into ice. But warmth is warmth.

Squish squish.

The corpses don’t have warmth. It’s probably something like a soul? Those things are warm. Since I think that when one dies, they immediately go somewhere, this might not be a soul but the remains of it.

Oh, then did I die once?

Dying and being reborn.

I’ve read about that a lot in books. But is that really me? Or am I still swimming in a nightmare? Is my body dying and this dim hallucination I’m seeing?

It’s okay.

The warmth warms my heart. The memories are there as seasoning.

Squish.

I approach the last pile of corpses and set foot on it.

I lick the light that came up through my feet. This person was extremely wealthy. But cruelly enough, they found joy in indiscriminately killing people and dissecting them.

Even such a person feels warm.

After all, this warmth is not about good or evil.

I walk up the stairs again.

I need to exchange something for the warmth I’ve clutched tightly.

I don’t like the hard stone chair, but I should go up.

Standing on the chair, I look straight at the leader of the people who called for me.

“Okay, I’ve answered your questions and received plenty of warmth. Before this heat cools off, tell me in detail what I didn’t hear before.”

Oh.

In an instant, a look of disgust appeared on the man’s face. He has a gaze like he’s looking at something alien. I’m right on the money.

The memories of the faded human man speak like this.

Playing around on top of corpses? Is he some crazy bastard?

Yes. But sometimes, there are more important things than being human.

Falling into that empty space as a morally average human man, soaked in the cold that digs deep into my bones, is me craving warmth.

So, strictly speaking, he’s right to say I’m crazy. In that sense, the other may judge me as insane rather than understand me since they won’t know unless they experience it.

Thinking that as I stare at the man, he soon begins to speak in detail about his wish.

“Extermination of the royal families and the heads of the temples from various countries. And a fate of unavoidable death for the targets we crave revenge against.”

Hmm.

I know. There’s no sincerity lying in front of me. This is akin to propaganda. This cult wants such outcomes.

So aligning with this opinion, they want me to come and join their side.

That’s all they said.

The sincerity lies in the latter.

Looking at this stone temple, I can tell it’s filled with resentment. There are diaries written wishing for someone’s death.

Well, only a person as disgusting as this heretic would lose their mind. There seem to be quite a few of them.

There may be people who stuck around out of interest, people who changed their minds, or those whose hearts were sold elsewhere.

There’s a problem.

“What should we do?”

I don’t know what to do.

All I know is that pulling the light I touched causes explosions in the physical world.

It was then.

“You are not Cruxshibal!”

A man aiming a weapon from the shadows of the ceiling fired a ballista at me. Although there’s rage, there’s no despair. It’s a bright light.

How strange.

I was originally the light far away, the kind of light that fell after losing a lot of heat after an explosion.

Now it’s within reach.

As the ballista passed through my head, ripping more than half of my face off, the fact that warmth reached me is more important.

Not yet!

Warm!

I held the warmth in my hands.

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