Forsaken Priest of the Hero's Party-Chapter 82: Solve the Problems from Ground-Up

The airship Artabus glided through the clouds over the Cidatel Republic. Its flight was powered by celestial stones. They were imbued with the divine energy of Aldehir, the heavenly god.

As usual, it conducted its routine observational tasks.

Aldehir was a god, unlike others. He emerged from humanity’s boundless curiosity about the heavens. Inherently incomplete, Aldehir yearned for wholeness, a goal that might forever elude him.

The mysteries of the heavens have always captivated humankind.

Why does lightning flash?

Why does thunder roar? Why does the sun shine? And what sets the stars in motion or brings rainbows to life?

These universal questions ignited a collective yearning to comprehend the sky.

This shared longing birthed Aldehir, a god. He embodied humanity’s insatiable thirst for knowledge and the allure of mystery.

Aldehir grew stronger with every profound exploration of the heavens by his followers.

Unlike the Three Goddesses or the Evil God Omerta, his existence sprang solely from belief. They became divine through human effort and divine power.

This fundamental difference created a divide. The Three Goddesses failed to grasp the nature of Aldehir or the Evil God, just as they struggled to comprehend one another.

Aldehir was born of curiosity, not malice. But, his nature aligned him more closely with the Evil God than with the other deities.

“Come over here. Let’s get a clearer image of the sun.”

Aldehir’s followers were as unconventional as the heavenly god himself. Nergal Poem, the Pope, adjusted his glasses and tinkered with the equipment himself, undeterred by his lofty rank.

He meticulously arranged the lenses and directed a large telescope toward the sun. Since gazing directly through the telescope could damage their eyes, they relied on special filters to safely view its image.

“You handle it. I’m busy keeping the Artabus steady.”

Omen, the Cardinal of the Aldehir faith, was equally unconventional, and he refused without hesitation. Instead, he focused on keeping the airship at the perfect altitude. They had ascended into the stratosphere to evade clouds and light pollution, ensuring optimal observations.

“You brat, You’ll get struck by divine punishment!”

“Let it come. At worst, I’ll catch a couple of lightning strikes, Aldehir never strikes more than three times; he wouldn’t want us dead.”

They joked about their god, firmly convinced that no retribution would ever follow. Aldehir didn’t care about insults; his followers were eager to uncover the heavens’ mysteries.

“Look at this damned thing. Is I expected to get grease on my hands at my age?”

“Quit whining, old man! You’re not the only one getting your hands dirty.”

If the god himself didn’t impose authority, his followers wouldn’t feel compelled to either.

The hierarchy of the Aldehir faith was notably relaxed. Regular priests could approach the Pope at will—he communicated with them as equals. Anyone passionate about the mysteries of the sky was welcome, irrespective of their status. They were comrades within the order, a fellowship bound by their shared mission to explore the heavens.

Their Pope was the most passionate by nature. In his youth, he built hang gliders and soared through the skies. Even before that, he had attempted to emulate birds, collecting feathers to fashion oversized wings, scaling mountains, and daring to fly.

“Do we really need to expose the Artabus in broad daylight? This is supposed to be our sleep time!”

The Cardinal’s irritation came from the fact that it was daytime. Accustomed to nocturnal stargazing, Aldehir’s followers normally slept during the day. Yet, due to the Pope’s insistence, everyone was now awake and grumbling.

“Some things remain obscured when seen from the ground.”

“I get that for stars! But the sun? Its brilliance pierces every barrier, be it lights or clouds. How much does being up here change that?”

“A few days ago, I noticed something odd in the sun. It hasn’t reappeared since, but I hoped that from up here... I might catch another glimpse.”

The Pope, busy fine-tuning the lenses for optimal focus, sounded disappointed.

“But it’s still not there. Perhaps I was mistaken, but I swear I saw something, a living ball of fire moving across the sun’s surface.”

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“Then let’s head back and get some sleep.”

“We should... Wait, wait, don’t lower the altitude yet! Let’s stay a bit longer. I see it. I can see it now!”

The Cardinal, who had initially dismissed the Pope’s excitement, turned to look. His eyes widened as he saw a tiny, grain-like ball of light moving across the sun’s glowing image in the telescope. It was writhing and crawling across the surface.

Viewed through the telescope, the sun appeared as large as a watermelon. Considering the grain was minuscule in comparison, its size defied comprehension.

“What... what is that?”

“I don’t know. Is it alive?”

“Impossible! That’s the sun! Nothing can survive there—not even Grimudo could withstand such an environment.”

Yet, no matter how I observed it, it seemed unmistakably alive.

Nergal kept that thought to himself. If it was alive, what was it doing in the sun?

Suddenly, a phrase surfaced in his mind: “When we gaze into the abyss, the abyss also gazes back.” What if this creature was watching us as we watched it?

You are correct. It is watching the Earth.

A man’s voice echoed in the Pope’s mind. Aldehir, the heavenly god, had glimpsed the creature through the Pope’s eyes the moment he noticed it.

“How fascinating. I was right to make you Pope. Another of heaven’s veiled secrets has been revealed. My power has grown stronger today.”

“Oh, Aldehir, what is that thing? Is it alive?”

I do not know. Examine it in greater detail.

The Pope sighed to himself. While other gods delivered oracles amidst radiant halos and profound words. Aldehir spoke in a relaxed, almost offhand manner. There was no grandeur or effort to inspire awe. As a deity not born of human origin, he cared little for rituals or theatrics; to him, anyone who gazed at the sky with wonder was already a believer.

But for now, focus on the problems on Earth.

That explained why Aldehir always spoke with such calm composure.

Problems on earth? What problems?’

This time, the Pope didn’t have to ask.

An explosion shattered the silence, followed by a series of deafening blasts that rattled the airship. Startled, every priest rushed to the deck, peering downward as black dust surged upward, swallowing the clouds and blotting out the sky. Smoke and ash spread like a suffocating veil.

The Artabus, drifting high above the clouds, hovered over a vast, dark river of smoke and despair. No one could fathom the horrors unfolding on the ground below.

“What on earth... is happening down there?”

Even the Pope was left speechless. Omen, who had earlier been irritated, now stood beside him, his face ashen as he stared at the rising ash.

The dense clouds had become an impenetrable wall, severing the connection between Earth and sky. They could see the stars above, but the chaos below remained hidden.

“Could this be a calamity... striking the Cidatel Republic?”

After a long pause, Omen finally broke the silence.

The Republic had once faced excommunication by the Holy See. Although the goddesses eventually lifted the ban through tacit approval and donations, the relationship remained precarious.

After suffering a blow once, the Republic’s leaders took no chances. They wanted to prevent it from happening again.

The Duke of the Cidatel Republic had invested heavily in allying with the Aldehir faith.

They funded the construction of the Artabus and collaborated on telescope production, lending their master lens crafters to the cause. In return, the Republic emerged as one of the Aldehir faith’s most significant patrons.

And if this patron were to fall, the consequences for the church would be severe.

However, in this situation, concerns about funding and patronage paled in comparison. The mere thought of the suffering below and the lives lost sent shivers down their spines, their bodies trembling at the magnitude of the devastation.

“Let’s descend.”

For once, dared to challenge the Pope’s command. typically free-spirited priests of the Aldehir faith sensed the gravity of the moment. Without hesitation, they began adjusting the Artabus’s altitude.

“Let’s... help the injured and bury the dead.”

Coughing, the priests maneuvered the Artabus through the thick, black haze. The ash-filled air had seeped into the ship. They descended cautiously, taking their time with each careful adjustment.

The airship’s elegant silhouette starkly contrasted with the chaos unfolding below.

They dreaded the unknown horrors awaiting on the ground, yet they understood there was no alternative.

One thing was clear.

Something utterly unimaginable had occurred.