Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint-Chapter 560: Good Gods, Bad Gods—A Matter of Taste

The shrine housing the Offering God’s body lay in a cave on the outskirts of the village. The path leading there was quiet, solemn, and eerie enough to expect ghosts at every turn. The priestess who came to receive the offerings said nothing, silently guiding them forward. The chosen sacrifices, who had been excited at the thought of becoming Undying, settled down and began to glance around warily.

Eventually, they arrived at the cave. As they stood before its entrance, three more priestesses emerged to meet them—‘Ear’, ‘Nose’, and ‘Eye’. The ones who made up the face of the Offering God.

They too said nothing as they # Nоvеlight # led the sacrifices. As the group stepped into the pitch-black cave, the sacrifices followed the priestesses like ducklings, startled but obedient.

No torches, no light—nothing but darkness. Whether they were actually walking or merely standing still was impossible to tell. The only reassurance that they weren’t left behind came from the faint luminescent markings on the priestess’s robes ahead.

Even in this darkness, ‘Eye’ walked along the slope with the ease of someone who could see everything. Deeper, and deeper still. Into the abyss.

How many minutes had passed? How far had they gone? Suddenly, a voice cut through the darkness like a flash of light.

“This is the bedchamber of the Offering God. O offerings, show reverence.”

Startled, the sacrifices froze. Something large and dark shifted ahead of them. Scraping stone, a door grinding open.

The texture of the darkness changed. From the absence of light... to the devouring blackness of a void. The Gate of the Pit opened, and beyond it, something waited in the endless dark.

A voice drifted through the hesitant crowd of sacrifices.

“Do not fear. Rejoice. Receive the distant glory of sharing your body with the Offering God. This is the heart of immortality. If you do not fear wounds, then the power of the Undying shall dwell within you.”

Only then did the sacrifices recall where they were, and who the Offering God was. With newfound resolve, they stepped forward. This wasn’t just any god—it was the Offering God. The Undying were real proof of that power.

Of course, it was possible that she was just using the promise of power to lure them in, but the Offering God didn’t seem like the type to resort to such roundabout methods. Besides, Fiou Village had over five hundred people. Deceiving them all and sacrificing the lives of a few offerings would be a risky move.

Especially with an outsider from beyond the steppe among them.

Rationally and emotionally, there was no reason to retreat. The sacrifices followed the priestesses into the pitch-black void.

“If you fail, you will survive. If you succeed, you shall become immortal. Come, follow, and become one.”

Fwsh. A flame burst forth in the dark.

In that moment, the vast chamber came into view. A massive structure, hidden so deep underground it seemed impossible. Though the flames from the torches weren’t small, they could barely illuminate the floor and walls. Further in, the path still stretched into a lurking abyss.

‘Mouth’, ‘Ear’, and ‘Nose’ each took up torches and turned to face the offerings.

“At the end of this path waits the Offering God, who has long awaited your arrival. Those who would offer their bodies, step for—”

‘Mouth’ froze mid-sentence as she spotted me among the group of sacrifices. Her hesitation drew the attention of the other priestesses.

“‘Mouth’? What is it?”

“Outsider from beyond the steppe? Why are you here? Don’t tell me...?”

Busted. I snuck in pretending to be a sacrifice just to see the ceremony. If I said I came as a spectator, I’d be kicked out. So I quickly came up with an excuse.

“Uh... I’m here for an experiential learning trip. If it doesn’t hurt too much, I figured I’d try becoming one with the Offering God myself.”

“This is a sacred space. Outsiders from beyond the steppe have no right to tread here!”

Yeah, didn’t work. ‘Mouth’ turned urgently to ‘Eye’.

“‘Eye’! Why didn’t you report his presence?”

‘Eye’, whose eyes were wrapped tightly in a fabric band, looked straight at me through the woven threads. Her vision must’ve been absurdly sharp—she could clearly make me out through the minuscule gaps. If she had seen me earlier, I would’ve been caught immediately.

But it seemed the eyes, nose, and mouth didn’t always communicate. ‘Eye’ replied calmly.

“I never took him into my sight, ‘Mouth’. I guided the sacrifices with the eyes of the god. Their identity was your responsibility.”

Left speechless, ‘Mouth’ turned to blame someone else.

“I’m the one who conveys the god’s word. Unlike me, you’re supposed to notice things. ‘Nose’. You should’ve sniffed out the danger!”

“...It’s all unfamiliar scents. Ash. Poppy. Willow bark. And thick blood. Everything smells strange, so I can’t tell what’s out of place.”

Apparently there was no hierarchy among the priestesses, just a squabbling mess. Made sense—they were all parts of the Offering God, with different roles but equal standing.

While I quietly observed, ‘Ear’—who had been listening silently—removed her ear coverings. Beneath the tightly wound bandages, a large ear was revealed, clearly sewn on from someone else.

“‘Mouth’. Be quiet.”

“Why...?”

At that moment, ‘Mouth’s’ lips began to move on their own. She abruptly fell silent and slackened her mouth. And from it came a voice that wasn’t hers.

““Outsider from beyond the steppe. I shall take your flesh.””

“...Sorry? My flesh?”

““You need not become one with Me. But for your deception and attempt to steal secrets, you must pay the price. If you refuse, leave this cave now and never set foot on this land again.”” freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

Well, I mean... I was in the wrong. But for a barbarian god, this one’s pretty civil. Trespassing in her shrine and all I get is a bit of flesh taken—or exile, if I prefer? That’s downright lenient.

It almost felt like the Offering God was... considering outsiders. Or maybe she feared them?

“I’ll give you the flesh. It’s a shame, but a fair price for sneaking a peek.”

““I have heard your words clearly.””

‘Mouth’ spoke, but ‘Ear’ heard. Once the god withdrew, the priestesses began to walk again in silence, having confirmed the Offering God’s will. Only ‘Mouth’ shot me a resentful look.

Flesh, huh. Probably going to hurt, but hey, even before I got my demonic body, I could regrow chunks of meat. Now it’s barely tear-worthy.

Come to think of it, with my regeneration, I could bet fingers on a gamble and just grow them back. While I was indulging in that little fantasy, something in the distance flickered under the torchlight.

Its silhouette alone was grotesque. As the shadow of a giant wavered in the distance, the sacrifices froze in their steps. But the priestesses, silent and unmoving, ushered them forward with their eyes. Despite their fear of the ominous figure at the end of the hall, the sacrifices advanced slowly.

As they drew closer, the torches revealed its shape.

And everyone was struck dumb by the horror of it.

It was a doll. A patchwork of human bodies sewn together.

Limbs taken from different people, stitched into the shape of a human. The right arm was probably Rash’s. The left leg, likely Left Leg’s. And it wasn’t just the limbs. The left side of the chest was from a burly man; the right, from a soft-breasted woman. Flanks, abs, shoulder blades—every joint a mismatched seam.

But the most disturbing part was the face—cut and assembled like a child’s botched craft project.

A dainty girl’s face on a towering body. Each feature—eyes, ears, nose, mouth—taken from someone else. Reddish-brown eyes lodged into split eyelids, sewn-on ears, a crooked nose, and a mouth torn too wide.

They say not to judge gods or people by appearance... but this was unmistakably the visage of an evil god.

“O Offering God, borrow my mouth. I offer my lips, tongue, and speech, that You may declare Your will through me.”

As everyone stood frozen by the grotesque sight, the priestesses began the ritual. ‘Mouth’ opened the prayer and uncorked a flask. Gulping down half the strong liquor inside, she poured the rest into another cup and handed it to Nose.

“O Offering God, borrow my nose. I offer my nose, breath, and respiration, that You may live and breathe through me.”

Nose inhaled the liquor through her nostrils, like snorting a drug. The sharp scent alone intoxicated her, and even without swallowing a drop, she was already drunk. She passed the nearly empty bottle to Eye.

“O Offering God, borrow my eyes. I offer my vision, light, and sight, that You may watch the world through me.”

Eye poured a few drops into her eyes. Her eye sockets flared red, as though the alcohol was burning. Yet she showed no pain—calmly setting the bottle aside without rubbing her eyes or wincing.

“O Offering God, borrow my ears. I offer my ears, sounds, and resonance, that You may hear and echo through me.”

Finally, Ear read from the ritual scripture. Apparently, even for ‘Ear’, pouring liquor directly into her ears was too much.

“Let this body be filled with bodies, until it reaches one thousand.”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

And in that instant, the patchwork doll opened its eyes—wide and shining.

[At one thousand, this body shall be complete.]

It was the Offering God. She had descended into the patchwork doll sewn from human flesh, and through the borrowed ears, eyes, nose, and mouth of her priestesses, she began to move.

The Offering God didn’t move below her neck. Only her eyes, nose, and mouth stirred—just enough to convey her will.

[As the tribe grows, so too must the body. With these offerings, I shall expand Myself. My power and dominion will grow accordingly.]

“So shall it be, as You will.”

The priestesses bowed in unison, and the sacrifices bowed as well, though with a degree of uncertainty. The moment of reverence lasted quite a while—long enough for the offerings to start wondering when it would end.

Then, in front of one of them, a dagger fell.

[Take the blade, O offering who shall become My body.]

A sharp dagger, appearing out of nowhere. The chosen offering instinctively picked it up. Though he grasped it without thinking, he stood frozen, unsure what to do—until the Offering God’s command reached his ears.

[Offer up your heel.]

“Uh? Huh? My... heel?”

[Sever your heel and present it to Me. In return, I shall grant you Mine.]

He had expected it—but when the moment of choice arrived, his body locked up.

Even knowing it was a ceremony, even believing he’d gain the power of the Undying afterward, the thought of carving off a part of his own body caused his instincts to recoil.

“H-How much do I need to cut?”

[Offer it.]

“I—I mean, how much exactly—?”

[Offer it.]

“If there’s going to be bleeding, shouldn’t I at least have some medicine or cloth to stop it—?”

[Offer it.]

The Offering God neither rushed nor coaxed—just repeated the same word over and over. The one growing anxious wasn’t the god, but the people. The priestesses stepped in, their voices calm but firm.

“O offering. Fear not. Rejoice.”

“Only by accepting this grace can the village grow—and make room for others.”

“The god was gracious even when you burned the land. Refuse now, and you will gain nothing.”

“Neither the power of the Undying, nor a place to stay.”

This was the price. If they refused now and fled, not only would they lose the chance at immortality, but the hard-won position Fiou Village had carved out for them might also vanish.

It had seemed like a good idea when they first came, eager to gain Undying flesh. But now, having kept the whole thing secret from the other refugees to monopolize it, retreating empty-handed was not an option. They might even get kicked out.

No... we’re refugees who lost our homeland. If we can’t establish ourselves here, we’ll just be discarded again...

Caught in their own snare, the barbarian who had volunteered gripped the dagger in trembling hands and brought it to his heel. He couldn’t turn back now. This was the opportunity he had asked for.

“Just for a moment. Just a second of pain...”

He repeated it like a mantra. Then he set the blade to his heel—and pulled hard.

Blood spattered. A scream tore from his mouth. But his cut was clean. Whether through luck or skill, he severed the heel in one clean motion. The piece of flesh twitched in his hands, muscle and tendon still writhing.

The priestesses moved. Kneeling, they carried the severed heel to the Offering God.

And then something astonishing happened.

With a dry pop, the Offering God’s own heel detached. As if it had always been modular, it came loose, leaving a gaping socket.

“O Offering God. The offering gives of his body. Through body, make new body—let Your form extend ever further.”

‘Eye’ and ‘Ear’ took the bleeding heel and stuffed it into the open gap. ‘Mouth’ and ‘Nose’ carefully lifted the god’s detached part and carried it to the offering.

They knelt at his bleeding foot, and like a tailor sewing cloth, they pressed the divine flesh against the raw stump.

“AAUGH—aaah... huh?”

And again—something miraculous.

The fountain of blood stopped in an instant.

The divine body, once inserted, quickly absorbed the blood, swelled slightly, and then adhered to the offering’s body like it had always belonged. It took root, and then it moved—obediently, like a part of him.

He rose shakily on his new heel. He still looked unsteady, but the flesh responded to his will, as though it were his own.

“My body...?”

“It is now your Offering God. A symbol that you and She are one—and the source of your new strength.”

The divine flesh had become his own flesh. As he stood dazed, the priestesses smeared cool mud onto the flushed red heel.

“The ritual is complete. You are one of us now.”

“You shall live as the Offering God’s ‘left heel’.”

“With time, as more of Her dwells in your body, you shall drift further from death.”

“As losing a heel does not bring death, so too shall you endure.”

Miracles begin with belief. And now that they had seen it, the remaining offerings—once hesitant—stepped forward eagerly to offer themselves. Painful, yes, but the rewards were undeniable.

All the while, I had been reading the Offering God’s thoughts.

As I expected—that was her main body. Pieced together from countless parts, the resulting haze had blurred her self-awareness, but her will and power still flowed from that form.

And the Offering God... was a fascinating being.

[Offer your flesh, outsider from beyond the steppe.]

“Ah, it’s my turn already?”

I must’ve been too focused on reading her mind. While I was occupied, the ritual had ended, and I was the only one left. I accepted the dagger offered to me and spun it lazily in my hand.

‘Mouth’ snapped at me.

“Cut your flesh, outsider. That is the price for setting foot in the Pit.”

“Oh, I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll pass. However—I’ve got a story you might find interesting. What do you say?”

Sure, I could just hand over a chunk of myself and be done with it... but the whole idea left a bad taste. What if they did something to it? You don’t just hand parts of your body over to shady folks.

Especially not a god who consumed humans and played dress-up with the leftovers.

[You would break your promise?]

“No, no—I’ll keep it. But what if... instead of flesh, I offered you something better? A story so interesting, even the Offering God would be tempted to listen. Wouldn’t that be worth far more than a slice of meat?”

[What story is this?]

The Offering God asked directly. I began to trace through her memories—scattered fragments seen and heard through borrowed eyes and ears. Her true memories stretched far deeper, back to the time before the first year was even recorded. Before humans ruled the world, before the saintess ever set foot on this land. When ancient evils still walked the earth.

And there, buried deep in her mind, I found the most vivid memory of all.

“How about I tell you about the human king who brought you low?

The evil god Ankera.”