The second Mystogan finished speaking, the chaotic chatter in the plaza died.
Dead silence fell—like even the wind hit pause.
A moment later, the guy up front swallowed hard, inching half a step forward. His voice cracked like dry leaves.
"Y-Your Highness… you said the magic's gone? You're… you're joking, right?"
He forced a smile uglier than crying, eyes begging for a "no."
Everyone stared at Mystogan's face, desperate for denial.
He just… slowly shook his head.
Bzzz—like an invisible bell tolled in their skulls. The crowd rippled.
Before they could process the apocalypse, a deep rumble rolled from all sides. The ground trembled.
Then—golden wisps of light leaked from cracks in the earth, from their bags, even from the air itself. They floated up like living threads, weaving into dazzling golden ribbons streaming toward the sky.
"Is… is that the magic disappearing?!" The thought hit everyone at once.
Panic exploded. People ripped open packs, yanking out magic tools.
Golden sparkles poured from the devices—visible to the naked eye.
A woman clutched her water purifier like a lifeline, slamming the switch. Nothing. Not a drop.
CRACK—it split clean in half, junk metal.
Her pupils shrank. She screamed like she'd lost a child:
"My purifier! It's broken! It cracked!!"
She whipped her head up, eyes hollow. "I'll… never drink clean water again!!"
That hit like lightning.
Everyone stared at their own glowing, dying tools—hands shaking uncontrollably.
"It's over! Everything's over! The world's ending!!" Someone cracked first.
The floodgates opened. Wails and screams drowned the plaza:
"What do we do?! I haven't even gotten married!!"
"Nooo! I saved up forever for my magic four-wheeler—and now it's just scrap?!"
"Hahaha—we're all gonna die! Might as well!!"
Chaos teetered on the edge—then Mystogan slammed his staff into the ground.
THOOM!
The impact shut everyone up. They turned, teary-eyed, to the prince in the center.
He pulled a plain metal box from his back, flicked the lid with his thumb, and scraped the side wheel.
Click—a steady orange flame danced out.
The crowd froze.
They looked at their cracked, light-bleeding junk… then at the prince's flame—no magic glow, just fire.
Brains: blue screen.
Little Mimi wriggled free from her mom, squeezed to the front, and tugged her sleeve. She pointed at the lighter, all wide-eyed innocence.
"Mommy, why's the prince's 'magic tool' still working? The gold light didn't run away!"
Mystogan smiled softly.
He knelt, ruffled her hair, voice gentle.
"Because this isn't a magic tool."
He stood, pulled out a few more lighters, and handed them to the calmer folks up front.
"It's called a lighter. No magic needed—just scrape the wheel, and poof, fire."
Jaws dropped.
"Something that makes fire… without magic?!"
"Fire needs magic to work!"
Most looked skeptical—but the steady flame and zero magic leakage? Hard facts.
One guy who got a lighter copied Mystogan—click!
Another flame sparked.
His eyes bugged out like he'd seen a miracle. Voice shaking with excitement:
"It's real! It makes fire!!"
He spun to the crowd like a kid with a new toy, flicking it on and off.
"Look! LOOK!!"
That tiny flame—weak, but the first spark in the dark—lit a flicker of hope in hearts swallowed by despair.
But in the back, a gloomy guy with bangs covering half his face sighed.
"Cool toy. So what?"
He pointed at the sky. "The floating islands are falling!"
"The world's done! Sure, the prince has a no-magic fire trick—that's great. But we won't live to see tomorrow's sun!"
Eyes followed his finger—distant islands wobbled, magic failing.
Hope snuffed out like a candle in the rain.
"Yeah… no magic = islands crash = we're dead…"
"Still doomed…"
Sighs and despair crept back in.
Mystogan cleared his throat—perfect timing—but Mimi beat him to it. She waved her lighter (somehow snagged one), head tilted.
"Prince! How do you make the fire box?"
Jackpot question. Mystogan blinked, then rolled with it.
He pulled a palm-sized, roughly carved faceless wooden figure from his pocket and handed it to her.
"The god told me," he said loud and clear—so everyone heard.
"Not just that—God gave tons of knowledge for stuff that works without magic. Like light bulbs that glow at night, fridges that keep food fresh with cold air, pipes that bring water straight to your house…"
"G-God…?" Mimi tilted her head, taking the blank wooden guy. Big eyes puzzled.
"Is there really a god?"
"Of course." Mystogan raised the lighter, dead serious.
"How else could I make this?"
Another kid crowded in, staring at the carving. "Why's God got no face?"
"Because God's true form isn't shown lightly," Mystogan explained patiently, guiding.
"Only the truly faithful get to see His face."
"Faithful?" Mimi blinked. "Like… people who believe in Him?"
"Pretty much. And the purer and stronger your faith, the faster you'll see Him."
"Stronger… faith?" The kids scrunched their noses.
Like really, REALLY liking your best friend?
They squeezed their eyes shut, clutching the carvings tight—imagining God as their absolute best, most trustworthy buddy. Filling their hearts with love, trust, and wanting to be close.
A beat later—they opened their eyes.
"AH!" The boy yelped first, pointing.
"FACE! HE'S GOT A FACE!!"
"REALLY!" Mimi squealed. "It's a super pretty big brother!!"
Gasps rippled. Everyone surged forward, trying for themselves.
Soon—shouts everywhere. Kids and teens mostly saw it. Adults? Barely any.
A bald tough guy turned red, jabbing at the wood. "This is a trick! Why can't we see?!"
Mimi puffed her cheeks. "Nuh-uh! Tons of us saw! You just don't believe in God!"
Baldy flushed, glanced at Mystogan, and muttered under his breath. "Pfft—if there's a god, make him show up…"
Mimi heard every word.
Her cheeks ballooned like a squirrel.
How DARE he badmouth her new friend!
The prince said they couldn't see 'cause they weren't sincere!
She marched up to Mystogan, chin high. "Prince! Can God… come out and show them?!"
Before he could answer—BOOM—the ground shook harder than before!
Panic surged—everyone instinctively crowded toward Mystogan, their only anchor.
When the shaking eased, Mimi bolted from her mom's arms, pointing at Godzilla's corpse.
"LOOK!"
Golden patterns flared across the beast's massive body.
Where they passed, flesh melted like snow in sun—turning into billions of golden motes, drifting up.
Unlike the vanishing magic ribbons, these didn't fade. They gathered high in the sky, forming a huge, blurry golden silhouette.
Tweet tweet—birds of every color swarmed from everywhere, circling the light in graceful spirals, singing like a holy choir.
A sweet floral scent filled the air out of nowhere.
Cool tingles at their ankles—everyone looked down.
Tender green shoots burst from the scorched ground, growing, unfurling, blooming—visible to the naked eye!
In breaths, the ruined plaza became a vibrant sea of flowers.
Mimi crouched, gently touching a petal. "Real flowers! So cool—so many, so fast!"
She looked up.
The golden silhouette sharpened—face growing familiar. She stared, stunned—then at her carving, then back up. Mouth open.
"Exactly the same…"
Pure joy exploded across her face. She spun to the crowd.
"MOM! EVERYONE! IT'S HIM! HIS FACE IS EXACTLY LIKE MY WOOD GUY! HE'S GOD!!!"
The words hit like thunder.
Shock—then looking at the divine light, birds dancing, flowers blooming—it clicked.
Who else but a god could do this?
The light solidified into a black-haired young man, eyes closed.
He opened them—golden pupils.
The instant those eyes met theirs, hearts clenched. Scalps tingled.
Not cruel—but an absolute, all-seeing majesty that screamed awe and smallness from the soul.
Mystogan stepped forward, knelt on one knee, hand over heart, head bowed. Voice dripping respect:
"Great God! Why have you descended? Have we displeased you?"
The doubters in the back froze. Cold sweat soaked their shirts.
They shrank, pale, trying to melt into the crowd—wishing for a hole to hide in.
Roger's gaze swept the plaza, cool and distant.
He spoke—an ancient, echoing tongue rang directly in everyone's minds, like from the edge of time:
『I am the God of this realm. I manifest now by the World's Will—to guide worthy souls through calamity with salvation and gifts.』
He raised his right hand. Golden light flared from his fingertip.
He tapped the Godzilla bloodstains on the ground and Mystogan's clothes.
The dark, sticky blood writhed—alive. It pooled, merged, formed a massive rolling crimson orb floating mid-air.
Pop!—it burst into tiny red motes, shooting skyward like reverse rain, vanishing.
『The beast's blood is deadly poison. Left unchecked, this city would become a toxic wasteland—everything dead, all souls lost.』
Everyone shuddered, staring at the now-clean ground. Swallowing hard.
Someone suddenly clutched their head. "Wait—the God just talked in my brain!"
"Yeah! Me too!"
"And it was a language I've never heard—but I understood perfectly!"
"Amazing! Truly God!"
Mystogan bowed deeper. "Thank you for your grace, God."
He looked up, curious. "But forgive my boldness—what is this 'World's Will' you spoke of?"
Roger's suffocating aura eased slightly. He waved a hand—the birds scattered in perfect order.
His robes fluttered without wind. Voice still grand, detached:
『All things have spirit—the world too.』
『Its will sleeps deep. Only when doom looms does it wake—delivering punishment and trial.』
『Calamity and fortune entwine. This disaster is both judgment and test.』
『Fail—and all returns to silence, the world reboots. Pass—and survivors break free, reborn.』
『Magic fades. In its place rises a new system: Technology.』
As he spoke—air cracked around him, glass-shatter sounds!
Transparent web-like fractures spidered from him, flashing—engulfing the plaza!
Space itself seemed to collapse. Panic surged.
CRACK!
A sharp snap in every ear.
White flash—vision blurred.
When it cleared—the world had changed.
Skyscrapers pierced the clouds. Rivers of cars flowed. Giant LED screens flashed moving images.
A bustling, futuristic metropolis—unfolded like a painting.
"Holy—that many magic four-wheelers?!" A woman pointed at the traffic, voice cracking.
A little boy craned his neck at the nearest tower—higher, higher—until he toppled backward, mouth agape.
"So… tall! Taller than the king's palace!"
『This is the power of technology.』 Roger's voice pulled them back.
He swiped his left hand—scenes flipped like book pages.
『This is called an airplane—carries people through the skies.』 (Clip: plane soaring.)
『This is a phone—talk face-to-face across thousands of miles, instantly.』 (Clip: video call.)
『In this world, technology is everywhere—endless power and convenience.』
He clenched his left fist—the illusions sucked into his palm, scattering as light.
Seeing the awe and longing below, a glowing card appeared between his fingers.
He flicked it—spinning toward Mystogan.
『The gateway to technology's knowledge—I grant to those who pass the trial. This card is a small extra gift.』
『It holds seeds of a crop called potato—over a thousand jin per mu. Tear the card—seeds and full planting guide appear.』
"A THOUSAND JIN PER MU?!?!"
The crowd exploded. Eyes like saucers.
In a magic-dependent world, that yield was mythical!
Mimi looked up at Roger, eyes sparkling, unable to hold back.
"God… what kind of god are you?"