Calculations

What could cause a god to fall?

Answer: A battle between gods.

The bond between gods and their believers forms a symbiotic system.
Believers provide faith and power, while gods grant their authority and knowledge in return.

There are two primary ways to kill a god:

The first is through divine war.

A god with greater authority and a broader following is more likely to triumph.

The victor dismembers the defeated, either devouring or diluting their divine essence and existence.

This is the most straightforward and brutal method, but its consequences are immeasurable.

Once a divine war begins, the chaos and impact ripple beyond the two parties.

Due to alliances, racial conflicts, and tangled interests, it can escalate into a multi-god melee, potentially annihilating all civilizations on Seraris.

No faction, not even gods, can bear such a cost.

Thus, on the vast Seraris Continent, the few recorded cases of deicide employ a gentler second method.

Gods and believers are linked in a vital cycle—without believers, there’s no faith; without faith, a god cannot endure.
Since directly killing a god risks uncontrollable fallout, the easier target is their followers.

In theory, if all a god’s believers die or abandon their faith, and no new believers arise, the god is indirectly killed.

Deprived of faith, they fade into the river of history.

Themis imparted this knowledge to Selina in her own way.

Hearing this, Selina’s expression grew solemn.

“Losing all believers can kill a god, but the Firelight Goddess still has me.
That means Hestia is still alive.”

She analyzed the information on the spot.

“Correct.
However, a single believer’s faith can only delay her demise.
Without swift action, Hestia’s fall is inevitable.”

Themis nodded.

“What should I do?
Spread her faith?
Or is there another way to help her?”

Selina was principled—she repaid grudges and remembered kindness.
In the trial space, Hestia, a goddess she’d never met, showed clear goodwill.
That alone earned her gratitude, not to mention Hestia was the deity her mentor devoted his life to.

Others might not know, but Selina knew her mentor’s stubbornness.
Hestia was likely the only god he’d ever worship.

With this double-layered bond, as long as saving Hestia didn’t involve heinous acts, Selina would do everything in her power.

“With just you, how many believers could you recruit?
Moreover, the demon god who clashed with Hestia cursed her.
Anyone who worships her faces direct or indirect decline and death.
This is why Hestia has weakened to this point…”

“Her followers didn’t die from divine war’s fallout but from this curse.
Even if you recruited believers, no one would dare worship her…”

This was perhaps a god’s greatest tragedy.
Weakened by divine conflict, Hestia couldn’t break the curse.
Breaking it required faith to bolster her power, but the curse ensured believers either abandoned her or perished, trapping her in a deadly cycle.

“No wonder…
No wonder my mentor was so powerful yet so frail.
Was it the curse?”

Selina recalled her mentor drinking alone, pale-faced.
Back then, she thought his drinking caused his decline.
Now, it seemed laughable.
How could a superhuman who created the original Wind Spirit Moon Shadow weaken from mere alcohol?

He likely drank to dull the curse’s pain.
Young and ignorant, she couldn’t understand or help him.

Thinking of this, Selina’s mood darkened.

But what use was knowing now?
Her mentor passed when she was sixteen, his body buried by her own hands near the site of that demolished church, per his wishes.

Dust to dust, earth to earth.
The man who changed her life couldn’t escape his fate.

Wait—something didn’t add up.

Selina frowned, a contradiction surfacing.

“If worshipping Hestia brings a curse, why am I fine?”

Her missing arm was due to her innate condition as a Heaven-Deficient, unrelated to curses.
Her mentor, a formidable powerhouse, succumbed to the curse, yet she, less powerful, survived unscathed before entering the Elven Forest.

“Descenders, due to their souls differing from Seraris natives, are largely immune to most curses.”

Themis explained, and Selina understood instantly.

So, her mentor chose her as his disciple and led her to worship Hestia because he recognized her soul’s uniqueness.
Otherwise, his stubborn nature wouldn’t have involved an innocent in this deadly affair.

Her current circumstances—were they part of her mentor’s calculations?

Selina was momentarily speechless.
Since arriving in this world, she felt constantly targeted, manipulated even now.

“Descenders are rare.
Your mentor, as Hestia’s apostle, likely chose you for this reason, entrusting you with this duty.
Don’t resent him too much.
As Hestia’s last believer, you were likely the only one he could pass her faith to…”

As the Elven Ancestor God, Themis could read any elf’s memories, though she rarely did.
Her timely response came from this ability.

“I don’t resent him.
Without him, as a Heaven-Deficient fresh to this world, I’d have lost the will to live…”

Selina smiled softly, her emerald eyes free of bitterness.

She meant it.

Her mentor was eccentric, a drunk, sometimes muddled, but otherwise impeccable.

His kindness rivaled that of a parent.

Even if his approach was calculated, she’d never resent him.

Everyone acts with purpose.

Her mentor did more than enough, teaching her nearly all his skills, raising her like a son.

How could she resent such a bond?