The Atheist’s Challenge

Compared to the divine arts competition on the first day, the layout of the Grand Hall had once again been altered.

Ablaze with light, the circular hall featured long tables and benches arranged in three separate corners.

Paresha and Saranya occupied one corner, while Dalia and her assistant sat diagonally opposite them.

The last set of tables and benches, originally reserved for Aivy, now remained vacant.

Upon a revolving armchair on the central dais, a young man, dressed as a common citizen, with a distinctive handlebar mustache and a sharply parted hairstyle, leaned back, scrutinizing the two candidates with a cautious gaze.

“Everyone’s here, I presume?”

The young man straightened up, placing his hands on his shoulders, his emotions betraying no波动.

“To the four of you, please allow me to introduce myself first.

My name is Wolsen Dump, a lecturer at Vero Free City University.

I’ve been invited by the Church to serve as your debate opponent today.

For convenience, you may simply call me Dump.”

Dump’s voice, full of vigor, echoed through the expansive hall for a considerable time.

“The Moon-Marked Sect Church has always been open-minded, and I thank you for granting me the right to question its doctrines.”

“I will pose questions that you might consider ‘blasphemous,’ and the four of you are free to refute my points and offer your own answers.

At the conclusion, the voters upstairs will determine the final selection based on your performance today and your past showings.”

“Alright, Dump, let’s get on with it.

You should know what can be discussed and what cannot, shouldn’t you?”

The middle-aged man beside Dalia interrupted Dump in a low, impatient tone.

Dump, far from being offended, offered the middle-aged man a humble smile.

“Thank you for the reminder.

And by the way… might you be Mr. Fiolan, the esteemed theological master renowned for his travels?”

“Indeed.”

“Ah, what a pleasure to meet you!

My father was one of your students, and I myself have perused many of your works.

I humbly request your guidance today, Master!”

Dump rose, bowing respectfully to Fiolan, embodying the essence of a courteous scholar.

‘A theological master…’

Saranya’s heart sank with apprehension.

Dalia’s chosen assistant truly possessed some substance, having taken disciples and published books.

In stark contrast, she and Paresha felt utterly unprepared.

“Please rest assured, though I advocate for racial equality and the abolition of slavery, I will not discuss such incendiary topics here today.

Let us begin with a most fundamental subject…”

Dump cleared his throat, a sharp glint suddenly appearing in his eyes, and declared in a resonant voice,

“I, Wolsen Dump, am an atheist, and I believe that your so-called gods simply do not exist!”

Upon Dump’s declaration, not only Paresha and Dalia, but even the bishops on the second floor could be heard gasping in shock.

“My reasoning is simple: you claim that various gods are omnipotent and have bestowed everything upon you, yet I see no evidence of this.

People toil in the fields, busy themselves with tools and furnaces, always self-reliant, ensuring their own sustenance and warmth.

In this entire process, where exactly are these gods, and what have they done?

Take your doctrines, for instance: what proof do you have that the Pale Moon Goddess truly exists?”

Saranya remained seated, somewhat bewildered after listening to Dump’s argument.

‘This isn’t… uh…’

Her mind was a blank slate.

She had intended to leverage her knowledge as a transmigrator to overwhelm these indigenous people of another world.

Who would have thought Dump’s views would be so far ahead, launching straight into such a profound challenge?

Now, to defend the Church, they were compelled to prove to him, ‘Gods exist in this world.’

‘Oh no, am I the villain here?’

“But… divine arts…”

Paresha conceived a point of rebuttal: the very existence of divine arts.

Indeed, supernatural powers existed in this world, and using ‘divine arts’ to substantiate the existence of gods was a viable approach.

Unfortunately, Paresha’s scholarship was lacking; she mumbled for a long while without articulating anything substantial, allowing Dalia to seize the opportunity.

“We harness the power of the Pale Moon Goddess, weaving moonlight to manifest miracles.

This is proof of God’s existence!

Without divine grace, how else could the Moon-Marked Sect’s divine arts possibly work?!”

Dump chuckled, as if he had anticipated Dalia’s argument all along.

“What is the principle by which divine arts operate?”

“The Goddess created the moon, and divine power is intrinsically contained within moonlight!”

“Who told you that?”

“Uh…”

Dalia faltered, but Fiolan promptly intervened to rescue her.

“Page three of the preface to ‘Introduction to Moon-Marked Sect Divine Arts’ states, ‘The root of all so-called divine arts’ power originates from God.’

Innumerable divine art practitioners have begun their studies with this book and mastered divine arts.

Surely, you’re not going to question its authority, are you?”

****

This debate segment bore a resemblance to an interview; it mattered not who among the candidates and Dump won or lost.

What truly mattered was the candidates’ performance throughout.

Presently, Dalia’s side was entirely engaged in conversation with Dump, while Saranya and Paresha were practically invisible.

This simply would not do.

“What should we do, Sister Saranya…?”

Paresha pouted, her expression on the verge of tears.

“They’ve completely ignored us…”

“No need to rush.”

Some time had passed since the opening, and Saranya had calmed down slightly, mentally rehearsing her arguments several times.

First and foremost, she needed to clarify that a debate was a performative language game, devoid of absolute right or wrong.

Her objective was to strengthen her own viewpoint, refute her opponent, and impress the voters upstairs.

Given this, Saranya felt perfectly justified in taking the Church’s stance and confronting this self-proclaimed ‘atheist.’

After all, it was merely a language game; whether gods existed in the world or not was irrelevant to the outcome of their debate.

To join this game, she first had to analyze Dalia’s strategy.

Dalia intended to use the ‘effectiveness of divine arts’ to prove ‘the existence of God.’

However, Kaelan had long ago taught her that the theoretical foundation of the Church’s divine arts was flawed.

The most critical weakness lay in the vague definition of divine arts.

Whether the wonders created by practitioners were ‘divine arts’ or ‘magic’ depended entirely on the Church’s unilateral assertion, lacking true persuasiveness.

The boundary between divine arts and magic was ambiguous, and Dump was highly likely to exploit this vulnerability.

Dalia would find it difficult to refute, allowing Dump to demote ‘divine arts,’ seating them at the same table as ‘magic,’ and thereby severing their connection to the concept of ‘God.’

Once Dump accomplished this, Dalia’s claim would be rendered utterly invalid.

“Miss Dalia, you cannot prove the connection between divine arts and God.

Therefore, even if divine arts exist in this world, they are merely *called* ‘divine arts’; you cannot conclude that God exists simply because of them, can you?”

As expected, the cunning Dump exploited this loophole, striking Dalia a heavy blow.

“Therefore, I contend that there are no gods in the world, nor any divine will.

There is only humanity and human will, and human will is free!

Just as we can freely decide whether to eat bread or cheese for breakfast, this is not restricted by gods or fate!”

“This…”

Dalia fell silent, and Fiolan, clutching his beard, sank into contemplation.

This was a golden opportunity!

The divine arts approach was already a dead end.

Since that was the case, she would directly tackle the concept of God itself!

“A pound of large pears!”

Saranya slammed her hand on the table with a crash.

“A truly brilliant sermon, Mr. Dump, but now, I must point out your errors!”

“Oh?”

Dump turned to Saranya, his expression gradually shifting to one of anticipation.