Miss Shepherd does not die in the Mysterious World

Chapter 7: The Six Gods

Hearing Mel’s words, Oliver raised his eyebrows, then nodded slightly, the smile on his face unchanged.

“Of course, what do you want to know?”

“I want to know everything.”

I said, “If possible, let’s start with the Red Moon.

Actually, I met a Shepherd last night, she seemed to be a believer in Knowledge.”

Hearing this, Oliver’s brow wrinkled slightly, then he said: “Were you in danger?”

I nodded slightly, “But I managed to defeat her in the end, it’s just.... when I woke up this morning, I found that I seemed to have forgotten some things.”

“Forgotten some things?”

“For example, various common knowledge about the gods.”

I lied without a change in expression.

“I see....”

Oliver’s posture became serious, seemingly not seeing through the girl’s lie, or perhaps this situation itself was not uncommon.

“Those madmen who pursue knowledge are indeed adept at similar mystic arts, which is also what makes them the most detestable.”

The Bishop stood up and walked to the bookshelf, took out a thick tome and placed it on the table, then opened the title page.

“Then, please allow me to recount it for you again,” saying so, Oliver suddenly let out a laugh.

“What is it?”

I was puzzled.

“No, please forgive my lapse in composure.”

Oliver shook his head, “To introduce the great Red Moon to a Shepherd of the Red Moon, I had never thought of such a thing before.”

After a pause, Oliver then continued: “First, I want to introduce, the great Red Moon.”

Oliver’s light laughter awoke the slumbering ink, the book’s pages flipped automatically, stopping on the illustration of a scarlet lunar wheel.

Countless tiny shadows swam across the paper’s surface, like a swarm of bats startled by the moonlight.

“He is the Lord of Sacrifice and the Hunt, the embodiment of desire, governing the eternal cycle of life and death.”

When mentioning the Red Moon, Oliver’s voice was filled with piety.

His power is manifested in the phases of the moon, and every full moon is when His power reaches its peak.

At that time, all creatures illuminated by the moonlight will display their most primitive nature, and we, as His believers, will complete the sacrificial ritual to Him during the full moon.

His fingertip traced the jagged radiance on the edge of the lunar wheel, When the Red Moon reigns over the celestial curtain, even tombstones will ooze the honey of lust.

At the full moon altar, we gouge out the still-beating heart of a stag, not as an offering, but as an invitation.

To invite that Majesty who presides over the eternal dance of life and death, to come and sip the boiling feast.

The lunar wheel in the illustration suddenly seeped dewdrops, and I smelled a thick, irony stench.

The blood vessels in my wrist began to resonate with the moonlight, like agate prayer beads suspended in the void by spider silk.

Saying so, he flipped through dozens of pages, skipping to the next chapter, pointing to another illustration, which was of a seemingly endless tome.

At the same time, the piety in Oliver’s tone also vanished with the turning of the pages, replaced by a kind of disdain and contempt.

And in opposition to the great Red Moon, is Knowledge, His believers call Him the guardian of wisdom, the revealer of truth.

Just as you have encountered, His believers are always obsessed with collecting and stealing knowledge, and when they pursue truth, they often fall into madness.

Therefore, He has another venerable name “The Sower of Madness.”

“And the apostles of Knowledge...”

The force with which the Bishop turned the page suddenly increased, the parchment letting out the mournful cry of a dying bird.

The infinite tome in the illustration was seeping a tar-like substance, the eye-shaped emblem that had opened on its cover made my temples throb with pain.

“The way they gnaw on secrets, is like maggots laying eggs in a saint’s skull.”

A gilded gold color of the hunt appeared in Oliver’s irises.

Those who call themselves believers of truth will chew the pillars of your memory palace into a sieve.

But you should be glad you met a Shepherd and not a Recorder; the latter can salvage even the shape of your birthmark from a past life out of the void.

“Why are the Red Moon and Knowledge in opposition?”

I asked, puzzled.

“Because this world’s balance is built on the foundation of mutual restraint among the six gods.”

Oliver’s tone carried a trace of solemnity.

The Red Moon represents instinct, while Knowledge represents reason, and reason constrains instinct.

But the pearls on the crown of Knowledge will eventually mutate into tumors.

Oliver’s tone was suddenly immersed in a certain fanatical rhythm, the pages stopping before a circular totem entangled with countless biological features.

I saw the snake in the illustration swallowing its own tail, and where its scales fell off, peacock feathers and butterfly elytra bloomed.

“Aberration?”

I didn't understand, “Is Aberration also a true god?”

“Of course, every god has its own meaning and value of existence.”

Oliver smiled, his finger landing on a twisted and intertwined circular pattern on the page.

Aberration, is the master of mutation and rebirth, under His gaze, all life will welcome transformation.

Some call Him the weaver of genes, others call Him the creator of monsters.

When the harp of the God of Aberration sounds, even time will shed its skin.

When mentioning Aberration, Oliver’s tone once again became reverent.

“Actually, Aberration is not simply ugliness or terror, what He represents is the infinite possibility of life forms. Just like the metamorphosis of a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, it is both destruction and new life.”

Saying so, Oliver stood up and paced to the window, The believers of Aberration believe that only through constant mutation and reshaping can life reach a higher realm.

They pursue the perfect form, even if this pursuit seems insane and terrifying in the eyes of ordinary people.

His believers rear tens of thousands of possibilities, with every heartbeat a new species is born.

There was once an alchemist who transformed himself into a walking greenhouse, when the guards cut open his emerald skin, the wings of the blue morpho butterflies that flew out were all covered with the face of his first love.

After a pause, Oliver continued:

And this fanatical pursuit of morphological change will eventually be contained by the Void.

Because only in the crevice between reality and nothingness can a metamorphosis that transcends common sense be truly realized.

The sunlight from outside shone into the room through the stained-glass window, I lowered my head to stare at those colorful patterns of light and shadow, lost in thought.

“Then what kind of existence is the Void?”

“The Void governs space, dimensions, and nothingness.”

Oliver returned to his seat, turned to a new page, and pointed to the emblem of a shattered mirror on the page.

He tapped the illustration with his finger, and star-like fragments immediately poured out from the cracks.

“He is the pioneer of planes, the tearer of reality, and the ruler of nothingness.”

“Sounds very dangerous.”

I said softly.

Perhaps, Oliver chuckled.

But His believers can use this power to move quickly between different spaces.

For example, they can tear the space in front of them, then step into the void, and then return to reality again.

Of course, the risk of this kind of thing is also very high, because in the domain of the void, the laws of reality no longer apply.

And this destruction of rules will be strengthened by Chaos.

“Chaos?”

This was the second time I had heard a derogatory word used for a god.

Oliver turned to the next chapter, pointing to a pattern of a broken codex.

Chaos governs change and disorder, is the destroyer of common sense, the spreader of chaos, but also the master of change.

Chaos stirs in the womb of Order, like a fetus gnawing on the placenta.

In His domain, all established laws will be rewritten.

“Then isn’t this world doomed?”

I tilted my head and asked.

“Of course not.”

Oliver revealed a smile.

Although Chaos sounds entirely negative, His presence is indispensable in various changes.

For example, the social changes brought by various wars, or the technological innovations brought by technological development, just like the emergence of the textile machine and the steam engine, this is also related to Chaos.

When the steam engine lets out its first sulfur-scented sigh, when the blade of the guillotine falls in love with the aristocrat’s neck these are all the gilded, floral script on Chaos’s love letters.

Of course, it is undeniable that what Chaos represents is indeed mostly negative situations.

This is also why we need Order to exist.

He pointed to the last pattern an eternal scale.

“Order uses the scale as its emblem, is the guardian of rules, and also the balancer, it is precisely because of His existence that the world itself can maintain stability.”

“So the believers of Order are all good people?”

“The definition of good and bad people is very vague.”

Oliver shook his head, “You should say——friends or enemies.”

And unfortunately, Order is not our friend, but they can’t be considered a mortal enemy either.

“Why?”

I pressed on, “Isn’t Order a good thing?”

But Order also represents restraint, while the Red Moon symbolizes freedom and desire.

He is the perfect audience for the game among the gods, but unfortunately, always wants to turn himself into the referee.

Therefore, in the eyes of the believers of Order, believers of the Red Moon are objects that need to be restrained.

“So the relationship between the six gods is?”

The girl’s pupils suddenly contracted like a feline’s, the relationships of the six gods automatically arranged themselves into an ouroboros ring in her mind:

The fangs of the Red Moon pierce the neck of Knowledge.

The brain of Knowledge grows the buds of Aberration.

The compound eyes of Aberration gaze into the rifts of the Void.

The tentacles of the Void stir the crucible of Chaos.

The embers of Chaos reshape the weights of Order.

And the silver needles of Order are forever stitching the festering wounds of the Red Moon.