Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint-Chapter 382: It Didn’t Fall From the Sky - 3

The wall transformed into cards fluttered down, revealing a narrow, dimly lit room.

Inside the secret chamber of the First Thunder Overseer, a small bookshelf connected to a desk stood alone. The bookshelf was packed with books, their worn bindings suggesting frequent use. On the desk, a single notebook lay open, illuminated by a lightning lamp that cast a pale glow over its pages.

A notebook holding the secrets of the Thunder Overseer. Though I had already gleaned some of its contents by reading the Overseer’s thoughts, I had only accessed what the Overseer had processed. Humans filter information through the lens of their own understanding. To uncover the truth, I needed to read the notebook myself.

What secrets had the First Thunder Overseer guarded? If my suspicions were correct...

I turned to the first page. And there it was.

—Today, no different from yesterday, guarantees tomorrow will continue unchanged.

Not even trying to hide it, huh? That settled it.

The First Thunder Overseer. Claudia was founded by the Holy Crown Church.

—The Golden Mirror twisted the world created by the Creator. Because of that cursed demon, the stability of the world crumbled. One thing can now transform into another, and the bonds once held together by ironclad promises have become mere scraps of paper. A day identical to yesterday is impossible. The irreversible changes brought by that demon will transform humanity into something else entirely.

—However, the current Golden Mirror is no more than a monstrous beast that has lost its reason. If we stand atop this hill and watch over it, blocking the changes it brings... we may still achieve permanence.

—We will reclaim the lost order.

Permanence and order. That practically screamed “Holy Crown Church.” With no theological institutions nearby, the Thunder Overseer likely never realized it.

Clicking my tongue, I flipped to the next page.

The rest detailed methods to distinguish counterfeit gold created by the Golden Mirror, the limits of alchemy, and techniques to handle its dangers.

—It can even produce food? Are the blessings of the Heavenly God and the Earth Mother no longer sacred?

At one point, the notes fixated on the crops created by the Golden Mirror. Hastily scrawled words of shock eventually gave way to calmer, more methodical descriptions.

—The crops produced by the Golden Mirror are unnatural. Consuming them causes severe problems, especially in children whose bodies are still developing.

—A fortunate outcome. Or perhaps an inevitable one? Artificial crops mimicking nature were never going to be healthy.

The later entries showed signs of excitement before gradually shrinking into shorter phrases. At the end, one final note was scribbled.

—According to Fran’s research, the side effects of crops diminish as they ferment or undergo chemical changes. If starvation becomes unavoidable... though I can’t recommend it, process them as thoroughly as possible before consuming.

—Beware the homunculi. This land must not follow in the footsteps of the Mist Duchy beyond the mountains.

The following pages discussed food processing methods and strategies for collecting and disposing of the Golden Mirror’s crops. They described beings that followed the Mirror, harvesting and refining its produce in bulk—clearly the predecessors of the modern Oppression Overseer.

Perhaps frustrated by the need to compromise with reality, the Overseer seemed to lose interest in the crops, focusing instead on other topics.

—Alchemy, while undeniably dangerous, is highly efficient when used properly. The ability to freely process steel drastically reduced the facilities and resources needed for metallurgy. It also shortened the time wasted on trial and error, lightening the burden on scholars.

—Fran advocated for actively utilizing alchemy. Since it can no longer be hidden from the world, I agree. Still, caution is always necessary when wielding power.

—If alchemy can turn imagination into reality, then perhaps it can also transform our ideals into truth.

The Holy Crown Church doesn’t just reject the demon’s power. They fear irreversible changes that disrupt existing order—but no one is quicker to harness that power than they are. After all, they’ve gathered and utilized more of the demon’s energy than anyone else.

Under the Church’s divine blessing, Claudia continued to prosper.

Lightning alarms warned of approaching storms. Lightning towers deflected and absorbed strikes. Thunderwheels harnessed lightning’s energy, converting it into tools that benefited humanity. Page after page detailed the inventions and ideas that formed the foundation of Claudia.

As the Church’s blessings heralded Claudia’s bright future...

—Fran. I warned you so many times. Why...?

Despair lingered in that lone sentence.

Fran, the most frequently mentioned figure in the notebook, was likely the engineer who laid Claudia’s foundations. Sent to assist the notebook’s owner, Fran had left behind a mystery.

—Perhaps it’s a blessing. Lightning belongs to the Heavenly God. If it was destined to strike one day...

—I must protect one more thing. I will become the Thunder Overseer and safeguard the lightning.

After that, the notebook shifted focus. Mentions of humanity and technology dwindled, replaced by simple timelines.

Nothing more useful. Tch. If this had been a person, I could’ve read their thoughts directly—but I’m no king of notebooks.

Still, one thing was clear.

Updated from freewёbnoνel.com.

Like many other deities, the Thunder God had become part of the Heavenly God. Whether it started that way or not, it had now merged into the Heavenly God’s domain, serving as another vessel for divine brilliance.

Thanks to the Holy Crown Church stealing its lightning.

Flipping through the last few pages revealed no further insights. Near the bottom of the final page, one line stood out:

—...A successor is needed. Someone strong and exceptional to guard these secrets through the generations.

I was still processing that line when the basement door burst open.

The city’s guardian, who had blown the iron door aside with lightning, glared at me with barely concealed anger.

“I don’t recall granting you permission to be here. Care to explain yourself?”

Tch. Quick response. I spun around and spoke hurriedly.

“So you snuck in here, but how did you know to come? Aren’t you in the middle of hunting the Thunder God outside? Structurally, there’s no way this place should’ve been exposed.”

“It felt like bugs were crawling under my skin—itching and unbearable. I had to check. I didn’t expect to find a thief hiding here.”

Are you kidding me? The Thunder God is rampaging outside, and you dropped everything because your skin felt itchy? Shouldn’t you have endured it and dealt with me later?

There’s no point in complaining. This proves something.

The Thunder Overseer shouldn’t have been able to find me—objectively or subjectively. With a battle raging right above us, she couldn’t afford to pay attention to this place. She shouldn’t have had the focus or even imagined someone would sneak in here.

And yet, despite the impossible situation, the Thunder Overseer arrived immediately.

Coincidence? Animalistic intuition?

Things like that don’t just happen conveniently. Not for me, and not for her either. If I played my strongest hand and my opponent countered it with a Joker, that wouldn’t be bad luck—it’d be a setup. Take my word for it.

This wasn’t intuition. It was divine guidance.

Like a priest answering a saint’s call or a signal operator receiving a transmission—someone told her to come here. Otherwise, there’s no explaining this absurd chain of events.

Regardless, I was caught red-handed. There was no talking my way out of this, so I spoke up.

“Thunder Overseer. I’ve discovered a truth.”

The Thunder Overseer dismissed me immediately.

“There’s no legitimacy in a truth obtained through unjust means.”

“But it’s still the truth, isn’t it? Shouldn’t you at least hear it?”

I tried to keep talking, but the Overseer wasn’t in the mood to listen. Her hostility was palpable, and she advanced toward me with clear intent.

Before she could reach me, however, a small obstacle appeared.

“T-Thunder Overseer...”

Jerry, still weak from earlier, clung to the hem of her robe and whimpered.

“H-He said terrible things. He said you’re hurting the children.”

The Thunder Overseer froze. She couldn’t bring herself to brush off the tiny hand gripping her clothes. Instead, she turned and comforted Jerry.

“Jerry. Don’t listen to him. We aren’t wrong.”

“Right? He’s lying, isn’t he?”

“That’s...”

“No, he’s not, is he?”

Using the opening Jerry created, I went for the sharpest attack. I struck at the Thunder Overseer’s weakest point.

“The deformities plaguing the Allied Nations stem from the Golden Mirror’s crops. They distort and damage growing bodies. You know this—that’s why you grow food inside the Lightning Tower, isn’t it?”

The Thunder Overseer was, without a doubt, a good person. Her sense of duty and actions had always been for the city’s sake. There was no malice in her efforts to care for these children.

“But you know the truth. If contamination is the problem, then the solution is to prevent contamination.”

Even if her intentions were pure, she had followed the notebook’s guidance to the letter, and somewhere along the line, everything had gone horribly wrong.

“And yet, someone deliberately gathered newlyweds and children from the Allied Nations, providing them with food that guaranteed deformities would never cease.”

Others might not know. But one person—the Thunder Overseer of Claudia—knew. She was both the beneficiary and the root of the problem.

If mixing caused deformities, then keeping things separate should have been the natural solution. That was logical.

But because someone forced them together, the shadows looming over the Allied Nations continued to this day, hundreds of years later.

“Humans can do anything. But is this really the outcome you wanted? To leave the curse of the Allied Nations to future generations?”

“Silence.”

“No, it’s not, is it? If it were, there’d be no reason for you to care for these children.”

The cries of the children grew louder, echoing through the underground chamber.

The Thunder Overseer, both protector and enabler, glared at me like I was her mortal enemy.

Meeting her resentful gaze, I posed a question.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not blaming or condemning you. I just want to ask—do you agree with what’s written in this notebook?”

“We aren’t wrong. This notebook belongs to the First Thunder Overseer, who built Claudia’s order. Thanks to their efforts, Claudia prospered.”

“Do you really believe that? Even knowing the tragedies in the Allied Nations continue under this system?”

“That’s because the Golden Mirror exists. It’s not the fault of the previous Overseers or Claudia.”

“Sure. Let’s go with that. I’m not here to point fingers endlessly. The Golden Mirror is definitely the source of all these problems. But if you’re so confident, why do you still hide these crying children underground?”

To hide them from others? No way.

Everyone already knew that one-third of the children born in the Allied Nations died, another third were born disabled, and only the remaining third appeared healthy. Having a child there was like gambling your life.

Claudia, overflowing with mothers and children suffering from these conditions, naturally attracted pity and admiration for its efforts to care for them.

The Thunder Overseer would be praised as a savior, not criticized.

“So... was it just because you couldn’t bear to face it? Does that make you righteous?”

But one person—the Thunder Overseer—knew the truth.

She must’ve wanted to bury her guilt underground, to hide it where no one could see. Because she wasn’t righteous at all.

Shadows fell across the Thunder Overseer’s face.

Unable to bear seeing her revered Overseer being attacked, Jerry stood up and shouted.

“Stop saying mean things to the Thunder Overseer! She protects us... Thunder Overseer?”

The Overseer let go of Jerry’s hand without a word.

Jerry—a trainee who had once been like her but ended up taking a different path.

The Thunder Overseer stared at the child, lost in thought.

‘I was chosen. I’ve used my abilities to protect Claudia according to this notebook. But... it’s true that Claudia hides the suffering of these children. If I said I didn’t feel uncomfortable about that, it’d be a lie.’

I read her thoughts.

As a human, the Thunder Overseer sympathized with the children’s pain and tried to protect them.

It was arrogant but undeniably rooted in good intentions.

But the world doesn’t allow people to live as they wish.

Beneath it all, another torrent of thoughts flooded her mind.

Thoughts devoid of human sympathy—overwhelming and resolute.

As Claudia’s leader, the guardian of the Allied Nations, and a servant of the Holy Crown Church, her responsibilities were endless.

Every word and action shook Claudia’s foundations.

The crushing weight of that responsibility had shaped her into an iron-willed ruler.

“To preserve today as it was yesterday, we must maintain this order. If suffering is part of that order, then it is the original sin of those born in this land.”

Casting aside her hesitation, the Thunder Overseer declared her resolve.