Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint-Chapter 389: It Didn’t Fall From the Sky - 8

Perhaps we had misunderstood everything from the very beginning.

Claudia was the city of clouds—a place where mist cascaded like waterfalls down the slopes, and lightning rained upon the land. It was a harsh environment, where oppressive, gloomy winds replaced the milk and honey of other lands. Unless you were a vampire who detested sunlight, there was little reason to venture here.

In the distant past, when Tyr led the vampires across the mountains, Claudia was little more than a remote village with peculiar natural features. Few people lived there, as beasts feared the lightning.

Perhaps it was fortunate. The lightning kept tigers away, allowing the village to survive. If the land wasn’t already so inhospitable, the added threat of predators might have made life here impossible.

Over time, lightning became the embodiment of fear, and thus the "Lightning God" was born—or so the regressor claimed, and others believed. But that couldn’t have been true.

Instead, it was the opposite. The presence of the Lightning God, heralding the approach of lightning, made the bolts less dangerous, giving people time to prepare for their arrival. Over time, the Lightning God became a symbol of reassurance rather than fear.

"...A weather alarm?"

"Yes. It seems we’ve misunderstood the Lightning God. It wasn’t a being that summoned lightning but rather one that came to warn of its arrival."

A roaring giant that made thunderous sounds and hurled bolts of lightning to the ground. Its immense strength and divine presence might have made it seem like a god, but if you strip away the mythology and focus solely on its purpose...

It’s just lightning. Loud, crackling, and scattering across the earth—exactly what lightning does naturally.

"And judging by its current damaged state, it seems to have been a man-made construct. While other gods were also creations of humans, the Lightning God appears to have been created in a far more literal sense."

"A god?"

"And one far more helpful to humanity than most. Peru, did the Lightning God always appear on days when lightning struck?"

"...Come to think of it, yes. Whenever there was lightning, the Lightning God was there."

"And were there ever instances of lightning striking without the Lightning God appearing?"

Peru thought back, searching her memories before shaking her head.

"...No. Unless it was a distant strike of thunder, I don’t think there was ever lightning without the alarm first sounding."

"Lightning is a natural phenomenon, right? If the Lightning God were truly an unpredictable deity, there would have been times when lightning struck without its presence. The fact that this never happened shows that the Lightning God was, in fact, an alarm—a remarkably effective one."

The Lightning God, long believed to punish humanity for stealing its power, was actually a tool humans had created to predict lightning strikes.

Peru muttered, astonished by the revelation.

"...Who would create something like this?"

"It’s written right here. Fran, the Lightning Thief. Quite the grandiose name. Judging by the signature, it doesn’t seem like they were trying to hide their identity."

"...Never heard of them."

"That’s not the point. What matters isn’t their identity."

Knowledge belongs to everyone. Knowledge itself is no secret. The real mystery lies in—

"Who hid their identity? That’s what’s important now. Whoever hid them must have had detailed knowledge of what they created."

"...Do you know?"

"I don’t, just like you. But I do know this: whenever something unnatural happens, the key is to find who stands to gain the most from it."

Though I already knew the answer, I pretended not to for Peru’s sake, keeping the conversation going.

"You’ve heard the stories of the Lightning Thief, right?"

"...Yes."

As someone from the allied nations, Peru had to be familiar with the legend of the Lightning Thief and the Lightning God.

Tales of giants living in grand palaces, hoarding treasures of gold and silver, are common enough. But a giant of lightning descending from the clouds to seek revenge? That’s unique to the story of the Lightning Thief. Fiction cannot surpass reality, and only the tale of the Lightning Thief from Claudia has endured.

"But the truth is, the Lightning God wasn’t a divine being seeking retribution—it was a tool created by the Lightning Thief to warn of lightning. The original story was cleverly distorted to hide this truth. And who benefited the most from that distortion?"

"...Who?"

"The Sky God."

It all made sense. Why else would the Thunder Overseer have used such valuable resources to attack me? There had to be a reason.

"When the Lightning Thief stole lightning, the Lightning God, enraged, was granted permission by the Sky God to punish humans on the surface. Though the thief outsmarted it several times, they were eventually caught, repented, and returned the stolen lightning. Some versions say the Lightning God forgave humanity, while others claim the Sky God ordered it to return to the heavens, ending its wrath. Either way, the story served its purpose."

Peru pondered this for a moment before asking.

"...How does that benefit anyone?"

"It does. Without lifting a finger, the Sky God gained the Lightning God as a subordinate. Of course it’s a gain."

"...Oh?"

While Peru stood there, processing the implications, I busied myself with inspecting the ribs of the Lightning God. Peering inside, I expected to find complex machinery, but instead, the interior was mostly hollow. There were only a few small mechanisms. It explained its slow descent—it was more like a balloon, large in size but light in weight.

So, the Lightning God was just an alarm after all? Still, there was something faintly present, as though a clue about the Demon God lingered here.

Perhaps this was it.

"Lightning didn’t fall from the sky."

If size alone was a factor, there had to be a reason. Passing through the hollow shell of the Lightning God, I reached its back. If this construct had anything resembling skin, it was the wide sheet of fabric hanging from its frame.

"It was sent from the ground to the sky. From the very beginning, lightning wasn’t a gift of the heavens."

It was a kite.

The toy was tethered by strings, holding it in place as it attempted to ride the wind into the sky. Attached to the body of the Lightning God was a kite with its strings cut. Although torn and frayed, the restoration granted by the Golden Mirror had fully repaired its form and function, making its purpose unmistakable.

The Lightning God had been launched from the ground to the sky, entrusted with the critical task of warning when lightning was approaching.

"The Lightning God... a tool meant to protect Claudia..."

"And it’s probably not the only one. Most of the things that make up Claudia are probably just as utilitarian as the Lightning God."

"...Then why did the Thunder Overseer want to get rid of it?"

"Who knows? Maybe because the alarm isn’t needed anymore?"

I answered nonchalantly, and Peru nodded in understanding.

"...That’s true. After the Lightning Tower was built and the Thunderwheel installed, we didn’t have to fear the Lightning God anymore."

"Then everything fits. Until now, the Lightning God was feared and revered, so there was no reason to touch it. But once it was no longer feared, reverence for the Sky God would also start to fade. They’d want to deal with it before that happened."

"...Do you think the Thunder Overseer knew all of this?"

"I can’t say for sure, but I doubt she was entirely ignorant."

Even if the Thunder Overseer herself didn’t know, her existence—her values and powers—was wholly tied to the Saint’s observations. So even if she acted rationally, her actions would inevitably align with the interests of the Holy Crown Church.

"In any case, this is still a relic of the Demon God. If not the Thunder Overseer, then someone else must have known about its existence."

Unlike the Golden Mirror or the Grandmaster’s relic, this artifact didn’t carry the bitterness of a dying wish. It must have had a proper end. Not every Demon God met their demise with unfulfilled desires.

Yet, it was still a relic. A trace left behind by the Demon God in the world.

"Even fiction reflects reality to some extent. The lightning returned by the Lightning Thief must refer to this. If not, why would the story mention returning anything?"

"...Are you going to take it?"

Visit frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓ for the b𝘦st novel reading experience.

"That depends, but I’m satisfied just observing it. I’m not the type to covet things."

"...?"

Don’t give me that skeptical look. Who else is as free of greed as me? If I cared about wealth, I’d be catering to some noble’s whims and living in luxury.

All I want is to catch up to humanity—the footprints they’ve left behind as they advanced too far while I was powerless.

Now, let’s see. What exactly did the Holy Crown Church hide in the heavens? I reached toward the relic with a pounding heart, anticipation surging through me.

And then, for a brief moment, it felt as though the world came to a halt.

It wasn’t mind-reading, but a primal instinct, like the intuition of an animal sensing danger. The feeling clutched at my awareness, dragging my focus to the immense, sharp presence swelling behind me.

[I warned you.]

A flash of light.

I didn’t even have time to react. I couldn’t have reacted even if I wanted to. My vision was blurred by the mist, there were few people nearby, and Peru, weakened as she was, was less perceptive than me. There was no one whose thoughts I could have read in advance.

Still, this... was too fatal.

Lowering my gaze, I saw a sharp blade protruding. Its hilt was nowhere in sight; only the blade jutted out from my abdomen.

What? I hadn’t sensed this in their thoughts.

Then came the pain—searing, as if my insides were being scorched. It felt like someone had scraped my organs with sandpaper and poured the remnants back into me. The taste of blood filled my mouth.

I grabbed the blade with my hand, trying to pull it out, but it wouldn’t budge. Blood dripped from my sliced palms. Amid the unbearable pain, I turned my head, and there she was—the Thunder Overseer.

She stared at me with empty eyes, her head adorned with a halo of electricity and wings of lightning rippling behind her.

Manifested as an angel, the Thunder Overseer pressed the blade deeper into me.