Chapter 110 Death is the only miracle
"Ah?" Ian stared at the last note, a flicker of confusion clouding his thoughts. "That can't be right. Aren't there true gods in the world of A Song of Ice and Fire? Why would you be able to learn magic from different ones?"
Annie did not respond. Perhaps, in her AI logic, the question was irrelevant to the system's parameters.
After a moment of thought, Ian rephrased the question.
"Players can learn magic from different divine systems through these scrolls. Is that because the system's power neutralizes the conflicts between them?"
"No," Anne answered this time.
"No?" Ian frowned. "Then tell me, are there true gods in this world?"
"A god's influence is reflected in all aspects of this world, but a god will never directly participate in the struggles of mankind. As for whether a god truly exists, that is unknown."
"You're the system AI! How can you not know? Wait…" Ian froze. He suddenly recalled that Anne's explanation was nearly identical to a statement made by the world's original creator, Martin himself. When asked in an interview whether gods existed in his world, he had simply said he didn't know.
Ian fell into deep thought.
Although Anne had not given a definitive answer, instead prevaricating with the author's own words, two points stood out: players *could* learn the magic of different gods simultaneously, and it was *not* the system's power that reconciled any conflict between them. From this, Ian could only draw one conclusion.
True gods most likely did not exist.
The beings men called 'gods' were merely the controllers or perhaps the most powerful practitioners of these forces, not their creators.
A Braavosi proverb floated into his mind: *Death is the only miracle, the rest is magic.*
He had once dismissed it as the dogma of the followers of the Many-Faced God, who represented death, a way to disparage other deities. But what if it was more than that? Looking at it from this new perspective, what if the Braavosi who first spoke those words had discovered a fundamental truth?
Braavos was a city founded by slaves who had escaped the grasp of Valyria. Those slaves hailed from countless different lands and held a myriad of beliefs. They were Andals and Summer Islanders, Ghiscari and Naathi, Ibbenese and Sothoryi, alongside debt-slaves and criminals from Valyria itself. Nearly every faith in the known world had found a home in Braavos, and the city had raised temples to nearly every god.
Who in all the world, then, was more qualified to judge the nature of these gods than the founders of Braavos?
If they, who had seen all faiths, attributed every miracle save death to mere magic, did it not suggest that all the gods of this world were nothing more than humans with powerful magic? False gods, every one of them?
As the idea took hold, Ian's thoughts turned to the great cataclysms of history: the destruction of the Great Empire of the Dawn and the Doom of Valyria.
The two powers shared a startlingly similar fate. In their heyday, both were seemingly invincible, their might conquering the known world. And then, at the zenith of their power, both were inexplicably obliterated by natural disasters.
It was as if the gods themselves feared the greatness of mankind and had acted to strike it down.
If they were true gods, why would they fear the civilizations created by mortals?
But if they were false gods… then it all made perfect sense.
A long breath escaped Ian's lips. He felt a profound sense of relief.
Of course, even if they were false gods, beings with the power to annihilate the Empire of the Dawn or the Valyrian Freehold were, for all practical purposes, no different from true gods to a man like him. He was a world away from ever having to face them.
But as long as they were not *true* gods, he need not worry about being bound to a single divine system when learning magic. That was a huge piece of good news.
Done with his philosophical detour, Ian began to study the options provided by the scroll.
He selected the Old Gods, and two choices appeared on the interface.
[Shapechanger: Gain the ability to invade the consciousness of animals or other people and control their behavior.]
[Greenseer: Gain the ability of the greensight (prophetic dreams), enter weirwood trees to see through their eyes, and explore the past. Requires mastery of the Shapechanger skill. Currently unavailable.]
Only one man in a thousand was a shapechanger, and only one shapechanger in a thousand became a greenseer. The scroll confirmed it; to unlock the 'Greenseer' ability, he would first have to fully master the prerequisite skill.
The potential was immediately obvious. Trapped as he was in Illyrio's manse, the ability to slip into the skin of a mouse, a cat, or a bird would be invaluable for gathering information.
Ian had already made up his mind to use one of the scrolls on [Shapechanger], but he navigated back to the main menu to review the other options. Seeing everything first cost him nothing.
The second option was the magic of the Seven-Pointed Star.
*Excuse me?*
Ian blinked, certain he had misread. Magic from the Faith of the Seven?
Even when he had been most convinced that gods were real, he had always known the seven gods of the Andals were complete fabrications. They were not even convincing false gods; they were simply tools created by men to maintain their rule. The religion was unique in a world of fantasy for having never produced a single miracle, not even a fraudulent one.
Their claim that the Smith had taught them iron-making in a dream was a particular joke. Millennia after the people of Yi Ti in the distant east were using advanced techniques like steel-filling and stir-frying, the Andals were still crudely hammering iron. If the Smith was a god, his craftsmanship was laughably inferior to that of mortal men.
Sure enough, when Ian clicked on the option, the selection box that appeared was… unique.
[The Classics of the Seven Gods and the Art of Incitement: By upgrading this skill, you will gradually acquire the memories of all classic works, doctrinal explanations, missionary notes, and personal diaries of every past High Septon and saint of the Faith of the Seven.]
*The art of creating a messiah? Is this a training manual for a charlatan?* he thought, but then paused.
The idea sounded… inexplicably practical. Ian was left momentarily dumbfounded.
The next option, the system of the Drowned God, was greyed out and could not be activated. Ian wasn't particularly interested anyway. The Ironborn deity was believed to be a sea creature, a "deep one," that had seen a glorious past but was now of little consequence.
Finally, there was the Lord of Light, R'hllor—by far the most demonstrably powerful god in the world.
His red priestess, Melisandre, had used shadow magic to assassinate Renly Baratheon and had cursed three "usurper kings" to death with royal blood. In another telling of the tale, she had even resurrected Jon Snow from death itself.
His red priest, Thoros of Myr, had repeatedly brought Beric Dondarrion, the Lightning Lord and leader of the Brotherhood Without Banners, back from the dead through prayer. And in the end, that same gift of life had been passed to the murdered Catelyn Tully, raising her as the vengeful Lady Stoneheart after the Red Wedding.
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