TravelingDreamer
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B5—Chapter 32: The Philosophy of Faith
🕑 Added 2025-01-21 13:56:47 +0000 UTCIn the morning, Rue said goodbye to his three adoring fans, tail wagging as they patted and hugged him. I thanked the family for the entertainment, and they returned the favor by thanking me for Rue’s babysitting services. With all the pleasantries exchanged, we moved on to the new place Al had found. He was right—it was a clear upgrade.
Our previous inn had been nice enough. The room was spacious, the bed comfortable, and, most importantly, the bathroom didn’t have the sour smell I’d grown to dread after traveling through worlds without proper plumbing. That alone was worth appreciating.
The new place, though, was in a league of its own. Still called an inn, it felt more like a proper hotel. The building stood five stories tall, with ten rooms on each floor. My room was nothing short of luxurious—a cozy living room with plush furniture, a grand bedroom with an enormous bed, and a spacious “cleanliness room,” as they called it. The bath and toilet ran on runes, a blessing I didn’t take lightly. The balcony overlooked a lively square with statues, adding to the charm—definitely an improvement.
I examined the runes and was surprised—I knew all of them.
How could runes from different worlds be the same?
I hadn’t worked with these specific runes before, since most of them came from the water runes collection, but I had studied them while the gang was clearing dungeons in the first ruined city. Still, I learned something new—a novel application. Here, they had combined runes to condense moisture from the air with runes to vaporize liquids, including those within matter. The result? A system that functioned almost exactly like an Earth toilet.
Pouring mana into the first "distribution" rune triggered the creation of water, flushing the toilet. The system then vaporized all liquids while drying out the remaining matter. The dried waste was deposited below and collected by workers.
I wondered if the dry matter could be used as fertilizer. Probably.
To my surprise, Al got a room of his own. “Aren’t you staying with your friend?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
He fidgeted, scowling. “He dropped hints about commitment.”
Mahya burst into laughter. “How terrible! Poor you!”
Al shot her a withering glare, spun dramatically on his heels, and stormed out of the inn.
Since my Perception had surpassed the 100 mark, I could perceive emotions. It was trickier with strangers, requiring me to focus and hone in, but that practice had helped me finally crack the lesson Mahya had tried to teach me the previous evening. With Mahya and Al, it was much easier. Familiarity, I guessed.
I could tell Mahya wasn’t being malicious; she genuinely found the situation amusing and meant her words as playful teasing. Al, on the other hand, was deeply uncomfortable. Beneath the bravado, he felt like a user, and the subject hit a nerve.
Mahya shrugged, her lips curling into a playful smirk. "Spoilsport."
"Got any plans for today?" I asked.
She nodded, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Sleuthing."
"Sleuthing?" I echoed, narrowing my eyes at her.
"Yep!" She threw me a cheeky wink and spun on her heel, her boots clicking against the floor as she strolled toward the exit. "See you later!" she called over her shoulder, already halfway out the door.
Both clearly baffled, Rue and I exchanged a glance, our heads tilting in unison.
“What do you want to do, buddy?” I asked, scratching his ear.
“Rue go sleep,” he said, plopping down on his haunches with a dramatic sigh. “Friends fun but make Rue tired.” He punctuated his words with a jaw-stretching yawn, his tongue curling.
“You just woke up an hour ago!” I protested, crossing my arms.
“Yes.” Rue flopped onto his side with a thud, his tail giving a slow, lazy wag. “Now Rue go sleep again.”
With everyone busy doing their own things, I went looking for a bookshop. Finding one wasn’t easy, mostly because of the strange reactions I got. The men I asked gave me odd looks, and the women asked if I was sure, as if I’d misspoken. But I didn’t let that stop me. Eventually, I found it.
The shop was pretty far from the hotel, tucked away on a side street. It was small, dimly lit, and crammed with books. Stacks of them stood precariously on the floor, leaving barely enough space to move. Navigating around them was like walking through a dense forest. One wrong step, and not only the closest stack, but half the shop would have come crashing down.
The proprietor was an old lady who kept giving me fearful looks, like I was some kind of criminal. I ignored her. Whatever her problem was, it wasn’t my problem. Despite the nasty looks and uncomfortable vibes she gave off, I spent an enjoyable half-day in the shop browsing through the books.
At first, I thought about picking up some history or geography books, but then decided against it. The strange society, with its wired social norms and aggressive women, was wearing on me. Since Al seemed ready to say goodbye to his “friend,” I figured we’d be moving on soon, anyway.
In the end, I bought a few “fantasy” books—by their definition—which revolved around the concept of a world without magic. That made me snicker, and I couldn’t resist finding out what their imagination had cooked up.
I spent the rest of the day wandering, browsing the wares in the stores, politely turning down women’s advances, and rubbing my butt after the more agressive ones pinched it.
Al was back in time for dinner, so the four of us headed to a restaurant the inn clerk had recommended. As expected, the food didn’t have salt, but it was surprisingly good otherwise.
After ordering food and drinks, I leaned back in my chair and turned to Mahya. “How did your sleuthing go?”
“Very good, actually,” she said with a grin, swirling her drink lazily. “I found out the roots of their weird social norms.”
“They are not that strange,” Al said.
I stared at him, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Not weird? Are you kidding me?”
Al met my gaze calmly. “Do not forget that you haven’t traveled in many worlds, so you are unaccustomed to varying societal norms.”
I crossed my arms. “You didn’t either. You traveled two worlds before you met us!”
“Yes, you are correct,” he admitted, inclining his head slightly, “but I spent years studying in my family's archive, reading accounts of my ancestors’ travels. While I may lack firsthand experience, their extensive knowledge has provided me with a firm understanding of the multiverse. If you view every society through the lens of your original world, many will seem strange or illogical. However, if you take the time to read historical or societal texts, you will find their perspectives begin to make sense.”
I frowned, leaning forward, caught off guard by his insight. He was right.
“That’s exactly what I did,” Mahya said, her voice animated. She rested her elbows on the table, leaning in eagerly. “I went looking for an explanation and found it.”
“Oh? What is it?” I asked.
She pulled out a scroll, the parchment crackling softly as she spread it across the table. The flickering candlelight cast shadows over the neat script. “This is the central religious text of the temple of the Sacred Balance,” Mahya began, her tone adopting a mock reverence.
“‘In the primordial state, existence alone existed. Everything was, yet nothing transpired. The Great Divinity descended into the world of flesh and blood to give Her blessing. This blessing birthed two sacred forces from the cosmic womb: the Blessed Vessels of Life and the Bearers of the Sacred Flame.’” She paused, raising an eyebrow. “Honestly, I don’t know if they were trying to sound profound or just fill space.”
I snorted. “Probably took lessons from wizards.”
Al, ever calm, interjected. “Despite the flowery language, the metaphors are clear. It establishes a hierarchy through divine imagery.”
Mahya smirked, continuing. “‘The Blessed Vessels of Life gave their blessing and gave birth to women. The Bearers of the Sacred Flame created men in a burst of immense power. These forces perform a perpetual dance of creation and change, manifested in the divine forms of men and women.’”
She glanced at Al. “A perpetual dance? That’s one way to make it sound poetic.”
Al adjusted his glass of water, speaking evenly. “Poetic, yes, but it also reinforces the idea of inherent roles. It’s a clever way of embedding societal expectations into religious doctrine.”
She shrugged and continued. “‘The daughters, born from The Blessed Vessels of Life—blessed be their name—embody life. Their sacred vessels, graced with the divine ability to transform the spark of existence into the miracle of life, reflect the greatest of mysteries: the mystery of sacred creation.’”
I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. “Sacred vessels? They’re really laying it on thick.”
Mahya laughed. “It’s self-aggrandizing, sure, but it’s effective. Imagine hearing this stuff from birth—you’d think women were divine incarnations walking among mortals.”
Al’s expression didn’t waver. “That is likely the point. It establishes a framework of reverence that discourages dissent. Clever, in its own way.”
Mahya returned to the scroll, her voice animated. “‘Similar to the soil that cradles and nurtures the seed that becomes the mighty tree, so does the woman cradle and nurture the seed of man, which becomes a living person. Similar to the world that draws its strength from the deep waters of creation, so too do these sacred vessels nurture future generations within their sanctified forms. They are the physical expression of The Great Divinity, appointed as the supreme guardians of the endless cycle of birth and renewal.’”
She stopped and gestured at the scroll. “Guardians of birth and renewal. Sounds nice, but there’s a lot of pressure in that title.”
I nodded. “It’s a glorified way of saying they are responsible for keeping the species alive.”
“Here, they went overboard with the self-aggrandizing,” Al said.
“Girls are awesome,” Mahya said.
He gave her a dirty look.
She waved him off and continued reading. “’The chorus of creation sings this divine truth through its manifold voices: The sacred rivers flow with life-giving waters, as do the blessed waters of the womb. The hallowed fields yield their bounty, as women yield the fruits of creation. The divine flowers bloom to inspire beauty, as women inspire the hearts of all. And as surely as the Celestial Light rises each dawn to illuminate all of creation, so do women illuminate the divine path.’”
She tapped the scroll with her finger. “That’s the part about you guys. ‘But lo! The Sons of Flame carry an altogether different blessing and burden within their mortal forms. Like the great wildfires that cleanse the ancient forests, like the tempests that churn the eternal seas, their nature burns with an uncontrollable force. Far from a curse, this is a divine gift misinterpreted, its fiery nature capable of both creation and annihilation. Unchecked, this holy fire would reduce the Garden of Creation to ash and cinder.
“Here lies the Most Sacred Duty of the Daughters of Divinity: to be the Divine Chalice that contains and transforms this wild flame. Through their blessed wisdom and holy grace, they perform the Greatest Service—transforming chaos into harmony and destruction into creation. They quench the raging fires within the men’s flesh, turning it into creation and order. They are the Alchemists of the Soul, turning base nature into a golden purpose.’”
I snorted, crossing my arms. “That’s a fancy way of saying women are paragons of virtue and all men are savages,” I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm.
Mahya smirked, shrugging as she traced a finger down the scroll. “Yeah, pretty much. But it gets better.” Her finger tapped the parchment. “It has a part about open prostitution.”
She traced her finger down the scroll, scanning the lines of text. “Oh, here it is,” she said, tapping a spot. “Yet hear these words, O Children of Creation: This Most Sacred Service demands proper tribute, for such is the Law of Divine Exchange. The Balance must be maintained, lest the very foundations of existence crumble. In acknowledgment of their wild nature and the salvation freely offered by the Daughters of Divinity, the Sons of Flame must offer their greatest tribute: the gift of children, living symbols of renewal in the great tapestry of existence.'"
Mahya glanced at Al. “You mentioned they bought contraceptives. Doesn't seem very religious to me.”
He shrugged, looking completely unbothered. I couldn’t blame him. He’d gotten stronger—I could feel it. He must have hit level 15, just like he’d planned.
Mahya waited for some reaction. When she didn’t get it, she continued reading. “’For those Holy Vessels who cannot bear the physical fruit of creation, know that your divine purpose remains undiminished. Your role in maintaining the Sacred Balance is no less vital and holy. But heed this divine command: Let no Daughter of Divinity diminish her sacred power by offering her transformative grace without just tribute. The Sons of Flame must maintain the Balance by equivalent offerings, be they material abundance, devoted service, or acts of holy reverence. Remember this eternal truth: The Daughters of Divinity are not mere servants but Saviors, upholding the very fabric of creation through their divine compassion and blessed strength. To give without receiving would blaspheme against the Holy Balance, risking the very harmony of existence.”
Mahya glanced at me, her expression thoughtful. “I don’t think those girls slapped you because you asked if they were prostitutes. I think it’s because you implied they’re barren. That’s probably an insult to them or something.”
I squirmed in my seat, the embarrassment and discomfort settling on me like a weight.
Al frowned, setting his fork down. “I do not believe the originators of the text intended for prostitution to be so prevalent when they wrote it.”
Mahya shrugged again, her expression casual. “Probably not. But it’s hardly the first time I’ve seen religious beliefs twisted to suit the convenience of the believers.” She sipped her drink before adding, “People always pick the parts that work for them and ignore the rest. It’s like a buffet of morality.”
I leaned forward, setting my elbows on the table. “I’m not knowledgeable like you about religions. I’ve only traveled a handful of worlds, and it’s never really interested me. But if I look at Earth’s history, it’s obvious that religion started as a civilizing influence on a wild and lawless society. So maybe here, too, that’s what happened. Maybe the men were a menace, and to counter it, they started ‘spreading the word’ about the greatness of women to balance things.”
Al gave a small nod, his gaze thoughtful. “That is not an unreasonable hypothesis. Many belief systems originate from the need to impose order. However, their evolution often reflects the shifting priorities of the society they serve.”
“Yeah, makes sense,” Mahya said. “My father studied the ebb and flow of magic across worlds. While his research focused less on religion, he found references to its adaptability across dozens of historical texts. Religions consistently change to suit the needs of the populace.” She drugged. “I know the Great Cosmic Beings are real—they created the Guidance. I’ve seen enough Clerics, Paladins, and religious classes named after them to know they’re legit. Other religions, though? Those seem like inventions of the locals.”
Al adjusted his posture, speaking with measured calm. “Perhaps. But even fabricated beliefs often contain a kernel of truth or a reflection of the world’s reality at the time of their creation. The problem is that meaning becomes diluted over generations.”
I drummed my fingers on the table, mulling that over. “If religion keeps shifting to fit the times, doesn’t that undermine its credibility? How can you trust something that changes with the wind?”
“It’s not about trust,” Mahya said, resting her chin in her hand. “It’s about utility. Religion isn’t just about divine truth; it’s about giving people something to believe in, something to hold them together when everything else is chaos.”
“Faith may comfort, but it also blinds,” Al countered, his tone firm. “It demands obedience, often at the expense of reason. That comfort comes with a price.”
“Still,” I said, leaning back, “it’s impressive how much thought they put into these systems. The metaphors, the structure—it’s like they tried to cover every angle, answer every challenge.”
“Indeed,” Al said. “Such texts endure because they provide frameworks that explain the world. Even when flawed, they serve their purpose in their time.”
Mahya raised an eyebrow, her tone sharp. “Sure, they serve a purpose. But let’s not forget all the people in this world who probably got screwed over in the process.”
“Fair point,” I said. “But isn’t that true for most belief systems? They start with good intentions, but people inevitably mess them up.”
Al’s lips twitched in the faintest smile. “Faith begins as an attempt to create harmony, but its evolution often mirrors human nature—brilliant yet deeply flawed.”
Mahya sighed, running her fingers along the scroll. “If nothing else, this Sacred Balance stuff is a great example of how people will bend faith to justify anything. Divine commands are harder to argue with than saying, ‘This is what I want.’”
“True,” I said, gesturing toward the parchment. “It makes me wonder if every world has its version of this—a grand idea that tries to explain everything.”
“Most likely,” Al said with a faint smile. “The stories vary, but the purpose remains the same. Faith fills the gaps in understanding, especially when faced with the unknown.”
“Right,” Mahya said, smirking. “And no matter the world, everyone thinks their version is the only one that’s right.”
I sighed. “Maybe that’s just who we are. Constantly trying to explain the unexplainable—and making a mess of it half the time.”
Mahya shrugged, grinning. “That’s human nature for you.”
I finished my dinner in silence, lost in thought. This whole traveling business broadened my horizons, even on subjects I’d never considered.
“So,” I said. “Do we want to continue traveling this world, or are we ready to leave?”
Mahya’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Don’t you want to enjoy the pushy girls a little longer?” she teased, throwing me a wink.
“No,” I said firmly, shaking my head. “They make me uncomfortable.”
“Why?” she asked, her brow furrowing as she looked at me, genuinely puzzled.
I shuddered. “They make me feel like a piece of meat on the market—offered to customers.”
Her laughter bubbled up, light and amused. “Fair enough. Not everyone’s cup of tea, I suppose.”
“I achieved what I wanted,” Al said, straightening his posture. “We can move on.”
I turned to Mahya, raising an eyebrow. “What about you?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” she said with a casual shrug.
I looked at Rue. He lay sprawled on the floor, sound asleep, his legs twitching, as if chasing something in his dreams. Those kids really wore him out.
Comments
Angela Roberts
Yep.
