"A-Bo, they're here again!" Calliphone's clear voice carried a hint of helplessness. Perturabo was bent over his desk, drafting designs, a mixture of weariness showing between his brows. "Again?"
Perturabo asked, "Sister, how many this time?"
"There are even more than last time. I couldn't count them all."
"Then let's go see them."
Perturabo closed his personal cogitator, brought from Inwit, and slowly straightened up.
Calliphone approached him and attentively straightened his robes.
Ever since Perturabo rose to fame in Lochos, the voices calling him a gift from the gods to the city had never ceased.
Although Perturabo scoffed at this and publicly denied the existence of the Olympian gods, this naturally caused an uproar among the priests. The enraged priests organized a grand public debate, hoping to refute Perturabo before the world, proving he was not a gift from the gods, thereby discrediting him. This was not only about the gods' reputation but also about the priests' standing in Lochos.
If people no longer believed in the gods, there would be no need for temples and priests.
The outcome of the debate was predictable. Perturabo, with rigorous logic and extensive knowledge, left the priests speechless.
The priests had hoped to gain face, but ended up losing it. Their failure further proved that Perturabo was a gift from the gods. Because their defeat was plain for all to see. They lost to Perturabo, yet could not deny the gods' existence under any circumstances, so they had to attribute Perturabo's victory to divine blessing.
News spread quickly across Olympia. The defeat of Lochos's priests did not end the debate but instead drew wise men and priests from various city-states, flocking to Lochos in an endless stream, just to compete with Perturabo.
The wise men were curious about how miraculous this child really was, while the priests had a mission. They had to refute Perturabo and prove the gods' existence; otherwise, the foundation of their faith would be shaken. When one priest failed, another would take his place.
Perturabo strode into the theater. As his figure appeared in the shadow of the archway, the bustling hall fell silent. Thousands of eyes from the stands turned towards him.
Initially, debates were held only in the palace, attended by a select few dignitaries like Dammekos. But as the confrontations intensified, the priests proposed moving the debate to the Grand Theater of Lochos, allowing all citizens to attend.
Perturabo agreed. The priests wanted to defeat Perturabo, the denier of the gods, before the public eye. Perturabo found it extremely tiresome; he couldn't waste his limited time on meaningless debates.
He had to thoroughly refute these priests in public, planting seeds of doubt in people's minds. Those seeds would eventually take root, and the people of Olympia would stop believing in the gods.
"Are you Perturabo?" In the center of the circular theater, a man draped in the colorful cloak of the Pharaki sect asked arrogantly.
Perturabo replied, "I am."
The man raised his right arm, his cloak elegantly flipping over it, and bowed to Perturabo. "A pleasure. I is Lodosk of Byzelen."
"Are you here to debate my child?"
From the high platform, Dammekos's voice boomed through the theater via loudspeaker, his tone laced with undisguised pride. He deliberately emphasized 'my child,' lest anyone forget Perturabo was his son.
"No." Lodosk revealed a confident smile. "I am here to make him believe in the gods!"
"I've heard that too many times."
"They lost, but I will win, because I carry the gods' mission!"
"Perturabo, you deny the existence of the gods?"
Perturabo retorted, "This is not a statement of fact, but a contest between two hypotheses. You assert that the Olympian gods exist, while I propose another hypothesis, that they may never have existed."
Lodosk spread his arms. "The existence of the gods requires no proof! Their imprint is on all things, the stones of the earth, the shape of rain, the rising sun, all are the works of the gods!"
"What you list are merely objective natural phenomena. But how do you prove that these phenomena are caused by so-called gods?"
"Believers, did you hear that?" The priest immediately turned to the audience, inciting them. "He acknowledges the works of the gods but denies the gods who created them!"
"Let me illustrate. Suppose someone offers you a piece of exquisite cloth. It is made in a distant foreign land, woven by a craftsman you've never met, in a language you don't understand, in an ancient city where he lives."
"When you buy this cloth, just because you haven't seen the craftsman, can you claim the cloth appeared out of thin air?"
Perturabo shook his head. "Your reasoning is weak."
"Why is that?"
"That cloth is woven by a craftsman is an established fact, just as my father rules Locho, an indisputable truth even if people have never met him."
"But you claim the gods created all things, yet you fail to provide any substantial evidence."
"Conflating unproven hypotheses with established facts to prove that a hypothesis is also true, is that your logic?"
"You can't explain the rising sun, so you attribute its origin to the divine. Where is the evidence?"
The priest retorted, "Then how do you prove the gods don't exist?"
"I can explain the rising sun." Perturabo asked calmly, "Let's make a simple analogy. I am standing before you now. How tall do I appear to you?"
The priest sized him up. "About two and a half meters, maybe more."
"If I stand five hundred meters away, how tall will I appear in your vision?"
"Like an ant."
"Precisely."
"Our sun and the stars twinkling in the night sky are essentially the same, they are stars. But the sun is as close to our world as I am to you, so when we look at it, it appears as a large disk."
"The stars are as far from our world as I would be at five hundred meters, appearing no larger than ants."
"This comes from a principle we all take for granted: things closer appear larger, farther appear smaller."
"Just like when you light a bonfire at night. Only when you sit by it can you enjoy its light and heat."
"If you are a hundred meters away, that bonfire is just a faint glimmer in the darkness."
The priest asked, "What does this have to do with the rising sun?"
"Please be patient. My argument hasn't begun yet." Perturabo extended his arm. The priest then noticed the metal block strapped to his wrist.
Perturabo lifted the cover of the metal block and gently pressed a small square underneath.
Click!
Gasps of surprise erupted from the audience.
Floating above Perturabo's palm was a lifelike holographic star chart, a miniature model of the Olympia system slowly rotating within.
Perturabo pointed to a blazing yellow sphere of light. "This is our sun."
He moved his fingertip slightly, pointing to a green sphere. "And this is Olympia!"
"Our world is not static. It revolves around the sun along this elliptical orbit."
"When it reaches its perihelion, Olympia experiences summer. When it reaches its aphelion, winter arrives."
"And our world rotates on its axis every moment. When the side we are on faces the sun, it is day."
"When the side we are on faces away from the sun, Olympia enters night."
"This is the truth of how our world works!"
"There have never been any gods. This is the physical law governing the universe's operation."
"If the gods you speak of live on Mount Telephassa, how could they create the universe beyond the world, create things greater than themselves?"
The priest's face turned pale. If he were shameless enough, he could continue to argue that these were all the works of the gods. After all, while he couldn't prove it, Perturabo couldn't disprove it either. But if they both debated with lies, the debate would be meaningless. Thousands of eyes were on them, including many wise men; who was lying was plain to see. Even if he argued with falsehoods, Perturabo would expose them. Today's debate would spread across the twelve city-states of Olympia. He was a priest of the gods. Would the gods need lies as proof?
The priest pointed to the metal block on his arm. "What is this?"
Perturabo declared loudly, "A cogitator. It is the fruit of human technology. I have seen its creators!"
"And you? You constantly preach the existence of the gods. Have any of you ever seen
"The gods exist in a different realm. How could mortals see Them?"
Perturabo countered, "You claim I come from Mount Telephassa, a gift from the gods. Then why have I never seen the true faces of the gods?"
Turning to the thousands of citizens in the stands, Perturabo asked, "The priests call me a blasphemer. Then why have the gods not struck me down? Why are there only mortal priests standing here? Where are the gods?"
Perturabo's questions were deafening, ringing in Lodosk's ears.
"If the gods exist, why do They send these mortal priests, one after another, to defend Their dignity with illogical arguments?"
"You... you..." The priest's face contorted with rage, his trembling finger pointed at Perturabo.
Perturabo accused him, "You were about to claim that I would bring disaster upon Lochos, trying to incite the citizens!"
Lodosk's face turned deathly pale. He involuntarily stepped back half a pace. How did he know?
"I have refuted a hundred priests here. Your faith has long lost face. Where are the gods?"
"All They need to do is show a miracle to the world to prove Their greatness and punish my ignorance and blasphemy. Yet where are the gods!"
"By your logic, I have already proven that no gods exist."
Perturabo spoke slowly, "A group of prisoners lives in a cave. Their hands and feet are bound, unable to turn, their backs to the entrance. Before them is a wall, behind them a burning fire. They see the shadows of themselves and things on the wall and believe these shadows are real."
"These shadows, this cave, are their entire world."
"So, they worship the shadows and the fire as gods."
"Then one day, a prisoner escapes the cave. He discovers the truly real world."
"He sees another fire in the sky. That fire is too large, too hot, hurting his eyes. The vastness of the world is beyond his imagination, tens of millions, hundreds of millions of times larger than the cave!"
"But he also realizes that the cave was never the real world. They were just prisoners trapped in a cave!"
"However, this world is also a cave."
"The sun in the sky is a larger bonfire. We are prisoners of this world."
"The truth lies among the stars. That is the goal we should be pursuing!"
"And you-" Perturabo took a step towards the priest. "You and the other priests weave a web of lies in the name of the gods, trapping people in the ignorant cave. You want people to believe that this tiny space, this bonfire, these shadows, are the whole truth of the universe!"
"You fear the sun because it would expose your lies!"
"Whenever someone tries to lead people out of the cave or tell them the truth they know, you eagerly raise the butcher's knife called heresy, executing them all to maintain your self-righteous ignorance!"
The priest staggered back two steps, completely flustered. His lips trembled, unable to form a coherent sentence. "Th-this..."
Perturabo mocked, "You want to say this is the will of the gods?"
The priest nodded reflexively, then his face drastically changed, realizing he had fallen into a trap.
"You claim the gods instructed you to weave lies, trapping people in the ignorant cave."
"Then tell me, are you fabricating lies about the gods, or do the gods take pleasure in fooling people?"
"If the former, you are blaspheming the gods!"
"If the latter, why should people worship Them?"
"If a king cannot make his people prosperous, the people will overthrow the tyrant!"
"If gods cannot guide humanity forward, what should we do?"
Overthrow the gods!
Perturabo planted this idea in everyone's minds. Horror flickered across their faces. They more or less still believed in the gods, even if the gods had never shown miracles or wrath. But what if it was true? Having such a thought was already blasphemy!
An eerie silence fell over the theater. No one made a sound, only the sound of gasps.
The priests inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. Lodosk, you have to pull through! Debate him to death!
Lodosk closed his eyes in agony. He wanted to accuse Perturabo of blasphemy, but Perturabo had blocked all his accusations. Now he was also a blasphemer.
Even if he denounced Perturabo in the name of the gods, people would only laugh at him.
"Next." Perturabo looked around the silent audience. "Whether priest or wise man, you can continue the debate."
"But frankly, debating with you neither enriches the people nor brings bountiful harvests."
"Besides feeding your self-deceptive ignorance, such debates are meaningless."
He waited a long time. No one responded.
They didn't want to take over Lodosk's mess. But if they started a new debate, disregarding the previous one, wouldn't that tacitly admit Perturabo's victory?
After a long silence, Perturabo bowed to the audience. "My time is very precious. Since no one accepts the challenge, forgive me for not staying longer."
As Perturabo's figure disappeared into the shadow of the archway, the crowd remained shrouded in silence. Where are the gods?
This simple yet fatal question made people question their faith. If the gods exist, why don't They punish him?
The priests claimed the gods didn't show miracles because people weren't devout enough. But wasn't Perturabo blasphemous enough?
Why would the gods be stingy with Their wrath? Why not punish him?
"Our A-Bo is amazing!"
Calliphone hurried to greet him, her smile bright as she took her brother's arm. "Those priests are speechless again. They shouldn't dare come to debate you anymore, right?"
"They'll just hope I die soon."
As soon as Perturabo dies, no matter how, his arguments would be refuted. Because the priests would claim his death was divine punishment. His rigorous logic would be interpreted as blasphemy. Assassins would be inevitable. This wasn't speculation; it was already happening. But this was Lochos, and the priests didn't dare to openly assassinate the Tyrant's child.
Calliphone asked softly, "A-Bo, Brother Caelan will be back tomorrow morning, right?"
Perturabo, "Unless something unexpected happens, yes."
Initially, Caelan disappeared each night and returned to Olympia each morning, a half-day cycle. Now, he returns every three days. He spends three days on Inwit and three on Olympia. Perturabo has grown accustomed to it.
Calliphone blinked gently. "Will you go to Inwit again?"
"Not for now." Perturabo said, "I only need to go once a month for technical handovers and data updates."
He was now ten years old.
Over the past few years, he had submitted over a hundred basic technology improvement plans to the Dorn Clan, most of which were adopted. For example, he successfully increased the production efficiency of the hive factories controlled by the Dorn Clan by 10%-30% on average.
Over the long years, although Inwit's civilization never experienced a technological collapse, some subtle technologies were inevitably lost. Additionally, the aging and wear of factory equipment affected their production capacity. Perturabo's improvements weren't technological innovations; he just identified the root causes, sometimes merely by circling a spot on a blueprint.
And as compensation for the cooperation, he voraciously absorbed the knowledge provided by the Dorn Clan every day.
"So," Calliphone's eyes were full of anticipation, "can I go see Inwit?"
Perturabo lowered his eyes, looking at his sister.
Calliphone guiltily lowered her head, her voice as soft as a mosquito's hum. "I just want to see Inwit."
....
15 chapter [email protected]/DaoistJinzu