After preventing the end of the universe, I immediately used perception alteration to rewrite the memories of all humanity. The apocalypse never occurred, and the riots and crimes they committed were erased as if they had never happened.

In the process, I restored as much of the damage they caused as possible. Where restoration was impossible, I fabricated plausible incidents to fill in the gaps. Honestly, this part was far more challenging than resolving the bif system.

It was an excruciatingly tedious task, one that made me question why I had to shoulder such a burden. I had to accept the risk of manipulating human memories without their consent. Yet, I couldn’t avoid doing it.

If not me, then who…?

Even if I had declared, “We’ve averted the apocalypse; let’s all forget the past and return to peaceful times,” no one would have listened.

The irreparable scars of memory would have festered, eventually becoming the spark for humanity to turn on one another in war.

So, it had to be done. It was a task only I could accomplish.

“I really shouldn’t keep doing this.”

Was this how Son Goku felt when he joked about reviving his comrades with the Dragon Balls? I found myself experiencing something similar. Every time someone died or a catastrophe struck, my mind whispered, Just fix it with perception alteration. That thought grew stronger and stronger.

What if that thought became all-consuming? What if I started viewing humans not as people but as NPCs to be manipulated at will?

Could someone like that still be called human? I was beginning to understand—not just in my head but in my heart—why tampering with memories was considered taboo on Earth.

Maybe I should find a religion…

Unfortunately, in this world, there was no Buddha to save all people or a God promising salvation for 144,000 souls.

An otherworlder abandoned by friends, family, country, the world—even by God—where was I supposed to find salvation?

It was a night filled with troubling thoughts.

“Hah…”

The man exhaled sharply, moving an invisible, translucent hand that existed only in his mind. Soldiers before him were compressed to the size of fists.

In the past, such a display of power would have shattered their morale, ending everything. But not in this era. The soldiers he crushed were androids, mass-produced for mere hundreds of dollars. Their low cost meant they came in endless waves.

Quite literally, without end.

“Damn it—!”

Tear gas, sleeping gas, nerve agents, and chemical weapons fired by the androids; a relentless barrage of bullets; and heroes using superpowers from hidden positions—

All of it steadily whittled away at the man’s telekinetic strength. He hadn’t expected to be so thoroughly overpowered. The title of S-Class Villain felt meaningless in the face of such opposition.

Perfectly devised tactics, heroes whose abilities countered his, and the seemingly infinite stream of androids. The man realized that capture—if not outright death—was inevitable.

“Damn it…”

After several minutes, the man’s strength gave out, and he ceased resisting, allowing himself to be subdued. The process wasn’t smooth. He was forcibly put to sleep with gas and bound tightly. Even if he awoke, using his powers would be difficult.

The heroes and androids, having completed their mission, returned with an air of detachment, as if they had merely done their job.

Watching this from afar was a woman. Sipping her tea by the window, she grimaced at the sight of the androids, their faces concealed, as they returned to base.

“Soulless tools…”

It was a common sight recently: the city government deploying androids to subdue villains who had evaded capture. This was only possible thanks to the Evilus Agent and android technologies distributed by Evilus Corporation.

It was a good thing. Villains were weaker than ever, and the number of citizens suffering because of them had plummeted. The world had become a slightly better place.

But some couldn’t accept this. The idea of soulless tools taking over work meant for noble humans didn’t sit well with everyone.

The woman was one of them.

“—Saintess, it’s time.”
“Ah, already?”

Called by a nun, the Saintess carefully set down her teacup and stood. Moments later, she followed the nun to the preparation room, where she adorned herself with angelic wings and a shining halo. No one could look at her fully prepared form without feeling a sense of reverence.

A being sent from heaven. Fully dressed as an angel, the Saintess made her way to the chapel, where thousands of devotees awaited her.

“Oh, Saintess—!”
“She’s beautiful, as always…”
“Dear God, please grant me a miracle!”

The Saintess faced countless pleas from the faithful, each praying for their own reasons. Confronted with their overwhelming desires, she did what her role demanded.

She closed her eyes and clasped her hands in prayer. With a holy voice, she spoke.

“Let us pray.”

“Ah…”
“Let us pray…”
“Saintess…”

“The Lord is watching over you all.”

Feeling the presence of the Father above, the Saintess carefully conveyed His will.

“Your wishes shall surely come true.”

Behind her, her wings fluttered. The halo radiated a holy light, and the devotees, witnessing this, wept and prayed alongside her.

In the now-silent chapel, the Saintess joined her devotees in prayer.
Oh Lord, I beg You, please… let these lambs not be mocked by soulless tools…
Earnestly, she prayed.

"What kind of religion is popular these days?"
"Huh? What?"

Aile looked at me, tilting her head repeatedly in confusion at my sudden question, as if wondering if I’d lost my mind. I shrugged casually, pretending it was no big deal, and asked again.

"No, I’m just curious. I have no idea what’s trending. Where do kids these days go?"
"Uh… kids these days don’t believe in religion."
"Ah, I see. And you?"
"I-I believe in the Magical Girl Faith! Scientist, would you like to join too?"
"The Magical Girl Faith…? What the hell is that…?"

What followed was a ten-minute explanation from Aile about this so-called "Magical Girl Faith." According to her, magical girls were beings chosen and created by God, and those who disappeared didn’t die but instead became constellations that always watched over us…

It was the kind of convoluted mix of delusions and made-up lore you’d expect from a hardcore otaku. Listening to it was absurd, especially for someone like me who knew exactly what magical girls were and why they were created.

What’s more baffling was that Aile, someone practically in cahoots with the Magical Girl Association, still held such an affectionate view of magical girls. Honestly, Aile wasn’t normal. How could someone go around smacking magical girls for fun and still be a magical girl enthusiast? It’s like a deadbeat dad who beats his wife and kids but claims to love them.

“I need to ask someone else to get a clearer picture.”

In the end, I turned to AI for information on the religions of this world. Within seconds, it gathered a massive amount of data, but ultimately, it was just raw facts.

To truly judge whether a religion was meaningful or not, you needed people’s opinions. Throwing on some clothes, I found a nearby religious gathering and headed there.

After a short drive, I arrived at an empty chapel. It looked remarkably similar to a cathedral on Earth, and according to the AI, it had been bustling with people until not too long ago.

"Bustling with people… but there’s no one here."

The chapel, however, was completely deserted. Worried that perhaps the clergy here had committed some grave wrongdoing, I stepped inside, only to be greeted by a haggard-looking priest with a gentle smile.

His face was far too kind for someone guilty of anything.

"Ah, welcome, brother. You’re a new face."
"…Yeah, something like that."
"Feel free to pray or just rest for a while. If you need counseling, come to the back."

As I casually glanced around the chapel, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was no reason for such a decline, even on a weekday. Carefully, I broke the silence.

"Why is this place so empty?"
"…Ah, as I thought, you’ve come to see her too, haven’t you?"
"Excuse me?"
"Not here, but in another city. I’ll give you the name; you should visit."
"What…? What are you talking about?"

As I pressed him with more questions, the priest blinked in surprise and responded as if puzzled by my ignorance.

"Then you didn’t come to see the busty angelic saint?"
"…What?"
"I mean the Angel Saintess with the divine chest, who grants any miracle you pray for."
"What the hell are you even talking about…?"

A priest emphasizing such nonsense? That was my first thought—

But I couldn’t stop thinking about the phrase "busty angelic saint." It bothered me far too much.