Sitting around a massive round table shimmering with golden inscription were the members of council, lower Gods and Goddesses, next to the Supremes waiting patiently for Sylas arrival and his report. They read his resignation letter, the one that Anomaly crafted.
"Where is Sylas? He was due for a report today since I rejected his resignation letter," the God of order said, irritated.
"His access logs ended abruptly. There was no recall signal, no soul tether. It's like he vanished, like he hit unsubscribe from existence," the Goddess of Wisdom said, confused.
After the Tiara, the Goddess of Wisdom spoke, and the screen flickered before them. A live obituary was airing. Syla's name was glitching in and out with the last photos and videos of him as if someone had orchestrated the video.
"That's new," the God of war chuckled, amused. "I never saw an obituary get aired even before the report of death arrived and while it was still warm."
"You think this is funny? First of all we don't get warm when we die, we become crystal! And second, killing a Tacma system analyst, this is beyond mortal interference!" The Goddess of insight yelled at him.
Then across the chamber, a low hum rolled through, a faint mocking laugh carried on static.
"Oops, he tried hard to fight me but he couldn't," a glitched voice cracked through their divine speakers.
There was silence…
"That…that was not TacMa," he said, shaking.
"No. But a rogue in our system?"
The God of order stood up. He clenched his fist.
"Begin containment protocols! Audit all analysts' logs. Track every insignificant profile!" he barked.
After a thorough auditing, they finally reached the last file that Sylas had looked down before Anomaly corrupted his HS. One name that glowed faintly on a corrupted screen.
Marcus Smith.
Meanwhile, back in Berlin, Marcus stood behind a polished counter, adjusting his plain uniform. He was still half-dazed, half-sleep deprived, and entirely depressed. Around him was a hunter client who walked past with oversized swords, shimmering gear, and egos the size of a continent.
A level 42 Warblade warrior slammed the receipt on the counter.
"Hey, normie. This says my potion was 20 silver more. Are you tryna scam me?"
Marcus just stared blankly before sighing.
"The tax has increased lately. The owner had to adjust the price. Blame the gods," he said.
"Ohhh, the sass is awakening," Fang said, flatly.
"Taxation is divine punishment. He's not wrong," Anomaly commented.
Both of them speak inside Marcus' head.
The customer grunted and stormed off. Marcus exhaled slowly and slouched deeper behind the counter.
Marcus' file was being reviewed by the Lesser Gods' Nexus and Vaelion. Their chamber was made of woven shimmer of starlight and memory code. Workers float in thrones carved from pure Law, surrounding a central projection of Earth.
Name: Marcus Smith
Rank: Unawakened
Class: None
Assigned System: TacMa (Prototype(inactive)
Threat: None
The lesser God Vaelion, the keeper of System File, gestured lazily while his many eyes blinked out of sync.
"This one's normal, a 100% human sludge. No combat record, no mana fluctuation, and he barely fits the uniform," he said.
"Why was he given a Tactical Management system again?"
"Early testing. It was an old design, and he was a candidate for a potential fighter but a failure. His Tacma was already glitching and corrupted logs, basically, a dead end." Vaelion replied, shrugging.
"Run his file again just to make sure," High God Mayumi ordered again. "Integrity check, Vaelion. We can never be so sure. That thing is clever. He knew everything."
"You better warn Marcus about his incoming obituary," Anomaly whispered to Fang as they silently watched the Divinity panic happening in the council room.
"Alright," Fang replied, going back to Marcus's subconscious.
Meanwhile, Vaelion showed Mayumi Marcus' logs and she read them and then her brows frowning.
"They're not logs!" She said, reading it again out loud so everyone could hear it.
"A soul of sludge, a blade of rust. Move along, dear gods, this one's just dust."
"What is that?" High God Teriza questioned.
"He walks, he breathes, he's harmless, see? The anomaly? Surely not him."
Some gods and goddesses squinted and tried to read it themselves.
"What kind of formatting are those?" One confused god asked.
"I think it's poetry," another answered.
"Is that corrupted?" one God asked.
"Yes. That's not a log to begin with," Mayumi finally declared. "He's no threat. He's beneath our concern. Discard him." High Deity Orun ordered while Anomaly smirking, hiding beneath those piles of logs..
"Another shift, another round of being ignored by adventurers who couldn't lift their egos without an S-rank badge," he uttered to himself. "I just want to go home and sleep."
"Sorry, sleepyhead, but I think you may or may not be going to wake up soon," Fang, who was back inside his subconscious, spoke suddenly. "Big news. Your obituary was almost written today."
"Cool. Do I still get paid if I'm dead?" he asked, rolling his eyes.
"You might get a divine severance package. It comes with fire, brimstone, and eternal deletion." Anomaly suddenly appeared in his subconscious as well and showed Marcus an edited obituaries, system logs,and corrupted profiles. Above all of that was his name glowing like a ticking bomb ready to explode.
"What am I looking at?" he asked flatly.
"The Gods rewriting reality to find a virus that already lives inside of you," Anomaly said with smugness.
"You guys are terrifying," Marcus said when he heard Anomaly. He couldn't fathom how these to playing sick games with the Gods and how Anomaly obviously outsmarting them.
"You're welcome," Anomaly replied, smirking.
Marcus heaved a sigh. There's nothing really surprises him anymore. Fang and Anomaly were perfect partners. Both crazy and daredevils.
He mentally closed the folder and sipped his coffee just when a top-tier hunter stomped in, scoffing as he walked past Marcus without a glare.
"Ugh, weaklings doing grunt work. Such a disgrace."
Marcus watched him go. His eyes were glowing beneath the surface.