I sit on the street corner, my clothes tattered. Being dragged through the streets just now stripped away whatever dignity the Old Ones of the starry skies might still claim. Mr. Z protected me in the most brutal way possible—sacrificing every Aurora Order member in Tingen with a massive explosion, sending them all to meet the Lord they so revere.
A tragic farce of devotees sacrificing themselves for their god comes to an end. But for me, the High-Dimensional Observer, it's a rather compelling performance.
As the ravings in my mind fade, a faint smile curls my lips. I've successfully "tainted" the True Creator. This contamination, free of any control, is a gift to Him. The True Creator's madness stems from a lack of anchors and an imbalance of His depraved humanity overpowering His divinity. My pollution siphons off a portion of His crazed human instincts to battle themselves, leaving the rest slightly more tempered, making Him less unhinged.
Unable to discern my true identity, the True Creator instinctively made a choice. As the most human of all gods, He clings to a drowning man's instinct to grasp at straws. I, the High-Dimensional Overseer, became His lifeline, deemed His favored one, a vessel through which He hopes to preserve a flicker of clarity.
I watch Mr. Z flee, a dozen bolts of lightning and spiritual entities hot on his trail. True to the True Creator's command, he flawlessly concealed my identity. Could an Abraham family member, passing by the Aurora Order's meeting place and harboring a blood feud with them, possibly be the True Creator's favored one? Impossible. Even Adam wouldn't dare script such a tale. After all, outer gods haven't breached the original barrier in millennia, and the True Creator hasn't had a favored one in centuries.
Still, I look rather pathetic. Good thing no one saw me… The dignified outer god brushes off his ragged hem, sighing in relief that no familiar faces are around. But then, a vaguely familiar voice cuts through. "Good heavens! Mr. Abraham, what happened to you?"
I look up and see a face I met just yesterday.
It's Benson.
Gritting my teeth, I feel a rare pang of shame from a mortal's gaze. I force a laugh, offering a weak explanation. "There was an explosion last night, and I was unlucky enough to be passing by—"
"That explosion was near…" Klein starts to say, but his intuition screams to stop, and he clamps his mouth shut just in time. He catches my darkening expression and gives an awkward smile.
Come on, Klein! he berates himself internally. You can't mention a place like that! Pretend you don't know… Ahem, men visit those places sometimes… Melissa's right here, keep it together, keep it together— Despite his mental tirade, I continue smoothly.
"Fortunately, I was on the outskirts, so while I look a mess, I'm unharmed. I'm waiting for a friend to pick me up—should be here soon. Speaking of which, what brings you out, Mr. Moretti?"
Benson grins. "Thanks to you, really. That contract you signed raised my salary to two pounds a week. And my brother just landed a job at a security company, so I'm here to find a better place for my siblings to live."
"That's wise. Your sister shouldn't be living in a place like that," I say, smiling. "Congratulations on the raise. Once you're settled, you must invite me over. I'll likely be dealing with you for business in the years to come."
"Absolutely," Benson replies. After a few more pleasantries, he bids me farewell and heads into the Tingen Housing Improvement Company's office to discuss rentals. I stand, leaning on my cane. The frailty of this body is a novel sensation for one who's existed countless years in this world. I've nearly forgotten what a human body feels like.
"Your Excellency, the Favored One, who are they?" a voice asks beside me. I turn to see Mr. Z, blood staining the corners of his mouth, standing unnoticed at my side. I chuckle. "Employees from the company my factory works with. They're here to pick out a new rental."
"I see…" After a long pause, Mr. Z adds coldly, "Should we recruit them as the Lord's lambs?"
I turn to him, my expression unreadable. Mr. Z shifts under my gaze, unnerved. "What? Did I say something wrong?"
"Let's find a place to settle first. We're too exposed here," I sigh, stepping forward. I buy a newspaper and scan the rental ads. "We'll head to 16 Champagne Street to rent a temporary place. The explosion earlier—there were no survivors, correct?"
"Sacrificing for the Lord is their honor," Mr. Z replies, though a trace of discontent laces his tone. "But, Your Excellency, what did you mean earlier? Did I misspeak?"
The Aurora Order's members, steeped in the True Creator's ravings, are rarely even-tempered. Mr. Z's respect for me stems solely from the True Creator's oracle, delivered in a fleeting moment of clarity amid chaos. My earlier look, bordering on affront, has clearly irked him.
"You're a Sequence 6 'Rose Bishop,' correct, Mr. Z?" I say as we walk. "But even in Tingen, a Sequence 6 isn't invincible. A prepared Nighthawk team, or even demon-hunting bullets, could kill you, yes?"
"Yes," Mr. Z admits, his voice low.
"Then don't recklessly expand the Lord's followers," I say. "Your recruitment has always targeted the lower and middle classes. These people offer limited aid to the Lord—hundreds of them don't match the value of a single, stable divine envoy like you. Only high-quality anchors can hasten the Lord's return to His former glory. Think—if you died, what would happen to Tingen's remaining Aurora Order members?"
"…" Mr. Z falls silent, then murmurs, "Even if headquarters sent a new Mr. Z, they likely couldn't protect the existing lambs… Alas."
"Quality matters," he repeats, his face darkening. "Could our shepherding methods be why the Lord hasn't sent oracles in so long? Is it our fault…?"
Seeing Mr. Z teeter on the edge of disintegrating into flesh in public, I clap his shoulder, snapping him out of his self-reproach. Gripping his shoulder, I say earnestly, "No, it's not your fault. I'm merely a new Secret Supplicant, while you've served the Lord for so long. Your efforts have helped Him regain clarity—otherwise, I couldn't commune with Him. In this fallen world, the 'awakened one' cannot stand against the tide of depravity. But the Lord is the most awakened one of all, loving all beings and bearing their corruption. That's why He's mad, not because He's an evil god. Our approach has been wrong, Mr. Z."
Mr. Z sighs. "I shouldn't have doubted your identity, Your Excellency. As the Lord's favored one, your devotion matches His wisdom."
"We will restore the Lord's former radiance," I say, leading Mr. Z toward our destination.
Above, in the Forsaken Land of the Gods, the High-Dimensional Overseer gazes coldly, slowly corrupting a mutated creature into my kin with my stare. I manipulate this body, standing cautiously before the True Creator.
"Outer god…" The colossal inverted giant's ravings thunder. "Why do you help me… I cannot betray Earth…"
"It's a transaction," I say impassively, guiding my avatar across the earth, confirming the True Creator's favor upon it. Such an unforthcoming god, I scoff. If others discovered this, He'd be branded a traitor. Yet, even here, doing nothing, the Seven Gods walking the mortal world would still deem the True Creator an evil god. To think the Ancient Sun God has fallen so low—truly lamentable.
"…Transaction?" the True Creator asks, puzzled.
"I don't want your divine half to become the Ancient Sun God, nor do I wish to see God Almighty rise," I say candidly. "Unlike my pitiful kin, my Safirah remains intact, my pathway unmarred. I have no interest in destroying Earth—on the contrary, I want to see it perform a grand drama of reaching for the stars."
"What do you want…?"
"Simple. I need you to let my avatar walk the earth as your favored one. In return, I'll gradually awaken you from the outside, restoring your clarity," I say. "Additionally, I'll unconditionally support the candidate chosen by the Evernight and her allies, ensuring they replace the Celestial Worthy as the Lord of Mysteries—on one condition: God Almighty must not rise."
"…"
After a long silence, the True Creator's ravings murmur, "Good—"
"I, too, will watch the one chosen by the Evernight…"
(End of Chapter)