The instant Linlin's fingers twitched, grip tightening on their folding fan as its tassel shook, a cloud of reddish-blue mist gathered at their hand. The mist shot toward Cyrus's shoulder in a line as thin as a cotton thread, puncturing straight through him.
[Anticipation Sight] was a foresight skill that came with [Hunting Blade]. That, combined with his game combat experience, he instinctively understood that the mist marked the line of attack—one that could theoretically be parried or blocked. But too slow. The fan snapped open, and he knew he wasn't fast or strong enough to do either.
He could see Linlin's move a step ahead, but that didn't mean much when his body simply couldn't react to it. A flash of turquoise light zipped after the mist's trajectory, chasing the illusory string's afterimage.
Cyrus used [Dragonfly Dart] to leap sideways. He found out that this dodging skill was actually useful when he instinctively used the skill to move out of the way of an incoming cart down the hill earlier that day.
If he had tried to dodge without the skill, his body wouldn't have listened to his command and executed it as perfectly. But with the skill, there was no such lag. Though there was a hidden cooldown mechanism that prevented him from spamming it too often.
As long as he used the skill and had Stamina, the dodge was unhindered. With that, he managed to pull his shoulder away from the puncture point, but even then, he'd evaded too late to move entirely out of the attack's path.
A thin blade carried the light as it sliced past his sleeve, carving a line of blood along his arm. He saw it. It wasn't a blade at all, but a long, narrow leaf, sharpened with sword intent.
[ -2.99% HP (Light Physical Damage Taken) ]
[ -5.98% HP (Moderate Metaphysical Damage Taken) ]
Wincing, his balance was thrown off, and his left foot hit the chipped platform to the side first. It landed at an awkward angle; a dull ache bloomed in his heel from the impact, spreading upward to his ankle.
[ -2.99% HP (Light Physical Damage Taken) ]
"Let that be a lesson not to taunt when you can't afford to."
You offspring of a bastard. Like I said anything wrong. Cyrus tutted, trying to stabilize himself on his good foot. Developers these days just be having NPC aura-farm by letting them bully poor, innocent players.
He didn't like getting trampled on, but he did accomplish what he was hoping for when he decided to provoke an NPC who was obviously much stronger than he was. Somewhat. From how easily and seriously they reacted to his mild provocation plus the way they obviously distained him, Cyrus had a feeling that the person, or people, before him might be of noble status.
He and Linlin were both Apostles, sure, but strip away the god's bestowed title, and Cyrus was merely a vagrant, acting cocky in a way they seemed to believe he shouldn't with someone of their standing.
"Now, let us talk—" Linlin said, hand reaching to fold their fan when they froze. Their creased brows unrolled as their mostly expressionless face shifted to a wide grin. "You saw it. Impressive. Try dodging this!"
Linlin swiped their painted, wooden fan across, tracing the border of a semicircle around themself. Cyrus perceived red. [Mortal Eyes] equipped with the foresight skill saw a crimson curtain descend, not a single pixel left uncovered. An attack that could neither be parried, blocked, nor dodged. An insta-kill.
A gust of wind reached him first, knocking off his hair and clothes behind as he stuttered half a step back. Cyrus clung to his footing; at his heels was an abyss of devouring mist. Then crescent shockwaves darted.
The blue sparks whipped at him, and something inside him burst. A brain-melting headache came crashing down as if a dozen of his veins had popped at once. Cyrus fell to his feet, staggering as he barely kept himself on the pillar.
[ -8.14% HP (Moderate Soul Core Damage Taken) ]
The attack wasn't physical; no part of his body was injured, apart from the scratch on his arm. Yet every wave had him shaking with excruciating ache deep in his being.
"My Lord. Restrain yourself! You know She wouldn't like that. More importantly, he can't die yet. We don't have any other option." A muffled voice gritted. A chuckle answered a beat later from the same source. "Who cares about what She likes! Plus, what good is he if he can't even survive this much. He will fail anyway if he's this weak." Only a weary, helpless sigh responded to that.
Cyrus felt like crying out of frustration. And the fucking weirdo was over there arguing with themself. Cyrus glared at them through the red haze until new sparks ignited and raced to him. Forget dodging, he barely registered them until they were inches away from him.
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[ -8.14% HP (Moderate Soul Core Damage Taken) ]
[ Light Soul Disturbance. -2.03% HP/ minute. ]
The second wave lashed at him with a crack, and he tumbled down, hands grasping at the rough, wet edge of the stone structure beneath. With an ache deep in his being, it took him a long minute to form a coherent thought to bring his gourd back out. And when it did come out, he could barely hold onto it as the gourd slipped through his hands, nearly lost to the misty sea beneath until he managed to catch it at the last moment.
So it was no surprise when he failed to pull the plug of the bottle out with trembling hands. He wrapped his hand around the plug and pulled, but it refused to move. He couldn't summon the strength to do a task that was so basic. It was as if he had just roused from a long nap, and his body had yet to fully wake up.
[ [Volitional] Persistent Enacted. +5 Fate ]
Fucking fuck, fuck off. He just needed to unscrew the gourd, but the stupid bottle wouldn't open. Why did it have to be a gourd bottle? Why couldn't it be a bottle with a push button? Why did he even have to unplug the gourd first to store something at all? This was some fantasy gourd item in a fantasy world. Who cares if it's actually opened or not?
{ Master! Master's mortal body is breaking! }
Cyrus didn't need a crow squeaking at him to know it was. Light was seeking out of his skin, white beams shining through his palms like he was that one superhero. Instinctively, he knew, this was his soul. Cracking.
{ That Apostle is attacking with Zeal. Master would have already died if not for Master's exceptionally high Soul quality. }
He gritted his teeth, wanting to shout, to scold Moshi for doing nothing about it, but he couldn't even move his hand anymore. Forget opening his jaws to talk; he could barely breathe.
Why don't you do something about it then? He screamed internally, and the Archon actually responded to his thoughts.
{ A-As of now, there's nothing Master or Moshi can do. Except... }
Except what? Fuck me. Just do it, Moshi! Just do it.
{ Only Master's divine power can fight against the Zeal of another god's Apostle. }
Sweat dripped off Cyrus's brow as he groaned like a dying duck. Fucking unseal me then.
{ ...but, but, um, the World Will would notice Master's presence. And that's not, uh...good... D-Don't worry, an Apostle cannot use Zeal for a long period. J-Just hang, hang on, Master! Please! }
That—
A sudden rupture of heat distorted his thoughts, stealing away his ability to think for the moment. What felt like heated iron spikes collectively stabbed into him as if trying to poke their way out of his shell.
[ -19.84% HP (Heavy Soul Core Damage Taken) ]
Something crawled up his throat and out of his mouth. Cyrus spat out searing blood. This released some pressure that had built up in him, just enough to enable him to speak.
"It's night. The Will is weak," he gritted. "Plus, I'm on the island. World Will is barely present here, you said it yourself. So...it's fine. Unseal it."
He barely lifted his head to meet a pair of smiling eyes, teal glints shining through the blood veil. They had all the intention to kill him. They really wouldn't stop until he died—or he broke free.
*Unseal my Godhood, Moshi. Your god commands.*
{ Moshi, Archon of God Mo Tian obeys Moshi's eternal Master and God Father! }
Cyrus felt the crushing pressure leave him at once.
Then, there was nothing.
[ Second of the Thirteen Seals Undone. ]
[ Third of the Thirteen Seals Undone. ]
[ Partial Divine Descends. You are immune to all mortal damage! ]
No more suffering.
[ Divine Miracle Bestowed. You have been fully healed! ]
No more bloodshed.
[ Divine Witnessed. 10,000 pure damage every split second to all mortals and lesser gods in Divine's presence! ]
No one stood above him. For He was the Divine, and to his Godhood, the world bowed. A raw wail screeched somewhere near, echoing throughout the hollow as the misty realm broke.
Cyrus couldn't care less about the world or its cries. A screen flashed across his field, but he barely noticed it there. Even if he did care enough to pay any attention to it, he wouldn't be able to make out anything with his vision struggling to focus on one thing. He stood tall, unknown to himself when he had gotten up at all, breathing heavily as he gasped for air.
For half of half a second, he was god. Not simply told by the game, he was one.
From the farthest tip of the island’s western cliffs to the tallest peak of Mount Fond Chain in the east, and down into the deepest trench of the surrounding waters, the entire island cowered beneath his palm—light as a diorama, and just as easily broken. He saw everything: every man, every creature, every speck of dust. Every secret that the island tried and failed to hide was exposed to His eyes. Every life presented, laid bare, vulnerable to His whim.
Moshi told him he was god, and as far as the game setting went, he had been one the entire time, even when he hid inside a weak mortal body—even when Cyrus himself didn't feel like one at all. But he now realized that he'd been merely a ghost of a Divine until a moment ago. Now he understood the difference between a mortal and a god. Now he knew he truly was a god in this small, inadequate world.
To a Divine, the entirety of the mortal plane was but an ant hill with a billion ants whose fate he could seal.
"Shit. It feels so damned good." His voice shuddered, hands still shaking. "And He is supposed to be weak? Fuck."
Cyrus felt dizzy, utterly drunk on the sensation. He had gotten a taste of different breeds of pleasure before, seeking whatever could make the bleak sense of oppression and boredom that came with life less, but none could match that one instant—that single heartbeat. It was unreal. Unlike anything Cyrus, the mortal, had experienced before.
It was simply unhuman.
Bonus Chapter Goals:
- 100 Follows (36/100)
- 10 ratings (6/10)
- Reviews count as 2
- Rising Star Main
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