“You actually did it...” Robbrecht muttered, his eyes wide open in shock as his gaze switches between the real life re-enactment of David and Goliath.

"The winner of this duel is..." The referee stammered, though equally shocked.

He approached me, took my hand, and raised it high above his head.

"Robbrecht's slave!"

Not even allowing me to celebrate using my own name, huh? I looked at him, a bitter smile forming.

Suddenly, a sharp pain seared through my mind like a lightning bolt. It was as if a thousand needles were piercing my thoughts, and I couldn't make sense of anything around me. My vision blurred, and every attempt to focus on something only intensified the agony.

"Ah, damn it," I groaned, my voice strained. I instinctively buried my face in my hands, but it was a futile effort.

My legs gave way beneath me, and I crumpled to my knees. The world spun around me, and I collapsed to the unforgiving ground, my strength draining away as I grappled with the torment that had seized my mind.

Although some people were yelling and trying to help me up, my mind kept slipping until everything around me turned black.

I found myself back in the same old room floating in the void of pitch black darkness, a woman sitting on the armchair as if it was her throne.

“Welcome back, Musa.”

Looking around the room, I noticed it looked... brighter, than before.

Was it because I was able to control the magicules in my body, or was it because of something else?

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Well, there’s no point in fretting over it.

Sitting in front of me was the woman who claimed to be the God of this world, quite an arrogant claim for someone like her.

It's rather amusing how people cling to the notion of a so-called "God." The very idea of a divine being, all-powerful, all-knowing, and all-loving, is nothing more than a comforting illusion, the opium of the masses.

A bedtime story for grown-ups who can't bear the thought of a universe without a grand puppeteer pulling the strings, without an overarching purpose in their pitiful lives.

After all, how can an all-powerful, all-knowing, and all-loving God allow the existence of evil and suffering in the world?

If God is benevolent, why does he permit atrocities, diseases, and natural disasters to afflict innocent beings? The existence of suffering is incompatible with the idea of a benevolent deity.

And even if God isn’t all-loving, then how can we justify the worship or reverence of a deity who allows, or perhaps even causes, suffering intentionally?

A God like that is nothing short of a scummy, sadistic bastard unworthy of my attention.

Religion is nothing short of a burden of people’s lives, a shackle which the weak bind themselves to so that they may survive in this cruel, hostile world.

Within every soul, there resides a potential for godhood, an inherent mastery over our destinies.

To be our own man or woman, to gain authority over the living.

Yet, this mantle of divine authority isn't bestowed upon the masses casually. it demands individuals of worth, those who can shoulder the immense responsibilities it entails, for otherwise they’ll get crumbled under it.

Obviously, I am one of those men.

“Thank you for your assistance, Hera.”

She nodded.

“No problem. Though, honestly, I didn’t think you’d be able to pull it off.” She put a hand over her smug mouth as she said that.

I narrowed my eyes, glaring at hers.

“You’re a little shit, you know that?”

“Well well, that’s no way to talk to your saviour like that.”

I sighed, and tried to look outside the window, only to be met with darkness.

“Why did I pass out?” I asked.

“Ah, well,” She grazed her cheek with a finger “using magic depletes your mana capacity. You actually dipped into a highly critical level, where death may very well have been possible if I hadn’t intervened.”

I shifted my eye to the corner.

“I’ve helped you twice already now. My, you better pay me back with some quality entertainment.”

“How many times have I almost died already...” I muttered.

“Who knows?” She said, chuckling to herself all the while.

“Can you say ‘Profile’ for me?”

“What?” I said.

“Just say it.”

“...profile.”

As if in response to my utterance, the same window I had seen during our previous encounter materialized once again. Familiar words were displayed prominently at the top.