“W-what did you just say?” Cassiel stammered, taken aback by the declaration Rahm had given.
“I said I wouldn’t be surrendering. Er, I thought I said it loud enough. Did I mumble again? I can repeat the Oath if you—”
“Silence, you impertinent bastard! How can you—do you even realize what you’re saying!?”
Rahm stroked his chin thoughtfully before replying, “Well, I mean my Granddaughter asked me really nicely not to! I can’t say no after that. You’d understand if you had kids of your own, I suppose”
The beautiful, divine being standing at the end of the plaza dropped her mouth open as an eyebrow twitched. Jordan counted the seconds, and wasn’t surprised to find he could gauge the amount of time before she began stammering.
Rahm’s effect on people was universal, it seemed.
“Y-you, but I, er, who’s fault is that!?” Rahm’s wife screamed. “You insufferable tormentor!”
“Hey now, that’s hurtful! Besides, I’m not the one who made a child expose themselves in public.” Rahm shot back at her.
“Fallen cretin! If you are so damn willing to throw your life away, then I shall happily arbitrate your removal! By the Authority granted—”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Rahm warned again, a new smile growing ever-wider on his face despite the impossibility of it.
“I know full well your capabilities, Godslayer, and I will not fall for such an obvious bluff. Today you will be held accountable for every sin the Jade Empress should have held against you. I will correct Her mistake in letting you go!”
Rahm shrugged twice over, chuckling. “Hehe, not my problem she’s a sweetheart that just needed someone to talk to.”
“Such unabashed blasphemy! I should have you chained up and flayed repeatedly for a thousand years!”
“Hah, don’t threaten me with a good time, hunnybuns.”
The women’s eyes narrowed even as they glowed brighter. “Enough of your inane babbling.” She gestured towards her support and cried out, “Prepare to—”
“Speaking of threats—when I start killing your precious Gods, I won’t settle for just those nearby. I’ll target each and every high-level Bureau. Then, I’ll gut this City to its Core, and smash what’s left.”
There was something to the word the old man used that made Jordan gasp, and judging from the reactions of every Spirit in the area, he wasn’t the only one who felt it. Rahm's threat to kill was laced with a concept woven through and through.
A promise of Death.
“You… you madman.” Cassiel said. “You would threaten world-wide calamity? Do you realize what that would entail?”
“Of course I do!” Rahm laughed. “I’ve cracked open a history book now and again—and I know full well what a Cataclysm’s like having been through one. You didn’t think I rediscovered the Maou’s techniques for nothing, did you?”
“Even if you could, we’d stop you long before you—”
“I didn’t say I’d make it quick, and I can move pretty fast when I need to.” He gestured towards the smoke off in the distance.
Is he seriously implying he’s about to go guerilla terrorist on them!? Jordan stared at the back and forth with incredulity alongside Kioko’s equally confused expression.
“This is… No! I’ve heard enough of your meaningless lies!” The woman screeched. “No more misdirection or meaningless intimidation. Your reign of terror ends today, Godslayer. Guards—Charge forth and subdue him!”
No one moved as the moment stretched on in silence.
“G-guards?” The woman turned to see no one nearby.
Every God in sight, including Xegreash the Elusive Incandescent Star, had disappeared. Even the bodies littering the plaza had inexplicably vanished.
Cassiel was alone, and Rahm laughed again.
“You know… they say a Demon’s Passion comes first, but there was a time that Demons were seen as no different from the other Spirits. Only real difference, I guess, is that when it comes down to it only a Demon’s willing to die to get what it wants. Gods always just… run away.”
Rahm laughed jovially as he began to walk forward, his feet thundering against the ground as lighting began to build up, dancing around him before it settled into his hair. He cracked his knuckles twice over, stretching leisurely as he approached with no more concern than he’d had walking through the Journey’s End, before he tossed off his coat and tore apart his shirt, revealing that despite his pudgy middle…
The man was a wall of solid muscle, with two large scars along his back.
“If you think I’m bluffing, feel free," Rahm said, "but I see no reason not to die for what I want. So let’s settle this the old fashioned way, eh wife of mine?”
“What? You can’t be serious!”
“Oh, I think I am. Immortals may be impossible to kill, but I’ve got a couple ideas. Perhaps I’ll rip out your Core and turn you into a Remnant?”
“You’re lying.” She hissed. “Even you would never cross that line.”
“Maybe? Maybe not. I couldn’t beat you with your little army, but with how the PIEA just spread out from a few innocent riots and left you all alone… well, I think my chances are pretty good now. So, let’s find out once and for all which of us is stronger, shall we? I hereby challenge you to a du—”
“S-stop!”
“Oh? Or what?”
The woman literally flared with anger, light pouring off of her like a solar flare as she glared hatefully at the old man. “Fine. Well maneuvered you infernal Monster. Now get that filth out of my City and I will… pursue reparations through more traditional means. Until then, you can stay in ‘retirement,’ or at least until I get you finally officially Exiled for threatening armageddon!”
The old man scratched at his chin, thinking. “Hmm, I suppose that could work for me. But of course, only so long as you understand I might have to pop back in now and again. You know, to help my family and all that.”
“Bring that thing back up here? You—erg, you unbelievable senile bastard! You go too far this time!”
“What?” The old man shrugged helplessly twice over. “Look, I promise I won’t violate the Laws on Progression again. Really! So we’ve got an understanding, right schnookums?”
Is the damn idiot just trying to provoke her? Jordan thought. Stop rubbing it in like an ass and let’s get out of here!
“You… you…!” The woman visibly recoiled at the horrifying pet name, but calmed herself before straining a smile. “When the Council finds out about whatever loophole you’ve exploited to get that creature up in the first place they’ll—”
“Take a decade or two to process it before coming to a decision. Like always. So? That’s plenty of time for me to help a Mortal like her.” He waved back at Jordan. “So we’ll just be on our way now, and I’ll see you again, in what, two years? Three?”
The woman’s smile turned into solid gritted teeth, before her eyes flickered with a solution. “Such… pride. But you forget yourself, creature. You’re not the only one who can… bend certain bylaws. By the Authority granted onto me by the Council, I hereby Banish,” She paused to stare at Jordan for a moment, making his skin crawl, “the Mortal Freyhell Aureliana Hortensia-Kellham until such a time as she achieves the Rank of Immortal and qualifies to sign onto the Pax. Now—get the hells out of my City fools.”
Jordan’s eyes widened as he felt himself about-face and move. Kioko squeaked as she was pulled along, her attempts to dig her feet into the stone failing dramatically as Jordan was forced to leave.
Rahm’s smile finally broke as he looked back at Jordan. With shock covering his face, he turned back towards the woman. “You really can’t miss a chance to be petty, can you?”
“That’s rich coming from you.” She sneered. “I knew this had to be your goal all along you arrogant sod, but thinking you could rub it in my face like that? You were practically asking for it! And that threat of yours will give me everything I need to lobby for your removal from the Pax. You overreached this time—so enjoy your freedom while you can.”
The old man exhaled deeply and said, “You’ll regret this, you know.” But his heart clearly wasn’t in the warning.
“No, Rahmiel, I don’t think I will. Now get your vile, deformed features out of this sacred City before my reinforcements arrive and we finish what you started.”
He shook his head in defeat and walked away to the sounds of her mocking laughter.
----------------------------------------
The streets were deserted as they made their way out. The once bustling districts cleared out like a plague had been announced, and the air that had been tense and anxious before now seemed eerily silent with their exiled procession.
It didn’t take long for Jordan to begin wincing and whimpering, despite himself, from his sore feet. Hearing his distress, Kioko bent down to give him a piggyback ride, which thankfully worked. They’d both been worried his orders to leave would forbid others from helping, and Jordan’s feet were already showing signs of overuse.
Their silence continued as they took an empty transit system through a city that still burned in the distance. Jordan didn’t fail to notice, however, how Kioko kept giving looks towards Rahm, as though waiting for some grand declaration, or perhaps a resurgence of a smile and laughter.
But the old man just trailed behind, his features crushed under the visible weight of his own despondence.
“Um,” Jordan whispered to Kioko, “Is… Rahm going to be okay?”
Kioko shrugged, justling Jordan a bit on her shoulders. “I… think so. But it’s possible the Master didn’t really think he was going to get out of that.”
“Do you think it was all a bluff in the end like that woman said?”
The way his Sofu had… looked at the woman was still burned in Jordan’s brain. He’d had such a cruel contempt in his smile, it made the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland look tame.
“I’m worried it might not have been, actually.” Kioko said. “Rahm can be extreme, but as far as I know he’s never threatened to unleash a Cataclysm before. This was new, and unprecedented.”
“He couldn’t actually do that, though… right?”
Kioko just shuddered, and Jordan recalled the videos from his world. He’d first considered them when he'd arrived, but thought little of them past how they may have helped him exploit something in the City. But now he remembered them in a different light.
After all, that video of a man skiing down the mountain on a dinosaur? The moon had been crashing down in the horizon. Jordan very much doubted the world survived that crazy stunt.
And if that had happened now? He mimicked the cat-girl’s shudder.
“What did Rahm mean when he said he’d studied the Demon King’s technique, anyway?” Jordan asked.
“Hmm?” Kioko snapped back to reality, clearly lost for a spell as she’d sunk into memories. “Oh, ah, well he meant his ability to inflict Death on Spiritual beings.”
“Huh?” Jordan was confused. Hadn’t the man been literally killing Spirits all the way through the commute in? Sure, that word he’d threatened his wife and her army with had carried with it a meaning of the concept, but… “How is that special?” He asked. “Don’t Spirits just come back? They did all the other times.”
Kioko shook her head. “What you saw him do before was just discoporiating them. Er, that just means—”
“He dematerialized them, yeah.”
“Well, that doesn’t really bother Spirits. They might bitch about it, but really that’s just because it takes them Essence to reform. The technique Rahm dredged up, however, literally tears the Pattern of a Spirit apart and fills it with the concept of Death. It reshapes them until they obliviate themselves into nothingness.”
Jordan’s eyes widened. “S-seriously? That sounds…”
“Awful?” She suggested. When Jordan nodded, she continued. “Yeah, it is. Spirits aren’t designed to die, since that’s supposed to be restricted to the cycle for Mortal souls. When faced with being unmade, they get… afraid.”
Jordan snorted, making one of Kioko’s cat-ears twitch. “Well, yeah, death can be scary. Still, poor guys.”
Kioko paused while walking, before yelping as Jordan’s body lunged forward in the air against her. After peddling to steady herself with a huff, she turned her head to look back at Jordan. “I think you missed my point there.”
“What do you mean?” Jordan shot back.
“Sorry, when you corrected me on discorporation I thought you understood. So, Spirits are Essence Manifestations, you got that part, right?”
Jordan squinted in thought. His new father had said something about that a couple days ago, hadn’t he? Once he’d confirmed in his mind, he nodded.
“Well alongside their physical form being made of Essence, you need to understand that so is their Mind. Inflicting the Fear of Death onto a Spirit can literally mutate the Pattern of Essence in their manifested brains. It’s one of the ways they can become Corrupted.”
“Er, and they can’t just… get better from that?”
“No, they can’t.” She shook her head. “Spirits bind their Minds to the concepts that embody them. It's one of the ways they differ from us. We can change freely, or even hold conflicting emotions and beliefs, but if Spirits change what they believe they change what kind of Spirit they are to reflect that. That dissonance can warp them irreparably.”
Jordan tried to parse through her terminology. It wasn’t too out there, but he lacked any solid context to base it on. Struggling as he was, the closest his brain could land on were computers. Given that the world was a game, it made sense to him that if Spirits were like a program, then changing their code (beliefs?) would alter how they worked. Maybe make them glitch out?
It was… the best his brain could do.
“Okay…” he said. “Does that mean all those Spirits in the plaza are now… mutated?”
“Not likely, they weren’t directly targeted after all. But chances are, all of them are still running even now, just to be safe.”
“Sheesh… it’s really that bad?”
“Really that bad? Are you serious—er, wait, sorry I forget you don’t exactly remember your history. So, ah, do you know about the Devas?”
“The things everyone keeps swearing to?” He’d heard a couple ‘by the Devas’ by now. He was pretty sure that just meant Angels, though.
“Yup, that’s them. The seven Deva are the ones who made Ænerith back in the beginning. After they were done, they summoned the Jade Empress to arbitrate Souls for reincarnation into Heaven and all that. The, ah, thing to know here, however, is that everything was working until the Demon King rebelled.”
“Would he be a Demon King if he didn’t rebel?” Jordan joked.
“Um, what?” Kioko didn’t get it. Given how popular a trope the Demon King was in modern stories, Jordan wasn’t surprised he thought it more of a given than she would.
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“Er, never mind.” He said. “Please continue.”
Kioko gave him a long, sideways glance before continuing. “Anyway, one of the Deva’s, Shaysa the Saint of Diligence, confronted him. And the Maou… murdered her. It was the first time any Spirit died, and it changed the world forever.”
“And Rahm learned that skill from him?”
“What? Heaven’s no! The Maou lived like ten thousand years ago, kid. Rahm just managed to reconstruct the techniques. Just knowing them got him branded as a Godslayer.”
“Is there a reason he learned them then?”
Kioko turned back to look at Rahm, but the old man was continuing to stare sullenly out into the distance.
“He… was there at the end of the Fourth Age, and fought as a Companion alongside the High King to defeat the Second Incursion. Sometime during that mess he learned those Skills, though no one knows how or why. The Master just gets evasive when asked. And after that, he officially retired rather than Ascend into Heaven.”
“Why did he do that? Isn’t Ascending the whole point of being an Immortal?”
“It is,” she nodded, “but as far as I know he made a promise to another one of the High King’s Companions.” She glanced back nervously towards Rahm, before whispering into Jordan’s ear.
“The man’s name was Freyhell Amaranthus, and he was the founder of your line. Don’t… er, don’t talk about him around Rahm though, okay? The Master won’t discuss what happened, and it’s the only time I see him get legitimately angry. Got it?”
Jordan nodded. Freyhell Amaranthus, eh? So is this how Rahm is related to the family? Friends with the founder…
“Oh, um, by the way,” Kioko said, “I’m curious. How the hells did you find us on a flying carpet of all things?”
“Oh… I, ah…” Jordan weighed his options, but then if only because he was a little too proud of his wild success, decided to tell her. He regaled Kioko with the tale of his kidnapping and daring escape as they continued traveling. He left out his more embarrassing moments, like being unable to log out or sputtering in his search for a believable lie.
“And then I tricked him into thinking I would die of being sick and he let me go! He even wove that carpet and sent me to you guys.” Jordan smiled merrily in remembrance of his moment of glory.
Kioko seemed suitably impressed, given the slack jawed stare she gave him.
Or at least, that was what Jordan believed right up until the cat-girl burst into a fit of laughing.
“Pffffft, you think you tricked a Fateweaver? Just like that?” Kioko cackled for a minute straight before she spun on her heels to walk backwards.
Facing Rahm now, she said, “So that was your damn plan all along, wasn’t it?”
The old man, his face full of sorrow, beaten down by the years of torment and suffering… made a small snerking noise as his composure finally broke. Shortly after the crack to his facade came out, he started laughing as well.
“Whaaat?” He replied, grinning ear to ear once more. “Nooo, of course not! I was busy getting plastered at a bar.” He shrugged helplessly twice over.
“A bar that happened to have attracted every Guard on this side of the City because of the riots you started.”
“Allegedly.” Rahm corrected. “I was just out on a walk while looking for a lost girl. It isn’t my fault if Spirits acted out.”
“Wait,” Jordan interrupted, “what plan?”
“Hmm, which one?” Rahm responded.
“How… how many plans did you have!?”
----------------------------------------
“Hey Rikraq, you done with whatever that was?” A Fateweaver asked.
“Oh, boy am I! Wanna drop in for a spell?” Rikraq responded.
Following the invitation, the two of them entered Rikraq’s home office and he pulled out a beverage to serve his guest—a nice Paranoid Beauty to celebrate his good fortune. His coworker, Rhezas, made himself comfortable before asking the million Crown question.
“I’ve gotta say, I was curious why you were just standing outside your own office whistling like an idiot. Who was that Mortal anyway? She smelled like a Demon, not really your usual fair.”
“I know right? Well, you remember I got assigned a Demonkin, dontcha?” His coworker nodded. Of course he remembered—unlike common Spirits the Fateweavers were a special breed. They were born specifically for their task, and flawless memory was only one of their many Qualities.
“Well guess who fucking sends me a message out of the blue two days ago? Rahmiel fucking Godslayer.”
“No fucking way! It’s been centuries since he last meddled with the Loom, hasn’t it?” Rikraq nodded, and Rhezas followed up saying, “What did he want? I thought he was done training Heroes, or whatever he did in his retirement.”
“Well, at first he just wanted me to tell him the fate of his current generations family members. Specifically, of course, my ward.” Rikraq sloshed a drink towards the System Interface on the wall.
“And of course you didn’t tell him anything,” Rhezas chuckled.
“Damn straight! I was so deliberately unhelpful I even got a commendation from management for sticking up against the Monster. Though, sadly, that dastardly Godslayer saw right through all my oddly specific protestations.”
Rhezas chuckled and the two of them shared a drink in mirth.
“But,” Rikraq said, “When the Godslayer consequently learned how much heat his grandkid had, he sent me a more… private channel message. Turns out, the bastard came up with a loophole he decided to try out exploiting.”
“A loophole? Seriously?” Rhezas was taken aback.
“Oh yeah, toots. Apparently, he figured that since the blanket Banishment on Daemons and their descendants would only apply ‘cause of their affiliation towards Asurias, that her being Forsaken like him would let her come up. We hashed out a quick deal, and this—”
Rikraq jumped up gracefully and walked over to his terminal, activating it to reveal the Anomaly on screen.
“Is the result! Taaaadaaa~~” Rikraq laughed merrily.
Rhezas gasped at the sight, “What is that? A Rank [D] Anomaly? You lucky bastard! Hope your big break doesn’t die in the next few cycles then! Hahaha”
“Hey! I’m sure she’ll do fine, and I’d rather sabotage the Loom than have the Godslayer after me, you know?” He rubbed two pairs of hands together, “Oooo, I hope she lives a long life! I’m going to get so much paid vacation! Hah!”
Eventually his coworkers laughter died out, mostly choked by his own envy. “Yeah, well congratulations on circumventing the System. How did you even know your ward would be able to pull it off?”
“Eh, I didn’t really know to be honest,” Rikraq shrugged. “She’s as insane as can be, so I assume she gleaned something through her madness? I just saw that there was a good possibility she’d be able to do it, so I left her as many hints as I could without risking being caught. I did butter her up a lot, though most of it was me just fucking with her, hah! It was super fucking cathartic too.”
“That's fair. Er, good on ya." The bitterness was definitely showing on Rhezas, so Rikraq walked back to the kitchenette and pulled out a hidden box. Opening it, he took a square brick object and tossed it to Rhezas.
“Holy Shit—is this fucking Asurian Angel Dust? Is that what he traded you? A fucking Kilo of it?” Rhezas was suitably impressed.
But before his envy could return, Rikraq laughed, “No darlin’ that Kilos for you. On the house!”
“S-seriously?” Rhezas looked like he was about to cry.
“Of course! Besides, the old slayer gave me a damn kilotonne of the stuff. No joke!”
Rhezas went pale, a mean feat for a Spirit white as snow. “Oh my Devas. How did he even afford all this?”
“Well, for some reason that Expansion the Slayer’s been investing in for quite some time and was all pissy about, is about to start skyrocketing in value due to a local eye sore disappearing. He took out loans using his properties as collateral and set them all to sell later tomorrow! Hahahahaha!”
“Manipulating the Expansion market? What a classic!” The two of them cheered, laughing loudly as they clinked their drinks. Together they exalted “To the Godslayer!” before they proceeded to get royally fucked up.
“I can’t pull myself back together! I can’t do it again! No!”
“Please just recoporeate your body, sir. I have hundreds of reports of splatterings still lingering in the city and there's no need to leave false remains ar—”
“Ahhhhhhhhhhh… my leg! Nurse, please my leg!” A wailing Primate-God nearby interrupted, cradling his ‘injury.’
The poor Pelican-God stared blankly between the clearly faking Spirit and her ‘gory’ victim, before sighing and heading towards the Doctor’s office.
“Sir… the situation is getting more intense out there.”
“Yes, I know. How many are we at now?” The Panther-God said, before adjusting his stethoscope. It wasn’t needed, but he liked how the solid sapphire item gleamed professionally.
“Um, a-about 154,000 cases. We haven’t gotten a full count just yet, but there's word that all those in the kill-radius are going to plead for time off for emotional distress as well. Should I… authorize it sir?”
The Panther-God massaged his temples in frustration. “I suppose it could’ve been worse. This is top ten, but not quite equal to the top five worst rampages in the City’s history. Still, I’ll… put forth plans for another Expansion to the Council to cover the redistribution of labor and insurance payouts. Authorize the paid leave.” He waved towards her and the Nurse left.
He hated having to go before the Council and put forward cases like this. They’d fight tooth and claw to resist adding additional management roles, but the disruption from all the God’s taking time off could be monstrous, not to mention the exorbitant costs to remanifest all those affected.
He winced as he heard the Primate-God in the other room howl again. He hated catering to those cry-babies—everyone knew that Spirits didn’t even feel the pain! Not unless it was real pain. It would be tempting to boot the freeloaders out, but…
The Fear of Endings Relief Charity would be adamant that all those affected by Rahmiel be allowed time to recover and purify themselves. The greedy bastards were also why everyone even so much as brushed by the Monster would get payouts for the next damn year.
But the Fear of death, of true death, could twist them, spiritually corrupting their Patterns. As such the Council refused to take chances. If Devas could go mad from it, how were Gods expected to fare better? No one wanted to risk another Civil War!
He just wished all these lazy bastards wouldn’t seek the Monster out the moment they heard he arrived. The congestion was a nightmare alone… how did they always seem to know where he was? Did the murderer have a newsletter or something?
“Curse you Godslayer…” The doctor growled. He might have to get out of his seat and work today because of this mess.
“Hello little one, thank you for waiting so patiently. Er, I see your name here is Becky, right?”
The little girl nodded her emaciated head. “Y-yes sir. Will I be able to see my Mommy soon?”
“Yes dear, of course. We, er, had a priority request to see you through.” The Hippo-God gingerly patted at the bribe memo nearby that requested her speedy processing. “If you could just sign here?”
The little girl did, and in a flash, she disappeared as her grey motes imprinted on the page. The Spirit rolled up the dead Manaborn and placed her in a tube as her request shot through the priority system. He was glad Guard-Captain Dolknar had been indisposed today—it would have been quite the hassle to smuggle her in otherwise.
In the meantime, he stared lovingly back at his ‘memo.’ He still didn’t know why the Monster had taken a sudden interest in the poor ghost, but frankly… he didn’t care!
“...hehe, thanks for the offering Godslayer!”
“Hmmm, yes that feels very good. Keep going. Hmmm.” Milear, the newest member of lower management of the Journey’s End, relaxed quietly in the executive-plush chair in his oversized office as his private assistant massaged his hand. His ‘poor’ ‘injured’ hand that he had damaged so valiantly in defense of the Journey’s End.
A small sound caught his attention as a tube filled with a priority message came in. A second assistant rushed over and brought Milear the scroll. Unveiling it, Milear read it over, and then nodded, waving.
“Yes, send that one on.”
The assistant bowed and scraped as he left, and Milear smiled happily. While many were frustrated that the queue system was being forced to expand, he’d worked hard with his fellows to bury the numbers of their brief foray into true efficiency so the middle and higher managers wouldn’t know how hard they could work. It had earned him a reputation as being a trustworthy, yet unscrupulous boss that others could rely on to sabotage the system.
It also got him a shit load of bribes!
“Thank you, Godslayer.” Miliear quietly mused, before wincing as he heard the Guardians of the Queue still celebrating in the barracks. He rolled his eyes—they’d calm down in a few months, he was sure. Paid leave was nice, but they’d get bored eventually and head out for fun rather than getting hammered in their bunks 24/7.
----------------------------------------
“You’re fucking shitting me!” Jordan exclaimed. “This was why you were so violent? Because it was all an act? Every Spirit who came your way was just wanting insurance payouts and time off!?”
“Yup!” Rahm replied. “That’s just how it works, Aury! Hahahaha!”
“What happened to Spirits being afraid of dying!?”
“Well, they can be, but if they think they can get away with just a casual passby they'll take their chances. The Gods will do just about anything to get out of work!”
“And you just indulge this for fun?”
“I do my best to contribute to the recalcitration of the workforce.”
“What’s that supposed to mean!?”
“It just means,” Kioko answered, “that’s his way of helping the ‘little’ guy as it were.”
“Erg!” Jordan’s cheeks puffed out irritably. “So the rest of it was, what then?”
“Well, if I had to guess,” Kioko said, “He wanted to help you cultivate, but knew he’d get caught because of his wife, so he decided to use the heat he’d have on him preemptively. He’s likely been working in the background, hence bribing and coordinating with your Fateweaver, to have you break your Fate and become an Anomaly to prevent arbitrary death from the Gods while everyone was distracted looking at him.”
“And he started riots because…?”
“He needed to separate the members of PIEA so he could challenge Cassiel with that stupid stunt of his.”
“Didn’t she say he was going to get banned from their Pax, or whatever, from his threat?
“Oh it’s fine!” Rahm chuckled. “It’ll only be for a few decades anyway and I’ll lay low training you. Besides… I figure they’ll probably be rather busy for the foreseeable future.”
Both Kioko and Jordan glared at the man suspiciously, but he just giggled like a child and didn’t add anything else.
“Great.” Jordan said. “So what about this damn ring that’s still stuck on my finger?”
“Eh, it’s a present!” Rahm said.
Kioko narrowed her eyes at the old man, before suddenly gasping. “Oh, of fucking course! I saw her turn away and blush—that’s who you got it from.”
“What’s that?” Jordan prodded.
“Oh, I’m pretty sure he got it from the Stellar Cartographer. Let me guess,” she called out to Rahm, “it’s an undocumented Artifact, ain’t it?”
Only the sounds of maniacal laughter answered them, and Kioko sighed deeply.
“What… what’s that supposed to mean?” Jordan asked.
“It probably means,” Kioko answered, “that he set that up so you’d get some fancy trinket as well as ‘accidently’ drain the pulsar.”
“Why would he do that!?”
“Well, he’s been in a fight with the HoA for centuries from what I heard, so this was probably a long time coming. Now, all that property he’s been investing in is likely worth a fortune and he screwed the bastards over. Win-win considering how much they’ll probably charge Rahm for reparations.”
“And… no one’s going to call him on it?”
“The ring’s undocumented, remember? And he was busy in a bar the whole time.”
“Will… I be held accountable?” Jordan asked nervously. He’d had enough of being saddled with other people’s debt!
“Well… you might have been if you hadn’t just been Banished. Technically speaking, there is no higher punishment in the Gods’ eyes.”
“Oh… is… is that why he was pissing his wife off?”
“If I had to guess? Yup.”
That… manipulative bastard. All this just to help me cultivate a little faster, make a bunch of money screwing over some random Homeowners Association, while helping out random low-grade Gods? Oh, and I guess the joy of pissing off his estranged wife.
“Also,” Rahm added, “I, ah, just wanted to let you know. That little girl you saw on the way in? I figured she’d tug on your heart strings so I made sure she got helped. Express delivery!” He laughed.
"When did you even do that!?"
"Eh, I sweet talked Miliear into it while he was punching me."
“I…” Jordan didn’t even know what to say.
On one hand… he felt traumatized by his time up here. Violence, death, explosions, torture, kidnappings, public indecency… the list went on and made his head hurt while his eyes watered.
On the other hand… he was now up to par with his peers with cultivation, a few Spirits in need got helped, he wouldn’t have to worry about the Gods at FIMI trying to kill or control him, and he got some… fancy ring?
Kioko let out a long suffering sigh, and Jordan hugged her encouragingly. He… felt like he could empathize with her a lot right now.
He’d never hated someone he cared about so much as Rahm.
But… well, he did help so… Jordan mulled over some possible responses, and came to the best conclusion he could.
He leaned forward and whispered in Kioko’s ears. She glanced back at Jordan incredulously, but after they shared a look, she exhaled in frustration and nodded.
The two turned to face Rahm, held up their hands, and shot him four thumbs up.
“Full marks.” They said in unison.
The old man blushed as he scratched at his hair sheepishly. The damn things still banged like drum sticks.
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Elsewhere...
A young man decided he’d go to a party he’d first decided to blow off. He’d heard an interesting person would be there this year. It had to be worth a look, right?
A Maid decided to read a book. It wasn’t her fault—there didn’t seem to be a spot to put it! Besides, the Young Miss wouldn’t mind. What… would it be like to be free?
A Monster stirred in its chains as alarms blared. It’d been more than a century since last it moved, and when that had happened? Genocide followed.
But most importantly of all… an anxious Spirit ran up to the Diamond Hand Princess of Sky’s End.
“Ma’am, w-we have a situation.”
She narrowed her eyes at the Fateweaver. The Spirit was clearly lower management, but his worry was palpable. His timing was also…
“What happened.” She snapped.
“I… I’m sorry to say that I must report a breach in the Loom. Daemonic Essence was detected and the System authorized the user. They… became an Anomaly, ma’am.”
The woman sighed, rubbing at her eyes. “Really, Rahmiel? Was that what you were playing at? What an absurd amount of effort for so little—”
“Ma’am…” The Spirit shuffled anxiously.
Cassiel glared at the Spider-God. She was not one to tolerate interruptions, but before she could smite the impertinent Spirit, he said “T-that’s not the problem.”
“While she was there,” he gulped, “s-she triggered the selection process for the Divine Mandate.”
And the world around her froze in her shock. “Who… who did she select?”
“It’s still set to the Mayor’s last instructions. E-every Mortal of Level Six is on the list as well as each Anomaly. Ah, a r-random selection event will be underway soon, ma’am. We… don’t know what the System’s going to do.”
“It… that…” The Mayor had been against Mortals most of all, why would he…? “Oh… of course he would. A final, petty jab from beyond the Realms.”
That Fallen Deva had waged Civil War to destroy the People, claiming in his Fear that it was to ensure a new Maou could never be born. Of course he would leave the Fate of the rulership of the Celestial City into the very hands he swore would doom them all if not culled.
He almost certainly did it just to have his point proven all these millennia later. And since his final act had locked the System, leaving all the Spirits only perfunctory Guest access...
“Rahmiel… what have you done.”
The Godslayer had just damned the world to a new Cataclysm.
“It’s okay though, ma’am. I-if we can get the Mortal who triggered the event back into the Loom they should be able to stop the process. We may even be able to finally select a new Grand Administrator!”
The Spider-God smiled hopefully, but Cassiel could only tremble at the thought of the Mortal… she’d been tricked into Banishing.
Her Authority’s Oath could not be rescinded.
That was why he was goading me? I...
It was too late to stop what was to come.
“He… played me again. Damn you, Godslayer. Damn you to Asurias you hellspawn-loving Monster!”
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