Chapter 1
God and The Fansite Master
Contrary to its name, the Land of the Afterlife was a rich and vibrant city, inarguably the most prosperous among the ‘Seven Great Clans’. It’s military power was nothing to scoff at either, such was its strength that unlike the other clans, no walls divided them from the outside world. Locals and foreigners were fortunate enough to trade and haggle on the street with the most sought-after and luxurious riches without a care in the world, because in this haven they call home, they were safe. Golden and lacquered statues of previous Clan Leaders were situated at several corners of the street and the townspeople often draped the statues with the finest jewels and ornaments over their necks and at their feet as an offering. And at the center of the town was a 300 meter golden temple where the locals frequented for prayer and worship of their divine Clan Leader Zoser Abubaker.
Its beauty was so incomparable that even Xenon Venganza felt a little guilty destroying it to ruins.
Xenon was a tall and imposing figure, over six-feet with the muscular build of a well-trained soldier. He had jet-black hair with green serpent-like eyes and despite his vicious glare, he was undeniably attractive. His villainous aura was made all the more apparent with his half-buttoned long black trench coat and heavy black boots.
Xenon stood at the center of the hole he blasted at the entrance of the golden temple, disregarding all the screams of terror behind him where he wreaked havoc on the ignorant townsfolk. Xenon turned his eyes to the target of his assault- the Clan Leader of the Land of the Afterlife, Zoser Abubaker.
Despite his high rank, the Clan Leader looked like a pitiful old man. He looked like he was on the cusp of death with his back hunched on his overly ornamented golden throne situated on a platform twelve feet from where Xenon stood. The Clan Leader wore a double crown golden headdress with a high-collar ruby necklace and a golden robe draped across his back, his eyes were lined with kohl and each finger was adorned with different shades of emerald and sapphire rings. Zoser Abubaker was so bony that his skin was even saging from his frail frame and yet his gaze was proud and unwavering. The Clan Leader looked at his youthful enemy before him without a hint of fear in his eyes.
“Foreigners are not allowed in the Sacred Temple of the Land of the Afterlife,” a young woman who looked to be the Clan Leader’s guard hissed at Xenon. She slammed the scepter in her hand to the ground in Xenon’s direction, a crack formed along the marble floor from the orb where she landed her scepter to the toes of Xenon’s boot. “Lower your eyes before the divine Clan Leader, you scum.”
The young woman was olive skinned with her chestnut brown hair cut unevenly at her temple, she had purple kohl that lined her almond-shaped eyes. She wore a sheer voile fabric with a golden cord tied around her waist and beheld a scepter a head taller than her. She was slender with a muscular build but no matter how fierce her glare was, she was obviously unevenly matched with the enemy before her- at least upon first glance.
“You look like an intelligent and beautiful woman,” Xenon said in a deep and husky voice. “But it seems that you are not intelligent enough to choose the right leader to serve.”
The woman looked at Xenon scornfully, “Listen to you speak with no manners. That filthy mouth deserves to have its tongue cut off, you Clanless piece of shi-”
“Azisa!” The Clan Leader spoke for the first time, his voice surprisingly firm given his old age. Although she seemed to be buzzing with hostile energy at the face of Xenon, upon the old man’s one word, her whole body froze. “Didn’t I already teach you not to meddle in other people’s affairs.”
“But Master, I-”
“My grandson,” he lazily lifted his eyes to meet Xenon’s serpent gaze. “Is in the West Market amid all the chaos, a perfect opportunity for a kidnap or an assisination don’t you think?”
“My duty is to protect you,” Azisa pleaded, her eyes never leaving the enemy before her. To the untrained eye, it seemed like Azisa was simply looking at the enemy with caution but it did not escape Xenon how her eyes were subtly assessing him from his untamed black hair to the tip of his leather boots to even the winged orbs that were floating around his sides defensively. She was looking for his weak spots. In particular, he bet that Azisa was especially curious about the fact that each winged orb was different. There were six surrounding him in total, which is his maximum control limit, the one on his upper left is red, his middle left a dim violet and his lower right a bright green, while all the remaining winged orbs were translucent. In her eyes, she was desperately looking for hints as to what his manifestation technique may be that he single-handedly caused such chaos to one of the Great Seven Clans, but Xenon knew not even the wisest fighter would figure out his ability - after all it was technique he mastered for years.
“Your duty is to protect the Resurrection Clan as the Clan Guardian,” Clan Leader Zoser vehemently corrected. “To do that, you must protect the next-in-line. Without an heir, the Clan is nothing, do you understand that, Azisa?”
Azisa hesitantly nodded, her whole body was in a defensive posture against the enemy but her eyes were conflicted and Xenon didn’t miss the way the scepter she was holding in her hands shaking slightly.
“Now go, my soldier,” the Clan Leader said decisively. He started to stand on his feet, his golden robe falling off his shoulders and on his throne. He started to slip each ring off one by one and dropped them to the floor, and once he was done, his headdress followed suit. Without all of the needlessly extravagant garments and his back fully straightened, the old man finally looked like a decent threat to Xenon, of course he was aware before attacking that he wasn’t just going to fight anyone, but a Clan Leader of one of the Seven Great Clans, the legendary 100-year-old Zoser Abubaker. “Keep Abayomi safe.”
Azisa was biting hard on her lips, her eyes were starting to look teary but nonetheless, she bowed her head. Azisa started to head to the back exit of the Temple but not without sending one last look to the Clan Leader, one that clearly said, ‘Please live’. The Clan Leader did not spare a glance at Azisa but was instead keeping his eyes focused on the enemy before him.
“And finally,” Xenon said, his veins buzzing with the anticipation of a good fight. “It’s just the two of us.”
Zoser squatted a little and jumped off the high platform of the throne to the level of flooring where Xenon stood, twelve-feet below. His landing left a crater on where he stood and a larger crack on the marble floor over the one previously made with Azisa’s scepter, a cloud of dust formed around his ankles. At even footing, Xenon could finally see the Clan Leader properly. If not for his rank, he was nothing special to behold. Zoser Abubaker was balding except for the center of his head where he still curiously tied his white hair to a short ponytail, and because he abandoned all his luxurious garments, all that was left was a cotton white loose pair of pants tied loosely around his waist. Although he was bony, there were undeniable indents of muscle and scars layers over each other on his chest as a testimony of his experience in the battlefield. Even his eyes spoke of his history in war, they were so brown they looked golden and so intense that it would make an average man go on his knees to plead for surrender. But fortunately, Xenon Venganza is not an average man, he came to this place for a reason, that reason being to win over the old geezer.
“This floor,” Zoser said, looking at the ground with disinterest. “Those jewels, these riches. If you’d have destroyed them all then I wouldn’t have batted an eye. But my city you are not allowed to touch. You, a Clanless scum of this Earth, caused chaos and fear to brew into the city that I built, and that I can never forgive.”
“How ironic,” Xenon said dryly, feeling the familiar taste of bitterness in his throat. “If you were this sentimental and familial, you should have thought twice before murdering my mentor, don’t you think?”
Zoser takes his time to leisurely stretch before Xenon, not heeding his words. Planting his palm on his knees and stretching his legs, it didn’t escape Xenon that for some reason, his muscles seemed to grow bigger and the vines that lined along his arms and thighs became clearer. Xenon didn’t understand why, but he felt that because the younger woman earlier served him so keenly, then this old man wouldn’t be capable of committing the crimes Xenon heard of. He didn’t want to believe it.
“Gerula, Noctifer Gerula,” Xenon starts to chant desperately. “Do you even remember the man whose life you took?”
“None of that is my concern,” Zoser takes what seems to be a mummified bone from the right pocket of his cotton pants, he starts to unwrap it languidly without a care in the world and reveals what seems to be a single human rib, it’s yellowed wrapping tissue lands on the cracked floor. There were carvings of an unfamiliar red pattern that lined along the surface of the bone and if not for the thorough research Xenon did then he would have been flustered but unluckily for the Clan Leader, there are some disadvantages to having your war stories become legends and that is your technique will be revealed to stronger and more vengeful enemies.
“You heartless beast,” Xenon cries out and begins to unsheath his broadsword from behind his back, Zoser looked at the sword cautiously, curious at the fact there were three large holes indented on the surface of the metal near the hilt. The winged eye orbs at his side start to grow restless and start flapping excitedly, spurned by the epic battle that was about to unfold before them. Because Xenon wanted to confuse the old man even more, he manifested for the translucent winged orbs to enter the holes. Zoser observed his enemy’s first move without batting an eye. “You do not deserve your rank! I will take your head and flaunt it before your little grandson before adding him to my collection!”
Zoser takes the rib between his bony pinky and thumb and dangles the bone above his head, he drops it and swallows the 9-inch bone down in one gulp. It was the first time that Xenon was sure the Clan Leader was faking composure. He noticed that his throat was too slow to devour the rib, his eyelids were shut tight and the middle of his eyebrows were creasing slightly, indicating his struggle. Although Xenon is all about a fair fight, in a fit of revenge-fueled rage, he begins to advance toward Zoser while the Clan Leader is distracted.
Just before his sword would land a hit, Zoser chanted, “Manifestation Technique: Resurrection. 6th Clan Leader Ramasses.”
Zoser’s whole body started to glow a golden red and he released such a powerful surge of energy from his body that the marble pillars started to crack and collapse and the wall with the gaping hole ruptured to a larger hole three times its previous size. Even Xenon was pushed back to the end of the Temple wall. Xenon starts to lift his heavy eyes and amid the collection of dust and falling debris stands the Clan Leader Zoser, now twice his size, his whole aura radiating gold and his eyes transformed to a menacing bright red. Xenon looked at Zoser’s arm with caution, which now turned to a golden armor of scales, known as Ramasses’ gauntlet. This was the Manifestation Technique that lay waste to countless Clans across the lands, a self-righteous fraud that would take the lives of countless innocents to maintain ‘peace’ within his own Clan. But despite knowing all his enemy was capable of and more, Xenon was not afraid.
“Keep the Successor of the Resurrection Clan’s name out your mouth,” Zoser exhales, the breath that left his lips, heavy and gas-like, almost reminiscent of exhaust fumes if the people in this world even knew what it looked like.
“Keep his name out of my mouth?” Xenon laughs humorlessly. He lifts himself off the wall and starts to approach him once more. “He’s next on my list, old man!”
They both start to advance towards each other and -
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭
I pick up the remote control and switch the TV off, which was currently playing Assault on the Seven Clans #1, A Hero’s Vengeful Origin.
“Aww, Moirai, we were just getting to the good part!” the six-year-old boy I was currently babysitting, Crispy, whins. He was sitting adorably on the couch before the TV in bright green pajamas with a Christmas tree design in the warm month of April.
“Crispy,” I admonish, pinching his tiny button nose playfully. He giggles and swats my hand away. “You’ve watched this a billion times, you already know what happens..”
“But Clan Leader Zoser is really the best, he’s one of my Top 2 with Clan Leader Zhao Song,” Crispy pouts. “Why did you have to kill him off Auntiee, you stink!”
“Crispy,” his mother and my best friend, Sisa, carries him into her arms and slaps his butt playfully. “You do not get to tell the Author what and what not to do. It’s her book, not yours.”
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“And you didn’t even write anything for four whole years,” Crispy wails in annoyance. “Don’t you think you should be working instead of hanging in this dump with us?”
“Crispy!” Sisa scolds in warning, I wince and my friend smiles at me apologetically. “Go to your room and video call your dad, okay? He said he has a present to give you but only if you behave.”
“Sweet,” Crispy sings as he dashes to his room without sparing a glance at either of us on his way.
I begin to sit on Crispy’s place on the couch with Sisa following suit at my side. At the T.V. in front of us is the main character, Xenon Vanganca, and his first foe to battle, Zoser Abubaker, paused mid-battle, both suspended in air.
“Sorry, my son can get so insensitive,” Sisa pats my leg gently.
I sigh and throw my head back against the couch, “He’s got a point though. I haven’t written a page in ages, my editors on my ass everyday and I’ve even got hate mail sent twice a day to my apartment.”
“But honey,” Sisa says delicately. “You can’t help it if you’re still getting those nightmares. Your eye bags are really getting worse, Moirai, how many days have you failed to sleep?”
“Three,” I answered, laughing humorlessly.
I let out a labored breath and looked at my slippered feet. My books were never meant to be published seriously, it was only at the behest of Sisa that I actually sent it to an actual publisher and now it's getting a movie adaption with high-profile actors and actresses? It was extremely beyond my expectations. It was ridiculous to think that it started off as short stories I would share with my friends that were inspired off of the nonsense of her dreams. And that’s how it started, dream after dream, page after page. But for some reason, after the sixth book, I stopped getting these strange and yet spectacular dreams but instead started seeing nightmares from my own stories. And when I did try to conclude the story to shut my editor up by killing off the main character, somehow something terrible always happens, either my computer will crash or an emergency will take place or just something terrible. It was as if the main character absolutely refused to die. It was then that I realized that in a world of my own making, even I was not in control.
“Sisa, I should head home,” I yawn as I start to stand up. “It’s getting late and I have an early day tomorrow.”
“Will you meet your editor?” she asks, putting her hands on her hips. “Even Mr. Thomas has been badgering me, you know?”
“Seriously,” I groan in annoyance. “I’m going to have a word with Tom about this, that prick.”
Sisa laughs delicately. Because she's an angel, she tries to hide what she’s feeling especially if they are hurtful. But considering how we’ve known each other forever, I know that it’s been on the back of her mind, the fact that I don’t write the books anymore. In the first place, she’s been the one that’s been pushing me in this career and has been a solid support system throughout but ever since I opened up about my therapy sessions, it feels as though she’s been walking on eggshells. There was a time where we would open up about everything and anything but now she looks at her feet and plays with the thread of her apron, it feels like I’m talking to a stranger now. Like our relationship is so delicate that if we do something wrong then it will break completely. When we are at the door of Sisa’s apartment, I start to hug her tightly then we both awkwardly say our farewells. Ironic that we get like this everytime when I literally just live on the floor above her. As I leave, I start to reflect on my thoughts and arrive at the familiar scene of my apartment without realizing it. The same quaint little kitchen and bedroom-sized living room. What was not so familiar however was the strange slightly lanky man that stood at the center of the apartment. I started to feel a thread of anxiety build from my stomach and tremble, I released a surprised scream before I could control myself.
He turns to look at me and he looks like one of the manic fans of the series cosplaying as the main character but it really does not suit him no matter how you look at it. The actor or even the Xenon Venganza in the books had a slightly curly and disheveled black hair, was extremely tall and muscular, that's what made the trenchcoat and overall attire look so good on him. The man before me looked like he was drowning in the character merchandise set and it looked like he over-gelled his straight hair in an effort to copy Xenon’s natural waves. Moreover, this man just looked awkward and unconfident in what he wore, it was unsettling.
I instinctively reached into the pocket of my jacket where I keep a pepper spray just for this opportunity. I brandish it to the man’s face like a pistol but that doesn’t hinder him in his approach
“God?” he asks in amazement, his face obscured in the darkness.
“B-b-back off,” I tremble in fear. “My friend-”
“Lives on the floor below, sorry Ms. Moirai Kato, I don’t mean to frighten you but I really need to talk to you,” the man says with the most serious gaze in the world. That doesn’t seem to reassure me in the slightest though. “My name is RJ Bardo! The Fansite Master of the biggest Assault on the Seven Clans Fansite worldwide! And you are my God!”
“How did you find this place?” I ask as I cower near the door and covertly reach under my jacket to dial 911.
“My young stead, ZoserAbbk#1FanCrispy gave me the info, he’s the best at recon missions such as this,” RJ Bardo says proudly.
“Crispy gave this to you?” I ask incredulously, a little miffed at the little midget. To protect my privacy, I operate under an alias of M.K. Parka, and all the fan letters and packages get sent to the publishing office then to me, however sometimes the sorting division gets careless and I do end up receiving the majority of hate mail. I explicitly communicated to my publisher about how much I valued my privacy that the only ones who know of it were him, Sisa and Crispy, and the mailman. It ticked me off realizing how this will eventually become public knowledge.
“Because of him, I know now everything about you. I know you better than anyone, after all, you are my God,” RJ Bardo raves, looking a little unhinged.
“Don’t be absurd, you crazy stalker,” I exclaim. As a woman living alone you get to learn several tricks such as dialing 911 without looking at the keypad. I figured if I called for Sisa then I would just put her and Crispy in danger. I muted my phone but hoped that the lady on the other end was hearing our conversation and prayed she would just track my phone from there on. I figured if RJ Bardo found out, he would rip the phone from my hands and I would just lose any chance of escaping.
“I’m not a stalker, I’m your biggest supporter,” he says fervently. “I know you better than anyone. I know about your nightmares, your psychiatric records, I know you. And most of all, I know that you are running away! Aren’t you, God?”
“Shut up,” I yell. “What do you know? Shut up! How did you even get into the Howard’s Complex Apartment Building anyway, my room is even on the seventh floor!”
“None of that matters, God,” RJ Bardo says so earnestly that I feel a bit guilty for seeing him as a threat but with the way he is acting and how he broke into my apartment, I knew that I’m in the right mind to be wary of him. “I want to help you. I know you are conflicted on how to finish that story but maybe if we could write it together and figure out a way for Xenon to fulfill his revenge-”
“That’s impossible, Mister RJ Bardo,” I say in heaves, trying to control my shaking. “Xenon dies in the last book.”
For the first time, the man looks dumbfounded. “But then...if he dies then what was the whole point of the past six books?”
While he’s immobilized in his own surprise, I pepper spray his face and start to make a dash for the bathroom, which was the nearest one to where I stood in the entrance. Before I could lock it, RJ Bardo body slammed his whole weight against the frame, which I initially thought was not much but the whole door literally reverberates off its hinges. I could not even lock the door or even attach the door chain with Bardo being so enthusiastically crazy on the other side, making the entrance tremor with each slam against it.
“Tell me, God, what was the reason?!” RJ Bardo asks in genuine anger and astonishment. “Did you just make him suffer throughout the 90,000 pages for the hell of it? It may have been fun for you but to me, he was a real person!”
“He was also an asshole like you,” I yell while trying to push my whole weight to the door, praying to God that crazy man won’t be able to go in. To add to my unluckiness, I dropped my phone in my dash to the door. I spot my razor on the mirror a mere meter away from me and reach towards it as my last option. “It’s so easy for all of you to make judgements and leave hate comments, isn’t it? Then why don’t you just write the damn book yourselves if you’re so good at writing, why don’t you?”
I grip the razor in my hand so tight thinking this was going to be my last moments. “None of you will ever understand, don’t you think I would if I could!” I shout despite the hoarseness in my throat.
I close my eyes, wishing to escape from this horrible prison of a reality, or better yet, to be dead. Laughing at how one of the people I worked so hard to impress would be the end of me. Before I knew it, my eyes started to close, remembering that I had not slept in three days and cursing at the horrible timing. I noticed that RJ Bardo had gone silent on the other end but I still gripped the razor with all my strength even as I fell into a deep slumber, wishing to just escape. I would realize later that I would wish for the opposite.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭
When my consciousness came back, darkness and chaos engulfed me. I could hear children and women wailing, the restless neighs of horses and the resounding rumbling of carriage wheels over uneven terrain. The sounds that entered my ears were strange and yet oddly familiar, like a scene from a distant memory. The blood in my veins ran cold, as if my body was expectant for a disastrous scene to take place.
“Miss, hello, miss?” I hear a child’s voice desperately wailing at my side. “Please wake up or you’ll die!”
“Clan successor, this really isn’t a place for you to be,” I hear an equally desperate voice say distantly. “Why don’t we just leave the girl, eh? If she wanted to live I’m sure she would have woken up by now- Oh, she’s awake?”
I opened my eyes hazily and amidst my blurry vision, I see the fuzzy figures of a tall and built male and a young child. When my eyes finally came to focus, in the middle of my periphery kneels a brown-skinned young boy with bright hazel eyes and dark, long lashes, a noble nose and a crown of golden brown curly hair. The boy dressed extravagantly, he wore a clean white cotton robe under his velvet red cloak with an intricate design of golden patterns and a band on his temple made of gold and emeralds. His appearance alone would have been enough for him to radiate an effortless princely aura if not for the tears rolling down his cheeks and the snot dripping down his nose.
“As you can see, Abayomi,” the man said in a desperate matter-of-fact voice, his hand gesturing to me up and down as if we just performed some sort of magic skit. “The woman is awake and in good condition, now let us evacuate before we both get killed or worse, if that Clan Guardian finds us.”
I looked at the man in confusion. He wore all white, a white peasant top and white pants and he even had a haphazard head of white hair although he looked to be the same age as me, if not younger, and he had brown goggles covering his eyes, oddly enough.
“Are you alright?” the child, Abayomi asks. He takes out a handkerchief from his pocket and wraps it around my right hand which was bleeding profusely, to my surprise. I look at my hand confusedly while Abayomi intently wraps it. If I recall, this was the hand I used to grip the razor to fight against RJ Bardo but now...
“Where am I?” I ask blankly, everything about the scenery being both unfamiliar and yet oddly recognizable at the same time.
“Oh no, Zephir, she lost her memories,” Abayomi whines, his whole body wracked by sobs, he uses both hands to wipe off the tears and snot that were dripping from his face, his bejeweled fingers blinding me momentarily. “If only I was looking where I was going, I wouldn’t have bumped into you and you wouldn’t have hit your head! I’m s-s-so so-sorry m-ma'am!”
“Clan successor,” the man wails even more desperately than before. “Please stop sobbing, it’s really not your fault, let’s discuss this somewhere else, probably where we won’t get mugged or stampeded to death, eh?”
While Abayomi and Zephir bicker back and forth, I lift my eyes to inspect my surroundings. As I thought, this whole place was extremely familiar and yet I’m sure that I’ve never been here before. The whole place is covered in sand and yet everything seems to be needlessly extravagant despite the ongoing chaos. Abandoned, colorful stalls displaying goods such as jewels, metalware, and cloth of fine print litter the street where Abayomi, Zephir and I currently crowd and where I see people currently running for their lives. I see in the distance in front of me, at the end of the street a noble golden statue of a man standing proud with wings extending from his back. A headache ensues as I can’t particularly place where I’ve seen this all before. And suddenly it clicks.
“Wait, what did you say your name was?” I ask the prince-like boy, Abayomi, although he just looks at me blankly as if surprised that I could speak coherently.
“Don’t address him so informally,” the man, Zephir, says at his side indignantly. “It’s Abayomi Abubaker, Future Clan Leader of the Resurrection Clan of the Land of the Afterlife!”
“Resurrection Clan?” I ask blankly, my hands now massaging my temples. “Of the Great Seven Clans? From my book and the movie, ‘Assault on the Seven Clans’?”
“I don’t understand the words you’re speaking,” Zephir cries out helpless. “What’s a movie?! Clan successor, I think this woman is deranged, we should just leave her!”
“But what if she became deranged because I damaged her head? Then, all the more reason we can’t leave her!” Abayomi rebutts.
I pinch my arms hard, once, twice. My skin is now blushing an angry red and shows signs of a mighty bruise later on but everything is still intact. This is not a dream. To make sure, I use both my hands to slap myself as hard as I can on my cheeks. It’s no good, my body is still rooted in place. I’m now sure, I have been transported to an alternate universe, in my own book no less!
“Abayomi,” I hear Zephir cry out in surprise. “She’s a lunatic!”
I start to think to myself. If I really have been transported in the world of ‘Assault in the Seven Clans’ then the events that are transpiring right now are near the end of ‘A Hero’s Vengeful Origin’, the first book. It’s been so long since I reread the whole series that I forgot what happened in the story, much less the first book. But if I do remember correctly, this is before Clan successor Abayomi has been retrieved by the Clan Guardian, Azisa, and the Clan Leader dies-
“Grandpa dies?!” I hear Abayomi exclaim in surprise. I break from my train of thoughts, unaware that I have been thinking out loud.
Zephir drags me to stand by grabbing my arm forcefully. “You really have been testing my patience,” he whispers, making sure Abayomi won’t overhear from our height. “You look like a foreigner but that doesn’t mean you can just blurt out whatever it is on your mind, much less with the successor present. Despite the chaos, you are still in Clan Leader Zoser Abubaker’s territory.”
Now that our faces are almost touching, I can see that beyond his tinted goggles, Zephir's eyes are a bright red which is terrifying alone but matched with his fiery glare is simply on another level of intimidating. “Or is it that you are mage?”
Among all this madness, Zephir confuses me the most. I don’t recall a character by his name from the original storyline so I simply cannot predict what he is capable of or how strong he is. For some reason, I am sure of the fact that I am not dreaming, all that is happening now is reality. Depending on how things will turn out, if the plot goes as planned and the Clan Leader dies, this Zephir will pin me as an accomplice from my earlier carelessness and the Clan Guardian, Azisa Sakhmet, will hunt me down and kill me. And given her reputation, she will be merciless. But if I do help them then the plotline will get messed and I won’t know how to escape from this alternate reality all the more. So what should I do? I gulp down nervously.
I feel something tug my robe. I turn to the side and see Abayomi looking up at me with bright hazel eyes. “Is it true? Will grandpa actually...” he asks nervously, struggling to actually say the words.
Zephir’s grip becomes stronger, he whispers calmly in my ear, “But if you do know what happens, doesn’t that mean you also know how to stop it from happening? Whether or not you’re a mage will be confirmed soon, don’t you think?”
I gulp down nervously, feeling his scarlet eyes stare daggers into me. I can’t help them figure out what will happen next, I’m not even sure if they are capable of stopping the monster that is the main character, after all he is ridiculously overpowered- even against Clan Leader Zoser Abubaker. The only character that I think can actually beat him in the whole series is Katyusha Bratva, and he doesn’t appear for another two books. Pitted against Azisa Sakhmet though, the fight would probably be at a tie. My whole body freezes as I come to a realization. If I just let the plot be then won’t that mean I will be stuck in this reality for six more books, around twelve years or so? Then shouldn’t the solution be to defeat Xenon Venganza as soon as possible so I can go back to the ‘real world’? To Sisa and Crispin?
I turn my eyes to Zephir who looks taken aback at the resolution in my eyes. “First,” I say calmly then look at Abayomi whose eyes have now dried out. “We have to find the Clan Guardian Azisa Sakhmet, as soon as possible, and I mean right now!”
I’ve been running away from this world for so long but just for the time being, while I’m here, I will be a God.