Four thrones had been claimed.
Michael stood beneath the Throne of Humility, silver sword gleaming in the plaza's light. He said nothing, standing there like a silent pillar, yet his presence alone made the space feel heavy. Frigg held the Throne of Compassion, her hands still warm from the souls she had embraced, tears dried on her cheeks but their traces remained like invisible scars. Mammon sat upon the Throne of Charity, eyes gazing down at the sea of treasures below, heart still aching over what he had kept, what he had not given away. And Maat, on the Throne of Purity, sat among twelve transparent crystal pillars, completely bare before the eyes of thousands, nothing left to hide, no secret still secret.
Four pillars erected. Four flames lit. Four burdens placed upon shoulders.
But three thrones remained empty. Three pillars still without masters. Three virtues still waiting.
The space sank into heavy silence like a starless night. Thousands of divine beings stood waiting, all exhausted after four trials that felt like eternity. Some trembled, fearing their name would be called, fearing they would face another trial without knowing if they had the strength. Some clenched their fists until nails dug into palms, hoping for one final chance to prove themselves, to stand upon those towering thrones. Some just wanted it to end, to go home, to rest, to forget everything.
Then light crashed down.
Not gradually. Not gently. But like a tsunami tearing through darkness, sweeping everything up, forcing everyone to shield their eyes. Elyndo appeared. Not from on high as usual, not descending from the supreme throne, but from the center of the plaza, as if He had been there all along, only before no one dared see. The light from Him was not blinding like the midday sun, but gentle as sunset glow, yet carrying an invisible weight pressing down on everyone's shoulders.
His voice rang out, deep and heavy like a bell tolling through the void:
"Four thrones claimed. Three thrones remain empty."
He paused. His gaze swept across countless faces, from the high gods standing in front to the young gods trembling in back. Each gaze carried a story. Each face carved with fear. Each soul praying silently.
"The next throne..."
The ground shook. Not lightly, but as if a massive creature was rising from the earth. From the cracks, red light began emanating, not the pure white light of previous times, but red like blood, like magma, like hellfire.
A sea of treasures gradually welled up. Mountains of jade rising high as real mountains, glittering under red light. Rivers of gold flowing like waterfalls, the sound of gold striking gold like bells. Pearl after pearl bright as stars, rolling on the ground, forming shimmering borders. Light from the treasures reflected onto the gods' faces, illuminating them, revealing every trace of greed, every glint of desire, every swallow of saliva upon seeing wealth.
They flooded the plaza, rising to knee-height, then waist-height, then chest-height. The gods stepped back, fearing drowning in the golden sea. But the treasures stopped, rising no higher, just enough for everyone to see their tremendous value.
But amid that dazzling sea, a barren structure slowly emerged. Cracked walls, each crack like an old scar that never healed. Dust-covered dome, thick as if uncleaned for thousands of years. Support pillars about to break, leaning to one side, as if about to collapse any moment. Bare as forgotten ruins, like an ancient temple in the desert, no one visiting.
It wasn't gilded. No treasures adorned its walls. No brilliant light shone down. Just gray stone, old, cracked, ugly.
Yet the more one looked, the more it stood prouder than everything else. Amid the glittering golden sea, that barren temple was like a silent reminder: true glory lies not in treasures, but in simple incorruptibility.
"Temperance."
Just those two words, but the air froze. Everyone fell silent. No one dared breathe loudly. No one dared move.
Elyndo stood amid the sea of treasures, light from Him emanating gently like morning mist. His voice rang out, not loud but penetrating to the marrow:
"Temperance is not strength. Not renunciation. But knowing enough. Knowing when to stop. Knowing that some things... should not be reached for."
He paused, letting the words settle, seeping into each person's mind.
"This trial differs from what you have experienced. No monsters to slay. No souls to save. No mirror to face. No treasury to divide."
Light from Elyndo intensified, swirling like a whirlpool, like the universe being born.
"You will create a world."
Whispers rose everywhere like waves:
"Create... a world?"
"Like the Three Primordial Gods?"
"Impossible..."
Elyndo raised his hand, all voices cut off as if sliced by a blade.
"Each of you will be given a barren land. Each will have thirteen days to sow life, to build, to create. Afterward, I will judge."
He swept his gaze down over the divine beings, face by face.
"Whoever creates the best world... will ascend the throne."
Silence. Silence stretching to suffocation. Then a young god, voice trembling, spoke:
"Your Grace... the best world... what does that mean?"
Elyndo didn't answer immediately. Just smiled faintly, an inscrutable smile, as if He knew something no one else did.
"That is for you to discover."
Light flared. From beneath Elyndo's feet, hundreds of circles of light spread like ripples on water, each circle touching a god. They were lifted into the air, bodies immobile, limbs stretched straight, eyes wide with horror. Hundreds of divine beings simultaneously floated in the void, like tiny stars in a dark sky.
Among them, several gods stood out:
Dionysus, god of wine, curly hair disheveled as if never combed, eyes red-rimmed like a drunk, holding a cluster of deep purple grapes. He laughed carelessly, as if this trial were just a fun game.
Lakshmi, goddess of wealth, golden robes cascading down like a waterfall, holding a blooming pink lotus, eyes gleaming with ambition, as if already seeing the golden throne awaiting her.
Tlaloc, rain god, jade-blue mask covering half his face, revealing only deep blue eyes like the ocean depths, holding a staff carved with water serpents.
Oshun, goddess of rivers, golden hair flowing long to her hips, smooth brown skin like silk, glittering golden necklace around her neck, smiling gently as a peaceful stream.
Thoth, god of wisdom, long ibis head, eyes sharp as knives, holding an ancient papyrus scroll, golden quill pen hanging at his side. He wasn't afraid, just observing, calculating.
Artemis, goddess of the hunt, silver bow on her shoulder, brown hair tied high, eyes cold as wolves, not a trace of fear, only absolute confidence.
Brihaspati, god of wisdom, beard long as a white stream flowing down his chest, bright yellow robes, holding a bamboo staff, eyes closed as if meditating in midair.
Izanami, goddess of death, black robes covering her from head to toe, revealing only empty eyes without pupils, like two bottomless pits.
Hermes, messenger god, small golden wings at his ankles, winged cap on his head, holding a golden staff entwined with two serpents, smiling mischievously.
Anubis, guide of souls, black jackal head, black robes, holding golden scales, standing straight as a statue.
And the two most prominent among the hundred gods, like the two brightest stars in the night sky:
Beelzebub, tall as a tower, shoulders broad as mountains capable of bearing the sky, long black hair cascading down his back like a waterfall, on his forehead a long scar running across like the mark of battlefields. His eyes were warm, compassionate, like a father looking at his children.
Tsukuyomi, in contrast, gaunt, body small as a child, silver hair like moonlight flowing loose, gray eyes staring coldly straight at Elyndo, no fear, no trembling, not bowing his head.
"Thirteen days. No more. No less."
Light consumed all.
When they opened their eyes, hundreds of gods found themselves standing in separate barren lands. Each person one land. No one could see anyone else. Only themselves, and empty land.
No trees. No water. No wind. No bird songs, no crashing waves, no rustling leaves. Just a vast plain stretching endlessly, brown-gray earth hard as stone, cracked into fragments like the skin of a long-dead massive creature. Gray sky, no sun, no moon, no stars, only dim light of unknown origin, like light from another dead world seeping through gaps.
Silence. Stillness until ears rang. No sound at all. As if the whole world had died, leaving only them, lonely gods in the void.
Each began creating in their own way.
Dionysus opened his eyes, looked around the barren land, laughed loudly, voice echoing in the silence like bells:
"How boring! A world without wine is not worth living in!"
He wasted no time thinking. Immediately, he spread his arms, purple light bursting from his palms like lavender blooming in the dark night. The light wasn't blinding, but gentle, warm, carrying the sweet fragrance of ripe grapes. It poured onto the ground like wine from a jug, seeping deep into each crack, like watering land that had been parched for a thousand years.
The earth trembled beneath his feet. From deep crevices, tender green shoots began emerging like small fingers reaching for light. Green vineyards surged up like rising waves, from a tiny point beneath his feet spreading in all directions, so fast the naked eye couldn't follow. Vines grew, from tiny sprouts to creepers, from creepers to mature plants, leaves lush providing shade. Plump grape clusters hung dangling, deep purple like a starless night sky, each fruit large as an adult's fist, glossy as if polished, sweet enough that just smelling made heads spin.
But he didn't stop there. He laughed, voice ringing:
"Not enough! Not nearly enough!"
He struck the ground hard, purple light exploding like fireworks in daylight. From the earth, something began flowing. Not water. Not magma. But wine. Deep red wine, fragrant, flowing from the earth like an endless spring, forming small streams, streams joining into rivers, rivers emptying into lakes. A lake of wine vast as a sea, its surface glittering under dim light, intoxicating aroma filling the space, seeping into every breath.
He stood by the wine lake shore, looked down, smiled with satisfaction. Then he waved his hand, small flowers began growing around the lake shore, purple, red, yellow, all colors bright as a festival. Grass grew thick, soft as velvet carpet. Large trees grew up, not just grapevines, but also fig trees, olive trees, mulberry trees, bright green leaves, wide shade.
"Still not enough!"
By day three, he began creating beings. Not gradually, but hundreds at once. Purple light flashed everywhere, from each ray, a being appeared. They opened their eyes for the first time, looking around with infinite wonder. Looking at the fresh green vineyards. Looking at the vast wine lake. Looking at the sky gradually shifting from gray to pale purple, warmer light. Then looking up at Dionysus, who had created it all.
He laughed heartily, stepped down, embraced a being's shoulder, giving them grape clusters:
"Eat! Drink! Life is for enjoying! For merriment! For forgetting all worries! Nothing sad exists here! Only joy!"
The beings looked at the grape clusters, hesitant at first, then picked a fruit, put it in their mouth. Bit down. Grape juice burst in their mouth like fireworks, so sweet they wanted to cry, so fresh it felt like the whole world lit up. They opened their eyes wide, smiled broadly, picked more, ate more, endlessly.
Then they stepped to the lake shore, scooped wine with their hands, drank. The wine was rich, not bitter, not harsh, just sweet and intoxicating. They giggled, cheeks flushed, eyes slightly glazed, bodies light as if floating on clouds.
By day five, Dionysus taught them to dance. Not solemn dances, but free dances, no rules. Spinning steps, arms swinging wide, heads tilted to the sky, mouths singing improvised melodies. He taught them songs, not sad songs, but cheerful songs, praising wine, praising life, praising joy. He taught them to hold endless feasts, every day a festival, every night a celebration, never stopping, never ending.
By day seven, his world had become an eternal festival. Laughter echoed everywhere, ceaseless. Music resonated from mouths, from clapping hands, from feet stamping the ground. Feet stomping created rhythms, groups of beings dancing around bonfires, around the wine lake, under vineyard shade. They were drunk, happy, without a care. No one sad. No one crying. Only laughter.
But by day ten, some beings began lying limp by the wine lake. Too drunk. Livers unable to cope. Their skin pale, eyes dark-ringed, breathing weak. Others still tried to drink, to dance, but their steps staggered as if about to fall, eyes glazed over no longer clear, no longer truly happy, just mechanical intoxication, like machines repeating the motions of drinking and dancing. Mouths still smiled, but smiles like habit, not from happiness.
Dionysus saw this, heart slightly worried, but he shook his head:
"It's fine. Just need to rest a bit. Then continue enjoying."
But they didn't rest. They continued. Because they knew nothing else but drinking and dancing.
Lakshmi opened her eyes, looked at the empty land, smiled confidently as if already seeing victory. She knew she would win. Because she was the goddess of wealth, and wealth was what everyone desired.
On the first day, she wasn't hasty like Dionysus. She stood still, eyes closed, concentrating. Then waved her hand gently but decisively, brilliant golden light like the sun burst from her fingertips, not gentle light, but dazzling, radiant, illuminating the entire land like midday.
Gold, silver, and jewels began pouring from the earth like waterfalls from the sky, not gradually, but like a burst dam, torrential, thundering. The sound of gold striking gold rang throughout the space like bells, each gold coin rolling on the ground, each silver ingot piling into mountains, each gem glittering like fallen stars. They rose high, to knee-height, then waist, then chest, forming a vast golden sea.
By day two, she didn't stop. She raised her hands, golden palaces began rising from the earth like bamboo after rain, no need for construction, forming automatically. Golden walls gleaming, jade roofs glittering under light, doors carved with dragons and phoenixes in green jade, pillars of red jade, floors laid with pure white marble. Each palace towering like a spire, magnificent as an emperor's palace, luxurious beyond description. One palace wasn't enough, she created ten more, twenty, thirty, until the entire land was filled with golden palaces.
By day three, she created streets connecting the palaces. Not dirt roads, but roads paved with gems, each gem transparent as crystal, reflecting light creating seven-colored rainbows when walked upon. Trees grew along the roads, but not ordinary trees. Wooden trunks, but leaves of thin gold like paper, flowers blooming with silver petals, glittering brilliantly. Every breeze, golden leaves fell like golden rain, making tinkling sounds like a symphony.
By day four, beings were created. She didn't create many like Dionysus, only about a hundred, but each being was carefully crafted. From birth, they wore silk brocade robes, red, blue, yellow, embroidered with gold thread, soft as clouds. Gold adorning necks, arms, legs, gems on foreheads. They were beautiful, splendid, wealthy from the first moment.
She led them into palaces, each person one room, spacious, complete with everything. Jade beds, silk blankets, soft feather pillows. Food was rare delicacies, not ordinary rice, but fragrant roasted meat, golden grilled fish, rare fruits, fine wine. They lacked nothing.
But she didn't just give. By day five, she began teaching. Teaching them to trade. Leading them to the market she created among the palaces, teaching them to exchange goods. One gem for ten gold coins. Ten gold coins for one silver ingot. Teaching them calculation, not selling at a loss, not buying too expensive. Teaching them to value possessions, not waste, not discard, preserve each gold coin.
By day six, she taught them to accumulate. Not spend everything immediately, but save for later. Teaching them to invest, lend gold to others, then collect interest. Teaching them to grow wealth from wealth, continuously accumulate, continuously develop.
Her world was not just luxurious, but had strict economic order. Everyone knew the value of money, knew how to trade, knew how to accumulate. By day eight, some beings had become wealthier than others, because they were better at business, smarter at investing.
But by day ten, conflict erupted. The wealthiest wanted even more. They looked at others, looked at their gold stores, greed unceasing. Though already wealthy beyond counting, still wanted more wealth. Though already having the largest palaces, still wanted larger palaces. They began competing. At first just arguing. Then stealing. One group attacked another group's gold stores, seizing them. Small wars broke out between groups over gold mines Lakshmi created.
Lakshmi saw this, heart sad, but she didn't intervene. Because she thought this was part of life. Fighting for wealth. That was the rule.
But blood began spilling. The world was wealthy, but not peaceful. Greed had no limits.
Tlaloc opened his eyes, stood in the barren land, jade-blue mask covering his face, revealing only deep blue eyes looking up at the gray sky. He said nothing. Just stood still, observing. Then he raised his hand high, the water-serpent staff pointing straight to the sky like an arrow.
Blue light burst from the staff's tip, not blinding, but deep as the ocean. The light shot into the sky, piercing through the gray curtain, disappearing into the void.
Silence.
Then thunder. One strike. Two strikes. Three strikes. Growing denser, faster, until it became a symphony of unceasing thunder and lightning. Black clouds rolled in from the horizon, thick as cotton blankets, covering the sky in minutes. The sky turned from gray to pitch black like night. Thunder boomed like war drums, lightning tearing through the dark sky, bright as daylight in a flash, then dark again.
Then rain fell.
Not light rain. Not moderate rain. But rain like water pouring from a massive broken lake in the sky. Each drop large as a bird's egg, striking the ground creating sounds like a thousand drums beating at once. Water flooded everywhere, unstoppable, turning the barren land into a fresh green marsh in just hours. Mud, flooding water, from ankle to knee height.
But from this, life began. Grass grew fast as wind, bright green, thick, covering the ground. Rice sprouts appeared from seeds Tlaloc scattered in the water, growing lush, tall as a person in days, grains plump, weighing down the stalks.
By day three, he created beings, but not many, just fifty. He didn't want too many, because water wouldn't be enough for too many people. They appeared in the middle of the marsh, soaking wet, confused, not knowing what to do.
He taught them to live with water. Not fight it. Not try to escape. But accept, adapt, coexist. He taught them to catch fish from the marsh with bare hands, move quickly, grab them, don't let fish escape. He taught them to plant rice on flooded land, choose places with shallower water, sow seeds, care for them. He taught them to predict rain by looking at clouds - black clouds gathering meant heavy rain coming, thin gray clouds meant light rain, white clouds meant no rain.
By day five, he taught them to build houses. Not houses on ground, because water would flood. But houses on tall stilts, made of wood, roofs thatched with thick leaves, house floors one meter above water surface, so when floods came, water wouldn't enter. He taught them to dig channels directing excess water to the sea, creating drainage systems, not letting water stagnate long causing disease.
His world was wet, fertile, full of life. Fish filled the marshes, rice grew lush, trees bright green. Beings learned to live with water, became people good at swimming, catching fish, planting rice.
But also full of challenges. Endless floods. Sometimes three days of continuous rain, water rising high, flooding even houses, sweeping everything away. Sometimes lightning struck trees, trees fell, crushing houses, crushing people. Sometimes fish in water bit people, causing injury, infection. Beings had to learn to live with danger, learn to rebuild from scratch each time they lost everything, learn not to give up despite difficulties.
By day thirteen, the world still existed, beings still lived, no one died completely, but they were exhausted. Backs bent from having to bend down planting rice every day. Hands calloused from catching fish, building houses, digging channels. Eyes dark-ringed from not getting enough sleep, always having to watch for floods. They survived, but not peacefully. They were strong, but exhausted.
Oshun opened her eyes, looked at the empty land, smiled gently like a mother looking at her child. She wasn't hasty. She waved her hand gently like caressing water's surface, golden light soft as early morning sunlight emanated from her fingertips, warm, gentle, not blinding.
Winding rivers appeared from the void, not rising from earth like Tlaloc's, but as if painted onto space with a divine brush, slowly, gradually, winding like a swimming snake. Water clear as a flawless mirror, reflecting the gray sky perfectly, not a ripple, not a stain, absolutely peaceful like water in an untouched mountain lake.
By day two, the riverbanks began changing. Yellow flowers grew from the earth, each flower large as a hand, petals thin as paper, yellow bright as the sun, fragrant as honey. Yellow butterflies arrived from nowhere, fluttering among flowers, creating a living picture. She created small islands in the river, not large, just enough for a few people to sit, covered with grass soft as down, bright green, smelling of fresh grass.
By day three, beings appeared. She created few, just thirty, because she wanted to care for each person carefully. Each being was created with natural beauty, not glamorous like Lakshmi's beings, but beautiful in a different way. Pure beauty, flawless, like art carved by hand.
She led each person to the riverbank, taught them to bathe in holy water. Not casual bathing, but a ritual. Remove clothing, step slowly into water, let water touch each part of the body. Water touching skin, skin became smoother like silk, no more wrinkles, no more scars. Touching hair, hair became glossier like silk threads, no more tangles, no more breakage. Touching eyes, eyes became brighter like jade, no more dimness, no more redness.
She taught them to love one another. Not selfish love, but unconditional love. Taught them to speak gentle words, not shout, not scold, even when angry. Taught them to hug each other when sad, no need to say anything, just hug, let warmth spread. Taught them to smile when meeting, even if strangers, even if never talked before, just smile, let joy spread.
By day five, she taught them to care for each other when ill. When someone had fever, don't abandon them, but lie beside them, wipe their forehead with cool water, hum gentle lullabies so they sleep. When someone was sad, don't ask why, don't force them to speak, just sit beside them, hold hands, let them know they're not alone.
She taught them to cherish beauty. Not external beauty, but internal beauty. Look into each other's eyes to see souls, don't look at faces. Taught them to cherish purity. Keep bodies clean, keep souls pure, don't think bad thoughts, don't do evil deeds. Taught them to cherish gentleness. Don't speak loudly, don't walk heavily, don't make noise, let the world be peaceful.
Her world was gentle as a watercolor painting. Rivers flowed peacefully, flowers bloomed gently, butterflies flew quietly, beings lived harmoniously. No arguing voices, no crying sounds, only small soft laughter, gentle lullaby songs, trickling water sounds.
But lacking strength. Beings too soft, like fragile flowers. They didn't know how to fight, didn't know how to face difficulties, didn't know how to protect themselves. When a strong wind blew on day nine, not a storm, just stronger than usual wind, they were frightened, hugged each other trembling like autumn leaves, not knowing what to do, not daring to stand up against it. When a small animal appeared from somewhere on day ten, just a wild rabbit, not dangerous, they ran away, cried, no one dared approach, no one dared chase it away.
By day thirteen, when Oshun prepared to leave, the beings cried inconsolably, hugged her legs tight, pleading:
"Don't go... we don't know how to live without you..."
She stroked their hair, smiled sadly:
"You must learn self-sufficiency..."
But they shook their heads, cried harder. The world was beautiful, but weak. Not self-sufficient. Could not survive when she left.
Thoth opened his eyes, looked at the empty land, not hasty like the others. He didn't spread arms to create forests. Didn't raise hands to summon the sun. He sat down in the middle of the empty land, sat cross-legged, back straight as a pillar, ibis head facing the gray sky. He opened the ancient papyrus scroll that had been with him for millennia, held the golden quill pen, began writing.
Not writing quickly. Not writing much. But writing each character carefully, precisely, not one stroke wrong. Each character he wrote, golden light emanated from the pen tip, each character carved into the air like carving into stone with a chisel, then slowly falling to the ground like autumn leaves, transforming into the world's first books.
On day one, he wrote natural laws. Law of gravity - objects fall down not up. Law of thermodynamics - heat transfers from hot to cold not reverse. Law of conservation of energy - energy is neither created nor destroyed, only transformed. The books fell to the ground, opened, pages flying in non-existent wind, golden characters glittering as if magical.
On day two, he wrote knowledge about plants. Trees need water, need light, need soil to grow. Roots absorb water from earth. Leaves absorb light from sky. Stems transfer water from roots to leaves. Then tiny seeds appeared from the characters he wrote, fell to ground, grew into a few simple crops. Not large trees, not beautiful trees, just rice plants, bean plants, just enough to eat, no more no less.
On day three, he wrote about animals, about geology, about climate. Then he stopped writing. He stood up, looked around. A few crops. A few small puddles appeared from rain in the sentences he wrote. A few rocks. Simple. Poor. But enough.
On day three, he created beings, not many, just twenty. He didn't want too many, because knowledge cannot be transmitted to too many people at once. They appeared, looked around, confused because there was nothing but a few plants, a few puddles, a few rocks.
He didn't explain. He just sat down, opened the first book, began teaching. Taught them to read each character, from simple to complex characters. Character A, character B, character C. Then combine into words. Then combine words into sentences. One day to learn one character. They learned slowly, but learned solidly.
By day five, he taught them calculation. One plus one equals two. Two plus two equals four. Then subtraction, then multiplication, then division, then square root, then exponentiation. They used stones to calculate, arranged stones in rows, counted each stone.
By day seven, he taught them to think. Not just memorize, but learn to reason. Observe phenomena. Ask questions. Find causes. Then draw conclusions. Then verify. If wrong, start again.
His world was simple materially. Just a few crops just enough to survive, no excess no shortage. A few small puddles just enough to drink, not especially sweet not especially cool. A few simple clay houses just enough to shelter, not large not beautiful. Nothing luxurious. Nothing brilliant. Nothing to boast about.
But the beings' wisdom developed extraordinarily rapidly. By day seven, they had written their own books about observing the world, about how trees grow, how water flows, how stones break. By day ten, they had created simple tools from stone and wood, hoes to dig earth, hammers to break stones, knives to cut trees. By day thirteen, they had written laws for their world, laws about sharing food fairly, laws about resolving disputes with words not violence, without Thoth teaching more.
The world was poor materially, but rich in wisdom. When Thoth prepared to leave, they didn't cry. They bowed their heads in thanks, then returned to work, writing books, creating tools, thinking. They didn't need him anymore. They had learned how to learn themselves, how to develop themselves, how to progress themselves.
Artemis opened her eyes, looked at the empty land, not smiling, not saying a word. Expression cold as ice. She just raised the silver bow high, pulled the bowstring taut as a crescent moon, aimed at a point a hundred meters away, shot an arrow glittering like a shooting star tearing through the night sky.
The arrow flew through space at terrifying speed, then plunged straight into the ground hundreds of meters from her, embedding deep into the earth. From where the arrow struck, forest began growing. Not gradually, but thick as a green sea, wild, primordial, no paths, no human traces, no civilization's intervention.
Trees grew tall as towers, from small trunks to large trunks in seconds, reaching to the sky, covering the gray sky, creating darkness in daylight. Bushes grew so thick they were impassable normally, could only crawl through small gaps, branches and leaves scratching skin, thorns piercing hands. Grass grew knee-high, hiding poisonous snakes, natural traps.
By day two, forest animals appeared from the darkness like ghosts. Deer running fast as wind, wolves lurking in bushes with eyes shining in night, bears patrolling in dark caves, tigers lying on high tree branches, birds of prey flying in the sky with eyes sharp as knives. Each species either hunted or was hunted. Each species fought to live. No one at peace. The forest's law was the law of the strong.
By day three, she created beings. Gave them no houses. No ready food. No clothing. They appeared in the wild forest, naked, empty-handed, having nothing but their bodies and survival instinct.
She said nothing. Just threw down small bows made of tree branches, crude wooden arrows with sharp stone tips. Then she turned away, disappeared into the deep forest.
They were terrified, not knowing what to do. Some cried. Some screamed for help. But no one answered.
By night of day three, animal roars rang out in the dark forest. They trembled, hugged each other, frightened to death. A wolf jumped from bushes, charged in, bit a person, dragged them away. Screams rang out then stopped.
By day four, Artemis appeared again. She said nothing about the one who died. She just taught by example. She walked in the forest, looked down at the ground, pointed at deer tracks. Followed tracks. Walked slowly, made no noise. Then ambushed behind bushes. Waited for deer to come. Aimed. Shot without hesitation. Deer fell. Died immediately.
Then she butchered, skinned, taught them to utilize every part of prey. Meat to eat. Hide to make clothes. Bones to make knives. Sinews to make string. Waste nothing.
By day five, she taught them to hunt. One by one. Forced them to go alone, no one helping. Forced them to face beasts, face fear. Some died from beast bites. Some died from getting lost in the deep forest unable to find the way back. Some died from not catching prey and starving, weakening gradually, then collapsing, unable to rise again.
But those who survived became different. Their eyes sharp as eagles, missing no detail. Their hands steady as rocks, shooting bows without trembling. Their feet fast as deer, running without tiring. They became strong as wolves, not fearing the dark night. Became agile as deer, avoiding danger. Became sharp as eagles, seeing far and wide.
They depended on no one. They were completely self-sufficient. They didn't need her. They didn't need each other. Each person was a hunter, living alone, hunting alone, fighting alone.
By day thirteen, when Artemis prepared to leave, they didn't cry. Didn't plead. Just bowed their heads, then returned to the deep forest, continued hunting, continued living. The world was dangerous, harsh, cold. But free. Completely free.
Brihaspati opened his eyes, looked at the empty land, said nothing. He stood still as a statue, long white beard flowing down his chest with non-existent wind. Then he closed his eyes, two hands clasped before his chest, began chanting in a deep voice like bells resonating from a thousand-year-old ancient temple.
Sound spread throughout the empty space, each scripture character resonating as if magical, as if awakening something sleeping deep in the earth. Golden light emanated from his entire body, not blinding, but warm, gentle, spreading like ripples when throwing a stone, slowly, unhurried, following his steady breathing rhythm.
From that light, temples of knowledge began rising. Not fast like other gods, not bursting up in an instant, but slowly, gradually, as if invisible hands were building brick by brick. Walls of white stone pure as fresh snow, not a stain, not a crack initially. On walls, ancient characters began appearing, carved in gold, each character carrying deep philosophical meaning - about what life is, whether death is the end, whether the universe has a beginning, who I am in the eternal flow of time.
The temple roof was white marble, smooth as a mirror, perfectly reflecting the gray sky, creating the feeling that sky and earth were merging into one.
By day two, he created a vast courtyard before the temple, paved with solid white marble blocks, completely empty, no trees to create shade, no flowers to create color, no statues to decorate, just absolutely silent space, vast as a massive mirror lying between earth and sky.
By day three, beings appeared. He only created fifteen people, not many, because he didn't want noise. Each person wore simple white robes, no embroidered patterns, no jewelry, just pure white fabric, thin, soft. They appeared in the middle of the stone courtyard, confused, looking around, not knowing what to do.
He said nothing. Just sat down in the middle of the courtyard, legs crossed, back straight, hands on knees, eyes closed. And waited.
Beings stood watching for a while, then one person approached, imitated him, sat down. Then the second person. The third person. Until everyone sat down in the same posture as him.
He began teaching meditation. Not with words, but with action. Sit silently. Legs crossed. Back straight as a pillar. Hands forming mudra, thumb touching index finger forming a circle. Eyes closed. Breathe evenly like ocean waves, slow, deep, unhurried. Inhale slowly through nose, hold a bit, exhale slowly through mouth.
By day four, he taught them contemplation. Not random thinking, but directed contemplation. Contemplate truth - what is truth? Does absolute truth exist? Or is everything relative? Contemplate the meaning of life - why was I born? Just to exist then die? Or is there a higher purpose? Contemplate death - is death the end? Or just a transformation to another form? Does the soul exist after the body dies?
By day five, he taught them to contemplate the universe - does the universe have a beginning? If yes, then what was before? If no, then how can there be no starting point? Does the universe have an end? If yes, then what comes after? If no, then how can it be infinite? Taught them to contemplate the self - who am I? Not the name, not the body, not memories, but the real "I" inside, the existing consciousness, what makes me be me and not someone else.
His world was quiet enough to hear wind blowing through each stone, hear one's own breathing, hear heartbeats. Peaceful enough to feel one's heartbeat, feel blood flowing in the body, feel each hair growing on skin. No noise. No arguing. No conflict. No anger. No greed. Only absolute purity.
But also lacking vitality. Beings only sat, thought, meditated, did nothing else. Didn't build houses, because unnecessary - they slept outdoors, not cold, not hot. Didn't plant trees, because unnecessary - they ate very little, just drank water, ate a few grains of rice Brihaspati provided each day. Didn't hunt animals, because unnecessary - they didn't need much food, just enough to live.
By day ten, one being opened eyes after a long meditation session, eyes lighting up as if having just seen something great:
"I understand... I am not this body... I am the consciousness inside... and consciousness doesn't die..."
Brihaspati smiled for the first time, nodded.
By day thirteen, most beings had achieved high philosophical wisdom, understood much about life's nature, about impermanence, about non-self, about nirvana. But the world didn't develop materially. Still just the temple, the courtyard, a few stones. They still sat on the stone courtyard, still meditated, still contemplated. The world was pure, peaceful, but stagnant. Not progressing. Not changing. As if time had stopped at an eternal moment.
Izanami opened her eyes, looked at the empty land, said nothing. She raised her hand from within the black robes covering her entire body, a hand pale as bone, without blood, cold as ice. Darkness and light began interweaving from her fingertips like two black and white threads she wove with cold hands, slowly, patiently, unhurried.
Her world began dividing into two distinct halves as if someone drew a straight line through the middle with a ruler. The boundary wasn't a wall, wasn't a deep pit, just a hazy line, but anyone looking knew it was the border between two worlds.
This side was life. Fresh green trees grew quickly, towering high, lush leaves as if newly sprouted. Flowers bloomed brilliantly as a festival, red, yellow, purple, white, all colors, fragrant. Beings happily ran and played among flower fields, laughing and talking loudly. The bright sun shone down warmly, making their skin flush with healthy pink. The air was fresh, cool, each breath was joy.
The other side was death. Trees withered as if burned by fire, blackened trunks, all leaves fallen, only bare branches reaching to the sky like skeletal hands crying for help. Flowers withered into ashes, covering the gray-black ground thickly. Souls wandered like mist, hazy shapes, unclear faces, no feet touching ground, just drifting indefinitely in cold space. The sky was pitch black as if no stars existed, as if light had been completely swallowed. The air was heavy, each breath difficult, as if inhaling sand.
The boundary between the two sides was strangely blurred. Could be crossed easily, no walls blocking, no doors closed. A tree could have half green side with leafy branches, half withered side with bare branches. A being could stand with one foot on the life side, the other foot on the death side, feeling both worlds simultaneously - one side warm, one side cold.
By day three, she created beings, fifty people, not few not many. She let them live on both sides. Twenty-five people on the life side, twenty-five people on the death side. They could see each other across the boundary, could call to each other, but voices seemed separated by a thin membrane.
She began teaching them by showing them. Not with words, but with actual images. She pointed to a beautiful flower on the life side, blooming fully, fresh pink petals, fragrant. Then she waved her hand, the flower began withering. Petals fell one by one, color fading, fragrance disappearing, finally only a bare stem remained. Then the stem also dried, broke, fell to ground, became ash.
"Everything has an end. Flowers will wither. Trees will die. People will age. Souls will fade. Nothing lasts forever."
She pointed to a young being laughing on the life side, healthy, full of vitality. Then she waved her hand, that being began aging. Hair turned from black to silver. Skin turned from smooth to wrinkled. Back turned from straight to bent. Eyes turned from bright to dim. Then that being fell down, breathed their last breath, soul separated from body, drifted to the death side, became a hazy shadow.
"Therefore, cherish each moment. Live meaningfully before disappearing. Don't waste time. Don't resent. Don't be greedy. Because in the end, all are the same."
By day five, she taught them how to send off the dead. Not throw corpses outside, not bury hastily, but a solemn ritual. When someone died, soul separated, those still living had to perform rites. Burn incense - she created fragrant incense sticks from dry trees, taught them to burn, let fragrance guide souls on the right path. Place flowers on the corpse - not fresh flowers, but dried flowers, because fresh flowers will wither, but dried flowers had accepted death so were more appropriate. Chant scriptures - she taught them scripture verses, repeat, to let souls be at peace.
She taught them to respect departed souls. Don't forget them. Remember them every day. Talk to them as if they were still there. Thank them for what they gave when alive.
By day seven, she taught them not to fear death. Death wasn't an enemy. Not a punishment. But a part of the natural cycle. Birth - growth - aging - death - then possibly rebirth in another form. Soul doesn't disappear, just transforms. After death isn't eternal dark void, but another form of existence, more peaceful, no more suffering, no more worry.
She taught them to accept death like accepting the sun setting each evening. Not sad when the sun sets, because knowing it will rise again tomorrow. Not sad when someone dies, because knowing the soul will exist in another form.
By day thirteen, beings lived peacefully between two worlds. They didn't fear death. They didn't compete for wealth because knowing they couldn't take it with them. They weren't greedy because knowing everything was temporary. They didn't resent because knowing life was too short to waste on anger. They lived each day as the last day, cherishing each moment, loving each other, leaving no regrets.
The world balanced between life and death perfectly. But gloomy. Heavy. Lacking joy. Because they always remembered they would die, so couldn't fully enjoy life. Always had death's shadow following them, reminding them that everything was impermanent.
Hermes opened his eyes, didn't stand still in one place like the others. Immediately, he began running. Not running slowly, but running at wind speed, small golden wings at his ankles flapping fast as hummingbird wings, creating a pleasant humming sound. He ran throughout the empty land at terrifying speed, from east to west, from south to north, from center to periphery, like a golden whirlwind.
And while running, he waved his hands ceaselessly. Golden light from his hands shot out like lightning each time he waved, not just one or two rays, but hundreds of rays at once, shooting in all directions. Straight roads appeared following his footprints, not gradually, but bursting up immediately. Wide, smooth as if rolled by massive wheels, not a pebble, not a pothole. Connecting everywhere from east to west in just seconds, from south to north in just minutes, from center to periphery in just hours, forming a perfect network like a massive spider web, each road intersecting at strategic points, no road isolated, no point unreachable.
By day two, he didn't stop. He continued running, but this time he erected milestones along the roads. Not small posts, but posts tall as a person, made of white stone, carved with very clear directional symbols. Arrows pointing east west south north. Numbers indicating distances - from here to center still 100 meters, from here to seashore still 500 meters (though no seashore yet, but he planned ahead). He drew maps on stone, carved carefully, each line precise as if measured with a ruler, so anyone looking would immediately understand where they were, which way to go.
By day three, beings appeared. He didn't create them in one place, but scattered throughout the world at different points. One hundred people, each person appearing at a different point, hundreds of meters apart. They opened their eyes, looked around, found themselves standing alone in the middle of empty land, seeing no one else, just seeing one straight road and one nearby milestone.
They were confused, not knowing what to do. Then Hermes appeared beside each person, so fast they couldn't see him move, just saw him suddenly there.
"Follow the road. Find others. Meet. Talk. Connect."
Then he disappeared, went to the next person, repeated the same thing.
Beings began walking. At first slowly, hesitantly, not knowing if it was safe. Then they saw the road was very easy to walk, smooth, no tripping, no danger. They walked faster. Then ran. Then met others. Rejoiced. Hugged each other. Talked. Told each other where from, which road, what saw along the way.
By day five, Hermes taught them effective communication. Don't speak long-windedly. Don't beat around the bush. Get straight to the point. If wanting to ask for directions, ask immediately "From here to center which way?" not say "Excuse me, I don't know, perhaps, if you're not busy, could you show me...". Taught them to write letters on papyrus he created, write concisely, clearly, don't write ramblingly. Taught them to transmit messages by running quickly from place to place, carrying letters, carrying news, not allowed to open and read others' letters, only deliver to correct addresses.
By day seven, he taught them to negotiate when trading. One person has food, one person has water, exchange with each other, but must negotiate. "I give you one loaf of bread, you give me one bottle of water" - "No, one loaf of bread only worth half a bottle of water" - "Okay, then half a loaf of bread for half a bottle of water" - "Agreed". Taught them fair trading, no cheating, don't state prices double the value, don't sell damaged goods, because if deceive once, no one will trust again, no one will buy again.
His world was bustling, dynamic as a big city that never sleeps. Always had sounds of people's feet running on roads, from morning to night, from night to morning. Sounds of wooden carts rolling that he taught them to make, carrying goods from place to place. Sounds of laughter ringing when they met on the road. Sounds of greetings "Hello! Where are you going?" - "Going to market! And you?" - "Delivering letters!". Never silent. No one lived isolated. Everyone connected, all knew each other through a few degrees, all exchanged information ceaselessly.
By day nine, he built a market in the center, where all roads met. A wide plot of land, built small stalls, each person selling something different. Person selling fish. Person selling rice. Person selling fabric. Person selling wood. The market bustled from morning to night, sounds of hawking, sounds of bargaining, sounds of laughter and talking, sounds of small arguments about prices.
By day thirteen, the world developed quickly in transportation and commerce. Connected tightly as a living body, each person a cell, each road a blood vessel, information circulating like flowing blood. But also chaotic. Too much information. Everyone talking. Everyone sharing. Everyone telling stories. To the point of not knowing what's real, what's fake. Too much noise. No one had time to rest, because always someone running by, always carts rolling, always new news needing to hear. No one had quiet space to think, to sit alone, to look at oneself.
The world was vibrant, developing, but noisy, tiring, not one peaceful moment.
Anubis opened his eyes, looked at the empty land, said nothing. He placed his hand on the ground, jackal head bowing down as if listening to something from the earth, eyes closed. Black light like ink emanated from his palm, not light in the usual sense, because black light is a contradiction, but it existed, spreading like enveloping night shadow, not fast, just slowly, persistently, unstoppable.
Solemn tombs rose from the earth, not growing up, but emerging as if someone was pushing from below. Made of solid black stone, not jointed, no joining seams, as if each stone was created solid from the beginning. Carved with jackal figures sitting guard, heads facing forward, ears pricked up, eyes staring straight, not blinking, as if guarding something precious inside. Carved with scales of justice, both scale plates perfectly balanced, not tilting to either side, symbolizing absolute fairness.
By day two, he created a large temple in the middle of the world, not a small temple, but a very large temple, tall as a tower, wide as a palace, but not magnificent, just black stone, thick walls, no windows, only one main door in front. Inside placed a massive golden scale, tall as a person, hanging suspended in midair not touching ground, no visible hanging wires, as if an invisible force was keeping it suspended. One side of the scale was a red stone heart, large as a fist, beating thump-thump like a real heart. The other side was a white feather, light as breath, could fly away if there was a light breeze, but no wind in the temple.
By day three, beings appeared, forty people, not many not few. They appeared before the temple gate, looked up at the towering temple, felt small as ants.
Anubis stepped out from inside the temple, jackal head looking down at them. No greeting words. No smile. Just spoke in a deep voice, not high, not low, no emotion:
"You will die. All. Sooner or later. And when dead, souls will come here. Before me. I will weigh your hearts."
Beings trembled, didn't dare ask anything.
He continued:
"One side of the scale is your heart. If you lived well, didn't do evil, didn't lie, weren't greedy, didn't kill people without cause, the heart will be light as a feather. If the heart is lighter than or equal to the feather, you are allowed to rest peacefully in the other world. But if the heart is heavier than the feather because full of sins, full of greed, full of anger, full of deceit, the soul will be swallowed by darkness and never reincarnate. Disappear forever. As if never existed."
He paused, letting the words sink into their minds.
"Therefore, live well. Each action you do, each word you say, each thought you think, all make the heart heavier or lighter. Choose carefully."
By day four, he taught them to respect the deceased as the living. When someone died, don't throw corpses outside for dogs to eat, don't bury hastily in shallow holes. But must bury properly with ritual. Dig deep holes, place corpse in, head facing east, feet facing west. Cover corpse with white cloth. Place objects the person loved into the hole, for them to take to the other world. Fill earth slowly, don't throw haphazardly. Erect stone markers, carve names, carve birth dates, death dates. Each year visit graves, sweep clean, place flowers, talk to them.
By day six, he taught them to balance between life and death. Don't fear death to the point of not daring to live. Also don't forget death to the point of living too recklessly. Live knowing one will die, so cherish, but not fear to the point of paralysis. Understand that death is part of life, like night is part of day, inseparable.
He established strict laws. Cannot kill people, except in self-defense. Cannot steal. Cannot lie. Cannot be greedy, wanting others' things. Cannot commit adultery. Cannot be unfilial to parents. Each law carved on stone before the temple door, everyone saw, everyone knew.
Beings lived according to law strictly without error. Each action carefully considered because fearing when dead, heart would be heavy. They didn't do evil. Didn't lie, even small lies. Didn't steal, even one grain of rice. Weren't greedy, only took enough to eat. They helped each other, shared food, cared for the sick, respected the elderly.
His world was serious, solemn, full of ritual. No laughter, because they feared laughing too much would forget the law. But also no crying, because crying was weakness. Only absolute respect for laws. Everything according to pattern. Walk on time. Eat on time. Sleep on time. Speak at the right time. Silent at the right time.
By day thirteen, beings lived according to law perfectly, no one broke laws, no one did wrong. But also no joy, no spontaneity, no creativity, no real love. Everything from fear of the scales. They did good not because they wanted, but because they feared. The world was just, no crimes, but cold as stone. No human warmth.
And hundreds of other gods, each creating different worlds according to their own views. Some gave much, some gave little. Some created paradise, some created trials. Some taught love, some taught combat. Each world different, each bearing the mark of its creator.
But there were two worlds Elyndo observed most carefully, every day, every hour, missing no detail.
Beelzebub opened his eyes, found himself standing in a wasteland.
No trees. No water. No wind. Nothing. Just a vast plain stretching endlessly to an unseen horizon, brown-gray earth hard as cold volcanic rock from millennia past, cracked into deep fragments that could fit an entire hand. Gray oppressive sky, no sun to know east from west, no moon to count days, no stars to gaze upon, only dim light of unknown origin, cold as light from a dead world leaking through gaps between universes.
Silence. Stillness until ears rang. No sound at all. No wind's breath. No bird chirps. No crashing waves. No insect sounds. As if the entire universe had muted, leaving only him, alone, in the endless void.
He knelt down, touched the ground. Cold. Hard as forged iron. Not a trace of vitality. Not a seed of life. As if this earth had never known life, never had a seed sprout, never had a being walk across.
"Thirteen days..."
He exhaled, breath forming thin mist in the cold air like winter breath, then immediately dissipating into the void.
"Only thirteen days to create a world."
He stood up, looked around, eyes full of determination like candlelight in darkness.
"But I will do it. I will create the best world. A world where beings will be happy. A world where no one must suffer. No one hungry. No one thirsty. No one afraid. No one crying."
He spread his arms, muscles tensing, veins protruding on his arms. Golden light from his palms burst forth, brilliant as the midday summer sun, warm as hearth fire on a winter night. This was the power of a high god, power accumulated through thousands of years of battle, cultivation, sacrifice, sweat, tears, blood.
"Day one. I will give you... everything. All that I have. All that I can bestow."
Day One
Light from Beelzebub's hands poured onto the ground like water falling from a thousand-meter waterfall. Not gradually, not drop by drop, but like a burst dam, torrential, surging. Earth shook violently beneath him, waves like magnitude-eight earthquakes, forcing him to keep balance. From deep crevices, tender green shoots began emerging, tiny as pinheads, like newborn infant fingers reaching for life's light, then growing, accelerating, at an unbelievable speed.
Grass grew. Each blade of grass green and lush, soft as silk, covering the ground in an instant, forming a vast green carpet. Flowers bloomed. Each flower red, yellow, purple, white, orange, pink, all colors like a rainbow fallen to earth, fragrant enough that one breath made one drunk, entranced, forgetting time. Butterflies arrived from nowhere, fluttering among flowers, colorful wings glittering under light.
Trees rose high. Not gradually like natural trees growing through years, but as if someone were pulling them up from underground with invisible force. From tiny seeds like sand grains, they became saplings in seconds, just a handspan tall. Then mature trees in minutes, shoulder-high. Then towering forests in hours, so tall their crowns couldn't be seen, lush leaves covering the sky, branches spreading to create gentle, cool, comfortable shade.
Beelzebub didn't stop. He couldn't stop. Because he wanted to give more. More still. As much as possible. He wanted beings to have everything. Lack nothing. Need nothing. Just live and be happy.
He raised his hand toward the gray oppressive sky, light from his hand tearing through the gray curtain like ripping thick fabric with a sharp blade. The sun appeared through the tear. Not a small dim sun, but a massive sun, twice the size of a real sun, brilliant as a fireball, warm but not scorching, just right to feel comfortable, shining everywhere, making grass and trees bloom more, making flowers more fragrant, making the air warmer. White clouds floated in the sky, soft as freshly ginned cotton, moving slowly with the gentle wind he created. Wind blew through, carrying the scent of fresh flowers and grass, cool, pleasant, cooling skin, making hair flutter lightly.
He struck the ground hard, light exploding, waves of light radiating from the point of contact, forming concentric circles spreading like ripples when throwing a stone, but waves of light, not water. From deep underground hundreds of meters down, water gushed up like a volcanic eruption, but not magma, rather water clear as crystal, cold as melted ice, sweet as honey. Water flowed into streams, winding through forests, trickling melodiously like a symphony. Streams joined into rivers, wide as roads, deeper than a person's height, with fish swimming below, glittering under sunlight like living gems. Rivers emptied into lakes, lake surfaces smooth as a massive mirror placed between earth and sky, perfectly reflecting the blue sky and white clouds, not a ripple.
Not enough yet. Still not enough. He knew something was missing.
He waved his hand, light shooting everywhere like blooming fireworks. From the void, from the very light, the first creatures appeared. Birds flying in the sky, from tiny sparrows small as fists to massive eagles large as spread arms, each species chirping merrily, songs melodious, soothing, not one harsh screech. Fish swimming in water, from fish small as fingers to fish large as adults, glittering under sunlight, leaping above the water surface then diving down, creating spreading circles. Animals running in forests, deer prancing, rabbits hopping, squirrels climbing trees, all eating grass, eating flowers, eating fruits, none hunting others, no violence, no blood, only peace.
He looked around, chest full of pride like a father looking at his newborn child, smiling radiantly.
"Beautiful. But still not enough. Still missing the most important thing."
He raised his hands again, this time both hands, exerting all strength, sweat beading on his forehead. From the brightest, warmest golden light, the first beings were created. Not yet fully human. Not yet gods. Just hazy living shadows, with human-like shapes, two arms, two legs, faces, but light still passing through their bodies as if they didn't fully belong to this world, as if still between two worlds. Having consciousness. Having the ability to feel. Having the ability to think. Having the ability to love.
They opened their eyes for the first time in their lives. Blinked. Looked around with surprise, amazement, disbelief. Looked at the vast blue sky, warm sun, floating white clouds, lush green trees, fragrant colorful flowers, clear flowing river, cheerfully chirping birds. Everything new. Everything beautiful. Everything perfect. Then they looked up at Beelzebub, who had created all these wonders, standing there with a smile warm as the sun.
In their eyes, gratitude overflowed like a full cup.
A small being, like a child just learning to walk, approached with shaky unsteady steps, legs still weak and unfamiliar with walking, knelt before him, two hands on the ground, head bowed low to the earth, voice small as a whisper:
"Thank you... my lord... thank you for giving us everything... we... don't know what to say... only thank you..."
Beelzebub bent down, lifted it up with two large, warm hands, lifting gently as if afraid to break a fragile flower, smiling warmly as the sun:
"No need to thank. Truly no need. I created you so you would be happy. So you would live in plenty, without worry, without fear, without fighting, without suffering. Everything here belongs to you. Eat as much as you like. Drink as much as you like. Do as you like. I only want you... happy."
The being cried, tears streaming down cheeks like rain, but tears of happiness, not sadness.
At the same time, in another land, infinitely far away, or perhaps just beyond an invisible wall thin as paper.
Tsukuyomi stood in the middle of an empty plain, looking down at the cracked earth beneath his feet.
Silence stretched on. So long one could count each breath, each heartbeat, each drop of sweat falling.
He wasn't hasty like Beelzebub. Didn't spread his arms to create vast forests in an instant. Didn't raise hands to summon a brilliant sun. Didn't strike the ground to create expansive rivers and lakes.
He just stood there, observing. Looking at the earth. Looking at each crack, measuring depth and width with his eyes. Looking at the sky. Looking at the dim light, estimating brightness. Looking at the air, sensing humidity, temperature.
"Thirteen days..."
He exhaled, breath dissipating into cold air leaving no trace.
"Not much. But enough. If one knows how to use them."
He knelt down, slowly, unhurried. Touched the earth, gently, as if afraid to hurt it. Silver light from his palm emanated, not dazzling, not brilliant, just gentle light like moonlight, soft as a mother's lullaby for her child, warm as candlelight in dark night, but not hot. Light seeped into each grain of soil, slowly, unhurried, like water seeping into dry sand, drop by drop, grain by grain.
From underground, a tiny green sprout emerged. Just one sprout. Not vast forests. Not fields of brilliant flowers. Not grass covering the ground. Just one tiny sprout, so small that if one didn't pay attention they wouldn't see it, tender leaves still curled unopened, pale green, stem thin as thread, greenish, frail as if about to collapse any moment if a light breeze blew through.
Tsukuyomi looked at the sprout, nodded lightly, not smiling, not proud, just nodded.
"Enough."
He stood up, looked up at the gray sky. Didn't summon a brilliant sun like Beelzebub. Didn't create floating white clouds. Didn't make the sky beautifully deep blue. Just left the sky as it was, gray, oppressive, not beautiful, not brilliant, only dim light seeping through.
But from the void, he pulled down a crescent moon. Not full like the autumn moon. Not brightly shining like the moon at zenith. Just a young crescent moon, thin sickle shape, pale silver light, just enough to see one's shadow on the ground, no more no less, not excessive not lacking.
"Too much light... will blind. Will make people not know what is dark, what is light. Will make people not value light. Because when there is too much, people will think it is natural."
He turned to the ground, tapped lightly with his heel, once. From the earth, a small puddle formed, just palm-sized, a few inches deep, just enough to scoop one mouthful. Water not clear as crystal like Beelzebub's water, but slightly murky, with a few dust particles floating, a few tiny root threads. Not a river. Not a lake. Not a trickling stream. Just a small puddle, still, no ripples.
"Too much water... will drown. Will make people not value each drop. Because when there is too much, people will waste."
He looked around the empty land. No lush trees. No blooming flowers. No chirping birds. No running animals. Just one tiny sprout and one tiny puddle. That's all. Nothing more.
He nodded, no regret, no hesitation.
"Day one. Done."
Day Three
Beelzebub's paradise had reached perfection beyond perfection. Vast forests stretched to horizons with no visible end, trees towering like green spires, lush leaves covering the sky, creating cool pleasant shade. Flowers bloomed everywhere, from ground to highest branches, all colors as if someone had spilled an entire paint box, fragrant enough that one breath made one drunk, head spinning in sweet aroma. Rivers and streams trickled like songs never ending, water so clear one could see the riverbed, each small pebble, each small fish, fish swimming merrily without fear. Waterfalls thundered from mountains hundreds of meters high, forming shimmering white water curtains, sunlight creating seven-colored rainbows prominent in the green space.
Sun shone warmly, not too hot causing sweat, not too cold causing shivering, just right to feel comfortable like lying in spring sun. Wind blew coolly, carrying flower scents, not too strong blowing hair, not too weak causing stuffiness. Birds chirped merrily, each chirp melodious, soothing, not one harsh note. Everything perfect. Too perfect to find even the smallest flaw.
And the beings he created had multiplied everywhere. Hundreds on day one. Then thousands by day three. He continuously created more each day, because he wanted more beings, wanted a more crowded world, wanted them to have friends, family, kin, not lonely, not sad. They lived in forests, by riversides, under tree shade. There were cute little houses already built, made of fragrant wood emitting gentle scents, roofs covered with fresh green leaves, warm in winter, cool in summer, no rain or wind entering, no wild beasts could enter.
They needed to do nothing. Absolutely nothing at all. Food fell from trees automatically each day. Sweet, juicy, filling fruits of all types - apples, oranges, grapes, pears, peaches, plums. Just sit under the tree, raise hands, fruit would fall into hands at the right moment. No need to climb dangerously. No need to pick laboriously. No need to store worrying about spoilage. Because tomorrow new fruit would fall, fresher, tastier. Clear water flowed everywhere, small streams running past each house's door, cool, sweet as honey, easy to drink, absolutely clean. Just bend down to scoop with hands, or drink directly with mouths. No need to dig wells laboriously. No need to filter complicatedly. No need to worry about running dry.
Houses already built, no need for anyone to hammer once. No need for repairs, because they never broke, as if invisible magic protected them. Clothes already available, growing from a special tree Beelzebub created, soft as fine silk, warm as snow cotton. No need to weave fabric laboriously. No need to sew difficultly. Just pick from the tree, put on, fitting perfectly as if tailored.
They just needed... to live. Eat full. Drink enough. Sleep well. Laugh happily. Talk. Play together. No worries. No fears. No diseases. No aging. No death.
A young being, face like a ten-year-old child, sat by the stream shore, watching water flow, smiling with overflowing happiness as if nothing could be better. It reached out, picked a fruit from a nearby tree, fruit large as a fist, red as ruby, took a bite. Sweet. So delicious it wanted to cry from too much happiness. Fresh. Fruit juice dripped down its chin, it giggled, wiped it with the back of its hand.
"Life is so wonderful... nothing could be better than this..."
It lay down on grass soft as feather cushions, looking up at the vast blue sky, white clouds floating like sheep, warm sun shining down making skin pleasantly warm, birds flying past chirping merrily. No need to worry about anything. No need to fear anything. No need to do anything. Everything already provided. Everything beautiful. Everything perfect like a dream.
Beelzebub stood on the highest mountain peak he had created, looking down at the world he had built, chest full of pride about to burst, eyes brimming with tears from emotion.
"You are happy. That is what I want. That is why I created you. I don't want you to suffer as I once suffered. I don't want you to hunger as I once hungered. I don't want you to struggle just to survive as I once had to. I want you to just... be happy. That's all."
He smiled, tears streaming down cheeks, but tears of joy.
"I love you."
Meanwhile, Tsukuyomi's world remained as barren as day one. Not much had changed.
The sprout from day one had grown a bit, but only knee-high, still tiny, still frail compared to Beelzebub's massive trees. Tender leaves had opened, two tiny leaves, bright green, but just two, not yet flowering, not yet fruiting, nothing to eat. The stem still thin as a child's pinky finger, seeming ready to break if wind blew slightly harder. But there was no wind. Only silence.
The small puddle remained there, not grown a bit larger, not shrunk a bit. Still just palm-sized, still slightly murky, still no ripples. As if time had frozen here.
Sky still gray. Crescent moon still floating, silver light still pale.
And he only began creating beings on day three.
Not many. Not hundreds, thousands like Beelzebub was doing on the other side. Just ten beings. Only ten. Not because he lacked power to create more. He could create thousands if he wanted. But because he didn't want to. He only wanted ten.
They appeared from silver light, slowly, not suddenly like Beelzebub's beings appearing from golden light. Ten small beings, shapes hazily human-like, but not distinct, not beautiful like Beelzebub's beings. Eyes clear, colorless, looking up at him with confusion, incomprehension, fear.
He said nothing immediately. Didn't embrace them. Didn't smile. Just stood there, looking at them with cold gray eyes. Letting them look around. Letting them discover themselves. Letting them realize themselves.
One being looked around, eyes wide with horror. Seeing only one tiny sprout and one tiny puddle. No vast forests. No beautiful brilliant flowers. No clear flowing rivers. No merrily chirping birds. No warm houses. Nothing. Just dry earth, gray sky, dim light, heavy silence.
It approached Tsukuyomi, voice trembling as if about to cry:
"My lord... is this... all? Only this?"
Tsukuyomi nodded lightly, saying nothing more, no explanation.
The being looked at the tiny sprout, then looked back at him, voice full of confusion:
"My lord... what is... this?"
Tsukuyomi pointed at the sprout, voice gentle, not high, not low, without emotion:
"Food."
The being looked at the tiny sprout, only knee-high, with just two tiny leaves, puzzled, voice nearly desperate:
"But... how can we eat this? It's too small... there are ten of us... it won't be enough..."
Tsukuyomi didn't explain at length. Didn't comfort. Just knelt down, broke off one tiny leaf from the sprout, leaf small as a thumb, bright green but fragile, handed it to the being:
"Eat."
The being held the leaf, looked back and forth, didn't dare eat, afraid it would be poisonous, afraid it would be bitter, afraid it would kill. But under Tsukuyomi's cold unblinking gaze, it tremblingly placed the leaf in its mouth, chewed. Taste bitter. Very bitter like medicine. Hard to swallow. It grimaced, wanted to spit it out, but forced it down. After swallowing, the hunger in its stomach eased a bit. Just a bit. Still hungry.
"This leaf... can be eaten... but too bitter... and only one leaf... not enough for ten people..."
Tsukuyomi nodded, voice still gently unchanged:
"Correct. But not many. Each day, the sprout only grows one or two leaves. Only enough for one or two people to eat. You must share. Must decide who gets to eat today, who must wait until tomorrow."
The beings looked at each other, confused, worried, afraid. Another being asked, voice trembling as if about to cry:
"Then... what will the rest eat? We will starve... will weaken... will die..."
Tsukuyomi pointed toward the small puddle, voice without a trace of sympathy:
"Drink water. Water won't fill you, but will help you survive today. Don't die. Just survive."
The being looked at the tiny puddle, just palm-sized, slightly murky, then looked back at Tsukuyomi, eyes brimming with tears, voice trembling nearly begging:
"My lord... why won't you give us more? We will starve... we will die of thirst... we cannot survive in these conditions... please have mercy..."
Tsukuyomi looked straight into its eyes, not angry, not colder, not pitying, not moved, just absolutely calm like an unrippled lake surface:
"Because I want you to learn to live. Not to live in plenty like those on the other side. But to live in scarcity. Not to be given everything. But to find, to create for yourselves. Not to wait for someone to grant. But to do it yourselves. That is real life. Not fake life."
The being didn't understand. It cried. The other beings cried too. They knelt down, begged, pleaded, but Tsukuyomi remained unmoved.
He turned away, letting them find their own way, not looking back.
Day Seven
Beelzebub's paradise had reached its pinnacle of perfection. But something... began going wrong.
A being sat by the river, watching water flow, but no longer smiling. Eyes empty, as if staring into nothingness, as if searching for something but not finding it, not knowing what it was searching for.
Another being lay under tree shade, holding fruit in hand, fruit large, bright red, delicious, but not biting. Just holding. Looking. Then releasing, letting fruit roll to the ground, lying there, rotting slowly, no one picking it up.
A group of beings sat huddled together as usual, but not talking. Just sitting. Silent. As if not knowing what to say, as if nothing left to say. Because everything was the same. Every day the same. Eat, drink, sleep, play. Then eat, drink, sleep, play again. Nothing new. Nothing changing. Nothing to look forward to.
Beelzebub passed by, saw this scene, heart anxious as if an invisible hand were squeezing his heart, suffocating. He quickly approached, knelt down beside the being sitting by the river:
"Are you... not happy? I gave you everything. Are you lacking something? Tell me. I will give more."
The being looked up, tried to smile, but the smile forced, not genuine, like wearing a mask:
"Happy... my lord... we are very happy... we lack nothing..."
But the eyes weren't happy. The voice wasn't happy. The smile wasn't happy. Everything false. Everything empty.
Beelzebub knelt lower, placed hand on the being's shoulder, voice full of worry, nearly pleading:
"If you lack something, tell me. Anything. I will give it. I will create it. I will do anything to make you happy. Don't be like this. Don't be sad. Please tell me..."
The being was silent for a long while, looked down at the water surface, saw its reflection, saw the empty face, then shook its head lightly:
"We... lack nothing, my lord. Everything provided. Food delicious. Water cool. House beautiful. Sky beautiful. Everything good. Everything perfect."
"Then why not happy? Why not laughing? Why not talking?"
The being looked down at the ground, voice small as a whisper, as if afraid someone would hear, as if afraid to hurt the one who created it:
"We... don't know anymore. We don't understand. We have everything. But... empty. Like missing something. But don't know what. Like there's a big hole in our hearts. But don't know how to fill it."
Beelzebub froze, hand loosening, not knowing what to say.
Meanwhile, Tsukuyomi's world had changed remarkably, though still impoverished.
Ten beings now knew how to live. They no longer cried. No longer complained. No longer asked why Tsukuyomi wouldn't give more.
They learned to plant from the seed Tsukuyomi left - a tiny seed small as a pinhead buried in soil near the first sprout. They dug earth with bare hands, dug carefully, planted seed gently, covered with soil, watered from the small puddle, checked every day. On day four, a new sprout emerged. They rejoiced as if receiving a treasure, jumping, hugging each other.
They learned to dig for water. Using hands, using stones, digging small holes, finding where was moister, where groundwater was closer to surface. Sweat pouring, hands calloused, nails broken, but didn't give up. Finding one drop of water, they treasured it like gold, shared each small sip.
They learned to share food. On day five, the first sprout had three leaves. Three leaves for ten people. No fighting. No grabbing. They sat in a circle, discussed, decided the three hungriest would eat today. The rest drank water, waited for tomorrow. Those eating today thanked, promised to yield tomorrow.
They learned to wait when hungry. Sat still, breathed evenly, didn't complain, didn't cry out, just waited. Waited until there was food. Waited until hunger passed. Learned to live with hunger, not let it control them.
They learned patience when thirsty. Lips cracked, throat dry as desert, tongue swollen, but still waited. Waited until finding water. Waited until rain fell - Tsukuyomi made rain fall once on day six, just once, light rain, lasting ten minutes, they caught each drop with leaves, didn't waste a drop.
Not easy. Not easy at all. Some days they were so hungry they wanted to collapse, legs without strength to stand, hands trembling unable to hold anything. Some days they were so thirsty lips bled, throat swollen painful, couldn't speak. Some days they argued over one tiny leaf, yelling, pushing each other, then crying, then apologizing to each other, hugging, sharing fairly again.
But they survived. They didn't die. And more importantly, they learned.
And from ten beings, now there were fifteen. Tsukuyomi didn't create more. They reproduced themselves. On day six, two beings fell in love, they embraced, and from that love, a new being was born. Then four more beings born similarly. They reproduced themselves, raised children with what they had, taught children to live in scarcity step by step.
An older being - not truly old, just born first so older - looked at their small child learning to plant, small hands carefully holding seed, placing into soil hole, covering, watering from the puddle with leaf, doing each movement correctly as taught. The older being smiled. A tired smile, on cracked lips, on gaunt face. A smile with wrinkles. A smile not perfect. But real. Very real. From the heart.
Tsukuyomi stood far away on the only small hill in this world - a hill about ten meters high he created on day five - looking down, not smiling, not proud, not applauding, just observing like a silent observer, not interfering.
"You are learning. You don't need me anymore. Very good."
Day Ten
Beelzebub began panicking.
The situation didn't improve but worsened. Beings no longer ate sweet fruit. Let fruit fall to ground, lie there, rotting, stench spreading, attracting flies. They no longer drank water. Sat by the river all day but didn't bend down to scoop one mouthful, though thirsty, though throat dry. They no longer talked. Just sat. Silent. Staring blankly into space. Empty like soulless dolls.
Some beings began lying motionless on the ground, not moving, not eating, not drinking, not sleeping, not speaking. Just lying. Eyes open but seeing nothing. Breath feeble, each breath like a last breath. Not dead. But not living either. Just existing. Like corpses without souls.
Beelzebub ran everywhere, from this riverbank to that riverbank, from this forest to that forest, shouting desperately:
"What do you need? Tell me! Anything! Taller trees? Prettier flowers? Sweeter fruit? Cooler water? Larger houses? Brighter sun? Cooler wind? Say it! I will give! I will make! Don't be like this! Don't give up!"
But no one answered. Only silence. Suffocating silence. Silence wanting to scream.
He knelt beside a being lying motionless on grass, grabbed its shoulder, shook hard, tears streaming down cheeks, dripping onto the being's face:
"Get up! Don't be like this! Don't give up! I gave you everything! I loved you! I did everything! Why aren't you happy? Why? I don't understand! I don't understand!"
The being slowly opened eyes, looked up at him, eyes empty without light, voice feeble like last breath before death:
"You gave... too much... my lord... too much already..."
"Too much? How can it be too much? Love is never too much! Happiness is never too much! Giving is never too much!"
The being shook its head lightly, tears falling down cheeks, flowing into ears, voice sad, desperate, as if bidding farewell to the world:
"When everything is provided... we have nothing left to desire. When nothing left to desire... we have nothing left to live for. When nothing to struggle for... we don't know why we exist. We... have no reason to wake up each morning. Because tomorrow same as today. Because nothing new. Nothing different. Nothing to hope for. Only... emptiness. Endless emptiness."
Beelzebub froze, hand loosening, sat down on ground, couldn't believe what he just heard.
"No... impossible... I gave everything... I loved with all my heart... why... why is it still not enough... why is love not enough..."
Tsukuyomi's world had changed remarkably.
The sprout was now a small tree, tall as a person, bright green leaves, sturdy stem able to withstand wind. And now it had flowered - small flowers, white, not especially fragrant, not beautiful like Beelzebub's flowers, but meaningful. Because they were the result of effort. Of care. Of patience. Of sweat. Of tears.
The pond was now much larger, no longer a small puddle, but room-sized, waist-deep, enough to bathe in. Water clearer, cleaner because beings learned to filter with sand and gravel. Small fish swam - didn't know where from, perhaps from fish eggs in soil, perhaps from small magic Tsukuyomi left unspoken, but beings learned to catch them, not easy, had to watch long, had to be quick, many times failed, but finally caught.
And beings now numbered twenty. From fifteen, they birthed five more in the past three days. They learned to build houses from clay dug from underground and dried grass, small houses, simple, not beautiful like Beelzebub's houses, low, dark, but sheltered from rain and sun, warmer than sleeping outside. They learned to weave nets from long grass, sat weaving for hours, hands calloused, but persistent, lowered into pond to catch fish, each fish small as a finger, but invaluable, shared eating, didn't waste a piece. They learned to plant various trees - from seeds Tsukuyomi scattered silently across the land in the quiet night without anyone knowing, they found when digging, planted, cared for, waited.
They still hungered each day. Still thirsted each day. Still tired. Still suffered. But they lived. And more importantly, they knew WHY they lived. Lived to plant. To find water. To build houses. To raise children. To teach children. To make tomorrow better than today. To have hope.
A young being weaving a net from grass, hands much more skilled than before, eyes focused. Beside them, an older being teaching, voice gentle, patient:
"Weave tighter. If loose, fish will escape. I lost three fish from loose nets last week."
The young being nodded, tried to weave tighter. Hand cut by grass, bleeding, but didn't stop. Because knew that without nets, no fish. Without fish, hunger. If too hungry, weakness. If weak, couldn't work. If couldn't work, death. Simple circle. But clear. Meaningful.
And in their eyes, no longer the confusion of when first born. No longer the emptiness like Beelzebub's beings. But light. Light of hope. Of purpose. Of meaning. Of pride for having created something from nothing.
Tsukuyomi stood on the hilltop, looking down, nodded lightly for the first time, a tiny smile appearing on lips - unclear, just a flash, but there.
"You don't need me anymore. This world... can operate itself. Very good."
Day Thirteen - The End
Light burst simultaneously from hundreds of different worlds, sweeping up all hundreds of gods, pulling them from the worlds they created. Like waking from a thirteen-day long dream. When they opened eyes, they stood back in the plaza, before Elyndo.
Around them, thousands of other divine beings waited. No one knew what had happened in thirteen days. Only that results were about to be announced.
Elyndo stood amid the still glittering treasure sea, the barren temple still standing behind Him. His gaze swept over each returned god.
"I have watched. Everything. Every second. Every minute. Every day."
His voice not joyful, not angry, just stark reality.
"Many created beautiful worlds. Many created abundant worlds. All tried. All had good intentions. But most... did not understand Temperance."
He paused, looking first at Dionysus:
"Dionysus. You created a joyful world, overflowing with wine and dance. Beings were happy... but only temporarily. Too much joy made them lose direction. Too much intoxication made them forget to live. You gave them pleasure... but not purpose."
Dionysus bowed his head, no defense.
Elyndo turned to Lakshmi:
"Lakshmi. You created a wealthy world, overflowing with gold and jewels. You even taught them commerce, accumulation, valuing wealth. This is good. But you forgot one thing - wealth is never enough if greed has no limits. Your beings were rich... but warred wanting more riches. You gave them means... but didn't teach them to know enough."
Lakshmi clenched her hands, but nodded acceptance.
Elyndo looked at Tlaloc:
"Tlaloc. You created a fertile but harsh world. Endless floods. Beings had to fight daily. They were strong... but exhausted. They survived... but not peacefully. Too many trials is also a form of lacking Temperance."
Tlaloc nodded slowly, accepting.
Elyndo looked at Oshun:
"Oshun. You created a gentle world, full of love. Your beings were kind, knew how to care for each other. This is beautiful. But you loved them too much, protected them too much, until they couldn't protect themselves. Even a strong wind made them afraid. Love is not sheltering everything... but teaching them strong enough to face."
Oshun bowed her head, tears falling.
Elyndo turned to Thoth:
"Thoth. You created a world of wisdom. Your beings were exceptionally intelligent, knew reading, writing, thinking. They could be self-sufficient. This is good. But you only gave them wisdom... and forgot to give them emotion. They lived like thinking machines. Lacking love, lacking joy, lacking tears. Wisdom without heart... is emptiness."
Thoth closed his eyes, nodded.
Elyndo looked at Artemis:
"Artemis. You created a savage, harsh, dangerous world. Your beings were the strongest of all, completely self-sufficient, needing no one. This is commendable. But they lived alone. No connections. No sharing. No love. Strong but lonely... is also a form of death."
Artemis didn't bow her head, but eyes dimmed.
Elyndo turned to Brihaspati:
"Brihaspati. You created a pure world, full of philosophical wisdom. Your beings understood life, death, the universe. They achieved enlightenment. But they only sat, only contemplated, did nothing else. The world didn't develop. Didn't progress. Wisdom without action... is only illusion."
Brihaspati opened his eyes, nodded acceptance.
Elyndo looked at Izanami:
"Izanami. You created a world balanced between life and death. Your beings understood impermanence, cherished each moment, didn't compete, weren't greedy. This is profound. But they lived in death's shadow. Always remembering they would die... until they couldn't fully enjoy life. Remembering death is wise... but living in its shadow is tragedy."
Izanami said nothing, just nodded lightly.
Elyndo turned to Hermes:
"Hermes. You created a connected world, developed transportation, flowing information. Your beings were dynamic, no one isolated. This is good for society. But too much connection is also a problem. Too much information made them not know what is real. Too much noise left them no quiet space. Constantly moving... but not knowing where they're going."
Hermes scratched his head, smiled sheepishly.
Elyndo looked at Anubis last of the ten gods:
"Anubis. You created a just world with strict laws. Your beings lived righteously, committed no crimes, respected death. This is commendable. But they did good from fear... not from desire. They lived by law... not by heart. Justice without humanity... is only coldness."
Anubis nodded, accepting.
"All of you created worlds with individual value. All had strengths. But all lacked one thing... Temperance."
Elyndo paused, then turned to the two remaining gods - Beelzebub and Tsukuyomi.
"But there were two worlds... more special than all. One world gave too much. One world gave too little. One world overflowing with love. One world overflowing with hardship. And only one of two... understood Temperance."
Heavy silence.
Elyndo looked straight at Beelzebub:
"Beelzebub. You created the most abundant world of all. Most beautiful. Most perfect. Everything plentiful. Beings lacked nothing. Not hungry. Not thirsty. Not suffering. I saw your love for them. Sincere love. Unconditional love. Love... most beautiful of all."
Beelzebub raised his head, hope glimmering in wet eyes.
"But..."
Hope shattered.
"Your world cannot operate itself. When you leave, beings will die. Not from lacking food. Not from lacking water. But from lacking... meaning. Because you gave too much, until they had no reason to live. Nothing left to desire. Nothing left to create. They only... existed. And existing without meaning... is death."
Elyndo turned to Tsukuyomi:
"Tsukuyomi. You created the most impoverished world of all. Ugliest. Harshest. Beings had to struggle daily just to survive. Had to hunger. Had to thirst. Had to suffer. I saw the cruelty in how you treated them."
Tsukuyomi was silent, no defense.
"But..."
Elyndo nodded, approving:
"Your world can operate itself. When you leave, beings still live. Still develop. Because they learned self-sufficiency. Because they have reason to live. Because they know the value of each drop of water, each leaf. Because they know happiness isn't given, but must be created."
Silence. Everyone held breath.
Elyndo looked at Beelzebub, voice gentle:
"You loved the beings. I saw. But love is not giving everything. But teaching them how to live when you are no longer there. Happiness is not having everything. But knowing to value what one has."
Beelzebub trembled, blood dripping from his palms.
"Temperance is not keeping for oneself. But knowing when to stop... so others can stand up themselves. Giving too much... is also a sin."
Elyndo raised his hand toward Tsukuyomi:
"Tsukuyomi. You are worthy."
Silver light emanated, surrounding Tsukuyomi. The Throne of Temperance trembled. He stepped up, sat down. Silver light burst forth, gentle as moonlight, covering the entire plaza.
Five thrones now claimed. Only two thrones remaining.
Beelzebub stood there, among thousands, but lonelier than ever. Looking at Tsukuyomi sitting on the throne, chest aching as if torn apart.
"I... I gave everything... I loved with all my heart... why... why is it still not enough..."
No one answered.
He knelt down, two hands holding his head, blood flowing down face.
"I just wanted them happy... why... why is that wrong..."
And in the darkness, a tiny voice rang out, only Beelzebub hearing:
"You're not wrong. Elyndo is wrong."
Beelzebub startled, raised his head. No one there.
"You gave from love. But He chose one who let them hunger."
"You wanted them happy. But He praised one who let them suffer."
"So then... why not take back what belongs to you?"
The voice dissipated.
Beelzebub sat there, not crying, not screaming.
Only a tiny red light flickered in his eyes.
Then went out.
But the seed had been planted. Deep. Very deep.
And one day, it would sprout.