Chapter 51
Written by Bayzo Albion
The forest was unnaturally still, the silence prickling against my skin. No rustling leaves, no birdsong—only a watchful hush. The trees loomed close, their branches tangled like whispering conspirators.
The once-familiar path now felt foreign, winding into the green like a serpent leading somewhere unknown.
"I get that adventures are mostly just endless walking," my double grumbled, kicking at an exposed root with a frustrated huff. The wood splintered slightly under his boot, sending a faint echo through the trees. "But couldn't they have spiced up the scenery? Trees, trees, and more damn trees..."
"Be grateful it's not a desert," I retorted, shrugging off the growing weariness in my legs. "Imagine trudging through endless dunes instead—sand in your eyes, blistering heat baking your skin, no shade in sight."
We walked for what felt like hours, the forest growing dull and lifeless. Colors faded, the air thickened, and not a single creature stirred. It felt like a hollow imitation of the wild. At last, I turned back—the path no longer an adventure, but a retreat from an empty stage.
– – –
"You back already?" The Baroness arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow as I crossed the threshold, her voice a mix of curiosity and concern. She stood by the window, the soft light framing her silhouette like a painting come to life.
"Everything's fine," I assured her, brushing off the road dust from my cloak. It fluttered to the floor in lazy motes, catching the dim indoor light.
I sank into the armchair, its cushions enveloping me like an old friend, and cradled a steaming cup of hot water in my hands. I'd forgotten to restock the tea leaves—again—but who was keeping score? The water had a faint salty tang, likely from the minerals in the spring it came from, and it cut through the dryness in my throat with surprising refreshment. For a moment, I savored the silence, letting the warmth seep into my bones, chasing away the forest's chill.
"Baroness, come here," I called softly, taking another sip.
She approached with graceful poise, her footsteps light on the wooden floor, adjusting the delicate lace cuffs of her sleeves as she moved. "Yes, my lord?"
"What's the news from the world outside?"
Her expression shifted, the playful glint in her eyes giving way to gravity. "The monsters are growing stronger by the day," she said, her tone slicing through the room's calm like a blade. "It's rippling through the economies of every kingdom—trade routes disrupted, resources scarce."
"Do you know why?"
She hesitated, her gaze hardening like forged steel. "There's a theory... something godlike has descended into our world. The ancient chronicles call it the King of Monsters."
A shiver raced down my spine, cold and insistent, despite the warmth of the cup in my hands. I nodded slowly, absorbing the weight of her words.
"War between humans and monsters is inevitable now," she continued, her nails tapping an anxious rhythm against the armrest of my chair. The sound was faint but insistent, mirroring the unease building in my chest.
"So the peace treaty's shattered?"
"The monsters broke it first. Dark times are ahead." For a fleeting second, fear shadowed her eyes, and she glanced away, as if ashamed of the vulnerability.
"How many times has this happened in your history?"
"The records speak of nine such crises," she replied, wrapping her arms around herself as if warding off a sudden draft. Her posture stiffened, the lace of her dress rustling softly. "Each one tied to the arrival of something divine. We call them gods."
Well, that was a twist I hadn't seen coming. The room felt colder now, the air thicker, or maybe it was just my imagination playing tricks. I set the cup down on the table with a deliberate clink, louder than intended in the hushed space.
"Interesting," I murmured, sipping the now-cooling water. "What draws these 'gods' here? Random chance... or some kind of summons?"
She shook her head slowly, a gesture laced with frustration and helplessness. No one knew, and that uncertainty hung between us like an unspoken curse.
"What were they like, these nine gods?" I pressed, watching her fingers fidget with the lace on her cuff, twisting it as if coaxing out forgotten memories.
She paused, her eyes distant, voice dropping to a haunted whisper. "They all... went mad from their boundless power. At first, it was benevolent: healing the sick, purifying blighted lands, aiding in the rise of grand cities. But then they started searching for something." Her words trailed off, laced with a fear that made her voice tremble slightly. "No one knows what. Those secrets are lost to time."
"But that won't happen to us," my double interjected smugly in my mind.
"I wouldn't bet on it," I thought back, ignoring him outwardly.
"So this idyllic world turns to hell because of these pseudo-deities?" I asked aloud, drumming my fingers lazily on the armrest, the wood smooth under my touch.
"Exactly," she said, her brows lifting in mild surprise at my bluntness. "But what's odd is... this tenth god is suspiciously quiet."
The tenth god is sitting right in front of you, darling, my inner voice whispered with wicked amusement.
"Is that a good sign or bad?" I queried, studying her face for any flicker of revelation.
"If a godlike being isn't flexing its power... for now, it's promising," she replied, her eyes locking onto mine with a piercing intensity—curiosity mingled with suspicion. "What if... the tenth god is you?"
"With my power?" I grinned broadly, slapping my belly for emphasis. The sound was muffled, playful. "I've dedicated all my training to... bedroom workouts. This here's my ultimate artifact—a beer gut shield and a lover's blade."
My double snorted in amusement, barely containing his laughter. The Baroness exhaled wearily, caught between disbelief and reluctant amusement, unsure if I was jesting or confessing.
A thick silence descended, tangible and heavy, wrapping around us like fog. She tilted her head, appraising me as one might a curious artifact, her gaze roaming over my form with deliberate slowness. I masked my unease with casual indifference, but her words burrowed deeper, stirring doubts I preferred to ignore.
"Bedroom workouts, huh..." she murmured, her eyes tracing me appraisingly, as if fitting me into a role I hadn't auditioned for.
"Would you want to be a god?" Her voice was velvet-soft, but edged with steel, probing for cracks in my facade.
I paused dramatically, letting the moment stretch, feigning inner turmoil. Then, narrowing my eyes, I replied: "Yes... but I'd hate to lose my mind to infinite power."
"Better you as this world's god," she said suddenly, her tone grave, a fleeting shadow crossing her features that I couldn't quite decipher.
"Why's that?"
"Strange people are less prone to madness," she explained, the corners of her mouth twitching in a ghost of a smile. "They see the world differently... sometimes too differently."
"Smart folks are always a bit eccentric," I corrected, taking a sip of the tepid water. It tasted earthier now, grounding me. "By the way... have mortals ever defeated gods?"
Her smile froze, fingers stilling on the armrest. She regarded me anew, as if pieces of a puzzle had clicked into place. "So you want to... challenge a god?"
"Just curious about history," I said lightly, injecting detachment into my voice.
"Only time can defeat gods," she whispered, glancing around as if the walls might eavesdrop. "Mortals can't compete."
"So all nine gods... are dead?"
"Yes," she confirmed, nodding solemnly, her eyes haunted by echoes of ancient tales. "They're gone from this world."
In my mind, a debate sparked. "Maybe they just got bored and logged off the server?" my double suggested lazily, stretching in the recesses of my thoughts.
"Possible," I conceded inwardly. "Though your guess hits close. This world feels like it's testing me on purpose."
"That's paranoia talking. Or a conspiracy theory you've cooked up. Relax, enjoy the game—whatever happens, happens. We've died before," he quipped.
"What are you thinking about?" The Baroness's voice pulled me back, soft and intimate. She leaned closer, her warm breath brushing my ear, sending a subtle thrill down my neck.
I smiled slowly, holding her gaze. "Obviously, which tea pairs best with world domination—black or green?"
She laughed, but it was brief, edged with wariness that lingered in her eyes. Our lighthearted banter had veered into darker waters, the air charged with unspoken tension.
"Conquering myself is enough for me," I said quietly, staring at my hands, the calluses rough against my skin. "I don't need more."
"Liar," my double chuckled. "But there's truth in that, oddly enough."
"World domination's just a game to me. The final quest in a long chain," I added, flexing my fingers, the joints popping softly.
"Oh, how epic," he mocked. "Cue the credits and fanfare for our humble hero."
She circled me slowly, like a predator assessing prey—deciding whether to strike or ally. Her presence was electric, raising the hairs on my arms.
"You realize," she murmured, "those who defy gods rarely die swiftly? They rot slowly... in their own glory."
"I'm used to it," I replied, meeting her eyes unflinchingly. "Better to reek of pride than decay from inaction."
She paused behind me, her fingers grazing my shoulder—light, testing. I felt the warmth through my shirt, a spark of connection amid the tension.