"Courage is not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear."
- Nelson Mandela
One must never blame the gods for their problems.
It's an easy thing to do of course, to blame one's fate on something bigger, something that controls the universe. However it is one of those things that implies a lack of respect toward the universe. It implies that one thinks they are above the natural order set by these beings, like a speck of dust thinking it is much bigger than it is in the actual scheme of things.
There is a better reason to never blame the gods, or to voice such a concern.
Because…maybe the gods will become concerned with your tone…and you don't want that.
King was never one to call out to God, nor to blame him for any real trouble in the world or with himself. He was more one to just consider he was born unlucky, that it was his personal lot in life…but like with many people, a bitter situation can push somebody to blame someone or something if they're pushed enough.
That didn't feel like much of an issue today. The man known to the world as King had just been heading out to the store in order to procure for himself a brand new game, a journey he could only hope wouldn't end up with any monsters or battles along the path.
Luckily for him, he was at least able to get to the store without much of an issue, however along the way he was hearing the sounds of battle all around the city. Seems the other heroes were maybe having some trouble today or something…but that wasn't his problem, well…not really.
Sure, he was a high ranking hero…but in truth he was nothing but a weak human that people simply thought was strong, to the point they think of him as the strongest man on the planet. To that end he was always dragged into world shattering conflicts but he could never really do much in them…usually he would make up excuses, or somehow his bad luck would save him only to also end up making him look like more of a strong hero.
An endless cycle that frankly just got tiring, so he did what he always did, turned to his more prevalent of hobbies…gaming. Lately he had been trying to get into some different kinds of games to keep things fresh, after all you can't just play fighting games and dating sims forever.
So, he went out for a real time strategy game that was based upon battles and wars from ancient history, though well…it was heavily stylized with anime girls on the cover in military uniforms. It's one of those axioms that gets truer over time, put anime girls in something and it will sell.
Once he paid the cashier and got the game in a bag he left the store…only to see a gigantic hole in the center of the street. A smoking crater that a figure was slowly standing up from as King took a step back, cowering slightly as he held up his game for protection.
"Oh, hey…you out buying a new game?" A familiar voice asked him. He looked up and saw the familiar bald head of Saitama, standing at the center of the crater, looking as oblivious about the situation as always.
"Uh…ya, hey dude…you in a fight?" King asks, trying not to be slightly nervous about the situation.
Saitam just shrugs it off. "Ya, woke up in the morning and a lot of big moth things had swarmed over my apartment building. They were saying something about making it a nest or something?"
"Alright, and I guess…one of them hit you? Are you gonna go take care of it?"
"Just wait a sec, won't be long until-"
"HUMAN!" A deep, cutting voice called out from the sky, coming down before Saitama with a pair of marvelous gold and brown wings that fluttered at high speed. "For killing my brethren I struck you…but I see you are more than what you seem, but it means nothing for I am one of the King of the Skies! I am the Moth King!"
The bug beast stood as a ten foot tall, buff as hell creature. Its exoskeleton mass of bulk throbbing with muscle and strength. He must have been something to have launched Saitama into the ground with a hit at least…but it was nothing close to doing any damage to him like usual.
"Wait, so which is it, King of the Skies or Moth King?" Saitama asks before the creature throws a punch at him, its fist landing right into the ground as the bald headed hero disappears in an instant only to reappear behind the creature in a feat of incredible speed. "I mean I'm not one to usually care, but with royal titles I figure I might as well get it right."
"Insolent little…come my moths!"
King watches smaller versions of the beast glide down from the sky, swarming the surfaces of the buildings around them all. He tries to back away only to find that the shop he left had closed and chained it's door shut, leaving him with no way to get out of here during the middle of this fight.
"Now my army! Take this human down and then we shall make a nest of this world!" At his command they began to swarm around the bald headed hero and King tried his best to slip away. Of course he knew Saitama would win…but with his luck he didn't want to get mixed up in any of this.
At least he was able to slip past the main crowd of bugs by the time Saitama was turning them into pulverized goo with his punches. He even laid a strike down on the Moth King that blew off some of the creature's torso and its right arm.
"You dare…strike me!? I shall destroy you!"
At this moment, Saitama decided to put a little more into his strike to wipe the bug off the map, his fist pushing through and shredding the Moth King…but what he didn't know was that King had been standing on the other side of the creature as he slipped away.
The tall, scarred man had seen the punch coming toward him, his life flashing before his eyes as he knew the strength that would come bearing down on him. In this short quick moment as he knew his death was coming, he cursed at more than just his luck…he cursed at God for making it all this way.
The fist stopped along with the rest of the world. No longer could King feel his heart beating along in his chest…and yet his eyes could move and look around as he began to feel trapped in this hellish moment before death.
SOMETIMES I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT HUMANS ARE SO UTTERLY FOOLISH.
A voice echoes around King, he looks to see a woman from across the street looking at him, her voice booming with an echo as all around him or frozen. He wonders what the hell is going on and whether he's just hallucinating or that this is some sort of hell?
The voice comes from a different spot this time, from one of the dead moths, broken in half and dead on the street, its mouth chittering along as its eyes start up at the frozen King.
PERHAPS IT IS A BIT OF BOTH. YOU HUMANS THINK YOU KNOW SO MUCH AND DESERVE SO MUCH BETTER. YOU YOURSELF LIVE IN A FANTASTICAL WORLD FULL OF HEROES AND ADVENTURE, AND YET YOU STRIVE TO BE NOTHING MORE THAN ANOTHER COG. YOU CURSE AT ME FOR YOUR FATE WHILE SPURNING THE VERY LUCK GRANTED TO YOU.
King knows it can hear his thoughts, and wonders maybe if he's being judged by god…or possibly something else entirely, but still he cannot help but feel a little bit of annoyance at knowing that all of his life and luck has been the result of another's interference.
UNGRATEFUL. YOU SPEAK TO SOMETHING TO DIVINE. I AM THAT I AM AND YOU ARE AN ANT IN COMPARISON, AND YET I AM MADE TO GOVERN OVER YOU. I TIRE OF GIVING HUMAN LIKE YOU EXCITING LIVES ONLY TO FEEL YOUR DISPARAGING ATTITUDE.
Exciting? King could not help but get a little angry at that. Ever since he became a hero his life has been nothing but utter terror and having to lie about himself. He wasn't given anything to be happy about here.
King Moth is the one to speak this time, his voice gurgling as he is not much more than a head thanks to Saitama's fist.
NOTHING? YOU ARE CONSIDERED TO BE THE STRONGEST MAN IN YOUR WORLD. PEOPLE LOOK UP TO YOU. YOU HAVE WEALTH, FAME THE ADORATION OF A HERO.
Yet, none of that is really his. Those are things he has fallen into. It would be the equivalent of calling him the greatest businessman in the world for winning a lottery. How can one have pride in what they do if in the end they didn't do anything to earn it.
YOU THINK OF STRUGGLE WHEN ALL YOU DO WITH YOUR TIME IS PLAY THROUGH SIMULATIONS OF FIGHTS AND RELATIONSHIPS? ALL TARTED UP TO LOOK LIKE WHAT YOUR KIND CONSIDERS TO BE CUTE?
King is fine with admitting his love for games and that yes, he realizes that what he does in them doesn't mean anything in the grand scheme of things…especially now talking to the grand schemer, but the difference there is that he plays games to relax. They are a way for him to relax in a way with no consequences…in real life there are consequences and the people that believe in him and expect him to win expect some form of results…and he is never the one to deliver them.
The world stands motionless for a few moments. The silence cannot help but make King feel scared as the old lady cowering from inside of the store looks upon him.
I SEE. CONSEQUENCE IS RATHER FOREIGN TO ME. I HAVE TRIED TO GUIDE THROUGH WORSHIP, HELP AND GRACE…BUT ONE CANNOT CHOOSE THE RIGHT CHOICE IF THE CONSEQUENCE OF THE WRONG ONE DOES NOT EXIST. CONSEQUENCE AND STRUGGLE ARE THEY KEY…BUT THAT CANNOT BE ALL THAT MATTERS.
King, being caught in this situation, wonders what this thing stopping him is really thinking about…and if once this moment is over what he'll look like slathered across the pavement, killed by a powerfriend, what a way to go…
THAT IS NOT WHERE YOU SHALL GO.
Saitama's eyes were on him, speaking with his usual uncaring and bored tone.
YOU ARE NOT THE FIRST OF YOUR KIND TO INTEREST ME. I HAVE SPOKEN TO ANOTHER MUCH LIKE YOU IN A WAY, UNGRATEFUL AND PETTY. NOT UNDERSTANDING ALL THAT I HAVE GIVEN THEM.
King begins to feel apprehensive here. What was this thing going to do to him? Change him into someone else? Send more monsters after him…what do gods do to those who are ungrateful?
THEY TEACH THEM. THEY GUIDE THEM.
The scarred man doesn't feel like he's gonna be guided. No, he feels like he's going to be railroaded into another bad situation like usual.
AGAIN, YOU CURSE YOUR LUCK…BUT YOU WILL DO THAT NO LONGER. FROM THIS MOMENT ON I STRIP YOU OF IT. I SHALL PLACE YOU IN A NEW WORLD, ANOTHER WHERE I HAVE EXPERIMENTED WITH THE OTHER WHO WISHES TO LIVE IN SPITE OF ME.
Wait? Did King not get a choice in the matter at all? Couldn't he just not get punched and go home? Why was this happening to him!
TAKE HEED HUMAN, FOR THESE ARE THE RULES OF THE GAME. YOU WILL HAVE NO LUCK, AND NO HELP. YOU WILL KEEP YOUR BODY AND IT WILL BE ALL THAT CAN USE FOR THE GAME. SURVIVE AND LEARN TO RESPECT THAT WHICH YOU ARE GIVEN AND I SHALL GRANT YOU A BOON WHEN THIS IS OVER.
Before King can try to ask more about what he means the colors of the world swirl before his eyes and he is drawn into a great darkness.
He disappears as time resumes, Saitama's fist stops in mid air as he holds the punch back from possibly hitting King…and yet now he's gone, leaving what's left of the Moth King to roll away as it hits the ground.
Looking at his fist, he sighs to himself. "Well…that's new, but I didn't actually hit him…so where did he go?"
That is a good question indeed.
History is a chronicle of the events of life that every human should take heed of, for those who do know of their history are doomed to repeat it. It is the markings that humans leave behind, distant echoes of stories told over and over again, telling of heroes, villains and challenges that we have strived to deal with and how the world can change upon the titans of the ages moving about.
However, sometimes, very rarely…history revolves around a sandwich.
The one in this case was on two slices of pumpernickel, a slightly sweet but heavy bread that had nothing on the bread itself but a smear of butter and a bit of old shredded cheese, turning it into a simple butterbrot sandwich.
However, one may not consider the sandwich all too important compared to the man eating it.
Gabriel Gravitti was young and hungry for more than bread and butter. He had been born in the year of 1899 and was born as poor as poor gets. He had friends he had grown up with but they were just as poor as he was, eating bread and butter sandwiches like the one he had in his hands their whole life.
Like many young men in dire straits, they look for something to blame…and they wouldn't be the only ones. The nation he was born in, Legedonia Entente Alliance, also looked to blame another place for their poor misfortune. They didn't think of themselves as a fundamentally weak country before when the smaller countries below them had to respect their size and might…but the unification of the ones below them changed everything in a matter of a few decades.
Below them was once a heap of small nations that were only famed for their milk, now stands an Empire that the Alliance cannot hope to keep up with economically and the people know it.
Gabriel feels like he's known it his entire life. He thinks that it all leads up to this moment as he sits with his friend, eating a sandwich atop a rooftop with them while they all grip hard onto rifles they had borrowed from their families.
They were gifted with enough magic to use them just as their fathers and grandfathers had…if only they had a target.
These young, idealistic fools had planned for weeks to come here, right on the edge of Alliance territory to a city where a Prince of the Empire would come for some meeting involving political motivations. The men knew however it would probably be just the beginning of the end and so hatched a dumb, shortsighted plan as many young people opt to do.
Of course, such a rushed plan couldn't have accounted for the Prince being late to come. In fact, his lateness made it look like he would never show up at all. Many of the young men had been there since the early morning, waiting for their chance…only to be pissed that they had to continue to wait.
That's where that little sandwich comes in, because dear Gabriel, like his friends, is pissed and he wants to leave, but figures he'll eat his sandwich first. It couldn't have taken more than two or three minutes to do…but it was enough for them to spot the Prince's autobahn finally coming down the road. Problem was that by the time they had their rifles set upon the car it had already gotten out of sight…but they knew he would have to leave sometime.
Gabriel Gravitti does not feel that he has his hand upon the wheel of history. He is nothing more than a puppet of his own life. Struggling and scraping for everything he had…has provided him with a hatred for those born above him…which led to a hatred for the Empire that had once been nothing more than a few small pissant countries who sold his grandfather cheap milk.
He is merely one of hundreds in the Alliance who wish to strike back at the Empire, to lash out by any means necessary as if it were the only way to make things make sense in their chaotic world.
They watch, pointing their rifles and keeping their magic focused as they look upon the massive building the Prince is walking through. They are young but passionate, and their eyes will be the instruments that help change the lines of history books for years to come.
They do not understand that their fate will be written the moment they fire. They do not understand that once they fire off their magically imbued shots they will seal their future whether the kill they strike royalty or not. They will be executed. They will either be shot or hung…but even if they did know, it may have not stopped their anger from lashing out.
One of them sees the prince walk by a window, the others all focus on the spot, trying their best to follow him through the windows of the building. Gabriel is the only one with enough experience to make a precise shot and even he cannot do it while the prince is moving through the place.
The Prince being led through the building does not think of himself in harm's way at all. He is a figurehead, just one member of a royal family there to represent his nation, but not rule it. His life has been cushy though, away from battle, danger and the threat of every living a life that could want for anything. Even if he knew there were weapons pointed his way at this moment he would not be able to fathom that someone would ever wish for his death.
He is not stupid. Like the boys aiming at him, he is simply ignorant to the truth of the situation and the world around them. They do not see the big picture…or what the actions of this day will lead to. The prince will never know that his life may have been spared if someone had eaten a sandwich just a little earlier.
The Prince takes a seat at an ornately carved table among many of the Alliance's great statesmen. All of them smile through their teeth at him, all of them wishing they could be wearing his ornate, fancily woven regal clothes.
He is here for nothing more than a trade agreement, to be the face that delivers a message that the Empire is planning a delivery route that may impact the Alliance's economy more by increasing their production of bread, cheese…and of course, milk products.
It was an ironic little nail in the coffin for their economy, one that may have been nothing more than a joke in the history books.
It's much too bad that Gabriel Gravitti had nine hours of sleep and was fed…otherwise he might have missed and all anybody would have cried over was a bit of spilt economic milk.
Half a dozen rifle shots pierce the glass, but only the shot Gabriel unleashes hits its mark. The magic it's infused with, pierces through his target's shoulder, opening a hole through it and throwing him off where he sat with great force.
The next thirty seconds is hell as gunfire riddles the meeting room. Everyone gets on the ground as the Alliance's statesmen look to the guards trying to hoist the prince up to take him out of there. They do not know the attack is not meant to kill them so they try to crawl over and help the man out, finding him alive but bleeding badly.
The gunfire begins to stop as the assassins begin to reload together. Their hearts beat as one, their passion and nationalistic fervor growing like a fire inside of them.
One next to Gabriel, a man who had been a good friend for years had said it best. "This was our moment…we have struck at Imperial royalty…but we must not end our righteous battle now brothers! We must-"
His speech was cut short by a magically bullet piercing through his jaw, taking the meat and the bone with it and nearly twisting that man's head back to nearly snap his neck in one shot.
These young men were going to learn about the consequences of their actions quickly as they took cover from a hail of gunfire that began to chip the stone rooftop around them with explosive and piercing shots. The guards of the building had begun to mount a defense and it was apparent they had come much better equipped than the young boys.
They have artillery stationed around the building for situations just like this as well as half a ton of guard stations they can fire from. They, like the boys, do not know that they are being fired at by their own countrymen…to them it's an attack on their country and they will fight with the same fervor and passion those boys do.
Another of Gabriel's brothers in arms is shot while he tries haphazardly to load his rifle. All of them cannot focus their magic enough to even give enough power to their rifles to fire back effectively when they finally mount a defense. The mages attacking from below may not be the most well trained but they outnumber the boys and can outfire them as well.
It's not long until more explosive shots began to riddle the rooftop, blowing chunks of carved stone everywhere. Gabriel wonders if the roof will collapse first or the men below will come up the building and find them first.
By now, the boys are simply shooting to try to assuage the fear growing in them as each one is taken out. Some by direct fire, and others through the explosive shots.
Gabriel is last amongst them and thinks himself lucky…until he feels something wet and warm against his hip. He looks down to his side…and dug into it is a piece off of a splintered wooden rifle butt, digging into the side of his stomach. He rolls over onto his side and reaches for it as the pain of it finally begins to push through the mounting adrenaline. Even just the tip of his fingers touching it are enough to know that the wound itself is something he will not walk away from.
The boy had the eyes of an eagle. His friends may have thought they got the prince and died thinking they had won, but he alone had seen the shot only go through his shoulder.
A single mortar shot rang out, flying high into the sky until coming down upon the building, blowing off one of the corners and covering the still alive young man in dust. He coughs out as a cold feeling begins to creep up his legs. He reaches into his pocket, desperately trying to find a wrapped sandwich…only to find that it had dropped in all of the commotion.
With what he feels to be his last bits of strength, he crawls over to the paper wrapped, buttered bread. He feels like he can't even hear the gunshots around him anymore as he's about to take it in his hands…and yet, another sight, just bove where his hand is, takes his focus.
Gabriel, through the destroyed part of the roof corner, can see the prince being shuffled out of the building below, the guards holding him as best they can as to stop the bleeding and get him to safety.
Once again, the world turns on the bread of a sandwich.
With what little magic he has left, Gabriel focuses on using it for spotting. Increasing a magnification of his sight while he reaches over to grab a nearby rifle from his friend's cold dead hands. He can't make the shot on his stomach…and so he lies on his back, looking off to the side as he positions himself.
Corners of his vision are beginning to go hazy. He has to bite his lip to focus his hands and stop them from shaking as he aims the weapon. The artillery has stopped, but only because the men below have breached the building and will be upon the boy in less than a minute.
It was at that moment that Gabriel began to pray to God in the way his father had taught him. The way his grandfather had passed down from their ancestors so that they would know and respect their creator when asking for his grace.
"Oh lord…give me the strength to change things, to accept the power to change things, and to know what I can change. Let your power run through me as a divine instrument, so that I may bring peace, judgment and your love lord…"
The end of the rifle points down at the car as it begins to move. Every second that passes is another that it gets farther away down the road…yet the boy can only take the shot when he is sure. He has only enough magic left inside of him for one more explosive shot and he has to make it count. For the lord he has to make it count!
Yet…one cannot fight against death as it encroaches. The struggle of it only makes one weaker in the end…and despite dear Gabriel trying to line his shot up…he knew that it would never connect. The car was too far, nearly 1000 meters away at this point and moving.
Still, he would continue to pay and continue to hold out.
In that moment, God would grant him what he needed.
The car would be stopped so quickly and so suddenly down the road that it even confused Gabriel. He looked with his magic on to see a blonde haired, tall, scarred man standing before the vehicle, looking confused as it was almost as if he appeared in front of it.
It was enough for the young man. Putting the last of his strength and magic up, he took a deep breath and centered his rifle. The whole world quieted to him…and when his finger squeezed the trigger he knew. He knew the shot would connect, so much so that he barely even felt the recoil as if the bullet had slipped out of his rifle on its way out.
Just a hair over a thousand meters away, it struck the window of the car, piercing it and striking one of the guards in the back of the neck.
The magic that was focused into the shot goes off, blowing the bullet up inside of the man, unleashing not only shrapnel but turning the man's bones into a weapon as he exploded in the car.
No human, not the scarred man standing before the car, not Gabriel, none of the people in the world even would know that this would lead to so much more death.
In fact, the young man got to smile as he watched the prince stumble out of the car. His body obviously mangled from the explosive shot. Like Gabriel he would only have seconds at most to contemplate his life and what it added up to.
Perhaps he thought of his country and what the Empire would do…perhaps he thought of the many women he had loved as consorts. Perhaps he too wished for a simple last meal before he collapsed on the streets, scarlet dripping from him and filling the cracks of the stone laden ground before him…merely just the first drops to come.
Strength had failed Gabriels fingers. He dropped the rifle as he began to hear shouting from below. The guards would be upon him at any moment. As the darkness took him he grabbed at the paper wrapped sandwich. He shoved it in his mouth, biting into the paper and laughing insanely as soon he was shoving the pumpernickel bread down his throat.
When the guards burst in, his last few breaths had passed through the bread. His eyes were fixed upon the sky as his mouth was stuffed with bread. His friends were all dead and only now would they be recognized for being countrymen to the guards.
Gabriel Gravitti would never meet God, but he would be graced with another life…as to what happens to assassins and if they get punished at all, for that you would have to ask the mysterious being who lords over us all…and he had better things to watch.
Fear is both terribly unnerving, and yet in a way also comfortable to the mind of a coward. It's like an old leather jacket, it might feel constricting and yet it's comfort brings you in.
King felt enormous amounts of fear as he was transported, his body appearing before an old school looking car asche wondered if he would just end up getting hit by it instead…only for the driver to stop before him.
He gulped as he looked into the car, seeing the driver desperately trying to wave King out of the way as two men in the back had their arms over another man, well dressed in shiny clothes and finery but also bleeding crimson all over them, the sight of which only made the scarred man's stomach turn.
It only got worse when a gunshot rang out, breaking through the car and nearly blowing the top off of it and blowing one of the guards up. King didn't stick around to see anyone crawl out of it, instead opting to run away directly from the car so that he might get out of any sort of danger.
With time, his throat was on fire and burned along with his legs, only stopping until he reached the very edge of the small city he had been transported to. Looking around he saw rolling hills and dirt roads leading out of the city…but looking back he finally got an eyeful of where he was.
The buildings looked very different from the ones of his world. They looked built from old ancient styles rather than the apartment buildings he was used to. The river that cut through the city was beset by ancient stone architecture that small wooden boats would run through. Even the few people he could see around wore dresses and suits that seemed very much out of style with the time…but then again, whatever he had spoken to moments before had said he was in a new place…so perhaps it was a new time as well?
The young, scarred and scared man still couldn't exactly comprehend all of this…but as the sound of sirens and alarms began to go off from the city he figured that he shouldn't stay lest he end up getting mixed up in all of this.
So what else could the young man do but run away from the city, not knowing that just a mile away he would pass into the territory of the empire along the path that god laid out for him.
He did not know of the death of the Prince, nor the effect it would have in the coming weeks. The Empire would announce that they had executed the men that had struck a blow to the royal family, something that wasn't true but there were no other accounts to be had in an age with only newspapers to go off of. The Empire wanted to make it seem as if those who were responsible were punished…and that was true. However, announcing that it was they who had killed citizens of the Alliance, even assassins, was just what the Entente needed.
In the Fatherland's hurry to look superior and strong in the face of the attack, they had neglected to think about how the attack itself was done on Alliance soil and by their citizens. While they had no designs on using such info against them, the Rhineland could not predict that the citizens of their own land would begin to feel a great level of patriotic fervor.
A week later a funeral was held for the prince as the whole country began to reach a boiling point. The men who had done the deed were dead and the death itself had been for nothing…and much like the naive fools who had done the deed, they too were looking for something to blame.
The Alliance had been ahead of the curb, almost ignoring the gravitas of the assassination to focus on the Empire even thinking that it could just execute Entente civilians. Not only that, but the people of that country didn't see the death of Imperial royalty the same way. To them, it was the death of some stuffy aristocrat of an arrogant Empire.
The statesmen on both sides could see what was to come. For years they had lived in a position of general unrest among their people. The fatherland's people felt almost confined, victory and unity only increasing their hunger to bring them more power and territory…while the Entente Alliance vied for the memory of what they were once before. To see the fear and respect in their enemy that they can only wish wasn't on their faces.
The ingredients were there, the heat was coming. The recipe for a war grander than this world had ever seen was going to be served up rather soon. From there the being watching over all would have its curiosity truely sated by the pieces he had put upon the board.
Of course, all of this happened under the eyes of God and while one could consider him evil, a being such as himself is above such labels. After all…evil in human terms matters only in consequences. Like a crime without a victim, one has to ask if it even is a crime in the first place. The death and destruction caused by humans and the way God guides them does not truly inconvenience them in the end, as they are reincarnated, the memories of their pain forgotten…but perhaps that was never for the best, at least taking into account the other piece it has in play.
The being that watches over the process of reincarnation begins to split his attention, looking over King as he runs closer to the territory of the Empire…but also deeper into the nation, hundreds of miles away at a small girl in the middle of being tested for magical power.
She was another test in all of this, another ungrateful whelp put into a small, weak body and thrown into a world that would soon descend into turmoil, though her disposition was unlike King's. Before she had been reincarnated she had spurned not only the existence of God's divinity, but also the need for it…calling it by a derogatory name, Being X.
It could see into her mind, and knew her future as well as King's, and would be happy to see it all play out in the times to come.
Sure, one could not consider God evil by human standards…but for the way the being tended to play with life for its own curiosity, one wouldn't be remiss to call it a bit of an asshole. There would surely be at least one girl named Tanya who would agree.
As for King, he would learn in time. His war was just beginning after all.
Story by Ekroth Ekronicus
Written NOT by me, but by Joe D Mercala, also known by his alias JoeTheMercenary on fanfic. If you like his writing here, go check him out, commision a fic or two and support his activities. His discord is: Joe D. Mercala#8764