Chapter 235: INTERLUDE. Reverse
Chapter 235: INTERLUDE. Reverse
“I can say the same about you, goddess.”
God of Rogues didn’t elaborate his statement, leaving his opponent to keep drilling holes in him with her eyes, as if she could learn his thoughts by a simple desire. Ha! If reading thoughts was so easy, they’d live in a very different world now. Detecting them WAS simple—but deciphering the signals in a creature’s brain was a task beyond powers anyone but the First God himself. And even that was just God of Rogues’ guess.
Finally, a few seconds of heavy silence later, Goddess of Wizards condescended to speak again. Even then, she did so with the same haughty air she had before, with a slight incline of her head, with a subtle curve of her lips.
“How so? I see nothing in common between us. You trade in lies, while I trade in the universal truths that only science can give—and there can be nothing truer than these facts fixed in place by the First himself.”
God of Rogues wasn’t deterred in the slightest—in fact, he only smiled a little wider and leaned a little forward. With the two steps that separated them before, that brought him just on the edge of Goddess of Wizards’ personal space, though she didn’t even flinch.
“Oh yes? Science? That reminds me of one story… Wait, forgive me, goddess. Not one, but plenty of them—of all the wise men and women who pursued science with such zeal, that forgot entirely about anything else. Things one can do in a mindless pursuit of a single goal, be that science, justice or… anything, even sweet rolls. If, hypothetically speaking, there was some vital experiment that required a god to suffer… would you rather experiment on yourself or someone else?”
Goddess of Wizards stayed still, but the force of her glare intensified. Before she could respond, God of Rogues straightened into a relaxed pose, and with a deliberate nonchalance, added, “After all, we both know that you are not above putting the entire mortal realm at risk for the sake of personal gain, and then keeping the entire thing shush. And what’s more important—us, or the world we were created to protect? What do you think? Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone your answer.”
This broke through the goddess’ icy shell. The visible signs were few: a flinch here, a twitch there, but for God of Rogues the crack of the ice was almost audible, and brought him immense joy. She thought to put him down, though she wasn’t even sure if he was the culprit or not. If she was, she’d bring the proofs to everyone.
If she thought him guilty, it was because she wanted to. For convincing others to vote for him as the investigator, for breaking into her tower—she had no proofs here either, but who else? He always was the first to fall under suspicion, wasn’t he? Just like now…
And he was proving them all right. God of Rogues wondered what they would say when they learn. Would they say that this was too much, even for him? Or would they say, instead, that this was bound to happen, eventually?
“I think..,” Goddess of Wizards spoke slowly. “I think, God of Rogues, that you are comparing things that can’t stand comparisons. A colour and a sound, a feeling and a number, gods and mortals. You can tell this to whoever you want. They would agree with me. You, though… do you see the difference between us and them yourself? And if you do not, what stops you from acting towards our own like you act towards mere mortals? Lie to us, use us, destroy us.”
“Oh, I know the difference, goddess.” God of Rogues smiled thinly, not fooled by the half-transparent mask of composure she donned again. “We have the power.”
There was a silence again, after which, to God of Rogues’ slight surprise, Goddess of Wizards nodded. “Yes. Because we were made for it. Destined for it. Only having the power does not make one into a god, and losing it doesn’t make a god into a mortal, because the god is destined to regain his power, just as the mortal is destined to lose it. This is the order of things. The universal law.”
“Is it? Well, well. I suppose, if you say so.” God of Rogues kept smiling.
The existence of Devourer hung, unsaid, in this last exchange of lines. One who gained power, being a mere mortal originally—or was it really like that? After all, he also was made for this.
One was a fact, though—a god could fall, and hard. That God of Rogues witnessed himself.
After this, he and Goddess of Wizards had nothing more to say to each other. When she left, he stared blankly at the door that closed after her for a long time, thinking. He was sure that she was going to the others now, trying to convince them to put him under a lock and key—or at least away from the investigation.
He snorted. The bitterness that he for centuries forced into the deepest, darkest place in his soul, suddenly grasped his heart with the roots that it grew there while he wasn’t looking, and when God of Rogues tried to close the door on it once again, he found himself unable to.
In frustration, he clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.
Once, this wasn’t like that. He was the one who worked with a dagger and in a cloak, but it was all for good. He sneaked, he scouted, he ambushed, he tricked—but only monsters. Then, humans grew in numbers and do all the same with each other—and, well, he never stood against it. In fact, he encouraged them, learnt their tricks and taught them ones he invented.
His tools of trade worked against humans much better than against monsters. There were so many uses for them in peaceful life… He was a patron of merchants, too.
No one liked merchants either.