Conqueror Of Reality

MAGIC OF GOD I

Soon enough, Hale was back at the manor. And luckily, he could sneak into his room just as stealthily.

There could be more than a few hours before dawn, however, he had lost every sentient of sleep. Especially when a ray of golden light self-illuminated from the high chandelier.

Hale currently gazed at the map engraved on the desk.

Now that he looked properly, it seemed to be more of a world map than only of Norvenia's.

Unfortunately, he couldn't understand much about it.

Magic existed? Sure. And this matter of fact was currently the only thing keeping him going.

Yet, even he didn't know how it worked.

This world seemed to be a war zone or was soon going into one. And he— or more reasonably, the Hellstriders and their god were at the bottom of it.

Knock! Knock!

Hale sighed. And so his peace had been ruined within seconds.

"Who's there?"

"Turpin, it's Seth."

Hale frowned.

Someone did actually know the real name of the slave master?

As the door creaked open, Hale didn't bother to look at the lad. He had more in his head than to worry about this man.

"Don't let that one failure deter you, Turpin." Seth looked to quickly catch up with his other's feelings, "Just remember you always have an army behind you,

Behind the god we stand for."

"What is his name?" Hale asked.

Not that he cared about it. However, he realized even he couldn't remember the name of whoever this god was.

"Turpin," Seth cleared his throat, "gods like to keep their name discrete—"

"Even to their worshippers? No-No, worshipers? More like instruments."

"Yes Turpin, we are instruments."

Seth touched Hale's shoulder, his voice still calm all the way.

He seemed to simply take Hale's words, mostly as if he expected them.

He continued, "The moment we spread what he can do, or even, can take back that crystal from the empress, he will personally tell us his name."

Hale wanted to keep silent.

He had no interest in the matter and only wanted his personal peace.

Unfortunately, he could only try to be curious. He didn't want to risk any unfavourable interaction with that god the next time they met.

"Remind me how I created the Hellstriders. How I met this god."

Seth frowned for a while. And though he hoped Hale saw it, the latter was too busy gazing at the map on his desk.

"You're feeling alone again, aren't you? Slave Master, you didn't create the Hellstriders. At least not alone."

"We are all believers. People who had the opportunity to speak to the only one true god and share of his strength..."

'Now you sound like a fanatic.'

Hale didn't try to catch up with the rest of his words.

In his life in Norway, no matter how stupendously his parent forced him to the catholic, he could never make sense of the sermon.

Mostly because he was generally uninterested in their words.

Since he had only felt like it was one man trying to enforce his personal beliefs and rules on a crowd of people. And now, he felt the same way with Seth— and his god.

"—I've heard you, Seth." Hale cut him off.

His words were uninteresting, and the rather random drops had only caught his interest.

'Only one true god?'

'Then many more gods existed? Moreover, did he say share from his strength?'

Hale finally shared a glance with Seth.

Sharing power or strength with a god could be interpreted in a lot of ways. From the simple bits of contact and reputation to the complex, such as real physical power.

He would have asked Seth exactly what he meant by those words, unfortunately. Unfortunately, acting was too weird, and that w would have certainly touched a nerve in the latter.

"Thank you." After a forced smile, Hale turned back to the desk.

"I am always here to assist, Turpin."

Silence.

Hale waited patiently for the eventual opening and shutting of the door. However, it never came.

Only the low breath from the man bracing his ears.

Hale turned to him, "Any problem?"

"You haven't noticed?" Seth hesitated, "The group have practically been without our magic for the past days now. And since you awakened, we thought —they'll come back?"

A summit of confusion caused a frown on Hale's face.

He had no idea how to use his magic and this man was pestering him with the group's?

However, wasn't magic supposed to be some natural thing in this world?

"What do you mean?"

Seth remained hesitant, "Well, the group naturally depends on your essence to use our flame powers. And since you were shortly unavailable, we had spent the remains of the essence left."

Hale felt his jaw hit the ground, 'Did he just say they depend on me for magic?'

Seth continued, "We thought the god must have already spoken to you and shared his flame essence."

"I get my powers from a god?" Hale spilt.

Now that revelation was just too unbearable for him to accept. And he'd rather care less of the confused stare from Seth.

He'd had a first bad relationship with that god, and now he had to depend on him for magic.

Didn't the humans in this world had their own innate magic?

"Slave Master? Haven't you yet spoke to him."

"No! Ignore my attitude by the way, just frustrated a bit."

Seth nodded, "I'm sure he'll come to you tonight. Have a good sleep Slave Master."

The man left quickly soon leaving Hale alone.

Meanwhile the lad retired to sit on the chair behind the desk.

Even in absence, this god was still giving him a striking headache.

But now it was, he'd reincarnated into a world that depended on gods for magic, else they'd probably be normal.

And unfortunately, it was in his hands to return the magic back to this people.

"That's why they are called gods ehnn?"

The concept from his past life finally made sense with this very sad realization.

Magic was literally the reward to serve this god. And if he refused, he would leave himself insignificant in this world.

But most of all, spend his days hiding sheepishly from the world because of the past identity of his ridiculous body.

"I certainly would have blown another bomb right about now?"

Hale looked around.

He wouldn't want to end himself with something that will not decompose every bit of his remains.

If he decided to die by his own hands, he wanted something that would blow him up into shards. Or decompose his body into a statue of sand like the fantasy movies in local stations.

Unfortunately, everything in this room wouldn't do the feat. And except he annoyed someone blessed by the god of explosion, this world seemed to have none.

"Guess that would be on my to-do list." He grumbled.