Lord of the Mysteries: I'm Not Evil God

13: The Threads That Burn

Perspective: Eiren

He should have known better.

When something enters you that isn't yours—

When power whispers from unseen mouths—

The first instinct should be fear.

Eiren chose to fight.

He sat inside the abandoned chapel, its altar broken, the stained glass long shattered.

A string of mirror shards surrounded him in a circle.

One burned warm in his palm — gold-threaded, flickering with soft pulses of feeling.

The other cold and perfect — smooth white, reflecting everything but himself.

The Heartbound. The Faker.

They were growing stronger. Not because he accepted them…

But because others did.

A dozen rumors now circled his name — hero, traitor, divine puppet, false god.

Some claimed he was the child of prophecy. Others, the Faceless Heir.

"If everyone believes I'm a god…"

"Does that make me one?"

He screamed, driving a blade into his palm — not to kill, but to focus.

"One must go. I have to choose."

The mirror shards trembled.

Light shimmered. A face half-formed in the air — a woman's, gentle and distant.

Lyra.

"You still feel. So I remain."

Then came the crackling laughter. The sound of paper tearing in reverse.

Velkaris.

"Truth is irrelevant. Only belief matters. Choose me… and you'll never be uncertain again."

Eiren covered his ears.

But inside his soul, neither voice vanished.

They wrapped around him, warping the air.

And then—

Something else appeared.

Not warm. Not cold.

Not a voice at all.

Just a presence.

Silent. Still. Watching.

The mirror shards stopped trembling.

And floating above them—

A third thread.

Pale gray. Steady as breath.

Not forcing itself in. Not claiming.

Simply... bearing witness.

[You have encountered a Forbidden Thread: Witness Sequence (Unanchored)]

➤ Trait Gained: "He Who Remembers"

➤ Origin Unknown. Identity: Fluid.

➤ Status: Not a god. Not yet.

Eiren gasped.

"Another one?"

This one didn't demand belief.

It didn't beg to be felt.

It just... was.

Watching.

And in its gaze, he saw something no god had offered:

Memory.

He fell to his knees, breath broken.

And in that moment—

A fourth voice joined the others.

This one calm, wry, amused.

"You'll tear yourself apart trying to solve divine contradictions," said the Fool.

Eiren turned.

Klein Moretti stood beside the ruined altar, sipping from a white cup that hadn't existed a second ago.

"You're not the Faker," Klein said.

"But the world believes you might be."

"And belief shapes reality."

Klein placed a mirror down. It reflected no one.

"So we'll lie to the world. Fool it."

Eiren blinked. "Lie?"

"Yes," Klein said. "We'll fool the world… into believing you're not Velkaris."

"We'll make them believe something else instead."

"Something true."