Mahoraga in Lord of the Mysteries

*Creak*

*Thump*

Mahoraga's predatory smile returned as he flicked at the moon once more, and this time, reality buckled under his will.

Space twisted in agonized spirals, time unravelled in chaotic strands, and his authority surged outward like the call of a forgotten god. The moon trembled, its surface warping, reshaping, as something long destroyed, forsaken, forgotten, stirred within the abyss of the existence.

A soundless wail rippled through the endless cosmos, a whisper that was both seduction and madness.

The crimson ocean of blood, darker than the void itself, surged forth in a torrential flood, devouring the lunar expanse and spilling into the firmament. The formless, roiling tides of depravity seeped into every corner of existence, tainting reality itself with a sickly, insidious warmth.

Stars flickered.

Galaxies recoiled.

The cosmos groaned under the weight of a power that should not exist.

And then she rose, a colossal figure emerged from the sanguine depths, her form both divine and profane. Her beauty was unbearable; a face that shifted between infinite desires, a body adorned in tattered robes of flesh and silk, pulsating with the rhythm of countless lives yet unborn.

Her presence was suffocating, an eldritch hymn of whispers that promised indulgence and ruin in equal measure. Limbs materialized and vanished in fluid grace, her essence flickering between tangible and ethereal, as if reality itself struggled to decide whether she should exist at all.

The Mother Goddess of Depravity had returned.

Eyes beyond counting, that saw past facades, past souls, past the very concept of self, opened across her form, all locking onto the lone figure who had dared to summon her back.

The mere act of her gaze sent tremors through dimensions unknown, shattering illusions, peeling away the lies that bound existence together. And she was furious.

"Wretched little beast," her voice slithered through the fabric of space, a melody of honeyed venom and unbearable loss. Each syllable was drenched in ancient sorrow and unquenchable hunger, echoing with the memory of her destruction.

"You dare—"

"You will behave until I figure out how to put all of you together. Do nothing," Mahoraga's words were absolute, slicing through her fury like an executioner's blade.

The weight of his authority crushed down upon her, shackling the madness, drowning the defiance before it could manifest. The shifting, boundless goddess hesitated, her presence convulsing between rage and submission, until finally, with a voice barely above a whisper, she yielded, "Alright."

The word carried no resistance, no defiance, only a quiet, eerie acceptance. The crimson tides ceased their expansion, the chaotic allure of her being dimming into an unsettling silence. It was as if the cosmos itself had been robbed of its breath, left waiting, uncertain, dreading what would come next.

Mahoraga spared her only a brief nod before his gaze turned toward the distant Earth. His purpose remained unchanged. There were others to bring back, others who he had eliminated in battle, others who might hold the answers he sought. The Uncertain Mist, perhaps, would know the path to awakening Him.

With a final glance at the crimson-drenched moon, and the figure that was rapidly losing her humanity and merging with the ocean below her, he vanished, the fabric of space collapsing inward, leaving only the hushed echoes of the goddess's return lingering in the void.

…

In a secluded chamber, Amon sat surrounded by his avatars, each a mirror image of himself, distinguished only by subtle differences in attire or expression. The air was thick with tension as they grappled with the unsettling revelation that all True Gods sought his demise.

First Amon: "It appears we've become the prime target of the divine. How exhilarating!"

Second Amon: "Exhilarating? It's unprecedented! Even for us."

Third Amon: "Perhaps we've finally outdone ourselves in mischief."

Fourth Amon: "Or they've grown weary of our games."

Main Amon: "Enough," his voice, though calm, silenced the room, "We must assess our position."

First Amon: "And who made you Main Amon? I vote for myself to be the Main Amon!"

Second Amon: "I vote, as I have for centuries, for a Council of Amon to be established!"

Main Amon: "This was never a Democracy!"

First Amon: "Aww~"

Fifth Amon: "Our usual tricks might not suffice against the combined wrath of True Gods."

Sixth Amon: "Retreating to the cosmos could buy us time."

Seventh Amon: "But for how long? They have far-reaching influence."

Main Amon: "We are the embodiment of deceit and trickery. Our essence thrives on challenges."

Eighth Amon: "True, but even the most cunning can be cornered."

Ninth Amon: "What if we turn their attention elsewhere? Create a diversion."

Tenth Amon: "Or pit them against each other. Exploit their rivalries."

Main Amon: "A Trojan Horse of Fate, perhaps?" a sly smile played on his lips.

Eleventh Amon: "Introduce an Error into their grand design."

Twelfth Amon: "But such manoeuvres require precision. One misstep..."

Main Amon: "We've danced on the edge before. It's where we perform best."

Thirteenth Amon: "Confidence is vital, but overconfidence..."

Main Amon: "Is our greatest Error. I'm aware."

Fourteenth Amon: "Then we proceed with calculated audacity."

Main Amon: "Precisely. Let the games begin."

The room filled with a sense of renewed purpose, the Amons' collective resolve solidifying as they prepared to outwit the very deities who sought their end.

Unknown to them, two other players had entered the delicate chessboard they sought to navigate, with enough power to flip it upside down at any moment.

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Note: I did not know how to make a proper conversation between 14 different Amons, so I just named and numbered them for ease of reading as it would make it like 20 times longer if I was to describe each one for no reason. The novel will be ending soon.

Note: Let's see… 1 chapter for this… then another 1 for that… hmm… and 1 or 2 for the finale, and then 1 as an afternote or epilogue or whatever you call it. Yeah, seems about right. Not many chapters to go guys! Hope you have enjoyed the journey so far.

Note: I just finished reading a rather controversial fic on Webnovel just now… It's called "Became H**ler' bout a South Korean average dude who was reincarnated as the dude… and makes him a not-so-racism leader. In fact, he becomes anti-racist, but still does WWII which is interesting in an odd way. He does not commit any war-crimes… well not too many for a war of that time, and no oppression which was the only reason I had decided to read it. But none of that is important. The translation was insanely bad, he became she, French became Youngf, and many more, and I was only reading it because I was out of options and it was 300 chapters long, however, I must say it has a very satisfying ending. Finishing it made me feel like… Captain America at the end of Endgame… I feel at peace and want to just lay down and rest for a while… but like… I got my exams tomorrow s gtg. Pls do not cancel me or whatever for reading this book... I know the real individual was really bad, but this is not a story about him... its about an alternate history with a moder-day Korean college student... ish person taking over his body and stopping all the wrong he did, and after stabailising germany's position, trying to make a world a better place. It felt nice reading it, and now that it is completed I feel empty... Shoutout to Richard_Arata for the fic, not sure if you wrote it or just translated it... feels like a translation...