For the second time in five years, a great god of Orb had died in battle. And for the second time in five years, it was not at the hands of the Demon God or his subjects, but rather the mortals of Orb.

Long live the gods.

The aftermath of the Human God’s death felt like a blur to Gaius. Dragged along by a sombre Kolya, he spent the next hour sitting numbly in a room as the others talked and discussed things that didn’t quite matter to him, while making veiled references to a godslayer. How did it feel to defeat the person behind the scenes? To be a godslayer, the one who overcame the mightiest of the Five Lands’ great gods?

He didn’t quite know, because none of that was his doing. The sudden intrusion of another divine entity, one who had offered both guidance and help, was the actual culprit behind the death of the Human God.

No one had believed him when he said that, however.

“Gaius?”

To think that they would take my words as nothing but an attempt to downplay my strength and therefore contribution at the Great Divide. Is it really so hard to listen to me properly? Or is it because I look like a child? Everyone here is drunk off the possibility that I can depose of other gods easily, up and including the Demon God. This is madness.

“Gaius?”

The great gods aren’t helping either. Do they not understand the reason behind why the Human God sought power this desperately? It’s because he knew that the Demon God had so much more strength, unshackled by the need to maintain the Great Divide. And yet—

“Gaius?”

A hand gripped his shoulder, and he looked up from his contemplation. “Sorry, were you saying something?”

“We were just wondering what Anren meant by ‘Chosen of the Abyss’,” said Kolya. “His unnatural fixation on beings related to the true Orb and the Oblivion Portal was also directed at you.”

Gaius grunted.

“Queen Hyperion can’t find anything wrong with you,” said Kolya, “but I’ll ask just to be sure — do you know why Anren was so intent on killing and, uh, devouring you?”

Thought after thought flashed through Gaius’ mind at this question. He didn’t know what was the best choice now: to tell them about the Crying Abyss and the Chanter of Innocents? To tell them that, in Weiwu’s words, he was a being that surpassed a Demigod, yet wasn’t a great god?

Or would it be better to keep everything that had happened and will happen under wraps? What would the rulers of Orb’s mortal nations and Divine Kingdoms think, if they knew the truth about the Abyss Sovereign? Would they react with fear? Attempt to plot against him the way they had plotted against the Human God?

And would they do anything to Nakama and Isabelle? Being able to grab such a being’s weakness would be of massive political value.

It was a matter of trust, and Gaius couldn’t exactly say that he trusted everyone here with absolute certainty. Queen Hyperion was probably one of the oldest Demigods in existence; he had no way of getting a good read on her character.

That very Demigod shifted her eyes over to Gaius. Ignoring her gaze, Gaius pretended to muse over the Pinnacle’s words for a few seconds before shrugging. “Beats me. I have this feeling that he — or at least someone — had been targeting me ever since I arrived onto Orb, though.”

The great gods stirred at his words. Rahwei, who was cloaked in a mist of brown light, leaned forward. “Targeting you? Boy, there is great hubris in your words.”

“Tell that to my instincts,” Gaius replied. “But at the very least, I know the Human God came specifically for me on the day the Lifespring died. He made a deal with some members of the East’s Plenum to send me to Feng-Lang, before getting a Demigod to capture me.”

The light in Rahwei’s eyes flickered, and the great god stopped moving altogether.

Gaius looked at the great god, concerned. “Uhh…”

A melodic, soothing voice drifted over. “Don’t mind him, Gaius. Once in contemplation, the Life-Carver is like a rock.”

Gaius really wanted to ask if equating a great god to a rock was a good idea, but he decided to hold his tongue upon seeing the speaker. Thasvia, the Breath-Maker, was staring at him curiously, in a manner that reminded him of a certain Paragon from the East.

The green silhouette vanished, reappearing by his right a moment later. “Hmm.”

Before Gaius could say anything, she vanished again, reappearing at his left, then at his back. A small shiver ran down Gaius’ spine — it was as if she was assessing him, the way a shopper would assess the fruits and vegetables at the market.

“Fufufu.” The Breath-maker returned to her seat a moment later. “Interesting. I will watch and see what happens in the years to come.”

“Did you see something?” Queen Hyperion, who had been sipping at a tall glass of orange liquid, lowered the glass just enough to speak. “Is he a threat?”

“An asset in the war to come,” Thasvia replied. “We have been fretting about the loss of significant battle strength, but perhaps this one might be able to make up for the shortfall.”

“Make up?”

The great god chuckled again. “Do you know of this boy’s full strength? Or, for that matter, even bothered to wonder why he was able to fend off Anren as long as he did?”

Gaius turned to Thasvia, along with literally everyone else in the room. Liamar, the Worldshaper, had been building little towers of fire on the table, but at those words, even the great god had stopped working on his masterpiece to look at the Breath-maker.

“Is he not a…” Queen Hyperion’s words trailed off, before she turned to Gaius. Her eyes seemed to bore into his skin, an act that nearly made Gaius hide under the table out of fright. There was something scary about those eyes that surpassed the creepy factor from the Human God’s many eyeballs.

And, well, speaking of eyeballs…Gaius hadn’t washed up yet. Some of the icky bits from exploded eyeballs were still on his arms and body. It wasn’t a very fun sensation, so after being made uncomfortably conscious of it, he got up, made some excuses, and fled to the nearest washroom.

He was quite sure that Queen Hyperion wanted to say something right before he left, but ignorance was bliss.