The whittling knife in Gaius’ hand stopped, and the boy turned away from the incomplete sculpture of a huge dragon. Making a few perfunctory excuses about the need to rest his hand, he stepped out of the sheltered, windy pavilion and looked up into the skies.

There was nothing there, but he could very faintly feel a change in the very fabric of the world. His intuition was telling him that the very nature of humans and beastfolk had changed, and if Gaius had to warrant a guess, the only thing that could result in such a shift was the birth of the Demon Sovereign.

“Teacher?” La-Ti, who had followed him out, tugged the corner of his shirt.

“It’s nothing,” he replied. “Just that…I’m feeling something.”

Gaius glanced to the empty space to his side. “Isn’t that right, senior?”

Weiwu appeared out of thin air at those words, an eyebrow raised. “How did you know I was there?”

Gaius jumped. “You were really there…I was just trying my luck.”

“Guess you got lucky.” The Chanter of Innocents shook his head. “Odd, isn’t it? The Demon Sovereign takes form, just as his Abyss counterpart prepares to return to his body. Gaius, do you believe in coincidence?”

“I wish I did,” he replied. “But by now, I’m pretty sure that there’s some grand puppeteer moving things behind the scenes.”

In the past few months — or years, in Orb — the influence of Hereward and Aldnath in Cybral had grown exponentially. The former, in particular, was now worshipped as the almighty being that had birthed the whole of creation, and this particular brand of faith was sweeping through every city faster than developments in pop culture. The latter, the Church of Time, was heavily favoured by the ultra-powerful, the elites of Cybral, but since those faiths weren’t monotheistic, they were capable of co-existing.

That didn’t mean that their rapid development wasn’t unnatural, although the Church of Space’s promise to bring all believers into another world was now a household statement. As to whether the outside world was a paradise…Gaius knew that it sure as hell wasn’t, but saying it out loud would be a recipe for disaster. In contrast, the Church of Time guaranteed the ability to forestall one’s natural death, and for the extra-faithful, the ability to avoid it entirely…which was a hit amongst the elites of Cybral.

All in all, both faiths just happened to really appeal to the masses, but the fact that these things just had to happen in Gaius’ short time here just helped to convince him that something really was afoot.

…Gaius didn’t rule out the possibility that he had a persecution complex, though.

Looking up into the sky, where he could feel massive changes sweeping the world beyond, he said, “And so, it begins.”

The Chanter of Innocents snorted. “Did I ever tell you that you’re quite the pretentious fellow?”

“Is that really how you speak to your chosen? Have you forgotten that you conned me into a life of eternal servitude at the Crying Abyss? Any sane person would have sued you for a gratuitous breach of labour laws.” The boy rolled his eyes. “I think I should really do that.”

“Sure, as long as you find a lawyer to sue the Crying Abyss,” Weiwu replied. “Go ahead. Make my day.”

“That’s probably never going to happen, is it?”

“Don’t bank on that impossibility,” Weiwu replied. “Someone might just petition the Mortal Light Dynasty to sue the Human God after all these is over.”

Gaius glanced at the great god. “Were you having fun in Orb as a normal person in the time I was here? I didn’t expect you to know what a petition is.”

“I was originally part of Orb to begin with,” he replied. Stroking his chin, he glanced at the sky. “I see no issue there.”

“Speaking of sight,” said Gaius, “earlier on, I felt something rather familiar.”

The boy described what he’d seen earlier, back when all colour faded from the world, and then spoke about a similar occurrence that taken place a long time ago, back when he was in the Southern Continent.

Back then, he, along with a few others, had been politely requested to take part in an investigation by House Varita from the Southern Assembly, after a spate of high-profile murders…of which he was the culprit. Something like this had indeed happened, and when he asked Nexus about it, his handy little assistant revealed two possibilities.

The first one was that another god had wrested significant control of Orb over Anren. The second was that the Human God himself had loosened control over the world.

“Which one was it? Do you have any idea?” Gaius asked.

“If you ask me…it’s probably the former. But you were marked by the Crying Abyss to begin with, so your perception of events like this are bound to be far weaker,” said Weiwu, a puzzled look on his face. “But from the way you put it, that earlier instance affected you and you alone. If it was really the Human God, you wouldn’t be alone in feeling that.”

“My head is beginning to hurt,” Gaius muttered. “So who was it, then?”

“A good guess is that the entity affected was the Crying Abyss,” Weiwu replied. “But I cannot know for sure.”

“What a useless god,” the boy mumbled.

“What did you just say?”

“Nothing?”

“I think I need to show you some respect for your seniors…why are you using your apprentice as a shield?”

After fooling around for a moment, Gaius made a mental note to ask Nakama about what she felt when the Demon Sovereign was born. It would have been easier if she was here right now, but safe in the knowledge that Gaius was about to return soon, Nakama had decided to make a body for La-Ti. The result was that she hadn’t shown up for over two months, which was half a year on Orb. Gaius was a tad worried, but Weiwu had done him a favour by checking on her…

Well, the Chanter of Innocents had a rather amused look on his face when he came back, and although the great god didn’t say anything, that was enough for Gaius to know that Nakama was doing fine.

After making sure that Weiwu wasn’t going to do anything, Gaius placed La-Ti back onto the ground, casting one last gaze at the sky again. Beyond Cybral, beyond the Five Lands, his opposite number had finally appeared.

Weiwu had never stated it explicitly, but the boy knew that his true purpose was to prevent the Demon God’s forces from overrunning the Five Lands and the Orb that lay beneath them. Anything else that followed was just a bonus for the Chanter of Innocents, up until and including his eternal tenure as the fellow who prevented the Crying Abyss from extending its influence.

He glanced at his hand, and closed it slowly. “Say, what happens if we still lose?”