The room had been magically cleaned by their mysterious son, but it was still tattered — old, worn out, the air still heavy with the scent of dust and decay — but he did not care one bit.
After placing his wife on the bed, he stood there for a moment, stiff and hesitant, wondering whether he should lie with her on the bed or not.
'Sleep, you need it. I will join you on the bed later.' His son's cold voice resounded in his head, the chilling weight of telepathy sinking into his thoughts.
Sighing heavily, he lay on the bed beside his wife, though his heart refused to rest.
But it was then that he found out — he could not sleep.
Not even if he wanted to.
Soon, 'his son' floated silently into the room, his silver hair glinting under the pale moonlight that leaked through the cracks in the roof.
At that time, the man's mind began to spiral. He started wondering — Was this the right time to ask?
The questions burned in his throat. He weighed them, trying to gauge if it was safer to keep silent or finally face his fear and confront the thing in front of him that wore his dead son's face.
But eventually, his desperation won. He decided. Now or never. He would face his fears and ask his son — or whatever he was — as many questions as he could.
Deus knew.He knew this man wanted to ask. He could hear it, feel it. But he remained silent, his small form floating still like a statue.
He would answer all those questions now. He didn't want these mortals pestering him later when he had better things to do.
"U-Um, please... who are you, are you my son?" The man stammered, his voice trembling, laced with terror and confusion. His hands gripped the bedsheets tightly. He was careful, cautious — he already knew what Deus was capable of.
"No. Your son had long been dead. He died in a miscarriage." Deus answered, his childish voice as cold as death, his words sharp enough to cut through flesh and soul alike.
"As for who I am... You are currently not worthy to know my name," he added, his tone condescending, his crimson eyes gleaming faintly in the dim room.
The man gulped hard upon hearing the answer. His throat went dry. He was having mixed feelings — fear, grief, confusion — and his mouth refused to form any more words.
'What did I do? Who is this mysterious person in the body of my son? What does he want?'
Deus heard his thoughts but kept his silence, his face impassive.
"A-are you a... w-wandering spirit or a God? I... I'm confused right now," the man muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
"A God," Deus answered flatly, the icy weight in his tone making the air feel even colder.
'Is it only useless questions that he has to ask? If he's too scared to ask me the real questions, then I will let him be,' Deus thought, his gaze distant.
He also wanted to answer both his foster mother's and this man's questions together — when they were both awake. He preferred it that way.
He had questions of his own too. He could easily probe their memories, but he knew their minds were fragile right now. They were depressed — broken — and if he forced his way inside, they might end up insane, empty shells of their former selves. Mindless zombies.
Meanwhile, the man's eyes widened at the answer.
A God?
His whole world tilted. 'I thought they all are in the heavenly plane... except for planetary Gods…'
'Is He a blessing… or a curse?'
Deus's eye twitched visibly at the thought.
'Disgrace! Did he just call me a curse?! Should I kill him now? How dare he…!'
His anger flared, but he clenched his tiny fists and controlled it. 'I have endured this nonsense long enough... I will punish him after I rest. This mortal body still needs tempering to handle my power. I must rest first.'
With that thought, he floated gently down and curled behind his foster mother, nestling like an ordinary child. His breathing slowed. He closed his eyes, his body relaxing — but his divine presence still pulsed faintly through the air.
The woman lying next to him — his foster mother — was beautiful, though her body was marred with cuts and bruises from the ordeal.
A sight that, under different circumstances, could drive any man crazy with desire.
But Deus, even though he was in the body of a child, had the mind and soul of an ancient god. He did not even spare her a glance. He had seen goddesses far more beautiful than any mortal woman. This was nothing to him.
Meanwhile, the man — still wide awake — was trapped in his thoughts, spiraling deeper and deeper into despair and confusion. His fists clenched as he lay there, eyes wide open, staring at the cracked ceiling.
'So many things to ask... I don't even know where to start... I didn't even thank him for saving our lives…'
He chuckled bitterly, the sound hollow in the dead silence of the night.
'The thing I vowed to kill once he was born... Yesterday, I was living comfortably in my empire. And now, today — I'm sleeping in a ruined house in the Outlands. Why does everything change so fast…?'
Turning over, he clenched his fists tighter until his knuckles turned white. 'My brother… the one I trusted with my life. I made him Head General of my Souler Army... and he repaid me by overthrowing me!'
His teeth ground together in fury.
'But now... this unknown God has given me a second chance. I swear it — I will make sure you pay dearly for your betrayal.'
But then, the doubt crept in. 'But how...? He has all my power now. My resources, my soldiers… everything. And I have nothing. He even placed a bounty on me. The greedy bounty hunters are probably already sniffing around for my head.'
His breathing quickened. 'I can't trust anyone anymore. And there's no guarantee this God-child will save me next time. I have to think… I have to—'
His thoughts spiraled. 'THINK… THINK… THIIINNK!'
At that point, he couldn't take it anymore. He stood up abruptly and began pacing the room like a caged beast. 'If only I had known… I would have killed that bastard from the very start of the apocalypse! I risked my life, my empire, my people… all to protect him!'
His veins bulged out from his temple, fury burning through his veins like wildfire.
'And now… he's probably sitting on my throne, drinking my wine, forming a harem with my women, enjoying the empire built from my blood and sweat!'
His fists trembled.
'I swear… even if it's the last thing I do… I will kill you with my own hands!'
His body shook with rage, his muscles taut like coiled springs ready to snap.
'And with all my resources… he'll level up through the souler ranks easily… he might even become five times stronger than me by the time we meet again…'
"URGH!!! Why are all odds against me?!" he growled, his voice cracking under the weight of his frustration.
All he wanted — all he craved at that moment — was to scream, to vent out every ounce of anger and pain boiling inside him.
With a roar, he punched the crumbling wall, and it collapsed under his strength, pieces falling with a loud crash. But he ignored it.
"Years of hard work and suffering… all gone in a single day!" he bellowed, his chest heaving.
But then—
His eyes widened.
A cold chill gripped his spine.
He turned his head sharply, eyes darting back toward the room where his wife and the unknown god-child slept.
And then…
He saw it.
His throat went dry.
His eyes shrank, pupils contracting into pinpoints. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst from his chest.
All his previous anger… every shred of his fury… evaporated.
Gone.
All that remained was pure, bone-deep fear — a terror he had never known, not even on the day he was born.