Chapter 182
This thought did not come from pride, but from an awareness of the vast gap in perception between his real metaphysical experiences and the religious beliefs held by the inhabitants of this world.
Theo, in silence, questioned the boundary between the sacred and the profane, between the divine and the human, in a world where those lines could become so blurred, and where he had unintentionally found himself standing right at the intersection of both.
"If that's the case, then let's make an agreement."
Uuuuh!
"If either of us faces difficulties—even the slightest—we help each other.
Including if you have trouble controlling your Administrator seed, I can teach you a few things.
Of course, free of charge."
Hiiih!
"How about it?"
"Yes."
'Short, but it contained full agreement without any questionable intent.'
"More precisely, I shall take note and look forward to whatever fascinating developments Your-Self will demonstrate.
In whatever form they may appear."
Fuuuuuh!
"So never disappoint your own creation, o igniter of the birth of Flo Viva Mythology."
'Though faint, her teasing tone was still there.
But what else could be done?
If I'm truly the main inspiration, something like that is bound to slip out.'
The darkness within his mind murmured for six measured seconds, an internal process in which considerations, bitterness, and relief were stirred into a strategic decision.
His head, still facing the distant teleportation gate, shook ever so slightly, a subtle gesture meant more for himself than for the Entity behind him.
His posture remained straight, deliberately turning his back to Quil-Hasa, as though he were speaking to the wind or perhaps to himself, but with a volume just loud enough for the divine consciousness behind him to hear.
Then, with a voice calm yet firm, he put forth a proposal.
Not merely a statement, but a formal framework.
Theo proposed an agreement—a mutual pact in which both he and Quil-Hasa would help each other should either encounter difficulties in the future.
And as a specific part of that offer, Theo willingly volunteered to teach her a few things, to act as a sort of mentor, should Quil-Hasa struggle to control the newly awakened Administrator seed within her.
It was a bold offer, perhaps even somewhat arrogant, considering Theo technically still existed within a lower "Productivity" system.
Yet he offered something Quil-Hasa might not possess.
A deep understanding of narrative structure, creative logic, and the possible workings of the "system" behind this world, all rooted in his role as its source of inspiration.
Theo saw no reaction.
He intentionally refused to turn around, refusing to seek visual confirmation of Quil-Hasa's expression or body language.
He allowed his offer to hang in the subtly trembling air, awaiting a response drawn purely from the Goddess' will, untouched by any external appearance.
And the response came.
After a brief pause, a single word seeped into his awareness—clear, and without doubt.
"Yes." It was a direct approval, a straightforward acceptance of the proposed agreement.
But Quil-Hasa did not stop there.
Her voice continued, its tone deepening, carrying a kind of anticipation filled with curiosity.
She stated that she very much looked forward to whatever interesting developments Theo would bring forth next, in any form.
Of course, the statement carried multiple layers.
On one hand, it was an explicit acknowledgement that Theo, as an inspirator, was seen as a potential source of curious and unpredictable events.
On the other hand, the tone Quil-Hasa used—as captured by Theo—was tinged with a subtle irony.
There was a nuance implying that the Goddess observed Theo, whom she recognized as the conceptual God behind her world, yet who appeared within Flo Viva Mythology as a "powerless God," someone with infinite potential but who remained limited in actuality and chose restraint.
It was not an insult, not belittling, but rather an ironic observation expressed gently—a recognition of the amusing paradox in their situation.
"How am I supposed to act as a good God when I myself am not even a wise Goddess?"
Fiiiiih!
"I've tried holding everything back—my feelings, my restlessness, everything spilling from my heart—with all my strength.
But still, I… I can't behave properly in front of my own creation."
Fshooooh!
"Am I… truly worthy of being called a Creator?
When inside… I'm nothing more than a childish girl lost in the responsibility of being the Almighty."
After the form of Theo Vkytor completely vanished, swallowed by the steady teleportation light, the wide green field returned to its purest silence.
Only faint traces of divine pulses lingered within the surrounding trees, as though the wood and leaves had absorbed a fragment of her presence and were now slowly releasing it back into nature.
Then, the wind began to move.
Not an ordinary wind flowing from one direction, but an odd, contradictory gust coming from two opposite sides at once.
The trees and bushes around the field swayed back and forth—not in harmony, but in a chaotic, conflicting dance.
Leaves rustled, brushing against each other, producing sounds like overlapping whispers.
It was a mood-setter, a prelude to the inner monologue that would soon unfold in the now completely empty space.
The two-way wind reflected the internal conflict boiling within, an unseen turmoil strong enough to stir the surrounding environment.
Amid that clash of opposing winds, a question finally surfaced—rising into the air without being directed at anyone, perhaps only to the illusory green sky above or to herself.
The question wondered about the manner, about how one should act as a good God, when the asker herself felt she was not a wise Goddess.
The voice carried weight, filled with the burden of doubt she had long kept hidden.
Deeper still, an emotional struggle—pressed down for so long—revealed itself.
Feelings upon feelings—guilt, confusion, disappointment in herself, and perhaps an immeasurable loneliness—had been restrained, locked behind a serene, divine façade.
All her strength had been used to prevent anything from leaking out and disrupting the image of perfection.
Yet the bitter truth had to be admitted: no matter how tightly she restrained them, she felt she had still failed, unable to behave properly, with dignity and compassion, toward one of her own creations.
Her failure in facing Aldraya was the painful, undeniable proof.
Moments passed.
The strange two-direction wind gradually weakened, its force fading with the confession that had finally escaped.
Its last breath barely managed to sway the most fragile tips of the branches before falling into complete stillness.
Not a single leaf moved.
In the total silence that followed, the voice spoke again.
But this time its quality changed entirely.
It was no longer the grand, steady, authoritative tone she used with Theo.
This voice was softer, friendlier, carrying a distinctly feminine nuance.
It sounded like the voice of a teenage girl—innocent, pure, and vulnerable.
To be continued…