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Aspect of the Sun

Thomas Eaton is blessed—he is one of the Divines, the strongest 15 people in the world after the system appeared. However, when the person he fears most returns from the dead, he realizes that he might not be as strong as he'd thought. He must navigate a harsh world and overcome the restrictions of his class to survive the tribulation of Wrath. Currently publishing ~1700 words daily. Cover image isn't mine; it's a scan from an old art book. potatoe_#5598 on Discord if you want to get in contact for whatever reason.

potatoe_ · Urban
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17 Chs

Hidden Boss

April 3rd, 2034

A-Rank Wormhole, Unknown Subspace

A hidden boss was something of mythos, effectively. I had never come across one in all of my years of adventuring. If I had to say, I reckoned that I had heard roughly 5 stories of hidden bosses popping up.

The reason was likely that almost anyone who encountered a hidden boss had died at their hand.

I stepped forward, regardless of the system's warning. There was no going back now. If it wanted me dead, I was to die.

Lost in thought, I belatedly noticed that the room I had entered was surprisingly comforting. A picturesque library was the easiest way to describe what I had walked into.

There were books messily littered everywhere, with some still in their respective places on the various shelves. There were a surprising amount of chairs, couches, recliners, et cetera—things to sit upon. For lighting, the back of the room hosted a large fireplace that was currently burning brightly enough to illuminate everything easily.

That was it, though. I didn't see any doors leading elsewhere nor any means of food. Thinking back on the skeletons I had encountered, I braced myself for a lich or other high-level undead to pop out at any moment. However, I couldn't detect any indication of where the welcoming voice had originated from. Was it automated?

No. That made no sense, given the system message.

"You seem to be confused." The same voice as before spoke, yet I still couldn't tell from where. It sounded silky and smooth with a deliberate cadence, like a professional orator's.

I sighed before responding, "I am confused. Who are you; where are we; why are we; et cetera." I felt myself starting to lose it just from hearing my own response. I needed bed rest badly.

"That's cute. Pseudo-philosophical inane questions that mean nothing; what a start to our conversation." The voice seemed to dance around as it spoke.

"It isn't like you're contributing much, either," I gibed back.

"We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot," it said mockingly. "Oh, is that a sore spot for you right now? Sorry." It laughed coyly at me.

"I loathe you." I wanted to make a comment about fighting it but realized how lethal that may prove to be. Despite my annoyance, actually pissing this thing off would likely be my end.

"All right, all right. I had my fun." I seemed to hear a sigh coming from somewhere. "I am Streya, the Demon Lord of Eugenics."

"Jesus Christ." I couldn't help my reaction. "What sort of sick bastard introduces themselves as the Demon Lord of Eugenics?"

"It's not my fault!" Her previously professional way of speaking was nowhere to be seen. "It was very trendy in the early '40s."

"No. There's no way you're saying what I think you're saying."

"National socialism isn't an inherently bad—"

"Stop. Just, stop. I can't do this right now." I rummaged around the room for a moment. "Do you have any coffee here?"

"Oh yeah, sure. Black?"

"The strongest you are physically able to make it."

As I finished speaking, a large mug appeared in my hand. I took a whiff, smelling its excellent aroma. I took a hearty swig before taking a seat on what I assumed was the most comfortable recliner.

Streya let me chug the coffee in peace while I contemplated what I wished to speak with her about. After a few minutes, I finally announced my intentions.

"Do you know how many other humans there are in this subspace?"

"No." She spoke without hesitation. "All I have control over is this room, which is a sub-subspace. As you can see, I can't even invoke a body anymore. Hey, that's a good idea. Can you read me a book? You have opposable thumbs and all that."

"If I see Mein Kampf in here, I'm gonna scream."

It took a bit for Streya to figure out what she wanted to have read to her after so long. Still, she eventually decided upon something titled "Reborn: Evolving From Nothing." The series was rather long, with 8 volumes published, but she only made me read the first volume.

I started to read it aloud as best as I could. I wasn't particularly skilled at speaking—my performance left a lot to be desired. Regardless, in-between chapters I tried to make small talk with Streya.

"So, why are you an incorporeal spirit despite being a demon lord?" I asked. I didn't even know what a demon lord was, admittedly.

"I suppose that depends on your comprehension of metaphysical concepts. If you know what a true god is; a demon lord; the demons as a race; a Law; and what the system is, I could probably explain succinctly."

"All chuuni buzzwords," I declared. "Are you sure there isn't a streamlined version? Something like, 'Well, you know which side won the war.'?"

"No!" She seemed to cringe in embarrassment. "That's not how this works. I wasn't in Germany then, nor have I ever been on Earth. I'm a demon; I follow the hearts of the people. When I ascended to the status of demon lord, I had to choose a Law. For demons, it's easier to attune to a Law that people feel strongly about, be that positively or negatively. Most of the good Laws were already taken, like war, fear, nuclear detonation, and so on."

Streya went silent for a few seconds before exclaiming, "Ugh! Where was I even going with this? This is why I didn't want to explain to someone who doesn't know anything. Go read a book or something. Speaking of which, keep reading."

Obliging my fickle master, I read for a few more chapters before trying to start up more conversation.

"Let's start small, shall we? Why were there a bunch of skeletons outside of your room?"

"Oh, that's easy." Streya laughed softly. "They were the last group of people who came through here. I still had my body back then, and they tried to take advantage of me. You can imagine that being cursed to eternally wander this cavern must have been agonizing."

"I'm sorry to say that I killed them."

"Hmm? Oh, no. You can't kill them without abilities far beyond your own. They'll reanimate in a few hours. It's just that now you won't get XP for killing them."

"Are they… still conscious?"

"I've been told it's somewhat like being incredibly intoxicated, with homicidal urges. They're half-conscious and forced to attempt to kill whatever they see."

"That is really fucked up."

"They deserved it; I assure you."

"Maybe that'd be reassuring if it wasn't coming from a demon."

"Hey! What do you think we are?"

It was a good question; I wasn't really sure what a demon was. I obviously had an idea from popular culture and literature, but the apocalyptic world defied those previously-established norms.

"According to a certain RPG setting, you are grotesque beings that exist solely to destroy. You don't have a good reputation with humankind." I figured it would be best to be honest with her at this point. I didn't think she wanted me dead, at the very least.

"What? No. That's obscene. Demons are like the guardian angels of Earth. Just… more morally dubious than what you're used to. We typically exist in the subspaces between your reality and the great beyond. If we're needed for whatever reason, we choose sensories on the surface to wield some of our power and do our bidding."

I had to think for a moment about what Streya was saying. It seemed far-fetched. I wasn't certain that her information could be trusted, so I tried to probe a bit.

I asked, "Could you give some examples of demonic influence?"

"Certainly." Streya sounded confident. "But after this, we're going back to reading. It was just getting good, you bastard."

"Sure, sure." I casually responded. "I'll need more coffee, though."

"Historically, there are a few examples of demons invoking their Laws. The issue, however, is that you wouldn't remember a Law being invoked. It's reality-warping—beyond the concept of a 'miracle' such as Moses or Mary.

"I'll put it this way: I believe that the appearances of the wormholes and the system thereafter were both due to Laws being invoked by demons much more powerful than I. Those were both incredibly blatant uses of Law, if so. Normally, they would be used in subtle ways to shift the outcome of future events."

I didn't like how confused I was about this all. If the system considered me a god, then what would that make these supposedly reality-warping demons? Were they beyond the very system itself, as Streya had spoken, or was she deceiving me? It was too hard to say for sure, either way.

To my surprise, she continued to elaborate.

"You're also probably confused about what the system is. And when I say confused, I mean wrong. The system is a unique gift granted to humanity, allowing you mortals to fight back against the otherworldly. It allows you to siphon power from those you destroy, as opposed to letting it return to the ether."

I couldn't help but ask, "And divinity?"

"I'm sorry. I don't know how divinity relates back to all of this; it's beyond me."

I felt a welling of annoyance build up deep in my chest. I tried to sigh it off before asking one last question: "When I'm done reading to you, can you help me return to my group?"

It had been way too long since I had made contact with them. I really hoped they were all right.

This was a weird chapter.

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