This Should Make for an Amusing Game

Beneath the light of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a half-moon, it stood with its hands clasped behind its back, perfectly still.

Its introduction was finished. It offered no reaction at all, only silence, so complete that one might have doubted whether it even breathed. It merely watched the First Apostle through a mask half black and half white, a smile set upon its face.

What is that?

Suspicion stirred. It was different from before. Only minutes ago it had been human enough, and emotional enough. Provocation had landed. Anger and patience had lived in the words it spoke. It had been a man hounded by time, afraid of what he stood to lose.

But that thing was numb.

Its smile was not a smile. Its gaze was not a gaze. There was nothing in it of one person looking upon another.

Yes. That look was the look of an Absolute, gazing down on a being infinitely smaller than itself. The way one regards an ant at the roadside.

Is that truly it?

When a person looks at another person as an ant, arrogance cannot be hidden. I am superior to this one. This one is a worthless insect. I could kill this one in an instant. Any number of underlying thoughts give rise to an attitude like that. That thing had none of them. No arrogance. No confidence. Nothing was there. None of what a person ought to possess.

No. There is something.

Perhaps he had watched long enough. A meaningful reaction could be read in it at last, and that reaction was the gaze of someone looking at a toy. How should I play with it properly? How do I keep it from breaking? How do I make this amusing for myself? It was much the same look the Twelfth Apostle had worn when he toyed with human beings.

The difference was this. What flowed from that thing was an emotion spilling out of something transcendent—something so far beyond that it could treat the Twelfth Apostle as an insect and crush him flat. Perhaps that was why the look was not unpleasant. Had it shown even less than this, the unnameable unknown would have eaten him alive, paring away his own flesh. Was a divine human not far preferable to an emotionless transcendent being?

"Have you finished thinking?"

It spoke in a tranquil voice.

"Yes. To a degree."

Giving language a shape was difficult. He had cast aside even that difficulty.

"A divided self, were you?"

"What would you say?"

A question came back as a question. It was savoring even this exchange as play.

"...With my meager insight, I am given to think it a split personality."

Or else—

"You were concealing your power from the very beginning."

Clap. Clap.

It applauded. The correct answer?

"For a conclusion reached in so short a time, it is rational enough."

It commended him, as one might praise a five-year-old for forming his letters.

"I will not tell you the answer. To ponder is to seek a solution, and I could hardly rob you of the satisfaction of arriving there yourself."

"But ending it like this would be no fun, so allow me to offer a hint."

It took one step forward. The foot that left the moonlight came down on black earth.

A chill. His whole body warned him. His life was under threat.

Mmnooo...

The Stone Tablet driven into his chest let out a sorrowful cry. It was a thrashing swallowed by fear, a judgment the tablet rendered on its own, against his intent.

With a wet crunch, its right flank was bitten away. The wound looked as though a calf had torn into it with rough teeth. Half its abdomen vanished.

There was no normal reaction. It walked on, perfectly at ease, and did not even seem to know the wound in its side was there.

"Mm..."

A groan escaped him. Because it was too intact? He wished that were the reason. If it were merely invincible, at least he might have turned his thoughts elsewhere.

But then it squirmed.

What lay dormant beneath the black suit and the pale skin was not blood and viscera, but tentacles and eyes. Countless tentacles writhed where a bloodstream ought to have run, and eyes drifted along them like blood cells in blood.

He was glad he had offered up his emotions. Otherwise the grotesquerie and the revulsion would have frozen him where he stood. The shock to the mind was not absent, but merely not being devoured by terror was something.

At last it arrived a breath from his face.

"Er..."

It tilted its head.

"Why did I walk all the way over here?"

"...You said you would give me a hint."

"Ah, yes. I did. I mustn't be careless with it, so I keep losing the thread."

Careless with what?

It felt like information that might break this impasse. He turned it over in a corner of his mind.

"The hint is..."

The half-black, half-white mask opened its mouth.

"That I am Phantom."

"If you give this alone your careful thought, you ought to be able to reach the answer."

Phantom. What could that possibly mean?

As a noun, phantom means a specter, an illusion, a ghost. As an adjective, it is glossed as ghostly, or imaginary.

Taken at face value, did it mean that thing was an illusion, a ghost, a being of the imagination?

Phantom thief cannot be set aside either. In English, a phantom thief is a mysterious thief.

Was there anything here that could be bound to phantom?

Decades of accumulated knowledge stormed through his head. He produced answers on rational grounds, then forced the pieces together until he had manufactured evidence. Dozens of plausible solutions emerged, and he discarded every one of them. Not a single reply served as an answer for defining that thing's form.

"...No matter how I turn it over, I cannot tell."

"Is that so? Well, there's plenty of time, so take it slowly."

It patted his shoulder, as if he were doing admirably.

Plenty of time...?

A shiver ran over him. Gooseflesh rose. There must not be plenty of time. Not now, while the Heavenly Road was opening. If the other side indulged in leisure, the disadvantage would be theirs. The moment the Heavenly Road opened, this side would win.

Should I simply hold my tongue and let the time pass?

That would be comfortable. This one seemed to be someone other than the man from before. Whether the Heavenly Road opened or not might be of no concern to it at all. In the vulgar phrase, not my problem.

And yet he felt he must not.

That thing was enjoying itself. It was savoring every second, drinking its freedom to the full. Then what situation would please it most? The only play here worthy of its amusement was him, and play grows tiresome the more it is repeated. Given time, it would go looking for a greater game. Something more stimulating. Something more rapturous.

Thud. Thud.

He struck the staff in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his hand against the ground. The body united with the Stone Tablet prepared its laws.

It covered its mouth with one hand. The gesture looked like someone holding in laughter.

"Is this your conclusion?"

"To speak honestly, I am afraid."

He had sworn to fulfill his duty not as a mere human being, but as an apostle of Heaven, and still the instincts of the man he had been did not simply vanish. The faint feeling that remained eyed the seat of reason and demanded flight, and if flight was impossible, it screamed at him to take his own life. Ignoring each of those cries was an ordeal in itself.

"But I cannot leave you be."

"Truly? I won't do a thing, you know."

The pupils in its flank gathered, grain by grain. Eyes packed as tight as flying-fish roe rolled this way and that.

"I don't recommend leaving the easy road for the hard one. Do you even have the confidence to win?"

"You know which is longer only once you measure them."

He set the staff before him. Checking the knowledge of the Stone Tablet, he sought a method that might work against that thing.

"And if a trial were simple, would it still be a trial? There is a prophecy in play, after all."

"A prophecy... a prophecy, you say..."

The eyeballs looked at one another, as if this were something they were hearing for the first time. It seemed much the same. It glanced once at the moon, then let out a soft ah of wonder.

"The situation's getting interesting, isn't it?"

Crack. Crack. Crack.

Its mask changed. Everything about the mask drew a single thing.

That was—

"Hup—!"

He must not read it. He must not look. He offered his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠eyes as a sacrifice to the Stone Tablet. His vision was cut away. Pitch darkness welcomed him, but he had any number of means to stand in for sight.

"Well now. Your instinct is excellent. That response was first-rate."

Step. Step.

"By all rights you should have gone mad long ago, and yet you endure so well, and you refuse to bend your will besides. Your conviction is admirable. So is your resolve."

"You're not an article one comes across easily, are you?"

Its interest swelled. That was not a good sign.

"You called it a trial, didn't you?"

It stroked its chin.

"A mythic trial without conditions would be a shame. The books wouldn't balance."

It held up two fingers.

"First. Discover who I am."

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠second.

"Endure until the appointed time. Until you've seen through the purpose you're holding out for, more or less, would do nicely."

It set a hand to its flank. Eyes and tentacles burst, and flesh and suit were restored.

"Achieve either one of the two, and I will withdraw."

"...Are you sincere?"

"Yes. I am sincere."

"If you cannot believe me—"

It raised a hand and pointed at the moon.

A low thrum. The moonlight trembled.

"I swear upon my name. That moon shall stand witness."

The half-moon filled once more. A splendid full moon was revealed, and its mask returned to white as well.

"The pressure is a little lighter now, isn't it?"

What in the world was happening? From first to last, he could not tell. What was the moon, and what was that one?

Do not challenge the unknown. Gaze into the abyss, and the abyss will gaze into you as well. Idle curiosity would only kill him.

"My thanks for your mercy."

"Yes. Do your best."

"My dear puppet of fantasy."

"I shall."

Phantom.

It smiled, bright and wide.

"This should make for an amusing game."

How long had it been since a game was truly worth playing? Let this one last. Let it be enjoyed for a long, long time.

The First Apostle took that figure into his sight and twisted the laws of the world. The sky shattered and fell. Fragments swept down over them, and the curtain rose on the game.