Gods Pass the Buck to the Hapless Angel

The central conference room of the Divine Realm. This place, which would normally echo with sacred radiance and solemn hymns, was now thick with exhaustion and irritation, like an office on the brink of deadline meltdown.

"...Have we finally sealed them all?"

Terra, the god of earth, rubbed his hollowed-out eyes from one of the seats at the round table's head. Before him lay his divine robes, once resplendent, now ragged like a beggar's rags after expending all his power patching dimensional rifts.

"The big holes are plugged for now. Ugh, my back. Why'd Lucas, the dimension guy, have to pick this moment for his scheduled vacation and dump this mess on us?"

Zephyros, the god of weather, grumbled from the seat beside him. Six of the seven gods comprising the Divine Realm's council of elders had spent the last ten days nonstop sealing the dimensional rifts.

Just then, the conference room door burst open. In strode Chief Angel Michael, dark circles drooping to his chin, clutching a thick stack of documents.

"O gods. Here's the report on the dimensional rift repairs."

"Yeah, thanks. Good work, Michael. Can we clock out now?"

Eve, the goddess of life, asked with a hopeful lilt, but Michael's response was merciless.

"No. There's still cleanup. During this dimensional leak, three souls from that other world called 'modern' got sucked into our side. By regulation, you must decide their disposition before we can ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠end the situation... or, er, go home."

The gods' faces twisted in unison.

"Ugh, what a pain! Just reincarnate 'em into some royal family with a cheat skill each! Like 'Swordsmanship Genius'—dime a dozen."

Ares, the god of war, waved it off dismissively. But Michael's expression remained grim.

"Well... two are already settled as hero candidates in a human kingdom. The last one's the problem. A system glitch tangled the soul, and it ended up in a crow body instead of human."

"A crow? Haha, what a freak. Give it 'Speech' or something and let it live as a forest messenger."

Sophia, the goddess of wisdom, chuckled. But Michael silently activated the magic mirror at the room's center.

"Easier to show you. Location: deep within the World Tree."

The sight in the mirror froze the six chattering gods solid.

There flapped a grotesque crow with six jet-black wings, severing a massive ox's head with a single sharp thunderbolt storm. Worse, it zapped the carcass crisp, savoring the meat with blissful bites.

"...Michael. Am I hallucinating from overwork?"

Zephyros asked in a trembling voice.

"Is that my lightning and wind fused so perfectly?"

"None of my creations have a six-winged monster like that! That's... practically a Transcendent's mana signature!"

Eve cried out, pale as death.

Zephyros turned to Michael in disbelief. "Michael, we were so focused on sealing the rifts we ignored ground time. How long since they opened—in our time?"

"Barely ten days here. About 100 days down there."

At that, Chronos, the god of time—slumped corpse-like over a corner desk—bolted upright.

"What?! I slowed ground time to a crawl while we fixed the dimensional collapse! And it's already 100 days?! Ah, my precious power!"

"Yeah, just ten days... what? 100 days?!"

Zephyros's shout sparked murmurs among the gods.

"That output... top-tier even among Divine Beasts? A crow body reaching that in three months? Did we screw something up?"

Such an off-spec Transcendent on the mortal plane meant someone had to take responsibility and manage it. But they were too drained to lift a finger.

"Who’s handling this?"

Terra's question hung in dead silence. No one volunteered—claiming it meant endless monitoring, goodbye to freedom.

Zephyros jabbed desperately at the corner. "Hey, Chronos! You're time—rewind it to before the thing dropped!"

"You're insane?! My power's shot from rift duty! Forcing rewind now? I'd dissipate from overwork! No way!"

Chronos flailed in horror. Eve poked Ares next.

"Ares, you're war—your job."

"Nuts? It wields lightning and wind! Zephyros, yours!"

"I do weather, not that!"

As they snarled and shoved blame, Ares scratched his head irritably. "Annoying. Just smite it now? Cleanly."

Michael drove the wedge cold. "Easy to say, but you're all tapped out. And it's in the World Tree depths. Fail to one-shot that monster, drag the fight? The whole tree could shatter or burn. Another centuries-long repair overtime?"

The word "overtime" made the six gods shudder in unison.

"Nooo! Overtime's a hard pass!"

"Too much hassle! Total buzzkill!"

They eyed each other, scheming escapes. Sophia stroked her chin with a "brilliant" idea.

"Just... oracle the elves it's our 'beloved pet bird' or 'child we're raising.' Saves face, easy management."

Michael gaped. "Pardon? A pet? What if it learns the truth later? That thing won't sit idle treated like a 'raised bird.'"

"Later problem! Overtime now!"

As if scripted, they bolted backward.

"Michael! You're our chief angel, right? Here's my seal—full authority. Handle the crow however!"

"Yeah! Just keep it off the World Tree. We're off to recuperate!"

"Wait, O gods! Full authority?! You irresponsible—!"

Michael's cry echoed vainly. The six had fled at light speed to their temples.

Alone in the empty room, Michael sighed deeply at the mirror's crow—whistling happily as it packaged beef.

"...You guys are the worst."

Pressing his throbbing temples, he fired a forced oracle at the elven kingdom.

And so began the lowly administrator angel's tearful buck-passing and cover-up.

At the same time, on the mortal plane's elven kingdom.

The grand hall of the palace near the World Tree's massive roots brimmed with suffocating tension. The elven king knelt on the dais, hands clasped, cold sweat beading his brow.

Dozens of days had passed since the unprecedented monster bird nested on a World Tree branch. Reports flooded in—not content with devouring one of the Four Kings, Turaka, it now summoned thunder storms from the sky, slaughtering giant Magic Beasts.

Overwhelmed by that brute force, the elves could only pray and prostrate before the gods.

Whoosh!

Suddenly, a dazzling golden pillar pierced the hall's ceiling, pouring onto the king's crown. Warm, absolute divine power filled the space.

"Ahh...!"

The king rose slowly, voice trembling with ecstasy. As the light faded, his ministers chorused shakily.

"Your Majesty! That light—was it...!"

"Indeed. The gods have finally answered."

The elves sighed in relief at the king's solemn declaration.

"Their auras seemed more fatigued than usual. Likely just wrapped the dimensional rift headache plaguing them."

"Ooh, of course! That's why They stayed silent so long!"

"Sealing a catastrophe like the dimensional rifts—truly great Ones!"

The ministers nodded in awe, oblivious the gods fled exhaustion from paperwork and overtime, not rifts.

The king cleared his throat, refocusing. "More importantly, an oracle on the great being atop the World Tree came too."

The ministers stiffened—that dreaded topic. What was that monster bird for the gods to oracle directly?

Eyes closed, the king recited the sacred words etched in his mind verbatim.

The oracle echoed; ministers' eyes bulged. Heavy silence, then the old prime minister slapped his knee in triumph.

"As I thought! No way an off-spec Transcendent pops up out of nowhere!"

Others nodded furiously.

"Right! Shredding Turaka like shed skin, thunder on a wingbeat—that power unexplained without divine blessing!"

"While sealing rifts, They sent Their nurtured Divine Beast to guard the World Tree!"

"Yes—the oracle calls it 'beloved child.' Perhaps that great black bird is a young god destined for the pantheon!"

Michael's hasty pet-bird patch, filtered through elven awe, morphed into a child deity descended to protect the tree.

The king nodded, deeply moved. "My thoughts exactly. At first, its fearsome form terrified, but look—quietly atop, safeguarding forest peace."

Respect gleamed in ministers' eyes. Then the elven general cried fervently.

"Your words ring true a hundredfold! We thought it discarded bloated kills... but tossing us hunted beast meat? Pure benevolence, daily bread and blessing for us lowly ones!"

Elves erupted in moved gasps. Pity-tossed scraps to scrawny elves became the young god's gracious boon.

"Such overwhelming might and mercy..."

"We can't just receive divine grace idly. To spare the great one further hunting hassle, how about regular tribute of premium ingredients?"

"Splendid! We ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mustn't irk it. Gather kingdom's finest hunters—prepare top-grade beast meat tribute at once!"

"Yes, Your Majesty!"

All bowed reverently. Sublime avatar from great gods. World Tree guardian wielding wind and thunder. Benevolent young deity. Our oblivious protagonist knew nothing of these grand titles, locked in fierce battle atop the World Tree.

While ground elves wallowed in grand delusion prepping tribute, World Tree penthouse.

Thud. I gently set the massive ox carcass clutched in my talons at nest's edge.

"Caw."

(Phew, heavy as hell. Grill this first?)

I was about to dive into fine-tuning my new electric-shock option for perfect medium-rare beef research.

Whoosh!

Suddenly, space warped before me; blinding, holy light pillar cascaded down.

"C-Caw?!"

(What the—?! Eye bleach!)

I shielded with wings. Light gone, there hovered a bizarre man: snowy feathered wings, golden halo aglow. Wait—squinting past glare, dark circles sagged to his chin; looked dead tired.

"...Greetings, noble soul from another world. I am Michael, gods' proxy and chief angel."

Michael bowed formally, hand on chest—utmost courtesy for a Divine Beast-level powerhouse.

"Caw?"

(Huh? Glowy pigeon dude?)

I tilted my head. His grandiose spiel rang clear, but meant zilch. Come to think—I lacked even the isekai staple "language patch."

"Our gods were tied mending dimensional rifts, unable to mind the mortal plane. To reach such wondrous heights in the interim... truly..."

"CAAW!"

(Hey! No barging into my pad! Here for my beef?!)

I blocked my precious grub, fanning six wings threateningly, fluffing feathers.

Crackle! Azure lightning arced viciously from wingtips, scorching air instantly.

Michael flinched, sweating at the lethal thunder pulse.

'Insane mana. Breathing stirs the atmosphere.'

But he sensed oddity. Even an otherworld Transcendent should grasp continental common—the sacred tongue—from a chief angel. Yet it just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠beast-howled warily.

"Um... do you not understand me? Telepathy's fine. Align your mana wave with mine..."

Michael probed the crow's mana flow cautiously—and froze like struck by bolt.

"Wh-what in the...!"

His pupils quaked. The black bird's mana circuits were shock and horror incarnate.

Normally, such vast power demanded precise control, profound insight—a sturdy vessel. But this crow? No realm. No application—worse than a Magic Beast. Mana control? Like a burst dam, flooding wildly uncontrolled.

'Heavens... can't speak? Doesn't even know basics to convert mana to language? Intellect? What's its mind like?'

Chills raced Michael's spine. Not a true Transcendent. Just a mutant who'd lucked into massive natural mana plus Turaka's full thunder core—zero clue how to wield it.

Like a toddler humming with a nuke button.

"Caw!"

(Get lost! Want a zap?!)

As I flapped guarding beef, spewing crude static, Michael clutched his head in despair.

"O gods..."

Now he got why hunting mere oxen birthed sky-rending thunder storms. Not arrogance. Not show. It plain couldn't fine-tune that might.

"Infuriating. Dump this as a patch job and bail for R&R? One wrong flap ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠turns the World Tree to charcoal—this time bomb, what am I supposed to—?!"

The overworked chief angel's bloodshot wail echoed vainly atop the World Tree, mingling with the ignorant crow's pathetic gulp before the beef.