The First Scribe Submits
I couldn't help but let out a snicker.
"What do you mean, 'what happens'? Can't you already see the outcome?"
This was a minor dimension beyond the gaze of the Olympian gods. No harm in flexing a little power here. I unleashed my might without restraint.
Woooong—! The divinity nestled within me vibrated, radiating energy.
[Hoh…. So you actually pulled it off. Honestly, I thought it was impossible for a wretch like you… A sack too empty to even stand straight…]
"Your tone's awfully bitter."
[Of course it is…. Put yourself in my shoes. If you lost a bet to an ant…. You'd feel rotten too. Uweu—.]
That weird noise at the end sounded like a sigh.
"Winners and losers are two sides of the same coin, aren't they?"
[I agree on that point…. Krrrararar.]
This time, it seemed like a low chuckle. Strange. It knew it was about to become a slave, yet it was far too calm.
"You don't mind being ruled by a pathetic human?"
Basking in victory, I didn't like its attitude. It felt off. Why the composure?
[If you want to make me your slave… do as you please. I acknowledge your victory in the bet…. Krrrar.]
"Good. From now on, I'm your master, so show some respect. How long are you gonna keep talking down to me?"
I was curious how it would react. Surprisingly, the First Scribe complied without fuss.
[As you wish. Krrrarar…. If that's what you want, anytime.]
Still weird. Transcendent beings have ironclad pride. No way it'd accept slavery so easily.
"Doesn't bother you?"
[It's not pleasant…. But that's all there is to it.]
"Hm?"
[This flimsy show of respect changes nothing in reality…. Sure, you can savor the petty thrill of insulting me in this limited space…, but commanding anything truly useful still requires a price. That hasn't changed.]
To gain the First Scribe's aid, a price was still needed. Like wood for fire, it was inevitable. Whether it was my slave or not didn't matter. Without payment, it couldn't access the Akashic Records to reveal secrets—even if it already knew them, no disclosure without equivalent exchange.
So that's why the smug leisure?
"What about summoning you to the material world for help?"
The material world meant the surface realm of Sparta and Mycenae, where mortals lived.
[Impossible due to causality.]
"Figures I'd hate it."
I'd expected as much. Causality: the cosmic law of cause and effect. One reason gods couldn't meddle freely on earth. Interfering required a proper cause; ignoring it invited other gods' interference—providing them cause in turn.
"First Scribe. So you can't be summoned to the material world and commanded?"
[Correct. I'd love to serve my master… but the laws of the universe prevent it…. Kuruhuhuhu. What can be done?]
"I could provide the causality. Create a cause strong enough for possession."
[Possible, but…. For a mortal, forging causality demands immense effort. Better spent elsewhere for efficiency. Besides, the Secret God must remain hidden…. Would you really endure mountain-carving toil to summon me, exposing the Secret God's designs to the Olympians?]
Fair point. Not knowing the Secret God was a prime edge against the Olympians. Harpocrates had once been in their pantheon but sacrificed himself as the regression catalyst, erasing his existence. They knew nothing of him now.
[Me—the First Scribe—and the Secret Book remaining unknown… that's your greatest card…. And you'd discard it yourself? Even if I possessed someone, I'd barely handle a few Olympians.]
Summoning the First Scribe to the material world seemed viable only at this adventure's end, when secrecy no longer mattered. Until then, total silence.
"Useless for material world affairs, then?"
[Indeed…. Krrrarar.]
It looked downright pleased. Even as my slave, real control was heavily restricted.
"This pisses me off."
[How so? If you're angry, insult me…. If it soothes you. Though utterly pointless.]
The First Scribe had foreseen this from the start. Hence the casual bet. It mocked my "victory," reveling in the irony.
But did it think I'd roll over?
"You. Still underrating your master."
[What do you mean?]
"Don't dismiss what the Secret God Harpocrates granted me. Sure, being your master changes little practically. But every rule has loopholes."
[…….]
Sensing unease, the First Scribe's slimy bulk twitched.
"You're awfully arrogant. I'll educate you properly."
[What do you plan?]
"No need for that. That massive flesh is hideous, but it's a great god. Even full power couldn't scratch it. As master, I could beat it freely, but no real pain possible."
"Beat you? Obviously. Not in this state, though."
[What?]
Kuruhuhuhu. A sinister chuckle escaped me this time.
"Secrets are power, reaffirmed. Good thing I read the gods' secrets in the forbidden tome."
[What secret now?]
Anxiety laced the First Scribe's question. It realized my divine knowledge exceeded mortal bounds.
"Simple. Divine Incarnation."
Mentioning it shattered the First Scribe's smug facade. Slug-like, but the expression was clear: sticky facial flesh sagged like slime.
[Divine Incarnation?!]
"Gonna play dumb? Kuruhuhu. I saw it in the tome. High gods can incarnate on earth."
Divine Incarnation: a god embodying in mortal flesh. Bound by that species' limits. Choosing human meant becoming fully human—not Olympian disguise, but true mortal frailty.
High gods only, with a key perk: bypassing causality. Incarnate, you're no god—just human, eating, sleeping, dying. Free from divine laws.
Some Olympians were suspected of it.
[Divine Incarnation… I know nothing….]
"Hahaha, look at this punk. Servant lying to master already?"
[Uwe—uu—.]
Deep displeasure in that whine. Music to my ears.
"Never dreamed I'd know of incarnation. Naturally—high gods' secret."
Why secret? Exposure meant hunts or captures for leverage. So high gods kept quiet, sneaking as humans. Even lesser gods unaware.
[The tome mentioned that too?]
"Told you: don't underestimate my boss."
[This can't be…. Impossible.]
"Why? Regretting the bet now?"
[Why grant a human such knowledge…?]
I scolded its doubt.
"Not mere human. Executor of the End. So arrogant. Still treating me as mortal? Your downfall's from ignoring I'm the End's Executor."
[Kugugugu…….]
Unforeseen twist left it rattled.
[Absurd…. How predict a mortal knowing elite gods' secret?]
"That's arrogance."
I strode toward it. The mountain-like bulk twisted back hastily—pathetic for its size.
"First Scribe. As your master, I command: Incarnate in flesh and descend to serve as my slave."
Still resisting, it shuddered.
[Please… reconsider.]
"Reconsider?"
[Reconsider… please. This is madness….]
"My decision."
Why provoke when optimized for shoving foes down?
* * *
The First Scribe fully acknowledged me as End's Executor. Now, Akashic access via rituals anytime—with sufficient price. Secrets galore against gods. Finally equipped.
"Major win, Secretary."
"Don't shorten it to secretary!"
I ignored the Secret Book's protest. Mocking others? Fine. Being mocked? No.
"Secrets are power, weapons. Can't crush gods by force, but secrets? Maybe. Anyway, this guy's due soon?"
"Unbelievable you're doing this."
"No need for flattery."
"Not flattery. Distinguish praise from shock, Peleus."
"Hahaha."
Chuckling, I wiped grease from meat off on cloth. Here: royal farm outskirts. Meeting someone.
"Basileus, sire. Visitor for you."
A Spartan warrior reported to me seated.
I nodded, smiling broadly.
"Send him in."
The guided arrival: tadpole-bellied middle-aged man. Unique: beardless, bald—even eyebrows gone. Double chin, plump overall. Impression decent.
"S-Sire…."
Stammering unfitly, awkward gait. Suspicious, odd. But I burst laughing on sight.
Kuhahahahat!
The incarnated First Scribe. Pure human now—no powers. Talented, sure, but mortal-bound.
"Hilarious. Suits you, slave."
Kuuk! Bald fatso's face hardened in humiliation. Mine to command indefinitely. No god foresaw this.
"Name?"
"None yet…. Freshly incarnated."
"I'll name you. Choros—pig. Kuhahahaha!"
Grasping the meaning, Choros trembled massively.
"No reply? Master named you— no thanks?"
"Gratitude for mockery…."
"Not reformed yet. Time to feel the human world. Hey!"
Spartan brutes swarmed at my call.
"You called, Basileus sire!"
Booms fit human weapons.
"This one's insolent to master. Beat him soundly!"
It suggested a beating before? Gladly oblige.
Heheheh.