Outlaw of the Myths - Chapter 92: What the Hell is This?
What the hell is going on? Were they watching Selene or something? If so, it makes sense that the gatekeepers would block me. If Selene made contact with some outsider human and then suddenly vanished, they'd have no choice but to get suspicious.
But I never imagined she'd be under that kind of surveillance… And who could blame me? The dream world was full of aimless wandering souls of gods like Selene—faded remnants of once-great beings, reduced to pathetic husks drifting about. This place was their haunt.
Plus, the dream world wasn't just connected to Olympus—it linked to countless dimensions. On a scale that defied imagination, for them to go this far over just one Selene?
"Why the hell are you blocking the dream stairs like this?"
From the two gatekeepers' back-to-back words, I gleaned one key piece of info. They weren't blocking me on their own—they were acting on someone's request or order.
They tilted their heads, scrutinizing me—probably peering with divine sight. But as expected, they couldn't detect the Secret Book or Selene's soul hidden within.
"If there's no issue, I'd like to leave."
"So what do you plan to do with me? I'm not going down easy."
One gatekeeper snapped his fingers. Before I could react, I was hurled somewhere else.
"What the—?!"
When I came to, I was in a completely different space. A shiver ran down my spine at the raw power of the gods—goosebumps prickling everywhere. I'd thought myself pretty strong lately, but facing a god head-on? I was powerless.
"Where…?"
Looking around, I realized I was in unfamiliar territory. Part of the dream world still? Thick green mist shrouded everything, and the sky held a solar eclipse—a black sun hanging ominously.
This felt like the domain of some divine being. Crushing pressure bore down like the deep sea.
"Why are all these gods so damn interested in me lately?"
It was weird how often I kept running into them. Not a good sign, obviously—exposure to the whims of absolutes.
A phlegmy, grating voice answered. Then a colossal form rose in the space—like a skyscraper.
"Oh my god…."
Back on Earth, I'd seen a supertall in Gangnam—sixth tallest in the world, they said. This god dwarfed it, erupting upward. My jaw dropped.
Yellow robes draped it, legs sprouting tentacles like tree roots everywhere.
"Who are you?"
I couldn't help asking, fear lacing my voice. Its presence matched its size—overwhelming. I'd never imagined such a being. Even mighty Triton seemed a child by comparison. This outstripped any transcendent I'd met, rivaling the Burning Nameless One.
Its calm reply contrasted its immense presence. Usually, such beings were living calamities—their voices alone tormenting mortals. But this one's tone was gentle, almost serene despite the rasp, like stillness at a storm's eye. A quietly swirling god of vast power.
"…Why did you summon me here?"
Selene's disappearance, obviously. But I played dumb.
"I'm too foolish to grasp your exalted intent."
It was convinced I'd pulled some trick on her. My guts started twisting. I'd bluffed my way this far on sheer nerve, but holding steady under a transcendent's interrogation? Tough.
Still, no way I'd spill honestly. I trusted the god of secrets to the end.
"I don't know."
Relief: no anger. Just tentacles writhing in amusement. And shockingly, it stared right at the Secret Book. Could it see? If so, I was exposed—everything stripped bare. Cold sweat hit; I felt like teetering on a cliff's edge. Legs shaking.
Its gaze from the heavens pierced me against the eerie eclipse. Indiscernible depths scanned my body; trembling made standing hard. But I held firm.
Above? Stronger than this behemoth? It called itself lord of interstellar space—how vast was the universe?
"Then go about your business. You don't strike me as the type to make trouble."
With it able to squash me like an ant, fear bred defiance. If I couldn't win anyway, might as well speak my mind.
"If you have business, spit it out."
Me? Why?
"I'm decent, sure, but how could I outshine the moon goddess? Must be senility, your interstellar highness."
It laughed heartily at my nothing-joke. Then it clicked.
"No way."
"Puppies don't fear tigers, right? Forgive my youthful stupidity."
My brazenness amused it—novel, apparently.
Special, special? Sounded familiar.
"Even among dogs, some bark loud or think smart. No pretensions here—get to the point, your interstellar lordship. Doesn't seem you dragged me here to kill or torture."
"That's why I hate this dream world. Didn't wanna come, really. Mortals don't love divine whims bringing disaster."
The dream world: boundless dimension where gods unleashed full might. Too risky for humans—why I'd rushed home after Selene.
Like a professor posing a riddle. I pondered. Right—gods free of causality were nightmares, but potential allies.
"Got it. Gods unbound by causality are disasters, but also profit sources. Deals impossible in the material world? Possible here. No prying eyes from other gods."
Causality barred gods tormenting—or aiding—humans without cause. Limits on transcendent meddling. Here? None. Full divine aid on tap.
"So you want to help me?"
Finally, its angle.
"Speak, Interstellar Lord. If it suits me, I'll bite."
"What fate?"
It paused, then replied portentously.
It spread vast arms. Shadows engulfed us, plunging the area into night. Its yellow sleeves darkened, stars twinkling within. Maybe the physical distance between us was vaster than it seemed.
"Me? Do that?"
It knew me too well.
Regretfully, it raised a rotting finger, maggots writhing.
"Zeus has his eye on me."
True—Greek myths overflowed with Zeus's blessed or sons. I was one more.
"I get it. You want a contract. But this Peleus doesn't stamp blindly. Best with contracts: read fine print, then don't sign."
"Lay it out."
I'd read in forbidden tomes: a dead god's body left un-ritualed birthed a cursed undead, dooming a kingdom. Gods' whims lingered postmortem—handle with care. Useful, but volatile like enriched uranium.
"Thanks, but I can manage."
Dead gods were hazardous, but I had the First Scribe's rites. I moved to refuse—then its next words hooked me.
"Whoa…."
Clear now: it foresaw my god-killing spree, offering preemptive deals. Merchant through and through.
Not bad for me. First Scribe rites yielded secrets, no material gain. Secrets were potent, but tangible loot tempted sometimes. Another ritual form, essentially.
"Eh, let's hear more."