Creator and the Created
After seeing off Leus and Allegros, the two Rubaran tribesmen, Yupiter let out a short sigh of relief and returned to the site where the base repairs were in full swing. He'd told everyone it was an explosion caused by a machine malfunction, but since it was actually his own doing, he wanted to lend a hand in the cleanup.
"Hey, move those materials over here."
"Dude! Not that—I told you to bring the anti-gravity transporter!"
The sudden accident had everyone bustling about in chaos. Most of the actual work was being handled by machines, but it was the people transporting and supervising them. There were also teams investigating the cause of the machine failure that had sparked the explosion.
"Elder Yupiter? What brings you here?"
The base headquarters' facilities management team leader spotted Yupiter and greeted him.
"Hm, I thought I might help out a bit."
"Pardon? You're offering to pitch in yourself, Elder?"
The team leader stared in astonishment at the elder's words—a reaction that was entirely understandable. Those who held the title of elder in the Alliance, regardless of race, occupied the highest positions within it. Even if it was a largely ceremonial role, the name "elder" carried that much weight. For an elder of the superior Meias tribe, no less, to volunteer for menial labor? It was no wonder he was shocked.
Of course, from Yupiter's perspective, it was his mess to clean up, and he couldn't rest easy without handling it personally.
'Elder Yupiter's such a good man, stepping up even for a minor incident like this.'
It was the kind of action that would leave the team leader and the others with that impression.
"Let's start by clearing the debris. Machines are convenient, but they're slow."
Naturally, high-tech robots were far more efficient than human hands. Anti-gravity devices were practically essential for shifting massive, heavy building remnants that ordinary people couldn't budge. Yet to Yupiter's eyes, even they seemed sluggish.
Rumble...
And rightly so. With a single spell, he could lift and toss around tons of such debris without breaking a sweat.
"Whoa..."
"Amazing..."
The machine handlers and base staff couldn't hide their awe. Solving in an instant what would have taken ten trips with an anti-gravity device—using something called magic—was nothing short of miraculous.
"Impressive. Magic seems awfully convenient."
"Heh heh, 'tis a fine ability. But the great drawback is that without innate mana energy within one's body, it cannot be learned."
How nice it would be if anyone could master magic and handle tasks so effortlessly. But if that were possible, devices like anti-gravity transporters never would have been developed. Magic was fundamentally accessible only to those with a special energy in their bodies, like the Meias tribe. It couldn't be taught to just anyone. Other races occasionally produced such individuals, but they were exceedingly rare—practically nonexistent. In essence, it was a power unique to the Meias.
In any case, as he diligently aided the base reconstruction...
"M-Master...!"
His disciple, Rowi Hendrick, suddenly came rushing toward him in a panic.
"What is it? I told you to stay by Lord Yujin's side."
Yupiter had instructed Rowi Hendrick to attend to Yujin closely. He'd planned to help with the repairs a bit longer before heading back, yet here was Rowi, leaving Yujin alone—and looking utterly flustered, as if some emergency had arisen. Something was clearly amiss.
"Lord Yujin... he suddenly collapsed...!"
"...What?!"
At Rowi's words, Yupiter startled and bellowed before he could stop himself. Nearby eyes turned their way.
"...Lead the way."
Glancing around awkwardly, Yupiter excused himself to the facilities manager, claiming urgent business, and hurriedly followed Rowi to Yujin's location.
But...
"Huh?"
"...?"
Contrary to Rowi Hendrick's report, Yujin hadn't collapsed. He was up and about, stretching casually this way and that.
"...Rowi."
"N-No, sir! He really just dropped a moment ago... I called out, but no response, and even healing magic did nothing..."
Under Yupiter's sharp glare, Rowi desperately protested his innocence. Yujin had definitely collapsed—like a marionette with its strings cut. He'd tried everything: shaking him, calling his name, casting healing spells. But it was as if his soul had fled; pupils dilated, no breathing, no movement at all. And now, upon returning, there he was, moving normally. From Rowi's standpoint, it was maddening.
'He's not lying.'
Yupiter didn't doubt Rowi's honesty; the boy wasn't the type. That meant Yujin had collapsed for some reason and then revived. Considering he was an avatar of an Outer God, it warranted a closer look.
"Oh, so you're Yupiter, the old man... and this is Rowi. Right? The two who know my true nature."
"...??"
Then something even stranger happened. Yujin started acting as if he'd never met Yupiter and Rowi before—his words and demeanor treating them like familiar-yet-strange acquaintances from memory alone.
As confusion gripped Yupiter and Rowi, Yujin chuckled and explained the situation.
"Yeah, I get it's disorienting. I'm the personality my main body created for Yujin. Independent from the original, you see."
He went on to say that a brief connection issue with the main body had activated him as a backup precaution. Yujin explained it all kindly.
"First-time sync probably lagged a bit, making it look like I flatlined. Haha."
"......"
"......"
He probably meant it as a lighthearted joke, but it landed anything but. Especially for Rowi Hendrick, who'd genuinely feared Yujin had died.
Still, the conclusion was no real harm done—just a swap of personalities inhabiting Yujin's body. It was bizarre, but this one retained nearly all of the original's personality and memories. And since he understood his status as an Outer God's avatar, neither Yupiter nor Rowi would have trouble treating him the same.
'...Is his main body alright?'
Whatever had happened to the main body was unclear, but the backup's calm demeanor suggested it wasn't dire. Besides, from an Outer God's perspective, a mere mortal like Yupiter had no business worrying.
'...A backup personality, though. He can even make those in an avatar?'
Yupiter knew Outer Gods wielded powers beyond providence itself, but this still astonished him anew. Crafting a perfect mortal vessel and implanting a full personality? That was tantamount to creating an intelligent lifeform outright—not a mere clone, but one with the exact persona intact.
The Galactic Alliance's science could clone life and simulate near-human personalities via advanced AI. But this was on another level. Not imitation, but true genesis—a 100% new being. Even the Rubarans could only approximate 90% fidelity through cloning at best.
What had only been possible through natural conception, now casually manufactured. And that wasn't all.
"...I sense an extraordinarily potent mana within you."
"Ah, yeah. Main body must've figured a disconnection could lead to trouble, so he loaded me up with a few abilities. Looks like he planned to learn magic from you with this mana."
"......"
An immense, terrifying reservoir of mana. Forget the Terra base Yujin was modeled on—even among Meias, those born with such innate mana were exceedingly rare. And all of them now sat as Meias elders. Handing that to an avatar as a mere contingency weapon was overkill—like arming someone for a dark alley with a machine gun. And Yujin's nonchalant attitude about it...
'...If he willed it, he could spawn new races and civilizations surpassing even the Rubarans.'
An Outer God wouldn't tire after one avatar; like the creation myths of various races, primordial intelligences could emerge to pioneer new civilizations.
'No confirmed cases, of course... but perhaps some ancient races truly were born from an Outer God's boredom.'
Or maybe...
every lifeform in this universe...
'Enough. No more of that.'
His thoughts delving too deep, Yupiter shook his head vigorously to dispel them.