Chapter 2237: The Gods and the God |
"Thank you so much for everything. Once I've taken care of things on my end, I'll give you my formal thanks. Mr. Augustus, I won't forget that I owe you a drink!"
Jenkins waved to Mr. Augustus, who stood cloaked in black. Augustus pulled back his hood and returned the gesture with a smiling nod before vanishing completely into the starry expanse.
"God of Lies, do you know what comes next?"
Rakul asked from within the illusory starry sky. Jenkins looked up at his star spirit friend. The star spirits rarely meddled in the affairs of the material world, yet Rakul had come to his aid this time.
"Of course I do."
He brandished the two slate fragments in his left hand. A moment later, the golden pages that had been spread across the sea of stars began to shrink, converging before him into a massive, solid gold tome.
Jenkins wagged a finger, and motes of light—fragments of his own being—materialized and flowed into the book. He then tossed the two slate fragments in after them. Now, he held the pendant that sealed the Difference Engine in his right hand while cradling the great book in his left.
"As long as you know. It has been an honor to witness this past year with you. I look forward to our next meeting among the stars."
With that, the female Star Spirit withdrew from the stellar sea.
He gazed at the collapsing sea of stars, at the true night sky emerging as the illusion shattered, and then down at his own arm. A golden radiance still clung to him, not yet faded. The Difference Engine had been right: he was still mortal, yet the power he wielded was akin to that of a god.
But he knew this was not divine power. After all, neither of his two divine domains had been invoked. Jenkins had his own theories about it, having seen something on the fragments of the Creation Slate.
What he had seen on the fragments was certainly not the method for sealing the Difference Engine. The plan to use the three keys for the seal was one Jenkins had conceived long ago. Otherwise, he wouldn't have waited until the final moment to use them, rather than employing them to open a temporary escape route during his ascent of the tower.
As for what he had gained from viewing the Creation Slate, that was difficult to put into words. Jenkins still needed one final confirmation. That answer would resolve all his questions and explain every incongruity about his existence.
Then, in a single instant, the collapse of the stellar sea halted. Simultaneously, a tolling of bells echoed from the distant cosmos. This was not the chime of the Difference Engine, but the toll of the gods—sonorous and far-reaching, with a weight that felt truly ancient.
Pinpricks of starlight flickered in the illusory heavens. The space was beginning to superimpose itself upon the true sea of stars, transitioning from ethereal to real—its final destination.
But before it reached the Astral Plane, this space had one final duty to perform.
As the bells rang, the choral voices of children and pure maidens drifted into hearing. This sound was unlike any hymn he had ever heard before. The song itself held a power that transcended any Numbered Item. This was no mere anthem; it was the song of the world, the song of the gods.
Amidst the song, three hundred and sixty-five stars ignited in a circle around Jenkins. And from the starlight, to the sound of the bells, with the rise of the song, the figures of the gods began to approach.
They appeared in the size of ordinary mortals. Though most were not human in form, their essential mass was comparable. The three hundred and sixty-five pseudo-gods of this world materialized in the sea of stars, forming a wide circle around the stone platform where Jenkins stood.
Each deity emanated a unique light, defined by their divine power and domain. Good gods and evil gods alike stood together in silence, their myriad sacred glows carefully restrained, complementing the starry sky rather than overwhelming it.
Together, their light blended into a hazy, pure white luminescence.
Jenkins recognized many "acquaintances" among them. He made a point to glance toward the God of Music, who offered him a smile in return.
He paid the lesser gods little mind, his gaze instead penetrating deeper into the chaotic sea of stars. Twelve pillars of white, sacred light descended from an unknown source. Amid the song and the ceaseless, resounding toll of the bells, the Twelve Orthodox Gods revealed themselves.
In contrast to the pseudo-gods, who were mortal-sized and clearly visible, the Twelve Orthodox Gods stood like giants within the sea of stars. Each was veiled in their own unique radiance, just as he had witnessed during the Month's End Whisper, preventing him from truly "seeing" them.
The towering Orthodox Gods stood behind the assembly of pseudo-gods. The twelve great beings arranged themselves evenly around the circular platform, making Jenkins and the three hundred and sixty-five deities below them seem as small as ants.
Of them, only the gods representing January and December were not of humanoid form. The first, within its light, resembled a tree, yet at the same time was nothing more than light itself. Of the second, he could see only a cloak; what form the End truly took remained a mystery.
Jenkins hadn't had the chance to interact with all of the Orthodox Gods, and was familiar with only a few. He spotted Oviya at once. Despite her towering form, he could feel her gaze upon him. He met her gaze, and they both smiled.
Jenkins lifted his gaze higher, further into the expanse. Within the stellar sea, constellations shifted and a powerful cosmic tide surged. The bells grew louder, and the song became ever more complex, ever more divine.
Behind the giant forms of the Twelve Orthodox Gods, the moving stars coalesced, forming a circle of seventeen celestial thrones. Within the cosmic tide, constellations linked together, sketching the visages of the Sovereigns.
Sixteen of the Sovereigns, seeming to be one with the firmament itself, took their seats, their immense forms composed of constellations. They were impossibly distant from Jenkins, yet because their bodies were woven from the very fabric of the cosmos, they felt extraordinarily near.
In terms of physical distance alone, the innermost circle was formed by the three hundred and sixty-five pseudo-gods. Beyond them stood the circle of the twelve giant-like Orthodox Gods, shrouded in light. And furthest out were the sixteen Sovereigns, their forms fashioned from the stars themselves.
Only the throne representing the primordial Sovereign remained empty. A sudden theory sparked in Jenkins's mind. It was certainly not a throne meant for him, but its vacancy gave him a clue—a theory about the true nature of this world.
The Sovereigns were exceptionally mysterious; few even among the Benefactors of the material world knew of their existence. Jenkins, however, had connections with several of them. He saw the Sovereign of Death and the Sovereign of Ice and Snow acknowledge him with a nod. The Sovereign of Time’s gaze was fixed upon him, while the Sovereign of Blossoms felt as if she were right there with him.
The sacred song gradually faded, and the tolling of the bells at last fell silent. Jenkins remained as he was, the pendant in one hand, the golden tome in the other. He spoke softly to the assembled deities:
"Greetings."