Stepping out of the constabulary, Glenn lowered his head, already sorting through the tasks he needed to handle in the coming days, and made his way toward his Great Stag carriage.

  A boy of thirteen or fourteen, dressed in brown suspenders and carrying a basket of fruit, happened to pass by—only to stumble and fall right in front of Glenn.

  The fruit scattered across the ground.

  Glenn snapped out of his thoughts. Having been too absorbed to react in time and catch the boy, he now moved forward to help him up.

  Once pulled to his feet, the boy thanked Glenn in a flustered rush and immediately began collecting the fallen fruit.

  Seeing someone so young out earning his keep stirred a faint tenderness in Glenn. He crouched and helped the boy pick up the fruit, intending to buy some afterward.

  But as he gathered the scattered pieces, Glenn gradually felt something was… off.

  His hands stilled. He slowly lifted his head and glanced around.

  The constabulary was gone. The street was gone. Everything had vanished into a dim, colorless, monotonous expanse.

  And the boy stood before him—his expression still cherubic, his smile pure—gazing directly at Glenn.

  Glenn remained crouched, meeting the boy’s eyes from below.

  “You… long for salvation, do you not?” the boy asked in a voice impossibly ethereal—like countless overlapping whispers emerging from a dream.

  Glenn did not reply. He simply rose to his feet, shifting from looking up to looking down.

  The boy’s innocent expression didn’t change. He repeated, word for word, “You… long for salvation, do you not?”

  A psychic pressure—an overwhelming urge—pressed into Glenn’s mind, urging him to assent, to submit.

  Pa—!

  A sharp slap shattered the solemn, holy atmosphere.

  The boy’s head snapped to the side, his eyes wide with disbelief, his mind refusing to process what had just happened.

  Someone… slapped me?

  The burning sting on his cheek told him the truth.

  He slowly turned his head back, the innocent smile wiped clean. “You—”

  Pa—!

  Another slap cut him off.

  This time, the opposite cheek.

  The boy clutched his face, both sides glowing red, staring at Glenn in utter shock.

  “Now it is symmetrical. Do not you think?” Glenn asked cheerfully.

  “Do you have any idea who you are facing!? I am one of the divine fragments of a god’s will! What you have done is unforgivable blasphemy! You will burn alive for this!”

  The boy’s voice pierced like needles, drilling into the mind, making Glenn’s skull throb.

  A god’s will? Which god…?

  Glenn shook his head and scratched his ear. Then, as if guessing idly, he asked:

  “The God of Truth?”

  The boy froze. “How did you—”

  He slapped a hand over his mouth.

  Glenn blinked. He had just said the first god that came to mind. He hadn’t expected to guess correctly.

  “Seems gods are not nearly as clever as they claim to be,” Glenn said mildly.

  The boy looked ready to explode. He had been ordered by the main consciousness to cultivate believers in this region, especially targeting those emerging from Bayek.

  He never imagined things would devolve into this. If word spread, it would become a humiliating stain on the God of Truth’s divine history.

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  For a god’s manifestation to be mocked by a mortal—unthinkable! This human must be erased… the boy seethed.

  “The God of Truth really is restless. Just a small disturbance from that Forest Elf High Priestess, and he starts stirring trouble. Did the Will of the Forest chase you all the way here? Probably. Why pick me of all people?”

  Glenn crossed his arms and circled the boy, each word striking uncomfortably close to reality.

  The so-called manifestation of the God of Truth said nothing, his silence the only admission.

  Suddenly, Glenn placed a hand atop the boy’s head, tousling it lightly.

  “Those two slaps must have stung quite a bit, hm? I do hope the great God of Truth will not cry. I have not got a candy to cheer you up.”

  A distortion rippled from the boy’s body, warping the space around him. His fists tightened. Rage boiled to its peak.

  Glenn pretended not to notice.

  “But I must say, the feeling was quite satisfying. My first time slapping a god. I will have to brag about it properly later, hahaha…”

  At last, the boy’s fury detonated. The entire realm collapsed like a crumbling edifice.

  Glenn, however, remained perfectly calm.

  And when the collapse ended, everything snapped back to normal.

  Glenn stood once more before the constabulary. The boy stood before him—genuinely stunned.

  “Why are you unharmed!?” the boy demanded.

  “Why would I be harmed?” Glenn replied.

  “That was a mind-strike capable of shattering the will of anyone! How can you possibly still be standing!?”

  His outburst drew glances from distant bystanders.

  Shatter the will…? Glenn thought back.

  The collapsing void had indeed felt like the end of the universe—but it was nowhere near enough to break him. His confidence came from knowing that gods wouldn’t dare leave too much real power on the mortal continent; otherwise, the God of Truth wouldn’t be helpless against a forest spirit’s will.

  And sure enough, despite the dramatic display, it had only been a hallucination meant to crush his resolve.

  “I suppose even if this body were destroyed, your so-called divine fragment would not actually disappear, would it?” Glenn asked bluntly.

  The boy didn’t answer. He only glared with burning hatred.

  “Then go tell your true self to behave. You are not even on this continent anymore, and still you insist on stirring trouble. Are gods really this bored?”

  Glenn waved him off and walked away.

  This boy—whatever had possessed him—was untouchable. Glenn couldn’t harm an intangible manifestation. Annoying it verbally was the best he could do.

  As Glenn rode off in his Great Stag cart, the boy suddenly rolled his eyes upward and collapsed onto the ground.

  An invisible consciousness streaked into the sky.

  “You returned already?”

  “What!? Such a man exists!?”

  “This Bayek fellow truly is not easy prey… but no matter. I have patience to spare.”

  “Fortunately, that Forest Elf High Priestess provoked me—otherwise I would never have discovered that such a vast treasure trove in the Elemental Realm has gone untouched.”

  The voice of the God of Truth echoed through an unknown world, carrying an excitement unseen in ten thousand years.