New to writing. Any critique on this? 🤔

[Philippine Big Boar]

Any off, or unconventional like too long or anything? 

 

 

Chapter 2: The Scholar, the Fanatic, the merchant, and the formed Theospy

 

The Bithos encampment of Tal-Jeorva sprawled across a hillside like a white scar on green flesh. Dozens of tents arranged in geometric precision. Guards patrolling with the grim determination of soldiers expecting the apocalypse at any moment. Banners depicting a terrifying white-robed figure with glowing eyes and reality fractured around her.

 

Simion Tolemy adjusted his red scholar's robes and his glasses as he approached the main gate, already cataloguing everything with the detached curiosity of someone who studied religions the way others studied insects.

 

"State your business." The guard's hand rested on his sword hilt.

 

"I'm here to speak with High Executor Jubal Sabiorma about theological and ontological matters." Simion's tone was polite but flat. "I'm a researcher from Rocsartre. I have questions about the Emanation you call Bithos."

 

The guards exchanged glances. One muttered something about "another heretic from rocsarte eh?"

 

The Guards let him through.

 

Simion had spent years studying divine hierarchies across kingdoms. It was fascinating, really, how different civilizations categorized the incomprehensible.

 

Simion thinking while walking “The conventional religions like Deorvinci….. the Church of Sacred Light all worshipped what Theolis called “Fal Demiurges”. False Gods of particular heavens and hells.

 

“The Ellogenes believed the real God purposely made the world imperfect with the self code of “Contraction”.”

 

“Pantarnu believed the universe was created by a false God which was like the most hated camp by Deorvinci.. “

 

“Autarnu refuses to says any words about the “beyond”” 

 

“Theolis claimed Deorvinci worshipped a false God. Above them, theoretically, existed the “Ayonos” beings between Fal Demiurges and something higher. Rarely manifested. Poorly documented. Most scholars dismissed them as mythological intermediaries invented to explain theological inconsistencies.

 

“And above the, supposedly, the Emanations….”

 

“They are direct expressions of the invisible Godhead itself. Not creators, but “revelations”. The infinite is made temporarily finite. The unknowable choosing to be known.”

 

“Most scholars thought emanations were poetic metaphors.”

 

Simion wasn't so sure.

 

“Because of “her”.”

 

“Theolis's records spoke of “B” an Emanation who'd appeared two thousand years ago. And unlike every other divine figure in recorded history, the descriptions were... baffling.”

 

“She wasn't described as terrifying. Or cosmic. Or even particularly dignified like I heard Bithos cult claiming… I have to hear what the leader has the say”

 

“She was casually called "very very crazy" with genuine affection. She worked ordinary jobs, got into arguments about pastries and Theolis founders wrote about her the way they write about a beloved eccentric friend, not a manifestation of the divine. According to Theolis her name has faded in history remaining only her first name “B” It unknown whether it's erased unintentionally or got worn out through time”

 

“No fear. No worship. Just... fondness.”

 

The mysterious God called B fascinated Simion more than any cosmic horror ever could.

 

If divinity could be “joyful” instead of “terrifying” if it could be “ordinary” instead of *transcendent* then maybe the entire framework of organized religion was fundamentally wrong.

 

“Maybe God didn't want temples.”

 

“Maybe it just wanted Brioche buns.”

 

He was pulled from his thoughts as a guard led him to the central tent.

 

Inside, a young man stood before an altar bearing a painted portrait. He turned as Simion entered.

 

He has sharp eyes and angular features. Handsome yet in a severe, ascetic way wearing White robes so immaculately maintained they looked freshly conjured.

 

"You wished to speak with me?" The man's voice was cold and clipped.

 

"Jubal Sabiorma, I presume." Simion inclined his head. "I'm Simion Tolemy, scholar and mage from Rocsartre. I study divine ontology and comparative theology. I'd like to ask you about your Emanation- the one you call Bithos."

 

Jubal's eyes narrowed fractionally. "What about her?"

 

"Why doesn't she come here?"

 

Silence stretched between them.

 

Jubal's reply sounds unfriendly. "The Emanation manifests where she wills. We do not question her divine purpose."

 

"Interesting." Simion pulled out a leather notebook. "Because according to Theolis's historical records, she spent considerable time there two thousand years ago. Participated in establishing their philosophical schools. Interacted with citizens daily. Yet according to your sect, she's never manifested here, despite your devotion. Don't you find that curious?"

 

"Theolis are heretics" Jubal said, the word sharp as a blade. "They refuse to worship her properly. They treat the divine with casual disrespect. Of course she would not grace them with her presence now."

 

"Or," Simion said calmly, still writing, "she prefers how Theolis treated her. As I understand it from the records, she never requested worship. Never built temples. Never demanded ritual. She laughed, joked, took ordinary jobs to spend money. The founders describe her as-” he flipped a page, "like an incredibly lively cute girl who is very very crazy but in the best way possible. Does that description match the entity you worship?"

 

Jubal's eyes narrow in annoyance. "Those records are corrupted by heretical interpretation. The Emanation is divine perfection. She would never-"

 

"Work as a waitress?" Simion looked up, eyebrow raised. "Because there are three separate accounts of her doing exactly that. Apparently she was terrible at it. Kept eating the food before delivering it to tables."

 

"THAT'S BLASPHEMOUS!" Jubal's composure cracked. "The Emanation would never-! "

 

"Tell jokes about bodily functions? Make innuendos about male anatomy? Get into arguments about which bread is superior? I have dozens of documented accounts. Eyewitness testimonies. Consistent across multiple sources from different camps within Theolis. Either they're all lying which seems unlikely given how unflattering some of the stories are…. or your image of the Emanation is fundamentally incorrect."

 

Jubal stepped closer, his presence suddenly threatening. "You dare come here…into the heart of our sanctuary…and speak blasphemy…?"

 

"I'm not blaspheming." Simion said, not backing away, not showing being intimidated. "I'm pointing out a factual discrepancy. You worship an image of divine perfection, cosmic transcendence, and terrifying power. The historical accounts describe someone who was having" He paused, searching for the right word. "...fun."

 

"FUN?!" Jubal's voice cracked.

 

"Yes. Fun. Joyful. Ordinary in the most extraordinary way." Simion's eyes sharpened behind his glasses. "And that's what makes her actually interesting as a theological subject. She's not another typical God demanding worship through fear like religions claim, She's an Emanation who chose to be “human”. To connect. To experience life not from a position of cosmic authority, but genuine participation. That's-"

 

A voice cheerful, loud, and completely shattering the tension rang out from outside.

 

"POTIOOONS!~~ GETCHA POTIONS HERE!~

cheap and effectiiiive~ want something for erection?~ constipation treatment?~”

 

Both men turned toward the tent entrance.

 

"I got EVERYTHING you could possibly need! And some things you probably shouldn't need but might want anyway!~"

 

The tent flap burst open.

 

A girl stumbled through, pushing a wooden cart looking like a merchant. She couldn't have been more than eighteen, with long brown hair, dark brown eyes bright with seemingly manic energy. 

 

She beamed at them with a wide smile that look comically happy. 

 

"HIIII~! Oh wow, you two look SERIOUS! Like, we're deciding the fate of the universe serious!" She bounced on her heels. "Want some potions to lighten the mood? I got stamina boosters, mana recovery, focus enhancement-oh! OH!" She rummaged through her cart excitedly. "I got this NEW one that's supposed to help with erectile dysfunction! Haven't tested it yet but the dude I bought the recipe from is a trusted creep so I'm sure it will work! Said it gave him a boner so hard he could use it as a kickstand!"

 

Simion felt his brain short circuited.

 

Jubal stared, frozen somewhere between outrage and disbelief.

 

The girl doesn't seem to notice but it's possible it's an act.

 

She struck a pose like she'd just announced something profound. "Oh! And I got this experimental potion that's supposed to make your farts smell like roses! I mean, it MIGHT also make roses smell like farts, I wasn't super clear on the mechanics, but either way it's gonna be a surprise! You guys need anything? first customer of the day gets a discount!"

 

Jubal found his voice somewhat dangerously low. "This is a sacred sanctuary….. You will leave immediately……"

 

"Awww, don't be like that!" The girl pouted, an exaggerated expression that belonged in a comedy stage play. "I came all this way! Plus I heard you guys were talking about B- or wait, you call her Bithos, right?" She tilted her head like a curious puppy. "That's such a weird name. I mean, it SOUNDS impressive, very 'ooh cosmic mystery,' but it's also kinda pretentious? Like naming your kid “Exclaseior” or something. Punchy Like a good burp!" She demonstrated with an actual burp, then giggled. "See? Punchy!"

 

Jubal's eye twitched. "You... you speak the Emanation's name with such vulgarity……?"

 

"yeah?" The girl shrugged. "Why not? It's just a name. Well, a letter. But still! Why be all serious about it? Makes everything weird and uncomfortable. Like- you ever notice how people who are super serious about religion are also the ones who never laugh? That's suspicious! I don't trust people who don't laugh! They're either hiding something or constipated. Usually both!"

 

Simion felt something shift in his chest. A laugh, sudden and unexpected, threatened to escape. He suppressed it, but barely.

 

This girl, this utterly absurd, vulgar, completely inappropriate girl had just articulated something he'd been thinking for years.

 

"Anyway!" She spun back to her cart. "I'm guessing you're not interested in dick pills. That's cool, not everyone needs help in that department. Though statistically, one in three men over thirty experiences some form of-"

 

"ENOUGH!" Jubal's composure finally shattered completely. "You will show RESPECT for the divine or I will-!"

 

"Or you'll what?" The girl's smile didn't falter. "Lecture me about proper reverence? Threaten divine punishment? Ooh, maybe burn me at a stake for heresy? You religious types are all the same! So obsessed with making everyone fear the divine that you forget to actually enjoy existence! Which is, like, the whole point! But sure, threaten the potions girl~ That'll definitely prove your god is legit.~"

 

Simion coughed to hide another laugh.

 

Jubal's attention snapped to him. "You find this amusing!?"

 

"Honestly?" Simion adjusted his glasses. "A little bit, yes. She's not wrong about the correlation between religious fervor and the inability to laugh."

 

"How DARE-"

 

"Also," Simion continued, his voice calm but firm, "she's touching on something I was trying to explain earlier. You're so focused on making B or Bithos, as you call her into this terrifying, cosmic, untouchable figure that you've completely lost sight of what the historical accounts actually describe."

 

He turned to the girl. "You said you prefer just calling her 'B', right? Have you read the Theolis records? It's a bit odd for a merchant to know this much…"

 

"Mmm, some!" The girl bounced excitedly, clearly thrilled someone was engaging with her. "I mean, I'm not like a scholar or anything- but yeah! The stories are WAY more interesting than the worship version! Like, there's this one where she gets into a massive argument with a baker about whether rye or wheat bread is superior, and she ends up DEMONSTRATING her point by making both types on the spot, except she accidentally creates bread that's ALIVE and it starts running around the marketplace!"

 

Simion's eyes widened. "I haven't read that account….Which archive!?"

 

"Oh, it's in the- wait, are we seriously discussing bread history right now?" The girl laughed. "I love it! This is way better than the boring 'kneel before the cosmic horror' stuff!"

 

"There is NOTHING boring about proper worship!" Jubal's voice had risen to a near shout. "The Emanation is divine perfection! She deserves reverence, not… not JOKES ABOUT BREAD!"

 

"But what if she WANTS jokes about bread?" the girl countered, her smile turning almost mischievous. "What if the whole 'divine perfection' thing is actually super boring for her and she'd rather just, like, hang out and eat Regulach cookies?"

 

"The Emanation would never-!"

 

"How do you know?" Simion interrupted, his voice sharp. "Have you met her? Have you spoken with her? Or are you basing your entire understanding on this?" He pointed at the portrait on the altar.

 

All three of them turned to look at it.

 

The painting showed a tall figure in white robes, but everything else about it screamed cosmic horror. Glowing eyes that seemed to pierce through reality itself. The space around her fractured and bent, showing impossible geometries. Abstract shapes that hurt to look at. An expression of stern, terrible judgment.

 

Simion stared at it for a long moment, his expression hardening.

 

Then, very calmly, very matter-of-factly, he said:

 

"That scary abomination woman is supposed to be Bithos?"

 

The words hung in the air like a slap.

The merchant girl looked at him, her eyes going wide in surprise. Then slowly, deliberately her lips curved into a goofy U-shaped smile.

 

The merchant girl's hands flew to her mouth, but it was too late. A snort escaped high-pitched and completely undignified. Her eyes were watering. She was turning red from the effort of containing it.

 

"Is something amusing to you……?" Jubal's voice could have frozen magma.

 

The girl shook her head frantically, both hands still clamped over her mouth. Her whole body was shaking now.

 

Simion felt his own lips twitching. "I take it you don't think that's an accurate portrayal?"

 

The girl removed one hand just long enough to wheeze out: "That is the EDGIEST-” before dissolving into helpless giggles again, immediately reclamping her hand over her mouth.

 

"EDGY?!" Jubal looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. "This is a sacred image painted by our founder himself! It captures the divine-"

 

"It looks like someone asked an emo teenager to draw god!" the girl managed to gasp out between giggles. "The GLOWING EYES! The REALITY BENDING! It's like- it's like someone saw her and thought 'how can we make this as scary and serious as possible' and just went FULL cosmic horror! WHO ADDS FRACTAL GEOMETRY TO A PORTRAIT?!"

 

She doubled over, clutching her stomach from laughter.

 

Simion adjusted his glasses, looking between the painting and the girl. Something clicked in his mind.

 

"You're right," he said quietly. "That painting doesn't match the historical accounts at all. The B I've read about was described as joyful, approachable, sometimes even silly. This..." He gestured at the portrait. "This is the exact opposite."

 

"EXACTLY! "Like, I'm not saying she wasn't POWERFUL or whatever, but making her look like a nightmare demon kinda misses the whole POINT!"

 

"And what…" Jubal said, his voice dangerously quiet. "would YOU KNOW ABOUT THE POINT!?"

 

"More than you, apparently!" The girl's smile was bright and sharp. "Because I can tell the difference between someone who was actually divine and someone you've MADE divine to fit your boring worship narrative!"

 

"you…."

 

"She's right." Simion's voice cut through the building fury like a knife.

 

Jubal's attention snapped to him. "What…?"

 

"That painting ... your entire conception of Bithos… it's a fabrication. You've taken someone who was, by all accounts, joyfully and authentically human in the most profound sense.”

 

The tent went absolutely silent.

 

The merchant girl started at Simion with an expression that was impossible to read.

 

Jubal's face had gone from flushed to pale to flushed again, cycling through emotions too quickly to track.

 

"That abomination…" he repeated, his voice a whisper.

 

Simion's eyes were hard behind his glasses. "You turned her into...that abomination. You have no right to make your own theology out of someone… you've taken everything that made her actually interesting! her refusal to be what people expected divinity to look like! and you've turned her into just another terrifying god demanding worship through fear!! You're no different from Deorvinci!! No different from any of the cults! YOU'VE BETRAYED WHAT SHE ACTUALLY WAS!!!”

 

Jubal's hands moved to his sword hilts. "You come into our sanctuary. You mock our founder's sacred work. You spit on the Emanation herself…"

 

"I'm NOT spitting on her!!" Simion interrupted, his voice rising. "I'm DEFENDING her! The real her! Not this cosmic horror fanfiction you've created to justify your need for control and certainty!"

 

"I SERVE the Emanation-"

 

"You serve an IMAGE!" Simion's calm facade shattered, passion flooding his voice. "You serve a LIE you've built because the TRUTH that she was ordinary and joyful and wanted people to be FREE is too threatening to your entire worldview!! You're terrified of a god who doesn't demand obedience!! So you've invented one who does!!"

 

“I'LL SHRED YOOUU!!!"

 

"You want to IMPOSE FEAR! Just like Deorvinci! Just like every religion that's forgotten what the divine actually IS! You want people on their knees because it makes YOU feel powerful! You want worship because it validates YOUR importance! But REAL her- she didn't WANT any of that! She wanted people to be HAPPY! To be FREE! To-"

 

Jubal's Twin swords cleared their sheaths and suddenly lunged.

 

The twin blades of Arbistoria Nihilo flashed in the dim light, extending mid-swing into bladed whips that carved through the air.

 

Simion's hand shot up, Nous Bartos flaring to life."Hard Mind Form 2: Long Face Horoxon!"

 

The ground beneath Jubal erupted upward, liquefying and then solidifying into a barrier of diamond-hard stone.

 

The strike of twin whip swords got blocked.

 

Simion rolled sideways. The tent exploded outward, fabric and poles shredding as the fight spilled into the camp proper.

 

Bithos cultists scattered in alarm.

 

Simion's hands moved in complex gestures, Nous Bartos responding to his will. The ground rippled like water. Stone pillars erupted upward. He shaped them mid-formation, liquefying and resolidifying iron chains, steel walls, diamond spikes along with 2 Golems that cannot be penetrated by any concepts across 3 universes

 

Jubal trade blows with 2 Golems with no signs of exhaustion or struggle. But gradually overpowers them Arbistoria’s seven-dimensional penetration of the sacred artifact ignores Simion's three-dimensional defenses. What should have been an impenetrable stone might as well have been smoke.

 

But Simion wasn't trying to block.

 

He was trying to distract.

 

A dozen stone golems erupted from the ground, humanoid figures eight feet tall, their bodies hardened to steel density. They charged Jubal from three sides.

 

Jubal's whip- swords became a blur of motion.

 

The first golem lost its head. The second was bisected at the waist. The third managed to land a punch before its arm was severed.

 

But they bought Simion time.

 

He slammed both hands down. The earth answered. A wave of liquefied stone rolled toward Jubal like a tsunami, then solidified mid-motion into a wall of interlocking diamond spikes. “Hard mind Seventh Strata: Long face Trinoma!”

 

Jubal leaped over it, his whips extending to impossible lengths, wrapping around a tent pole and using it to vault higher.

 

From above, he unleashed a storm.

 

The whip-swords spun in rapid circles, creating a vortex of bladed wind. Each strike sent out cutting arcs of pressure that carved trenches in the hillside.

 

Simion threw up a layered dome stone, then iron, then diamond, then steel, pouring power into Nous Bartos to reinforce each layer beyond normal material limits.

 

The first three layers shattered in seconds.

 

The fourth cracked.

 

The fifth held for maybe three seconds before spider-web fractures spread across its surface.

 

Simion pushed harder, sweat beading on his forehead. The sixth layer formed, thicker than the others-

 

Jubal landed on top of the dome and drove both whip-swords straight down.

 

They punched through.

 

Simion threw himself sideways, rolling across broken stone as the dome collapsed. A whip-blade carved a line across his cheek, drawing blood.

 

He came up on one knee, breathing hard, and thrust both hands forward.

 

The ground beneath Jubal turned to liquid. Not water but thick, viscous liquid stone that grabbed and pulled.

 

Jubal tried to leap free, but for a split second he was caught, sinking-

 

Simion solidified it instantly. Not to stone. To something harder. Compressed at molecular levels until it was denser than diamond that cannot be penetrated across three conceptual universes.

 

Jubal's legs were trapped up to his knees.

 

"Finally," Simion panted, "got you to-"

 

Arbistoria flared white.

 

The sacred artifact's power surged, and reality itself seemed to crack around the trapped section. The seven-dimensional penetration didn't just bypass physical barriers as if it ignored the very concept of being trapped.

 

Jubal pulled his legs free like he was stepping out of water.

 

"Impressive attempt," Jubal said coldly. "But Arbistoria transcends your parlor tricks, scholar. It doesn't matter how dense you make your constructs. My blades exist on a higher dimensional plane than your artifact can reinforce."

 

"I noticed," Simion muttered, creating four more golems to buy time.

 

They lasted five seconds.

 

Jubal was advancing now, no longer bothering to dodge or weave. His whip-swords carved through everything Simion threw at him barriers, spikes, chains, walls. The seven-dimensional cutting edge made a mockery of three-dimensional defense.

 

Simion was running out of tricks.

 

He tried a pincer attack. golems from three sides, stone spears from above, liquefying the ground beneath.

 

Jubal spun in place, his whip-swords extending to maximum length and creating a horizontal tornado of bladed destruction. Everything within three meters was shredded to fragments.

 

Simion's diamond barrier cracked.

 

Then shattered.

 

A whip-blade caught him across the ribs, carving through his reinforced robes and drawing a line of blood across his side.

 

He stumbled backward, one hand clutched to the wound.

 

"You fought well," Jubal said, his breathing heavy but steady as he advanced. "Better than most heretics. But devotion to the Emanation grants strength beyond mortal limits. Your clever tricks and academic knowledge mean nothing before TRUE faith."

 

"Faith?" Simion straightened despite the pain, despite the blood seeping between his fingers. "You don't have FAITH. You have FEAR. You're terrified of a universe where the divine doesn't validate your ego. Where gods don't NEED you to worship them. Where-"

 

"ENOUGH!"

 

Jubal's whip-swords lashed out in a dual strike, crossing at the point where Simion's head was—

 

CLANG.

 

The sound was like a perfect bell struck at exactly the right resonance.

 

Everything stopped.

 

The merchant girl stood between them.

 

One hand raised, palm up, almost lazy.

 

A small dagger rested in her palm simple, unadorned, looking like something you'd buy at a market stall for three copper.

 

It had stopped both of Jubal's whip-swords dead.

 

No visible effort. No strain. The blades that could cut through seven-dimensional of 7 universe constructs had simply... stopped. Jubal felt like he hit something infinitely harder than existence itself.

 

The girl was smiling.

 

Not her manic, wide grin from before.

 

This was softer. Warmer. Genuine.

 

"Whoops," she said cheerfully. "Did I interrupt? Sorry, I got excited watching you guys argue and lost track of the stabbing!"

 

Jubal stared. His face had gone absolutely white.

 

"That's..." His voice cracked. "That's impossible…."

 

"Mm?" The girl tilted her head. "What is?"

 

"Your dagger..! it's just..!" Jubal pulled his whip-swords back, retracting them to normal length as he pointed accusingly. "Do you have ANY idea what you just did?! Nothing can deflect Arbistoria that easily! To stop my attack, you'd need to penetrate EIGHT-dimensional resistance across EIGHT core universal concepts! No artifact in existence can-"

 

"Oh, this?~" The girl held up the dagger, examining it like she'd just noticed it was there. "This is Rua's Tut Tut!"

 

Dead silence.

 

"...What," Jubal said flatly.

 

"Rua's Tut Tut!" The merchant girl apparently pointed at herself with her free hand. "See, I'm Rua! nice to meet you, by the way! and when someone does something naughty, like trying to kill people during philosophical discussions, I go 'tut tut!'" She wagged her finger disapprovingly, making an exaggerated tsk-tsk sound. With no signs of being upset or even mild seriousness "Tut tut, that's bad! Because when people try to murder my new friends- I go tut tut and stop them!"

 

Simion felt his brain attempting to process this and failing spectacularly.

 

Jubal's eye twitched violently. "That is the most ABSURD-!”

 

"I think it's ADORABLE!~" Rua said happily. "Plus it's functional! Multi-purpose naming! Opens coconuts, deflects seven-dimensional cutting attacks, spreads butter-well, okay, I haven't tried the butter thing yet but I'm pretty sure it would work! Maybe even for circumcision!"

 

"Seven-dimensional-" Jubal's voice was strangled. "My Arbistoria operates on SEVEN-dimensional principles! NOT MANY CAN PENETRATE EIGHT!”

 

"Oh, it's just an ordinary Tut Tut dagger~" Rua said brightly. 

 

"ORDINARY!?" Jubal actually stumbled backward with a look of utter shock and disbelief. 

 

Simion couldn't help it but laugh. A short, sharp, slightly hysterical escaped before he could stop it.

 

Rua's smile widened. "See? HE gets it! A high quality dagger made from the best material! It's not cheap though~" She looked at Jubal. "Why are you so SERIOUS all the time? Don't you ever just... laugh?"

 

"This is BLASPHEMY!" Jubal's hands tightened on his swords. "You mock the sacred, you defile holy relics, you DARE to lecture me about-!"

 

"About how you tried to murder someone for having an opinion? Yeah. I dare. Because here's the thing, angry temple boy, what you just did? Trying to kill someone because they disagreed with you about your religion? That's exactly the kind of thing that B or Bithos, or whatever you want to call her, would find SUPER disappointing if Theolis is right about her."

 

"You speak as if you KNOW the Emanation!" Jubal spat.

 

Rua's smile didn't waver. "Maybe I do. Maybe I don't. But I know and I mean I REALLY know, deep in my gut where the truth lives, that trying to murder people for having different opinions about your god is exactly what someone Joyful would be sad about! If Theolis is right about her~"

 

"You know NOTHING!!"

 

"Maybe~" Rua interrupted, her voice cheerful "that your painting is TERRIBLE and makes her look like a cosmic horror villain when she's actually more like..." She paused, considering. "...like someone who'd get really excited about finding the perfect churros and would want to share it with everyone. Even the people who disagree with her. Especially them, actually!"

 

Something in Jubal's expression cracked.

 

Just for a moment.

 

Then fury crashed back over it like a wave.

 

"I will NOT…" he snarled, "be lectured by some VULGAR MERCHANT who thinks-"

 

He attacked.

 

Both whip-swords extended in a dual spiral, creating a cylindrical vortex of bladed death. A technique meant to shred everything within its radius. A move that seemingly could shred mountains of steel impenetrable across several conceptual universes that is precise and overwhelming.

 

Rua stood perfectly still.

 

Except for her right arm.

 

It moved in a lazy circle, like she was stirring soup at impossible speed. The dagger in her hand became a blur, not a frantic blur, but a casual blur. Like she was swatting away mosquitos while thinking about something else.

 

The sound was incredible.

 

*Clang-clang-clang-clang-clang-clang-clang-!*

 

Thousands of impacts per second. Each one a perfect intercept, meeting Jubal's blades at precisely the angle needed to deflect.

 

Simion couldn't even track her movements. It looked like her arm was moving at the fastest way possible, just swaying gently, but somehow the dagger was everywhere, in a dozen places at once, meeting attacks from angles that should have been impossible.

 

Jubal poured more power into Arbistoria. The seven-dimensional cutting edge flared white, hot enough to distort the air.

 

Rua comically yawned.

 

Right in the middle of the exchange. Her mouth opened wide, she yawned luxuriously, and her FREE hand came up to cover her mouth politely.

 

Her dagger hand never stopped its lazy circular motion.

 

Still blocking every single strike.

 

Jubal's face twisted with fury and disbelief and something approaching panic.

 

He shifted his stance, pulling both whips back and then lashing them forward in a synchronized X-pattern designed to attack from two angles simultaneously, impossible to block without moving-

 

Rua's dagger somehow intercepted both.

 

At the same time.

 

Without her moving from her spot.

 

Simion's scholarly mind tried to work out the geometry and gave up.

 

"This is IMPOSSIBLE! IMPOOOSSSIBLE!!!!" Jubal screamed, sweat pouring down his face. "Arbistoria is a DIVINE artifact! Blessed by the Emanation herself! How can you-!"

 

"Maybe," Rua said, still yawning slightly, "your blessing isn't as impressive as you think? Or maybe-" her smile sharpened, "I'm just really, REALLY good at blocking!" She giggled. "Did you consider that? Sometimes the simplest answer is the right one!"

 

Jubal's composure shattered completely. "I have trained for FIFTEEN YEARS! Mastered EVERY technique! Arbistoria has never…NEVER been so easily-!"

 

"Fifteen years?" Rua's eyes widened with genuine surprise. "Wow! That's a lot of time spent learning how to hit people! Did you ever spend any time learning how to like… approaching hot gals~? They seems more attractive than Bithos!”

 

"THAT PAINTING IS SACRED—"

 

"It's EDGY!" Rua countered cheerfully. "Like, objectively edgy! If that painting was a person it would wear all black and write poetry about how nobody understands its pain!"

 

Despite the situation,despite the blood seeping from his wound, despite the exhaustion, despite everything,Simion felt another laugh bubble up. He couldn't stop it this time.

 

It came out as a sharp bark of genuine amusement.

 

Rua's eyes flicked to him, and her smile softened into something warmer.

 

Jubal's face had gone from pale to flushed to purple. "ENOUGH!"

 

He pulled both whip-swords back, gathering power. The air around him began to distort. Reality itself seemed to ripple as seven-dimensional energy coalesced around Arbistoria's twin blades.

 

This was his ultimate technique. The one he'd never used in actual combat because it required channeling his entire reserve of power through the artifact at once.

 

The whip-swords began to glow with white light so intense it cast shadows in broad daylight.

 

"Arbistoria's Seventh Seal," Jubal intoned, his voice resonating with power. "Divine Severance-"

 

Rua casually flicked her index finger towards Jubal.

 

It was the tiniest yet seemingly scary speed causing it to exert projectile force. 

 

Jubal flew backward.

 

Like he'd been hit by a force that could shatter the whole planet if more force is applied further. 

 

He tumbled across the ground, his concentration broken, his technique dissipating, before finally slamming into the hillside hard enough to crack stone and create a small crater.

 

He tried to rise, wheezing, blood trickling from his mouth.

 

Rua was suddenly standing in front of him.

 

Simion hadn't seen her move. She'd been twenty feet away. Now she was there, crouched down to Jubal's eye level, her expression curious and almost gentle.

 

"Here's the thing." she said softly, her cheerful tone taking on an oddly sincere quality. "I get it. I really do. You're scared. You've built your entire identity around worshipping someone you've never met, someone you've turned into this terrifying cosmic horror because that's the only way you can process the idea of divinity. Because if gods are scary and powerful and demanding, then at least the universe makes sense, right? At least there's order. At least you know your place."

 

Jubal stared at her, his eyes wide.

 

"But what if.. " Rua continued, her voice gentle but carrying an undercurrent of something vast, "what if the divine doesn't want you to know your place? What if she wants you to figure out your own place? What if the whole point is that you're supposed to be free and Joyful and be yourself? not some terrified worshipper kneeling before a cosmic horror painting?"

 

She reached out and very gently bopped him on the forehead with the flat of her dagger.

 

"Tut tut~" she said softly. "You've been very naughty. Trying to kill people over paintings. That's bad form, temple boy."

 

“That's…” Jubal's eyes rolled back.

 

He collapsed, unconscious.

 

Rua straightened, stretching her arms above her head with a satisfied groan. "Whew! Okay, that was fun! Been a while since I had to block that many hits! My arm's gonna be sore tomorrow! Or not?" She rotated her shoulder experimentally. "Well, probably not actually sore because of… you know. but it's the Principle of the thing!"

 

She turned to Simion, who was still sitting on the ground where he'd fallen during the fight, one hand pressed to his bleeding side, staring at her with an expression somewhere between awe, confusion, and dawning realization.

 

Her smile softened.

 

She walked over normal walking, not the impossible instant movement from before and offered her hand.

 

"You okay?" Her voice had lost its manic edge. It was just... warm. Genuinely concerned. "That looks like it hurts."

 

Simion took her hand.

 

She pulled him to his feet with surprising strength, though after what he'd just witnessed, nothing about her strength should surprise him.

 

"Here, hold still." She reached into her cart, which had somehow survived the entire battle completely unscathed despite being in the middle of the combat zone and pulled out a small vial of red liquid. "Healing potion! The GOOD stuff, not the watered-down crap most merchants sell! This'll fix you right up!"

 

She uncorked it and handed it to him.

 

Simion drank automatically, his mind still trying to process everything that had just happened.

 

The pain in his side vanished instantly. He felt his ribs knit back together, his cuts sealing themselves.

 

He lowered the empty vial, staring at Rua.

 

"You..." His voice came out hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again. "You're not an ordinary merchant…."

 

"Msybe? Who knows~" Rua said brightly, her usual manic energy flooding back. "But I DO sell potions! And you just used one, so technically you're a customer! That'll be five silver, please!~"

 

Despite everything, Simion found himself reaching for his coin purse. "You just saved my life and you're charging me for the healing potion?"

 

"Well, YEAH!" Rua looked at him with a funny pout like this was obvious. "I'm not made of money! Do you know how expensive healing ingredients are?! Plus I've got to eat! Food costs money! So does rent! Well, I don't actually pay rent anywhere because I just sleep outside most of the time, but that's a PERSONAL CHOICE, not a financial limitation!"

 

Simion handed over five silver coins, feeling surreal.

 

He'd just watched this girl casually defeat a seven-dimensional artifact wielder. She'd stopped attacks that could cut through conceptual constructs. She'd deflected thousands of strikes with one hand while yawning.

 

And she was charging him for a healing potion.

 

"Thank you for your business!~" Rua pocketed the coins cheerfully. "Okay, so! You had questions earlier about divine hierarchies and stuff, right? Because I have OPINIONS about Fal Demiurges versus Emanations! and how most religious frameworks are fundamentally missing the point-OH! But first-" She grabbed his hand suddenly, her eyes bright. "Thank you."

 

Simion blinked. "For... what?"

 

"For defending her..." Rua's smile softly. "For standing up to an angry temple boy and saying that the real B is not the scary painting version. That was worth admiring. For getting passionate about it even though it could've gotten you killed. That was really brave, and SWEET. HOT EVEN!”

 

Rua grabbed her cart handle. "Now! I'm heading to Theolis! Want to come? I heard they've got AMAZING sweets there!”

 

She started pushing her cart down the hillside, humming a cheerful tune.

 

Simion stood there for a moment, his mind reeling.

 

Then he adjusted his glasses, picked up his notebook from where it had fallen during the fight, and hurried after her.

 

"I have questions…." he said. "So many questions…."

 

"Of course you do! You're a Scholar!" Rua said happily. "Ask away! I might even answer some! Or I might just tell you about the time I accidentally created a breed of carnivorous flowers that only ate underwear! It's a surprise!"

 

"Why underwear specifically?" Simion asked with annoyance yet in non serious way

 

"RIGHT?! That's what I said! But apparently there's some kind of magical resonance between cotton and aggressive vegetation? I don't know, I'm not a BOTANIST!" She paused. "Wait, are you a botanist?"

 

"No, I study divine ontology and comparative theology."

 

"Ooh, FANCY!" Rua's eyes lit up. "Okay, so here's a question for YOU, smart boy- if a god creates a universe and then immediately regrets it, is that universe still divinely ordained or is it just a cosmic oops?"

 

Simion felt his brain attempting to engage with this question. "That's... actually a fascinating theological paradox. Some scholars argue that divine will is infallible by definition, therefore regret would be impossible-"

 

"But what if regret is PART of the divine experience?" Rua interrupted excitedly. "Like, what if gods INTENTIONALLY create imperfect stuff because perfection is BORING? What if the whole POINT is that things are messy and weird and full of mistakes because mistakes are where the INTERESTING stuff happens?!"

 

"That would contradict most theological frameworks that assume divine perfection-"

 

"EXACTLY!" Rua spun around, walking backward while gesturing wildly with her free hand. "Which means most theological frameworks are WRONG! Or at least INCOMPLETE! Because they're trying to make the divine FIT into human concepts of perfection when maybe.. MAYBE the divine is actually way more chaotic and fun and MESSY than anyone wants to admit!"

 

Simion felt something click in his mind. "That's... that aligns with the Theolis records. The way they describe B or you or..." He paused, looking at her carefully. "The way they describe her, she wasn't perfect. She made mistakes. She got into arguments. She even failed at things sometimes. But she was still..."

 

"Divine?" Rua's smile was knowing. "Yeah. Because maybe that's what divine actually means. Not “perfect and untouchable.” But authentically ALIVE and Real!”

 

They walked in silence for a moment, Simion's mind churning through implications.

 

Finally, he asked quietly, "Your name isn't really Rua, is it?"

 

“Yup! It's Ruafosnya!”

 

End Chapter 2

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Philippine Big Boar]

Actually... This chapter is, already much edited for final canonical story. Can any admin make editing or even delete pose allow? 

[zeriiiclaire]

Indeed this reminds of odin spear and legend of mana! Now I can picture the design, music and with narrator

[Philippine Big Boar]

9 minutes ago, zeriiiclaire said:

Indeed this reminds of odin spear and legend of mana! Now I can picture the design, music and with narrator

Love those games too