Chaotic Craftsman Worships The Cube

In the sub-basement of Myriad’s church, Ben forced himself to act. As every instance of himself was returned to a single whole the second he stepped through, others within the void sensed a way out through the madness that hell had left them in as their own instances began to collapse, driving them through the space as a few dozen made it back into the mortal plane before Ben could close the way, capturing them all with his soul and examining their histories before condemning them again, seeing none who were worthy of mercy in that batch at least.

Even condemning them himself felt like too much despite the sort of crimes they held, yet he wasn’t in a position to deal with those ghosts in a different way, and he couldn’t let them get out into the world, driving his actions. It was only when that was done and he was sure nothing else would be getting through that he let himself collapse, heaving a deep breath as he did.

He’d made it back. He was home, in the mortal realm, and no longer in a position where he needed to suppress his rage. After all he’d done, gods of that world had just attempted to damn him for eternity and he wouldn’t be letting that fact go, even if that meant the people he loved would be left to believe he was gone for a little while longer.

When he’d dropped into hell, his connection to Thera had broken, leaving him with no doubt she was busy trying to figure out what had happened to him, and Myriad had been talking to him at the time, meaning his god knew exactly what had been done. Both would be worried sick, but if he revealed himself to them too soon, the gods who’d attacked him would likely become aware of his escape as well, something he couldn’t allow when he didn’t know what else they would do. Ten divinities had descended to get rid of him, but that didn’t mean more weren’t responsible. He needed to investigate, and with that, he needed to be able to walk the different pathways to each god involved.

Some he knew, but others he didn’t, not that it mattered. Go into the church of any god and he’d be able to find any path without issue, just as he had with Nare and Helori before, but knowing that, he still needed to be careful about how he went about it. He was in the middle of town, after all. If he left, then he could easily be recognized, and if he stretched his soul out, then Thera, Mora, or even any of the smaller soul spirits would be liable to finding him. If he was to assume that the divine were keeping eyes on his family, then he couldn’t let them notice him either.

And if I need to go to any church to find the pathways to the assholes who did that to me, taking any shortcut through the shop is pretty liable to get me found too. Whatever, doesn’t matter. Just means I’m going the long way around.

Needing only a bit of preparation first. While he could hide himself from the eyes of the divine with his sacrilege, mortals would take a bit more to deal with, so he first materialized a hooded cloak to hide away his face from anyone who might recognize him before next applying all of the power of his newly awakened alien sense.

He didn’t have the leeway to experiment with it to see if there were any other ways using it had changed, and while even the second tier was an unfathomable drop compared to how it had felt to use when he’d layered it in hell, his alien sense now went beyond the power that most others in the world would be able to experience their own natural senses, which was good enough for him as he actualized around himself, perfectly mimicking the colours anyone would see when viewing him from any angle to leave him invisible to the world, as ready as he could be as he ascended the stairs and let himself out of the church, seeing Stonewall around him when he did.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Late afternoon, plenty of people were still out and about, finishing up their days, with not a single eye on him. He was perfectly invisible, hidden from the world around him as he lifted himself into the air and began to fly off. Slowly at first, not wanting the wind he would leave to be noticed by anyone, but picked up speed the moment he left the town’s range, until he was shooting across forests and roads, using that time to plot and plan as he went, a question taking up most of his mind as he did. Kill the gods involved in what happened to him or just break them so he could use them for whatever worth they held later, with that debate taking the majority of his trip out.

Like returning to the womb, Ben joked to himself, the lack of comment making him miss Myriad all the more, with only a few minutes to go before he’d be able to bother his god with his sense of humour once again.

Along with my actions, but I think in this one particular case, he’s going to feel pretty forgiving, right?

Considering that everything he was going to do was a reaction to his attempted murder and damnation, he doubted Myriad was going to have much complaint for however he reacted to it, and as for any other, uninvolved gods, they would just have to deal with how it played out. Things had gotten too far; there was no room for further discussion, so with that settled, Ben landed, walking the rest of the way to his destination.

A building was in sight, the only one around the meadow it had been built in, looking beautiful yet simple. There was no display of opulence, nothing gaudy about it, it was simply a well-made piece of architecture, built with care and devotion as Ben made his way to its doors to let himself in, back to the church where he’d first awoken on that world.

For what he needed, a communal church had made the most sense, given that all of the statues of all of the gods within it would let him find the paths to their realms thanks to the faith they received, and without passing through any of his shortcuts, that had been the closest one. A pilgrimage point for people to travel to with the intent of showing their gods their faith, walking those halls again after so long couldn’t help but feel strange.

The fact that it was so close to Stonewall meant that he should have visited sooner; he still kept in touch with some living in those halls, after all, but he never had. There was always something else to do, some other problem to manage or a goal to reach that had taken up his time, and while there were plenty who lived there he liked and cared about, that would never change the fact that it was where he’d found out he’d lost his old life.

Still, I should at least say hello while I’m here, he told himself, but that was a task for after. The gods came first, and, feeling that priority, he walked through the halls of statues dedicated to them, feeling with his sacrilege which one of them matched the divinity he’d felt before he’d been dropped below until he had all he could find with the information he held. He still knew there was a chance that more had been involved, but he could steal the information on who else had participated in plots of his disposal from their thoughts and then find their pathways using the statues around him as well. None would escape, and none of them would ever know peace again. For that and all else he’d put up with during his dealings with the divine, Ben would have his revenge.