Netori: Stealing The Hero's Party!

Chapter 644: The Last Of The Three Elder Gods

Being the demi-god of time was no easy task. Each world only had one that they shared through dimensions. And although it ensured that no corruption was built in another godʼs heart, it also meant that whenever someone tried to break the laws of the heavens, it would fall onto Razor to set things right once and for all. The mortals and their actions, however, he could not interfere with, and thus, landing in the twilight between dusk and dawn, he pulled himself a chair and looked up at Pathfinderʼs hideous one-eyed face.

”You know why Iʼm here, donʼt you?”

As the golden eye of the god parted and his tongue of silver slithered out, Razor scoffed to himself at just how much the golden pariah disgusted him.

”To end me, that is why…” Yet the godʼs words didnʼt falter as he was already used to being treated differently. ”Youʼre here to end me for allowing another to walk into our world. But tell me, oh immortal, what will you do about her–this mercenary of chaos?”

Lifting his head, Razor squinted his eyes in anger. Pathfinder knew very well that no god could directly meddle with the fates of mortals, thus, the demi-god of time was helpless to whatever it was that the otherworlder planned to do.

”You know something, Pathfinder?” Glancing up at him again, Razor crossed his legs and pulled out his stopwatch. Swinging it by its chain, he smiled faintly as he declared. ”In no world are you tolerable, the worst god with the worst obsession with control over his daughter. It would almost disgust me even more if I didnʼt know what youʼve done in other worlds to keep her from falling under someone elseʼs control.”

”SILENCE!” The angered tongue quivered, and the eyelids that formed the godʼs body squinted tight enough to make him bite his own tongue. ”I WILL NOT HEAR A WORD FROM A LESSER! IʼM THE ELDER GOD OF DAY AND NIGHT!”

”Youʼre a moron is what you are.” Shaking his head, Razor had hoped Pathfinder would see reason during his visit but as the conversation dragged on, it became obvious that there was no saving his soul, not here not anywhere else.

”YOU DARE INSULT ME AGAIN!” As the elder god yelled once more, the darkness around Razor began closing in in the form of violet mist. The essence of twilight was imbued within the dead godʼs magic, but even if it were to touch Razor, a second would pass, and the mortal immortal would come back alive.

”One of the three remaining Elder gods and a moron to boot,” getting up from the chair, Razor stared into the singular split eye of the elder. ”Your daughter will be ashamed, and so will she when she finds out upon waking up eventually.”

To his words, Pathfinderʼs eye widened. His tongue retreated a little, and the mist approaching Razor followed the same example.

”A third elder god? Who are you even–” The dead god racked his mind, but beside him and Nerva, no other elder shouldʼve been alive. ”Then who the hells are you talking about?!”

”You donʼt have to know, you god of headaches and nightmares…” Glancing down at his stopwatch, it took Razor but one click and the soul of the elder god halted in a crystal of time. The world had lost what little color it had inside the realm, and as Razor looked up at the frozen godʼs eye, he took a deep breath and sighed. ”You couldʼve lived quietly, but you had to make trouble, somehow even more than that troublemaker goddess.”

Taking a step in the air, Razor walked upwards in a circle as if climbing a spiralling staircase. Upon reaching the godʼs dead body, he ran his finger in a circle on his skin and through it he forced his arm inside of him. Reaching for his soul, he snatched it out of the troublemaker and held it firmly in his hands.

Squeezing around the cold marble that was the soul, he walked down the steps and clicked his stopwatch again. The body of the god finally fell to the ground, more lifeless than a lich and more degraded than a worm-cleaned carcass. Turning around, Razor gave one last glance to the elder god and whispered.

”Had you your powers and dignity, I wouldnʼt be able to kill you so easily. But, even in the oblivion of unbeing, I want you to know that you had it coming.” And thus, with a tight squeeze around the soul, Razor finally put an end to the bringer of nightmares and sower of doubt in mortal souls.

With Pathfinder gone and nobody to take his place, however, the cycle of night and day on whose shoulders will they fall? Will Nerva, the undead goddess, take over her fatherʼs responsibility, or will the world forever be cast in darkness on one side and forever bright on the other? Either way, it wasnʼt Razorʼs job to find out, as there were countless other possible possibilities where Pathfinder had to be taken out.

ʼOne down, a few hundred million remain.ʼ Thankfully for Razor, however, Pathfinder wasnʼt a god that survived in the majority of timelines that ran parallel and in sync with each other. Thus, once he was done with what he had, no more surprises would be waiting for him or this very world, for that matter. ʼWhy canʼt you gods be normal? How much power do you really need? When will it be enough? Will it ever be enough?ʼ

Having seen the horrors of war with gods fighting alongside mortals, Razor feared that history would soon repeat itself, and there was little he could do to avert it. Compared to the elders, his powers were limited, and limiting them further were the rules of heavens–not decided by the council of today, but something far greater.

Despite it all, he held onto the only thing that had kept him alive for as long as it had. Hope–one of the few human qualities that had remained with him, and as long as he was alive, he held on to it dearly–hoping that one day, this world would be free from the demon lord and the bickering children that were the current gods.

”Well, off to work then…” And with that, he marched and marched again, and by the time night came–Pathfinderʼs name was forever forgotten in every possible realm…