Chapter 5: A Conversation with a God

The banquet eventually died down. Music softened, firepits dimmed, and the elves stumbled back to their homes, drunk on ale and the fantasy that their new Chief had descended from heaven to save them all.

I wasn’t drunk. I was exhausted.

Thankfully, they didn’t chain me to the highest hut like Liraeth had threatened earlier. Instead, they gave me a modest one near the village center. Wooden walls, a single bed, a chest, and a window letting in the cool forest breeze. A hut fit for a wandering adventurer, not a king. Exactly what I wanted.

Not that it came easy.

Liraeth had practically begged me to take her own hut, sparkling eyes like she was offering me a divine relic.
“Please, Tengen-sama! My home is unworthy compared to yours!”

I shot her down instantly.

She pouted. Then tried again.
“Very well! Then at least allow me to sleep in your hut tonight, to guard you!”

Also a no. A very firm no.

The regal Elder of the village actually sulked like a child denied candy. Terrifying before, now she was… obsessed. If I ever tried to escape, she’d probably chase me across the continent and drag me back by the ankles. Honestly… I believed it.

I collapsed onto the bed.

For a brief moment, a smile tugged at my lips. The cheers, the gifts, the gratitude—they warmed something in me I hadn’t felt in years. I’d only known these people a single day, yet part of me enjoyed this. Being respected. Being wanted.

Then I slapped my cheeks. Nope. Not falling for it. I wanted to be an adventurer, not a Chief drowning in paperwork.

I shut my eyes. Sleep claimed me.

When I opened them, I wasn’t in the hut anymore.

I stood barefoot on wet stone. A vast flat rock stretched beneath an endless blue sky that rippled like water. Waves lapped softly against the edges. The air smelled faintly of salt.

And there, sitting at the edge like a fisherman, was a man.

Broad back. Long crimson hair like a river of fire. A massive frame corded with muscle. He reminded me of my father, Ashryn… but older. Heavier. A red beard spilled thick down his chest.

He hadn’t even turned, but I knew his eyes were waiting.

The man’s deep voice rolled across the stone.
“If you’re awake, boy, stop gawking. Come.”

Cautiously, I stepped forward. Instincts screamed at me to be ready—weight balanced, ready to strike or dodge.

He chuckled.
“Relax. No need for that with your grandfather.”

I froze. “…Grandfather?”

He finally turned. Crimson beard, sharp features, glowing eyes that carried warmth despite his bulk.

“I am Azul,” he said simply. “Father of Ashryn. Which makes me… your grandfather.”

My stomach dropped.

Azul.

The First God of the Surface. The one the system had claimed I was the reincarnation of. The one Ashryn himself had mentioned. The one I was supposed to be.

He led me to the water’s edge, where the not-ocean shimmered endlessly. We sat.

“This place,” Azul said, waving a hand, “is the subconscious of our shared soul. A space I created. Cool, right?”

I stared blankly. “…Right.”

He smirked. “No appreciation for aesthetics, huh?”

“Not really.”

His face hardened.
“Listen well, Tengen. You are my reincarnation. This soul is mine. Entirely mine. Only a sliver belongs to you.”

I stiffened. “So… what, I’m just renting my own body?”

“In a sense.” He remained calm. “But let me explain why.”

He told me the history.

Three realms.

The Heavens, domain of Angels.

The Surface, home to humans, elves, dragons, beasts.

The Underworld, birthplace of Demons—an accident the Originator never intended.

The Originator, creator of everything, gave each realm independence. To prevent chaos, he appointed a God for each. Azul became the first God of the Surface. The Supreme Angel ruled the Heavens, bearing the Key of Divinity that locked its gates. The Underworld was abandoned.

Balance lasted—until the Supreme Angel grew greedy. He sought to rule all three realms. And since the Heavens were untouchable, he waged war on the Surface.

“For millennia, I fought them,” Azul said bitterly. “Until at last, the Supreme Angel himself struck me down. Before I fell, I entrusted Ashryn with this world.”

His eyes glowed with pride. “And protect it he did. For thousands of years, your father clashed with a God. Even stalemated him. Ashryn is… perhaps stronger than I was.”

I swallowed hard.

“But now Ashryn is gone,” Azul said gravely. “And there is no one left to stop the Angels. Which is why, Tengen… you must ascend. Take my place. Become a God. Protect this world.”

Silence.

“…No.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

“I said no.”

He looked almost offended. But I held his gaze.

“First of all—you said this soul is yours, right? So why not just take over? Wouldn’t that be easier?”

He blinked, then chuckled.
“I could. But I won’t. This is your life, Tengen. I refuse to steal it. You’re my grandson. My blood. This world forced my soul into you, but I won’t rob you of your existence.”

“So it’s my choice?”

“Yes.”

“Then my answer’s the same. I don’t want to be a God.”

His brows furrowed. “You would turn your back on your duty?”

“With all due respect,” I said firmly, “I’ve known you and my dad for, what, twenty minutes? Glad to meet you, sure. Happy to know my father was a badass. But I’m not you. I’m not him. I’m me.”

His eyes softened slightly.

“My mom told me to live free. To do whatever I wanted. To never let anyone cage me. Funny enough, my dad told me the same thing in the dungeon. So yeah… sorry. But I’m listening to them, not you.”

For a long moment, Azul was silent. Then he smiled.

“…I see. You remind me of myself when I was young.”

He stood, presence fading. “I’m leaving soon. This is the first and last time we’ll meet. From now on, I give you full authority over this soul. Live freely. Walk your own path.”

My throat tightened. “But… can’t I talk to you again?”

He shook his head gently. “I don’t want to weigh on you. Live without me, Tengen.”

And then he wrapped me in a crushing embrace. His warmth pressed into my bones.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Live free. Protect yourself above all else.”

“…Grandpa…” I croaked.

And then he was gone.

I woke with a start.

The hut ceiling loomed overhead. The village was quiet, the night deep. A tear slid down my cheek.

“…Sorry, Grandpa,” I muttered. “But I’ll only do what I want. Whatever seems fun.”

I pulled the blanket over me. Sleep dragged me under again.

Morning came with the smell of porridge and tea.

I cracked my eyes open—and froze.

Yoruha sat beside me, silver hair glowing in the sunlight, tray in her hands, smiling like the purest angel. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have mistaken her for one.

Instead, I knew the truth. Demon.

“Good morning, Tengen-sama!” she chirped.

I blinked blearily. “Thanks…” Suspicion crept in. “…There’s no poison in this, right?”

Her eye twitched. “What the hell do you take me for?!”

Before she could smack me, the door slid open.

And in floated hell itself.

“Good morning, Tengen-sama~” sang Elder Liraeth.

I nearly spat my porridge.

What followed was chaos.

Liraeth gushed over how “majestic” I looked with bed hair. She demanded to feed me by hand. Yoruha fumed. I summoned a barrier—yes, against two women and a bowl of porridge—and declared I would finish my meal alone.

They looked at me like I’d just split the heavens.

And then, as if that weren’t enough, two young elves entered. One lively, one shy. They bowed politely and declared:

“Tengen-sama… we would like to bathe you.”

My brain short-circuited.

Finally. The classic isekai trope. The bath scene. My destiny.

Outwardly, I kept my composure. Inwardly, I screamed YESSSS.

I even promised to grant them names as thanks. Mana flared, dramatic, noble… and then everything went black.

I collapsed face-first.

The girls panicked. Then, once they saw I was breathing, they nodded solemnly.

“…We should still bathe him.”
“Yes. He entrusted us with this honor.”

And so, my dream came true.

While I was unconscious.

Two weeks passed in a blur.

I trained. I ate. I wandered the village. I delegated every “Chief” duty to Liraeth and let her call it wisdom.

The villagers adored me. Too much. Terrifyingly much.

Still… I couldn’t say I hated it.

By the fourteenth evening, I was perched in a tree with Dravel, overlooking the forest canopy glowing in twilight.

I bit into a piece of fruit. “Hey, Dravel. How far’s the nearest human city?”

He studied me. “The Capital of Solaria. Five to seven days on foot. Less if you fly.”

Just the word stirred something restless inside me. Markets. Taverns. Adventurers. The Capital.

“…I want to see it,” I said.

Dravel gave me a look that was way too smug for a man with no expression. “So you want to go.”

“Yeah. Not forever. Just to see it.”

He nodded, almost approving. And for the first time, I realized how much I respected him. Dependable, calm, strategic—the perfect counterweight to my chaos.

But then he said it.

“We’d better tell Liraeth and Yoruha.”

My stomach dropped. Just imagining their reactions made me sweat.

“This is gonna be hell,” I groaned.

Dravel smirked. “Good luck.”

“You’re coming too!” I snapped.

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

That smug bastard. He was coming to watch me suffer.

“…You’re enjoying this, aren’t you.”

“Immensely.”

I slumped back against the trunk, groaning.
“Gods damn it.”

And so, bracing myself for doom, I prepared to break the news.

Because if there’s one thing scarier than the Angels of Heaven… it’s telling those two women I’m leaving.