Chapter 17: The Weight of a God's Gaze

Living with a divine tourist was a nightmare. Isao didn't interfere, but his presence was a constant, oppressive weight. He followed us everywhere, a silent, handsome, black-robed specter of judgment. Mealtimes were the worst. He would dissect the food with analytical precision, offering commentary like, "Fascinating. This 'stew' has achieved a state of quantum uncertainty. It is simultaneously meat, vegetable, and despair."

My friends tried to cope in their own ways. Rina treated him with hostile silence, gripping her mace a little tighter whenever he was near. Luna, bless her heart, tried to be polite, offering him tea, which he would politely decline with a comment like, "Thank you, dear, but I find mortal beverages a bit… corporeal."

The Grimoire, however, saw Isao as an intellectual rival.

"Your command over temporal stasis is impressive, for a brute-force application of cosmic law," the book announced one evening from Luna's pack. "However, a truly elegant mind would appreciate the nuanced beauty of a well-worded paradox spell."

Isao just smiled. "It's cute that you think words are more final than an ending." The book went silent for the rest of the night.

Chloe, on the other hand, was not intimidated. She was fascinated.

"Your scythe!" she said one day, her eyes wide with scientific glee as she cornered Isao in the common room of the inn. "What is it made of? It doesn't seem to reflect light in a conventional manner! Is it forged from solidified nothingness? A singularity contained in a blade-shaped event horizon? May I have a small sample for analysis?"

She reached out with a pair of tweezers. Isao didn't move, but the air around the scythe grew so cold that frost formed on Chloe's goggles.

"I wouldn't," he said, his voice losing its playful edge for the first time. It was a simple statement, but it carried the absolute finality of the grave.

Chloe froze, her hand trembling. She slowly, carefully, retracted the tweezers. "Right. Understood. No samples." She scurried away, looking genuinely frightened for the first time since we'd met her.

Isao's charming smile returned as he looked at me. "Mortals are so curious," he said, as if nothing had happened. "It's one of their more endearing, and often fatal, qualities."

I couldn't take it anymore. Later that night, I confronted him outside the inn. The moon was full, casting long shadows across the empty street.

"Why are you really here, Isao?" I demanded, my arms crossed. "This isn't just for 'fun.' I know you."

He leaned against the wall, the picture of casual indifference. "Maybe I missed you," he said. "The Underworld is so quiet without your soul passing through every few decades."

"Stop it," I snapped. "Be serious."

His smile faded. He looked up at the moon, his amethyst eyes seeming to hold a universe of secrets. "Things are in motion, Aka-chan," he said, his voice low. "Even up here, you must have felt it. The systems are becoming unstable. The barriers between worlds are thinning. Old things are waking up."

My blood ran cold. I had felt it. The weird glitches, the random new monster appearances like the Dragon of Gluten. I'd assumed it was just my bad luck.

"What's coming?" I asked.

He looked back at me, his expression unreadable. "A war. A real one. Not like the performative nonsense you usually oversee. And you, my dear little goddess of second chances, are standing right in the middle of it." He pushed himself off the wall and took a step closer. "So yes, I'm here for the show. Because when you're involved, it's always the best show in the cosmos."

He reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of hair from my face. His touch was as cold as winter stone, yet it sent a jolt through me that had nothing to do with fear.

"Try not to die too quickly this time," he murmured. "I'd hate to have to process your paperwork before the finale."