Madman’s Retirement

"That is what all this has amounted too?!"

Slap!

"A giant tamper tantrum?!"

Slap!

"Stop slapping m-"

Slap!

"Fuck no! Dumb little pieces of shit get slaps!"

Slap!

The paladin glared at him, anger blazing in those eyes.

"This was NOT a temper tantrum. This was a cleansing, an effort to purify the violated church of our mother!"

Grant snorted, clearly not believing the man.

"Bull-shit. The paladin of the temple, one of the most influential figures, one with perhaps more authority than the head of the church, could not have taken any other path? They had to do a suicide plan, to get the church to forcefully recognize the corruption. Or-"

Grant leaned in, his voice sending a chill down the paladin's spine.

"-Or was it to force her to recognize it all? To recognize you? To be punished for all your wrongdoing?" The words cornered him, leaving no room to escape, as the truth

Peter had no response, no retort.

Because deep down he knew the man was right.

There were other easier choices, easier paths.

Dozens of other ways he could've approached this situation. And yet he had chosen this one.

As much as he hated to agree, the man before him had hit on the head, so much so that it irritated him to acknowledge it.

He had done it for attention.

To get Isis to talk to him again. To see him.

Grant gave a bark of a laugh, seeing the look on his face.

"You can't hide stuff from me, much less the obvious. Anyone who heard this story would've said the same to you. It's obvious that you're doing this in a desperate ploy for attention, a stupid need for self-condemnation. It's pathetic."

"If you're done now, I'd like to wrap this up" Peter said cooly, clearly trying to die faster, much to Grant's chagrin.

"No, no I don't think I'm quite done yet." he responded, and then paused thoughtfully.

If what drove him to these lengths was his goddess, then surely the best way of eking out a response out of him was through this Goddess.

"What do you know of how a God is made?" he asked, in a professional tone, as he once more fell into this educational manner, yet there was also a hint of sadistic intent within the question.

Peter snorted. "Gods are created through faith of course." he said in an obvious tone.

Before any other person, Peter would've refused to respond, for this was one of the temple's greatest secrets, no perhaps the greatest one.

Yet Peter could easily glean from the mysterious man that he already knew this. No, the intent was not knowledge, but education. Peter felt uneasy, that this man clearly had something in mind, yet he knew not even in the slightest what it was.

"So, of course you should know their greatest weakness then?"

"That their power is dependent on the faith of others, yes."

"ERR! Wrong!" Grant said gleefully. "On the contrary, it's one of their greatest strengths. No, I'd dare say the danger lies in the influence of faith, the corrupting nature it has, not on the believers, but on the God's themselves."

Peter's eyebrows scrunched up as he looked up at the man in confusion. "What do you mean by that?" he said, his tone was one of confusion and uneasiness as that unsettling feeling increased.

Oh, yes, this is where the fun begins.

"Tell me, what do you think determines what powers a God of faith has exactly? Their preexisting powers? Their domain? Some form of authority bestowed by the heavens?"

"..." Peter remained silent.

"It's faith. Everything a god of faith has is dependent on what the people believe they have, paired with how much faith they receive. A god of fire with low power in myth can overcome a god of a more primordial form of fire, depending on the faith and dedication of their followers. It's a rather messy guessing game honestly. Balancing the mythos with the faith equals out into the estimated power, but even then, it's rarely accurate. There's more nuance really, but that stuff is boring really."

"What's your point exactly?"

"My point, dear paladin, is that everything a god is, is born of what the people think of them. Their domain, their reach, their influence, their... personality"

"What?" Peter said, this time genuinely confused, as that uneasy feeling continued to increase, as he felt it crawl up his feet.

"Yes, they don't like to mention that part, do they? A god's entire personality, nay their entire being can be changed by the faith of the people. Make no mistake, faith is a great weapon, capable of feats that few sorcerers or even cultivators can manage, but it comes with a great cost. Godhood, not for me"

Grant chuckled.

"Can you imagine that? Your essence, who you are, your entire personality, changing upon the whims of beings who pass in the blink of an eye? We who are mortal have the blessed ability to determine our own fates. But Gods? They, who are above us are ultimately bound to a set of rules, the very thing that empowers them serves as the chains which bind them to a set of rules.

Do you know how that feels? To know you who exists at this very moment, could one day become an entirely different being because those below you change their opinion of you? That you might just wake up one day, knowing that you've changed, but helpless to do anything about it?

One could be the kindest goddess around, but helpless to do anything, because people you love believe their goddess works in "mysterious ways", forced to work in the most ridiculous and subtle ways, never truly able to do what you want to do? It is a cruel punishment, that no one deserves, to have so much power and so much heart, yet with no hands to do so?

Or even worse, when one of your own paladins steps forth, seeking to "purge" your temple of the filth, only to dirty your reputation, and forcibly bring a horrid change? To feel the change, as people whisper about you, the goddess of kindness, who has a cruel streak? Helpless to watch as your entire being twists and contorts, done by the hands of one of the children you love so much? Oh, that must hurt to watch, hmm?" Grant looked meaningfully at Peter.

No...

Now Peter realized where this was all leading, as a horrid feeling emerged in his heart.

Guilt, terrible guilt as the realization washed over him, the consequences of what he had done.

A wave of despair came over him, as the uneasiness that had been crawling up his legs morphed into guilt and regret.

He shouldn't trust this man's words, and yet he knew.

He knew what the man was saying was true.

Grant continued to press on, chiding the fool before him.

"I mean, you watch over the child for years, show him unwavering support, but all it takes is one bad day, and he shuns you!? I mean, you didn't think she just stopped talking to you, did you? A god's nature does not change so easily. But man does.

No, let's be honest here. You closed her out. You couldn't bear the thought that your goddess could allow such a thing, and deep down, you resented her for it. The goddess you love and trusted allowed such a thing to happen, and you allowed it to happen.

As you pass into death, no matter how you're judged in the end, know that you're guilty."

Seeing Peter's look of utter despair, Grant chuckled. "That's better"

Shlick

The sword easily slid through the man's chest, as Peter showed a look of agony and despair, not at the pain of the blade, but at the realization at just how badly he screwed up.

Watching the body lifelessly hit the floor, Grant's sadistic manner dissipated quickly, as he merely looked on in annoyance.

And then, he disappeared. Peter locked eyes with the ferryman.

Come. The judges eagerly await you, tragic paladin of Isis

The paladin nodded solemnly as he stepped into the boat, sitting alongside the countless other spirits, heading to their final destination.

"Then they'll have to wait a little longer." Came a familiar voice and Peter looked over in surprise, his eyes widening.

Grant!

Peter quickly observed something important.

Grant was not dead. Unlike the countless other spirits on the boat, Peter included, Grant was not ethereal, but clearly sold and alive.

The ferryman of the dead chuckled.

Unfortunately, if you are here to settle scores, you are too late. Unless you'd like to consult the lord of the underworld to express your grievances.

Grant shook his head. "No need. Why go to the middleman, when I can simply ask death itself for the favor?"

Charon paused, weirdly capable of expressing confusion in spite of it's cloaked face.

What nonsense are you-

The ferryman paused midsentence as it twitched.

The gloomy aura surrounding it changed into a far calmer aura, and yet there was something ominous about it.

It was too calm. Quiet, an absolute void of fluctuation, an unnatural stillness.

You have my attention, Grant.

You want this one?

The voice that came out of the ferryman was surreal. It lacked the great weight that the ferryman's voice had, yet the voice stood out. The weird, friendly tone felt completely natural, and yet his body(?) screamed that something was wrong with this voice, that had seemingly overwhelmed the ferryman.

Peter could see that he was not along, for all the other spirits had clearly avoided the ferryman now, desperately trying to get as far away from the thing as far as possible.

"Yes, I do not think death satisfactory enough as punishment. I'm sure you know what I'm thinking already." Grant said, clearly completely at ease with the weird presence.

It laughed, a cackling, rattling laughter that shook him down to his very soul.

Fine!

You can take him Grant.

You've already cheated me countless times anyway.

Why not cheat me once more?

I don't suppose this will be your last life, hmm?

Grant chuckled in turn, yet his laughter had a tinge of pain. "We can only hope." he said earnestly.

The two laugh together for a while, an eerie scene in the land of death.

And just as soon as it had arrived, the mysterious presence disappeared, and the unnaturally clean aura returned to its gloomier aura, yet all the spirits there rejoiced to see the return to form, and even Peter sighed, exhaled despite the lack of lungs.

The ferryman stared at Grant, clearly appreciating the man under different lenses.

... He says you can go, and that no one will stop you. Take him and go. The ferry man seemed wary, but Grant ignored him, and Peter was focused on something else.

"Wait where are we going-"

"-To the best punishment I can think of" Grant cut him off calmly, and

pop

They were gone from the underworld.

Peter was wary as he realized that the depths to this mans power was far more than he could possibly imagine, and terrified at what kind of vicious judgement such a man could come up with.

"Where are we?" he asked warily, yet Grant ignored him.

The location they were in seemingly got brighter, though perhaps his sight adapted.

What really mattered was what lay in the center of the small cave.

A female canine kobold was panting desperately, being tended to by an older kobold.

The kobold smelled of medicinal herbs.

A healer.

"Push!" he shouted as the female kobold grunted, pushing as hard as he can.

Peter quickly realized what was going on. "She's giving birth." he muttered reverently, for as a paladin of Isis, Peter held a great deal of respect for those who underwent the tribulation of childbirth.

Grant responded. "Yes. However, it will be a difficult birth, after a long journey which this tribe has undergone in order to escape the terrible grasp of man. Unfortunately, of the four cubs meant to be born today, one of them will be stillborn, and the other three will likely starve on this journey. "

"You don't know that." Peter said defiantly. His fear of the man beside him had quickly disappeared, replaced with defiance.

Grant chuckled. "On the contrary, I do" he said, holding a mysterious cat's cradle, a weird mix of strings and indecipherable runes. "Their fates have been determined as such, as I have read them."

He dangled the little contraption. "A mix of fate-based items including the strings of fate and the norn stones. Makes for an accurate weather detector, amongst other things."

Hearing this, Peter felt a twinge of sadness.

Grant looked at him. "Hypocrite."

Peter had no response to that. "Why bring me here?" he asked upset. What else was there to witness here but tragedy?

"Well, I want to make a deal. One I think you'll quite like."

Peter grunted. "I refuse. As you said, I seek judgement, so let me leave and return to my damnation."

"No, no, it's too easy to just punish you, wouldn't you agree? After all you've done, and all the pain you've inflicted?"

"..."

"Besides, I have something you want. Depending on what you do next, what I tell the guildmaster may change."

The paladin's eyes shook, as he realized the implications of the man's statement. "You mean..."

"Yes, I have yet to decide what I'll tell him. It's true that a branch off of the church of Isis committed a great wrong, but I have negated that for the most part. Of course, what'll really matter is who's in charge of the failed revolt. And really, how many people actually saw you? All I have to do is blame a shapeshifter or a fake and everything's solved."

Peter asked eagerly. "What do I have to do?"

Grant shrugged. "Simple. Live. For your crimes against the non-humans, my punishment for you is simple. Live as one of them. I told you. One of them was to be stillborn, and the rest were likely to follow thereafter. But if you agree that changes. It will live. You will live.

The paladin truly looked conflicted for a moment, seemingly unsure what to say.

Grant snorted. "I offer you life in return for your innocence, and you refuse? How ridiculous."

"And what do you get out of this?" Peter shot back, unsure as to why this wicked and mysterious man would offer him this deal. It was suspicious.

Shrug. "I do what I want, when I want. You don't need to understand, just do."

Peter still looked unwilling but responded. "Fine, I will do this... punishment as you desired."

Grant rolled his eyes. "Ha. How ungrateful. Fine, the deal is made." Grant waved his hand, and Peter found his soul being dragged into the body of the limp kobold.

The grieving mother looked so happy as the small chest of the puppy started heaving slowly, as she nuzzled her "son"

"Player 75" Grant called out, and a kobold came forward in response, one who was lithe and slim, yet power was seen in how well it had managed to hide itself from all others in the room.

He cautiously kneeled before such a person.

"And who may be the greatness before me?" he asked, with a polite yet alert tone. It was clear the kobold was wary of the mysterious being who had shown un silently, unseen by all but him.

"I am player zero."

The kobold's eyes widened before quickly returning to normal. It was a quick, almost imperceptible action.

"I have a favor to ask of you."

"Speak and I shall do." the kobold said simply.

"Keep an eye on that pup." he said, indicating towards the pup that Peter had entered.

"May I ask why?" the kobold asked, and Richard responded, finding it only fair to do so when asking a favor.

"The pup there has the soul of paladin Peter of the temple of Isis. He has committed a great wrong, so I have sentenced him to life."

"Paladin Peters! You mean that one?"

"The one and only."

"You do not need to lie to me for me to do this."

"Believe me or not, I do not care. I merely demand that you watch him and talk with him. I suspect that he will have many personal revelations over the next few years of his life."

"... Very well." The kobold said, unconvinced, but obeying, nonetheless.

"Trust me, this will benefit you as well. I see that you and your clan are fleeing now, no?"

"We are." he said warily, and his shaggy unkempt fur clearly agreed.

"Then you would agree that a paladin would be of great service to the clan, one known for his passion." Even if it was possible to be misplaced passion.

"I do."

"Then we are settled. Though, I do believe I owe you a reward for your efforts."

"I would say there is no need, but unfortunately I suspect I'm not in a position to refuse such gifts." He said sadly, looking around the camp of struggling kobolds, all of whom seemed in poor condition. "

Grant nodded in approval. "Good man. It's true age brings humility hm? Never be afraid to take a handout."

Grant tossed him something casually, but the kobold's eyes widened.

In his hands was an artifact, a cloak of incomparable darkness, alongside numerous resources and 3 artifacts, seemingly one for each of his siblings.

The hunter kneeled thankfully.

"There is no need to be so grateful. The system rewards players for their efforts after all, and I witnessed your proud hunt of that lizard with draconic bloodline. Consider this your reward."

And with that, Grant was gone under the gob smacked gaze of the kobold.

[Why'd you do it? You are rarely so kind]

"Who said it was kindness?" Grant said indifferently, yet there was a cruel edge to it.

[...]

"The greatest punishment for someone is not to die, but to be forced to live with the consequences of their actions.

Peter wants condemnation, to be punished for all the wrong he has done. To reward his sin with life is great pain, for now he will be forced to live with the consequences of his actions, instead of receiving that penance he so desperately wanted.

He'll want to die but won't be able due to his sense of duty and his sense of guilt over how he has wronged the non-humans. He'll isolate himself mentally, finding himself unfit to live amongst those he's persecuted, even for a good cause. I won't need to punish him; he'll punish himself."

Grant paused, before adding something else.

"And well, you know, he's not that bad of an apple. He just needs a little polishing."