Estee Lauder folded all of her small robots together, then looked down at her disposable space magic costume with an expression of deep distress. Because she lacked a true understanding of magic, all she could produce was this single-use contraption—an expensive toy that had cost her rare, painstakingly gathered materials. This time, she had acted far too rashly.
Losses that could have been avoided…
She sighed. Now was not the time to wallow in regret. She had to hurry and deliver the message to the other survivors. From the signs, it seemed the gods were preparing yet another banquet—another round of capturing new toys. Those gods were the sort to discard the old and delight in the new.
Aside from a few specially crafted toys kept to preserve their own prestige, the rest were disposable in the eyes of the gods. Even prisoners held in divine cages were forced to breed, their offspring destined to swell the gods' collection. And if the captives resisted, the gods would twist reality itself—using illusions to drive them into coupling.
There was nothing the gods could not do—only things beyond human imagination.
Aslan, watching Estee Lauder's pained expression as she packed her case, produced a storage box of his own design from his pocket. Unlike hers, his could be reused indefinitely, with a capacity far larger than her fragile device. Gathering her creations one by one was painfully slow; with this, it was effortless.
He then restored Justice to its pendant form and hung it around his neck. The fact that a colossal mecha could transform into something so small made Estee Lauder glance at him in wonder once again.
Her pale blue eyes made it obvious—how desperately she wished to learn, how badly she wanted to master this technology. Even if it did not help her fulfill her greater wish, it could help her survive. The faster she could recover her materials, the greater her chance of living another day.
"I'll teach you when I have time," Aslan said. "But didn't you say it's dangerous to linger here?"
He surveyed the battle-scarred terrain, repairing it with fairy script until the traces of conflict were gone. Then he withdrew a concealing cloak from his mystic code and draped it over them both.
Unlike Estee Lauder's flimsy cloak, which could only hide her while she stood still, Aslan's craftsmanship was far more advanced. Even in constant motion, its wearer could remain invisible.
As a messenger who had traveled ceaselessly between survivor villages, Estee Lauder knew the gods' patrol patterns better than anyone. She could predict with certainty when a divine envoy might appear along this road.
There were also many hidden shelters scattered along her route: caves disguised as hills with thatch, hollowed trees in the deep forest, even underwater refuges created through magic.
Thanks to Estee Lauder's expertise, Aslan still had not seen for himself what the survivors meant when they spoke of the "messengers of God."
But when they took shelter in an underwater hideout, he heard it—the sound of something flying overhead. It was strikingly similar to the roar of his own mecha. The hiss of magical propulsion was unmistakable.
Yet by his own knowledge, these so-called divine mechas could not match the speed of his Supreme Masterpiece. He had examined enough mecha fragments to know the difference between a true god-made weapon and a poor imitation.
Perhaps the gods lacked the materials. Perhaps they lacked the skill. Either way, reproducing a genuine Mecha God was no simple task. More likely, these broken-minded gods were still debating whether to smash one of their own into pieces, scavenging it to repair themselves.
Estee Lauder had never been captured, and so she knew little of the gods' banquets. But Aslan felt certain his guess was close to the truth.
If they had been ordinary gods, perhaps things would have been different. But the ones in this world were fractured, unstable. From Estee Lauder's accounts, their actions grew more and more like those of fallen humans. Where there are people, there are rivalries—and the same was true of these so-called deities.
Aslan doubted their alliances were unbreakable. Even if there had been unity once, centuries of time must have left cracks.
But speculation was all he had. For now, no proof existed. While pondering, Aslan and Estee Lauder arrived at a human settlement. It was hidden within a canyon, its steep walls nearly sealing off the valley floor. Only at noon did sunlight briefly touch the ground below.
The people had carved caves into the canyon walls, sustaining themselves with fish from the river and lichens scraped from stone. Such conditions rarely allowed anyone to live beyond fifty; most died in their early forties.
Yet in the West, dying early could almost be called a mercy.
When the message came—warning them to be even more discreet—the elders, already considered old in their thirties, could only sigh. The gods' servants hunted relentlessly. For now, they would have to surrender even the short moment of noon sunlight, retreating deeper into shadow if they wished to remain undiscovered.
Fortunately, their caves still allowed water to reflect a trace of light. Others were not so lucky—those who lived in settlements buried fully underground were left in unending darkness.
After seeing the people's living conditions firsthand, Aslan gained a far clearer understanding of this crumbling world.
Estee Lauder put away her token and hurried off toward the next settlement.
-End Chapter-
Visit the Patreon!!
Read 30 chapters ahead, more on the way!
[email protected]/TrashProspector