Chapter 49: Faith Protocol 1 – The God in the Form
The Hall of Origin was never meant to be loud.
It was a place of quiet birth—where divine systems hum like heartbeat echoes through marble, and reality renews itself with the precision of bureaucracy.
But tonight, it was chaos.
"FORM SEVEN-B REJECTED: INVALID SIGNATURE."
The celestial announcement boomed for the seventeenth time, making Assistant Yue's left eye twitch violently. She slammed another shimmering document onto the altar-like desk.
"Try again, Ne Job. Just once without scribbling your smiley face on the divine line!"
Ne Job, halo tilted like an overworked waiter's tray, gave an innocent grin. "But it's my official seal! It says 'Ne Job — temporary intern (sometimes deity?)'. That's… branding!"
Yue's voice could've shattered crystal. "Branding? You're hijacking a faith protocol! Every mortal who said your name during the audit ritual is now registered as a worshipper!"
Ne Job blinked. "So… that means I'm… trending?"
The Hall lights dimmed. Every altar flickered. The massive bureaucratic monolith of divine code began rearranging itself, forming the words in the air:
> FAITH PROTOCOL 1 ACTIVATED. SUBJECT: NE JOB. AUTHORITY LEVEL: EMERGENT GOD.
Yue's breath hitched. "No… no no no! You can't even fill a lunch request without divine oversight! You can't handle faith! It's cosmic liability!"
Ne Job twirled a pen nervously. "I mean… how bad could it be?"
Reality answered.
A chorus of mortal prayers—garbled, messy, enthusiastic—echoed through the ceiling. "Oh great intern of destiny, deliver us from paperwork!" "Save us from bureaucracy!" "Bless our unpaid overtime!"
Yue grabbed him by the collar. "They're worshipping you as a savior of bureaucracy! You're creating a paradox loop! Every time they curse red tape, you gain more power!"
"Hey," Ne Job said sheepishly, "that's kinda motivating."
Lightning flashed across the sky dome. The Bureau's divine architecture reshaped, pillars bending inward to form a colossal quill in midair. The Hall's system voice grew louder—mechanical yet reverent.
> FAITH SOURCE STABILIZING. DEITY FORM REQUIRED.
Ne Job floated upward as golden threads wrapped around him, weaving into an absurdly ornate robe—a patchwork of intern stickers, divine runes, and ID badges that said "God of Filing (Probationary)".
Yue shielded her eyes. "Don't you dare ascend like that!"
"I'm not doing anything! The form's doing it for me!" Ne Job cried.
Yue's frustration burst like a star. She ripped open a counter-form scroll, summoning her Clerical Override Tablet, the sacred tool of middle management.
"System! Initiate Faith Correction Procedure 12-C—Reassignment of Divine Identity!"
The quill froze. For a moment, silence returned.
Then came the system reply:
> ERROR: ORIGINAL SIGNATORY NE JOB HAS AUTO-APPROVED THE CORRECTION.
"What!?" Yue screamed. "How!? You didn't even touch anything!"
Ne Job raised a trembling hand. "Uh… it auto-signs anything with my divine signature now. I think my pen gained consciousness."
The pen blinked. "✓ Approved by Ne Job."
Yue's knees buckled. "This is the end of the Bureau. The celestial hierarchy will collapse under irony."
Then, a low, cold laughter echoed through the Hall.
From the rippling reflection of the golden floor, a dark figure emerged—long limbs wrapped in tattered scrolls, ink dripping from its eyes.
The Evil Manual Spirit.
"You fools," it whispered, voice slick like wet parchment. "You've triggered the one form I could never complete—Faith Protocol 1. But now that the system believes, I will rewrite belief itself."
Ne Job steadied himself, the glow of divine approval pulsing behind him. "You again!? Can't you just file a normal complaint like everyone else!?"
The Evil Manual Spirit grinned, half-ink, half-shadow. "I tried. It was rejected for 'lack of emotional sincerity.' So I'll just overwrite your godhood instead."
Yue stepped forward, tablet blazing. "Over my administrative body."
The Spirit raised its hand. Every form in the Hall turned black.
> ACCESS OVERRIDE GRANTED TO: MANUAL ADMINISTRATOR (SHADOW CLASS).
Ne Job's golden aura flickered. "Wait—so he can approve too!?"
The Spirit's grin widened. "Indeed. Faith is paperwork, and I am the oldest pen."
Yue shouted, "Then we'll just out-file you!" and slammed her tablet down, generating thousands of counter-forms that spiraled into the air like wings.
Ink clashed with light. The Hall of Origin trembled.
Faith itself became a bureaucratic battlefield—approvals, rejections, and divine signatures flying like meteors.
Ne Job's hair glowed, his eyes filled with terrified determination. "Yue! What do I do!?"
"Do what you always do!" she yelled, parrying a blast of ink. "Mess up—strategically!"
He grinned. "Finally, something I'm good at."
He grabbed the divine quill, turned it upside down, and scrawled across the sky:
> "Request for Divine Reassessment: Please Return to Draft Mode."
The system froze.
Everything—light, sound, movement—paused midair.
Then, the voice of the Bureau spoke again, neutral and cold:
> REQUEST UNDER REVIEW. FAITH SUSPENDED TEMPORARILY. ALL DEITIES ENTER MANUAL MODE.
The Hall dimmed. The forms vanished. Yue gasped, holding her tablet tight.
"It worked…? You stalled it…"
Ne Job smiled weakly. "Yeah… but I think I just deleted prayer from the system."
And from the darkness, the Evil Manual Spirit whispered:
"Exactly as intended."