Chapter 53: Audit from the Beyond
The mortal sky flickered like a glitched spreadsheet. Celestial seals appeared one after another, forming a giant header in the clouds:
> "AUDIT FROM THE BEYOND — BUREAU DECREE 9012-B: EVALUATION OF NE JOB."
A deafening chime followed, like a thousand keyboards clacking in unison. Every mortal stopped mid-prayer, staring upward. Even coffee machines paused, steaming reverently toward the heavens.
Assistant Yue rubbed her temples. "It's official. The Bureau's summoning an inspection committee."
Ne Job looked pale. "You mean—like—actual heavenly auditors?"
"Worse," Yue muttered. "They're from the Interdepartmental Faith Integrity Division. They once shut down a god of pastries for 'spreading excessive joy.'"
Ne Job blinked. "That's… illegal?"
"In the Bureau? Everything's illegal if it causes paperwork."
Thunder cracked, shaped like a rubber stamp. The clouds peeled apart, revealing five figures descending in slow, bureaucratic grandeur — cloaked in robes embroidered with red approval seals.
Each carried a pen-scepter that gleamed with divine authority.
The central figure — a tall woman with obsidian hair bound in a scroll-like bun — spoke first, her voice smooth but merciless.
"I am Auditor-General Zhenhua, representing the Faith Integrity Division," she announced. "By decree of Lord Bureaucrat Xian, we are here to evaluate the emergent deity known as… 'Ne Job.'"
Yue bowed instantly. "Auditor Zhenhua! It's an honor, ma'am—please forgive the chaos, we've been—"
"Silence," Zhenhua said calmly, and Yue's words froze in her throat by divine command.
Ne Job gave an awkward wave. "Hi, uh, I'm the emergent deity! Totally not trying to take over Heaven or anything."
Zhenhua turned her gaze on him, her eyes glowing like magnifying glasses of truth. "Statement logged. We shall verify your claim."
She gestured, and glowing scrolls unfolded mid-air, listing Ne Job's recent offenses:
Unauthorized faith network creation.
Unsanctioned meme-based worship.
Distribution of divine directives without license.
Encouraging naps during Bureau hours.
Yue whispered, "You're doomed."
Ne Job scratched his head. "Okay, fair, but naps are good for morale!"
"Morale reduction through restfulness is not Bureau policy," Zhenhua replied sharply. "Now, we begin the audit."
She snapped her fingers.
---
Audit Phase One: Identity Verification
A floating orb circled Ne Job, scanning him like a celestial barcode. A screen materialized beside it, displaying conflicting entries:
> Name: Ne Job
Species: Divine Intern (?)
Faith Classification: Undefined / Viral
Authorized Status: Pending Approval
Sanction Level: None
Risk Rating: Bureau-Wide Disruption Potential — HIGH
Zhenhua narrowed her eyes. "No registered divine lineage, no sponsoring department, and your existence is powered entirely by mortal belief overflow."
Ne Job grinned nervously. "So… self-made deity?"
"Self-made deities are anomalies," Zhenhua said coldly. "And anomalies are meant to be audited—then archived."
Yue stepped forward. "Wait! He didn't ask for this power. The cult over-amplified his signal!"
Zhenhua turned to her. "Then he should have filed a Faith Containment Form-27B before becoming a spiritual hazard."
Ne Job whispered, "There's a form for that?"
"There's a form for everything," Yue whispered back.
---
Audit Phase Two: Faith Functionality
The auditors formed a circle around Ne Job. One began channeling pure belief energy, forcing his aura to manifest.
Golden light flared from Ne Job's body — chaotic, vibrant, and inconsistent. Every few seconds, it shifted shapes: one moment a halo made of sticky notes, the next, wings of glowing file folders.
Zhenhua scribbled on her clipboard. "Faith structure unstable. Source energy irregular. Divinity lacks thematic cohesion."
Ne Job frowned. "Hey! I have cohesion! I'm, like, the god of… productivity gone wrong!"
Yue sighed. "That's… painfully accurate."
Zhenhua didn't react. "Such instability risks cross-contaminating Bureau reality. If mortals continue to worship this form, the Bureau's systemic order could degrade into… whimsy."
Ne Job gasped. "Not whimsy!"
Zhenhua raised her scepter. "Therefore, I propose containment."
---
Audit Phase Three: Containment Vote
The auditors' pens floated above them, forming a circle of approval seals. A glowing ballot appeared mid-air.
> Vote: Should Deity 'Ne Job' be contained and erased to restore cosmic order?
Yue grabbed Ne Job's arm, whispering frantically. "Say something! Anything!"
Ne Job stepped forward. "Wait! You can't erase me — not yet! I'm actually helping!"
Zhenhua arched a brow. "Helping? By destabilizing celestial networks?"
"No!" Ne Job said quickly. "By fixing mortal morale! Before all this, people down there were miserable! Overworked, ignored, drowned in forms! But now they laugh, they parody the system, they… they find hope in absurdity!"
He gestured around them — the city still glowing faintly from the aftermath of the cult collapse. Mortals smiled as they shared snacks, resting instead of chanting. Small miracles of balance.
"They're resting because of me," Ne Job said earnestly. "They finally realized divine paperwork doesn't have to be torture."
Yue added softly, "He's not a threat. He's what the Bureau forgot to be — human."
The auditors hesitated. Even Zhenhua paused mid-notation.
The golden ballot flickered between "ERASE" and "REVIEW."
Zhenhua's gaze softened slightly, but only for a heartbeat. "Emotion does not excuse deviation. Yet… I admit, your case is unprecedented."
She waved her scepter, merging her scrolls into one. "Therefore, the Audit Division will proceed to a final test."
---
Audit Phase Four: The Bureau Trial Simulation
With a flick of her hand, the world around them dissolved.
The mortal city melted into parchment; the sky folded into a colossal cubicle. Endless desks stretched into the horizon.
Zhenhua's voice echoed: "This is the Trial of Bureau Competence. If you can process a full divine workload within one celestial hour—without collapsing the system—you will be recognized as a legitimate deity."
Yue's jaw dropped. "That's impossible! Even I barely survive one cycle!"
Zhenhua smirked faintly. "Then consider it divine probation."
Stacks of glowing forms appeared in front of Ne Job — mountains of complaints, blessings, prayer requests, refund petitions, and lost soul memos.
A giant clock began to tick.
> Faith Workload: 10,000 documents.
Time Remaining: 60 minutes.
Yue shouted, "Focus, Ne Job! You can't brute-force this!"
He stared at the pile, panic setting in. "I can't process ten thousand forms in an hour! That's—"
"Exactly why you need to work smart," Yue said. "Use what you taught mortals."
Ne Job blinked, then grinned. "Oh… you mean delegate."
He closed his eyes. His aura pulsed — and suddenly, faint glimmers of golden light appeared all around them. The resting mortals from earlier began glowing in sync, channeling their peaceful faith back toward him.
"Let's file… together," Ne Job whispered.
The forms began sorting themselves, carried by invisible threads of mortal goodwill. Pages flipped, stamps aligned, data organized by shared faith.
Yue's tablet pinged.
> Processing Rate: +700% Efficiency.
Faith Stabilization: Ongoing.
The auditors watched in silence as the mountain of documents dissolved into cleanly archived light.
Zhenhua's pen froze mid-air. "He… optimized faith flow through mortal empathy."
Yue crossed her arms proudly. "Told you. Bureaucracy, but with heart."
The final document stamped itself with a glowing seal:
> Completed — Divine Approval: Pending Permanent Status.
The clock chimed zero.
---
The simulation shattered like glass. They stood once more on the mortal street, surrounded by a soft dawn glow. The cult remnants were gone — replaced by balanced worship, calm and sustainable.
Zhenhua approached, her clipboard now blank. "Your audit results are… unconventional."
Ne Job smiled nervously. "Does that mean I passed?"
"Not exactly." She smirked faintly. "You broke twelve regulations. But you also created a new category."
She raised her pen — and wrote across the sky:
> NEW CLASSIFICATION: MINOR DEITY — DOMAIN: WORKPLACE SANITY.
Ne Job blinked. "Wait, that's… real? I get a domain?"
"Provisionally," Zhenhua said. "You are to report to the Bureau weekly for faith reviews. And no more unauthorized memes."
Yue clapped him on the back. "Congratulations, Intern. You're officially divine middle management."
Ne Job laughed weakly. "So I got promoted… into eternal supervision?"
"Welcome to the Bureau," Yue said with a smirk.
Zhenhua turned to leave but paused. "One more thing, Intern. Lord Bureaucrat Xian wishes to see you—immediately."
Ne Job gulped. "Now?"
"Now," she said. "He's waiting in the Shard Court."
The sky shimmered again. The golden portal opened—sharp, ominous, and full of judgment.
Yue muttered, "Guess your audit's not over yet."
Ne Job sighed. "It never is."
And together, they stepped into the light.