'I can't move, damn it.' Cole's head spun like a turning wheel.
Ohami lay beside him, breathing ragged breaths.
The Chef sat across from them on a table, drowning in thought. The ruined restaurant was possessed by a grieving silence. Through sheer willpower, Cole forced himself up and rolled safely to the side.
Cole's eyes swept over the broken chairs, crumbled walls, and floors, taking in the shattered decorations scattered like refuse on the ground. He clenched his fist as a line of wrinkles etched itself onto his face.
'Damn it!' Cole cursed, a stabbing pain striking his heart.
'Cole, can you hear me?' she asked with an excited voice. 'Bring the kid down the tunnel; our target needs some peace of mind.'
Upon hearing her words, Cole's gaze fell towards Ohami, who lay traumatised on the ground. He then shifted his view to the gloomy Chef, who glared at the remnants of his shop.
Cole inhaled deeply. 'No.'
'What do you mean, No?' Her voice was diluted with blaring rage. 'We're only a fingertip away from achieving your goal.'
Cole grumbled in his head. 'Bring the Potter here; ask him to disguise himself. I'm sure you can track me.'
'You damn son of a...'
Cole stopped paying attention and focused on the problems before him. He walked towards the Chef, went down on one knee, and spoke softly. "Some new customers will be arriving soon." He disguised his dread with a forced smile. "Let's get this place fixed up."
The Chef looked at him for a moment with an empty gaze, after which he sighed and shot up from his seat. "If you'll help, then sure."
Since both of them agreed, Cole's next problem was the traumatised Ohami. He didn't want to worsen the situation; thus, Cole placed Ohami on his back and carried him.
"I'll keep you close for now. What happened this time won't repeat itself again, I promise."
Unfortunately, Ohami found it difficult to believe Cole's words after what he had witnessed. Nonetheless, he thought, 'This isn't the first time I've seen something like this. But Papa was much stronger.'
Ohami's gaze lowered in contempt. 'If Papa were here, none of this would have happened.'
Cole noticed but kept his thoughts to himself. Being a Venerable meant he wouldn't die, as the deity had explained, yet since he stood up, his bones and joints felt sore. Cole's feet shook under the pressure of his own weight.
Despite being a Venerable, Cole's wounds didn't heal—neither the injuries on his hands and chest nor his bruised face and legs.
'Do I have to die to fully regenerate?' Cole asked himself.
The idea made his insides stir; a cold, metallic taste stuck to the back of his tongue.
With Ohami on his back, Cole assisted the Chef in clearing up the restaurant. Some of the irreparable materials were tossed away; the rest were either reattached or rearranged.
Ten minutes slipped by. Ohami dozed off from exhaustion while Cole and the Chef worked. Cole parted his lips, trying to engage in conversation, but then remembered.
'I don't know his name!'
"Hey, Chef..." Cole uttered in a low tone. "I didn't catch your name."
The Chef looked at Cole, then back at the shards of glass. "Just call me Vanity."
'That's an odd name.'
Vanity gathered the glass. "And I'm guessing you're a human from the fake Earth, am I right?"
"I am... how did you figure me out?" Cole chuckled nervously.
"Many ways, the most obvious being you don't have true marks on you."
'True marks? Those tattoos I kept seeing on everyone? That's what they're called,' Cole pondered deeply. 'If so, how many people noticed this? Will they come and ambush us again? Is that how Atasa found me?'
"Don't slack off!" Vanity commanded.
"My bad!"
'Wait, why am I being treated like an employee?'
"I'm sorry, Vanity. It's probably because people noticed that your restaurant was attacked. Once I'm done, I'll leave quickly before something worse happens."
"I doubt it's because of you. If people noticed, there wouldn't even be a corpse lying in my restaurant. You'd have been dead instantly." His tone changed to something odd. "It's almost like they didn't perceive you or something."
'Must be her doing, I guess.' Cole cleared his throat. "So how did you perceive me?"
"Because all things set before me result in otiose failure."
Cole was too struck to formulate a response. "Hmmm..." He released a breath and continued his cleaning.
***
"Well, Potter? Will you accompany me, or do we have to start pulling cliché villain tropes to get your attention?" she threatened with a smooth voice.
"What deity are you?" he asked, genuinely curious.
"I'm not a deity. Just someone lucky to be special." She toyed with her hair. "As for you, a human living in the midst of deities is quite remarkable."
"I wonder..." Her eyes spiralled in a loop. "How did you survive the density of wavelength for this long?"
"Could it be... the physical body you have right now is truly not yours? Potter?"
"How you jumped to that conclusion baffles me."
She giggled, pressing her fingers together with a bright smile. "I was just spouting nonsense; why get so triggered?"
He shut his eyes. "Take me to my son. If it's a trap, I won't spare you."
"I would never be so heinous as to set a trap for someone," she spoke with palpable enthusiasm laced in her voice.
The Potter clenched dirt from the ground; by drawing out the sand, it formed into a long, brown blanket which he used to wrap his body. Slamming his fist against the air, the space cracked, and a gap the size of a door opened.
"After you," he offered politely.
"Thank you," she said, exhibiting gratitude.
As the deity passed him, he studied her as quickly as possible.
'This woman is too strange. She located my gap so efficiently, she referred to me as Arifura, she's aware of my son and the circumstances surrounding him and I. More disturbingly... that assumption was far too direct to be a mere guess.'
He scowled bitterly. 'Who is she?'
They both seeped out of a small gap and merged into the large crowd. The Potter did his best to conceal himself while the deity strolled boldly.
To the Potter, she was a blonde, tanned woman with true marks spanning from her forehead to her bust, down to her very fingers. Her dress was a loose skirt with a purple long-sleeved shirt to boot, and she wore a silver necklace with a lizard's eye dangling at the bottom.
She didn't resemble anyone he was close to or acquainted with in his old life, yet at the same time, a constant feeling that they had interacted, laughed together, mocked each other, and fought one another kept squeezing the back of his mind.
To put it simply, they were close strangers, to say the least. What made the feeling even more disdainful was the sentiment that he had forgotten someone. A blurry image he couldn't recollect—then again, such was natural after living such a long life.
The deity located the restaurant where Cole was and gestured toward the Potter to raise his guard as she walked cautiously towards the door. Even she didn't fully trust Cole.
The restaurant was practically deserted in comparison to the other street stalls and shops. From the outside, the place looked fairly decent, so it was quite a mystery to her; the door and windows had a white filter which made seeing inside impossible.
'Is competition really that stiff? Or is this some sort of trap?' she introspected.
Pushing the door open, the inside was dark. Rays of the green moon's light snuck inside, exposing some of the furniture and decorations. She carefully put one foot in while the Potter observed from behind.
As she intended on placing the other foot...
"Welcome!" Cole, Vanity, and Ohami greeted with a loud, energetic roar.
A drop of sweat hung at the side of her cheek, while the Potter gripped the door frame as he felt his body failing from shock.
"What took you so long? It's been two hours," Cole complained.
'Two hours? Did Arifura dilate the time of his dimension?' She gave him a deciphering look.
Vanity shuffled off to the kitchen to get the food, while Ohami dashed towards his father and tackled him with a strong hug. Cole and 'Her' faced each other with closed lips and narrowed stares.
In the end, Cole stretched a smirk across the side of his face. She smiled moderately with a thoughtful look. Cole's bandages didn't escape her view; that alone fuelled her determination.