5 Mourning

John fluttered around the Heavens. It was silent. No Chorus sang in baritone. No crowds buzzed with excitement. The only movement came from flags flapping in the synthesized wind.

It was lifeless.

So many homes and facilities stretched into the distant view but not a person other than John could see this.

But that didn't mean John couldn't fill that void.

"System, I can only use the most basic controls, right?"

"Yes, John. You can only look at the state of Derob, not influence it. You can only take directly from Heaven's farms and quarries to create by yourself. Any process involving buttons were removed for maximum safety precautions. A voice-activated system became implemented for the previous reasoning."

The text uncomfortably slithered by in John's vision. He couldn't even change it to his preferable settings on the off chance of John finding a loophole

Still, this was enough.

John flew home, carrying a bundle while reminiscing. At first, he wanted to build life-like models of all the angels and pretend nothing ever happened. He never liked to be alone, even when John slacked off of work. When John tried carving or painting, he gave up because the sheer volume of work encompassed the entire realm of the Heavens.

John was lazy.

So, John decided to make his favorites first. Who could judge him, anyway? John was God now.

At the foot of his bed, a beauty sat, composed and elegant.

Mary. She was the only one that made John care deeply.

Her night performances at the Grand Opera every week.

Her vitality, vigor-- her passion for living in every moment she breathed or spoke.

Her empathy and generosity, like when she secretly sheltered him from his punishments in the Voracious Volcanoes, or the Whirling Waterfalls, or the Tribulation Thunderstorms, or the Gatekeeping at the Stairway to the Heavens, or the...

John chuckled. He was always in trouble for some reason or another. He froze in deeper thought.

"You're not a failure, John," she whispered to him one night.

His head laid in her lap as she combed his tangled hair.

"God has a plan for all of us. To make us perfect, we have to be able to make mistakes. We learn, John. We learn to do better." she cooed.

John started tearing up again but he resolutely wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

With a single flap of his wings, he flew behind Mary. John unwrapped the bundle and pulled out a single strand of golden fleece.

"If only we could be together, Mary."

"If only you accepted me, you could sing like always."

"If only you could tell me I'm not a failure, just one more time…"

John couldn't stop crying.

Meanwhile…

On Derob…

Francis of the Fifth led his people for a harrowing 6 years.

The originally frail and scholarly Pope in his early twenties bulked up into a manly alpha. His pecs stretched the seams of his tattered robe, his rippling 8-pack burst underneath, and his quads thundered the air with explosive energy. His brown hair hung low, meeting his scraggly beard.

A pair of shades covered his eyes from the Sun's glare or maybe a surprise flash of light from an enemy ambush.

Francis crossed his arms and frowned.

A horde of beasts and beastmen, demons and demonesses, dwarves, gnomes, ogres, elves, and even a weird alien from another Realm that could heal— all stood behind him.

The Dark Lord Chen Chen kidnapped Pauline IV 6 years ago and hid her in castles full of traps since then. Lord Chen Chen's race of Ancients, or as they called themselves as "Asians", were too numerous, talented, and cunning.

Despite Francis of the the Fifth's power, he had to conquer castles from 7 different continents, traveling deserts, tundras, plains, grasslands, hills, mountains, valleys, seas, rivers, and even skies.

If it weren't for his tactician, Pink Man, Francis wouldn't be standing here. Pink Man's embarrassing grunts, expletives, and outbursts saved their lives countless times. His powerful control over sounds and words gave them inspiration and strength through the most hopeless of situations.

Now, only one fortress holding Lord Chen Chen and his strongest general, Bro Sir, remained.

Francis took a puff from his trusty pipe and slapped the plump booties of the ladies surrounding him.

It was time to end the Dark Lord's reign with the power of a "Pimp".