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God Of Mischief

No internet, no phone calls, and no technology. All are disabled suddenly by a single cosmic event, The Carrington Event. With the arrival of this event, 22 humans obtained inhuman talents. So, with these abilities, would they be able to save humanity from anarchy? Or will they abuse their powers for their benefit?

Kyuseishu · ファンタジー
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31 Chs

XXIII - The High Priestess 2

"That's quite the ability she has got there.

Another recruit for our Church of Truth, it seems.

Let's take stock for a moment. We're four contract holders strong, one down by my hand, and Psyche's bumped into another, The Fool.

Six of us accounted for, leaving sixteen unseen in the wings. With communication out the window thanks to The Carrington Event, we're left to let fate sort out the rest, the C-Holder Magnetism.

Once we've rounded up our crew, dealt with any rogues, and sized up our competition, it's onto phase two: roping in the regular Joes, normal humans.

The ones hungry for truth, like us.

After we've knocked down every barrier in our path, then we can start dreaming about making Heaven a reality. If it's even possible, that is. But hey, we'll give it our damnedest shot.

Then we embark on the journey to untangle every enigma, starting with our own cosmos, from the depths of the Milky Way to the vast expanse of Andromeda. We delve into the mysteries of black holes and their cosmic mechanisms, seeking an understanding of the intricate workings of Quasars and the elusive nature of dark matter and antimatter.

It's a grand dream, a wild fantasy, I know that, but I've always been a dreamer, reaching for the stars.

Now my friends, you can take your leave if you wish, I'll be fine, because I am healing with each passing moment.

Go home, rest your weary soul, and tomorrow venture forth to uncover more about our fellow C-holders.

But remember, above all else, your safety is a top priority. Lucky, don't be foolishly brave."

Lucky then said, "Aight, Diablo. I'll do my best to rein in my cowboy urges."

With Lucky and Psyche gone from my apartment, I found myself alone, contemplating the hidden agenda behind the Carrington Event. But my solitude was short-lived, as a sharp ring echoed through my apartment, signaling an expected visitor.

Opening the door, I was met with the sight of a very attractive woman. "Why hello there," I greeted, recognizing her from our correspondence. "You must be Lavinia. Come in."

Her response was swift and candid. "Indeed, I am Lavinia," she affirmed, stepping inside.

"Damn, I gotta admit, I didn't expect our leader to be such eye candy. Figured you'd be more of a truth-touting nerd, wrapped up in all that mystical mumbo jumbo."

Lavinia stood tall, a statuesque figure at a solid 180 centimeters, matching my own height. She exuded an air of confident rebellion, from her attire to her demeanor.

Wrapped in a sleek black leather jacket, she flaunted burgundy embellished bras peeking from beneath, paired with low-rise flared leather pants that accentuated her curves. A daring burgundy G-string teased beneath, complemented by towering black block high heels.

Her accessories, from the sleek silhouette of slim-fit black sunglasses perched atop her nose to the glint of silver serpent earrings and other ear piercings adorned her ears, accompanied by a septum piercing that added a touch of defiance.

Adorning her fingers were an array of silver rings, each one of them representing her bold uniqueness.

Even her toenails and fingernails were painted in burgundy nail polish, a subtle yet deliberate choice that mirrored her meticulous attention to detail, after all the Devil is in the details.

Her physique, akin to that of a runway model, was accentuated by a tanned skin that hinted at sun-kissed adventures. A long mullet, dyed a striking platinum blonde to match her brows and lashes.

In every aspect, she embodied the essence of sophistication intertwined with rebellion, a devilish charm that would captivate anyone.

She sported heterochromia, obviously because she was a C-Holder too. One eye a lush forest green, the other a vibrant chartreuse hue.

Her makeup, though extravagant, walked the fine line between bold and overkill. Burgundy eyeshadow, lashes darkened with mascara, and lips adorned in a deep, luscious color.

With a smirk playing on my lips, I gestured for her to take a seat, inviting her to make herself at home. "Well now, take a load off. I may be a bit of a knowledge nerd myself, but it seems Lady Luck saw fit to bless me with more than just brains. And I must say, your fashion sense is something else.

The way you've matched every detail, from lingerie to nail polish to makeup—it's positively intriguing. Most C-holders have a unique flair, but yours, darling, is a cut above."

She lounged on the couch, the smoke curling around her as she lit a cigarette. With a flick of her wrist, the ember danced as she drew deeply from the cigarette. Her voice, a sultry whisper, cut through the mist.

"Thanks for noticing the little things," she said, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "You strike me as the type of man who would notice the difference between the color of my left and right eye.

I must say, your outfit is quite the spectacle too. The eye patch, the scars, the bandages, and those bloody hands... Quite the story they tell."

I settled in beside her, the memories of my recent battles still fresh in my mind. "You're not wrong," I confessed. "I had quite the day. Faced off against two Contract Holders, one of whom didn't make it out alive.

Lucky, he's got a knack for words, but he's not beyond redemption.

But then there's Kichil Anakin... He caught me off guard with his Inception ability, left me with these scars and this bruised eye.

Had to put him down.

That blood on my hands? It's from his contract, torn to shreds by yours truly.

And those eyes of yours? Forest Green and Chartreuse green, if you're curious."

She then remarked, "Inception, quite the overpowered ability if you ask me, especially if you were caught by surprise.

To be honest, If I hadn't heard about you taking down two C-holders in a single day, I wouldn't have bothered to join your cause. You piqued my interest, so I figured, why not see what you're made of?"

I reached for my pack of quirleys, lighting one up as well. Grabbing two cups, I poured us some red wine and handed her one. "There you go, drink up," I said. "Now, I reckon you already know what our Church is all about. We, the children of insight, seek knowledge and clarity, with our sights set on reaching Heaven on earth, no matter what it takes."

She took a sip, her eyes fixed on mine, probing, searching for truths beyond the surface. "Are you sure this is all of it?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of curiosity. "I want you to be more honest with me. I want to know your goals, not The Church Of Truth's goals as a whole."

"Well, if you want to know," I began, my words slow and deliberate, "I will tell you. But if you tell anyone else, I will kill you.

Deal?"

Then, in that moment of vulnerability, I felt it—a presence, small yet palpable, inching closer, closer.

My hand moved instinctively, intercepting it just inches from my ear.

"What the fuck is this?"...