The Nature of The Voice

I pause in my steps and breathe a sigh of relief. The Voice may still be a complete twat, but at the very least it had decided to make a concession in the fact of my outburst instead of doubling down with the threats and mockery. Baby steps.

"So what is this power that you are going to grant me?" I ask.

"Return to the apartment." The Voice instructs, "Before I vest in you my power, you need to understand something about me. The apartment is the only place I can guarantee our privacy."

When I hear The Voice's response, I shudder. Is this going to be a demonstration like the one we gave Alley just now? Maybe I should stay in a public place where The Voice won't be quite so eager to dish out retribution?

The Voice noticing my feet rooted to the spot, elaborates, "This is not a trap Transmigrator. It is something that you need to know if you want to wield my power. However, what will happen next will likely be very unpleasant for you. Prepare yourself."

I nod to myself. I am already armpit deep in shit. Might as well keep going and hope to reach the other side. If there even is an other side.

.....

As I walk down the corridor back towards the main entrance, I heave a quiet sigh of relief when I notice all the passersby avoid looking at me. At least my dignity is intact after my emotional breakdown just now. Since The Voice is feeling chatty at the moment, I reckon there is no harm in asking something that has been on my mind for a while.

"Hey. Ever since I got here, I keep having this feeling, like I am in a dream, yet not at the same time. What's up with that?"

The Voice rumbles, "A feeling of disassociation perhaps? Like you are on the edge of waking up but cannot?"

"Yeah. Just like that. So care to give any answers?" I reply.

"What you are feeling is the pull of the Administrator from your world. It is trying to draw your soul back to your sleeping body and cut the link between us." The Voice rasps.

So someone from home is out looking for me and trying to get me back. My spirits rise a little upon hearing this.

"Why didn't my world's administrator succeed way back when you just summoned me then?" I ask, "I have been having this feeling for pretty much the entire time I have been here."

"Mr Gallant's body serves not only as your container in this world," The Voice explains, "but also as an anchor. That was the reason why I summoned only your soul and not your actual body. As long as it is held within something native to this world, my prerogatives over you are absolute. Not even the Administrator from your world will be able to interfere."

"You really thought everything out huh." I mutter.

"Yes. I have been in this god business for several millennia. More to the point, if your world's Administrator succeeds in retrieving you now, it would be the equivalent of a death sentence. You would be pulled back to the Crossroads where Fate will happily finish what it had started. Pray that my hold over you never slackens until the completion of our quest."

I sigh tiredly. So it comes down to this again. Only by helping The Voice will I be able to help myself. As I am idly looking about, I hear commotion coming from nearby. Sounds like a nasty argument between students. Since I am now a member of the staff here, no harm in checking it out.

I peek around the corner and see three students arguing outside the classrooms. One has his hair done up pompadour style and dyed blond. Like incredibly blond. No natural blond could ever look as blond as this guy does. There's a silver earring hanging from one of this guy's ears and his uniform is messy and unkempt. His shirt is not tucked in and he's not bothering with wearing a tie. The school jacket also has an odd pin on the lapel which I can't make out. He carries himself like a thug, completely out of place with the genteel surroundings of the Academy. The spiritual field surrounding him is strong, stronger than the other students I have seen so far.

A super powered delinquent then. As if the regular kind weren't enough trouble.

Delinquent pushes the other guy while snarling angrily. The other guy is the complete opposite. Neat, clean cut, clear skin, black hair. The school uniform fits him really well, showing off the contours of his figure. The big defining feature about him are his eyes. Both his eyes are of different color. Its some kind of medical condition isn't it? Can't remember the name right now. Other Guy's face is alight with a righteous expression, enhancing the strong, noble features it already has. A timid looking blue haired girl without any spirituality hides behind Other Guy as he stands between her and the delinquent.

I check Other Guy's spiritual field out. Its definitely on the weaker end of the spectrum, but also really unusual. Its as if he has two spiritual cores that are in constant conflict with each other. Most of his energy seems to be consumed in the never ending battle between the two cores, with the remainder being used to project the nimbus.

"Push off!" Delinquent shouts, "Its between me and her!"

"No." Other Guy says without blinking, "I will not let you hurt her."

The girl hearing this exchange, clutches new guy's back and sinks her face into it. Delinquent's expression turns even uglier when he sees this and he looks like he is about to take a swing at Other Guy for real.

The classroom door then opens and a teacher pops out scowling at the trio. She says something I can't hear and gestures at them to get inside. Her gaze however, lingers over Other Guy for a few moments too long. The trio shuffle into the classroom.

I then realize that I know who this teacher is. She's Big Tits from all the way back at the warehouse.

Unusual spiritual core. Distinctive visual trait. Overall attractive. Has the attention and possible protection of the police. I gesture at Other Guy and whisper to The Voice, "Is that who I think it is?"

"Yes," The Voice confirms, "that is the Hero."

....

I lay the files and documents down next to the laptop and make myself comfortable on one of the chairs.

Alright," I ask The Voice, "what is your big secret?"

The Voice is silent, as if its composing its thoughts. It begins by asking a question, "Transmigrator, do you know what kind of god I am?"

"A forgotten one?" I reply thinking back to the cab drive after the warehouse bombing, "No priesthood, no holy scripture. It all fits."

"Close," The Voice rasps, "but not exactly correct. I was never forgotten. The natives of this world simply do not know that I exist."

My mind blanks for a second before I gather myself, "How is that possible? Wouldn't you lose all your god powers if that was true?"

The Voice rumbles on, "I am a higher level deity, a true god. Before sapient life was even born on this planet, I was already its Administrator. Unlike the gods of man, I do not draw power from faith or worshipers. The earth that this apartment is built on. The air that you breathe. The laptop on the table. These are what I draw my power from, immortal matter, not corruptible souls."

"That's nonsense." I protest, "Then how did you empower the Hero?"

The Voice rasps, "That is where you are wrong. I never empowered the Hero. Nor did I empower the Heroines. I do not have the ability to empower anything with a soul, at least not directly. Do you understand what I am saying?"

The Voice is clearly teasing at something again. I put on my thinking cap and try to puzzle it out. Did not empower the Hero and Heroines, can't empower anything with a soul. Huh. I think I got it.

"You got to them while they were still in the womb. Before their hearts started beating." I answer.

The Voice's tone lights up with approval, "Very good. That is correct. When they were still soulless husks, I manipulated their bodies, baking in broad instructions and providing the settings needed for the development of their powers. After they were born, they would be unknowingly driven to fulfill the objectives I had buried within them."

"Then Fate stepped in," I say, filling in the blanks, "I suppose that means Fate holds power over souls the same way you rule matter?" The Voice grunts in agreement. I continue, "Then why are you concerned about Armageddon? You rule matter. Your power would still be intact after such an event."

The Voice sighs tiredly, "Yes. I would survive. However my power rises as the matter under my rule grows more complex. That laptop on the table means more to me than the air you breathe. Armageddon would send this world plummeting back to the stone age, with my power along with it."

The light flicks on in my head, "But nuclear war wouldn't kill all the birds and beasts. Some humans, angels and demons would survive as well. They would begin to thrive once everything had settled down. So this is what the whole thing is really about. A pissing match between you and Fate to see who gets to be the real true god."

"Yes. So now you know everything Transmigrator. I fight to protect this world for selfish reasons, but the fact remains that we are all that stands between it and annihilation." The Voice concedes.

It was no noble quest from the start. But at least now I knew the stakes involved. And the calculus on my part did not change, only by defeating Fate could I return home.

I turn my attention back to the conversation and eagerly ask, "You said that you cannot empower something with a soul "directly". Then how do you plan to grant me powers?"