Chapter 133: The Merchant Of Blue Death

Spending the rest of the way catching up with Anselm and his adventures in the realm of a Goddess as well as telling him my rather boring two-day struggle, I spent without him – which quite honestly felt like an eternity – gave me some clarity in the changes the Winter Goddess spoke of.

For one, and perhaps most noticeably was his appearance and his extended stay. I suppose I could credit it to his new affinity to mana but now he possessed the ability to transform his clothing.

With the small caveat that they remain white and still hold the same reverence to the Goddess that gifted him the power. Quite understandable really.

But he's particularly for the second bit I've noticed about him.

Before he disappeared and I fell into mad hunger, whenever I summoned his spirit his stay with the mana, I use to perform the spell would last him about an hour going into an hour and a half.

However now he's got an entire one hour more. It's a relief to not have to be disturbed every hour and a half with his buzzing presence, but I can already see it as a struggle.

Now he's got two hours to nag at me.

For the most part though, during our journey back to Aste I've been the one nagging. I mean, who wouldn't want to see what new powers their friend has been gifted from a Goddess, even if that Goddess is an absolute bag of snowballs.

So far he's refrained from putting on any demonstrations, says he can't waste the blessings of a Goddess of frivolous show boarding.

Although, I can tell he really wants to show it off, it's clear on his face, he's got that 'trying real hard to be modest' look on. Not a new look to Anselm really, it's the same look he has on when he resists saying 'I told you so'

Still, there are somethings that still worry me about my returned partner in magical adventure.

While it may have only been a few days without him for me – technically one seeing as I only learned he disappeared literally yesterday – but, for him it's been a few decades of learning and mastering the use of mana.

Mana that technically isn't his and magic that certainly isn't. He's also spent that time being indoctrinated into viewing the Goddess of Winter as some saviour whereas I learned the Icy bitch was an Icy bitch.

There are still moments where he slips into the form of the zealous worshipper and I don't think I can help it and perhaps neither can he. 

For the moment all I can do is cringe as now both the people I call 'friends' are religious zealots serving Goddesses. 

I wonder if there's some underlying reason why I keep meeting people like them or having people change into zealots after I meet them.

Maybe it's because I'm a pending Deity myself. 

The thought still sounds supremely ludicrous and very frightening. 

But at the very least I now know the System is just some kind of extended tutorial for future Deities in controlling mana and casting spells. It now makes sense how the System always seemed to guide my hand and how even the slightest attention paid to the movement of mana when casting a spell with the System made me more familiar and proficient with it.

However, there are still bits missing, perhaps the most important bit.

Why?

I mean, seriously. Why?

Why would anyone, anyone seemingly omnipotent, omniscient being want some old-time gangbanger that died without any fanfare like the drop of a pin into a haystack that is every other insignificant person to have died in the past.

Why would a being want that sort of person, a person with not imprint on the world, no value and frankly no true purpose for others or even himself…to be a God?

It's mind boggling really. But I doubt I'll ever get my answer, at least, not as a human. I'm not so greedy to not be already satisfied meeting Gods on what is beginning to feel like a regular and aim for the very singular being beyond all Gods.

Still, I'm not so shameless to think I don't want to become a Deity. I'm sure it'll be a hassle and I'm sure the requirements for becoming one are more than just killing anyone in your way and raising a continent-wide undead army.

But imagine the power.

First thing I'd do is put Lotar on a leash. Damned Wolf ought to be treated like a dog once in a while.

But I guess that depends on what type of God I become, what rank I attain. If I become a Lower Deity, I might not as well be a God. Damned Wolf has trouble tweaking the freaking curse he put on me in the first place.

Not much power there.

Three taps echo through the carriage as Anselm signals that he sees something up ahead. Feeling idle with all the newly begotten time on his hands the ghost offered to head watch as we approached the end of our very long journey.

Which, truly is a relief, the drivers are respectful but a bit too much with the cautious glances and mutterings under their breath. Camping with them and resisting the urge to challenge one of them has been a struggle, but a good one as doing so would only make them even more vigilant and suspicious of me.

"What do you see?" I call out to the hovering man, sticking my head out the back end of the carriage.

He doesn't say anything, only stares far off into the distance. I follow his line of sight, having to come down completely though.

But I find what he's staring at and I feel it too.

There's a man, a single man with a carriage behind him. A colourful carriage with red, blue and white threads covering it all making it look like some beast of culture.

Ahead of the carriage is nothing, no horse no driver no nothing.

But I suppose that ought to be something of a norm for the…vibe I get off of him.

"Sir?" My carriage driver questions. I still get a little skittish at the sound of the man's voice after Frozia used it as a means to pull me into her realm. "What do we do?"

What do we do? 

Well, he is blocking our only valid path to the city, I'd rather not have the carriage and wagons take the rough path and likely have a wheel blown off as a result of my impatience.

Vibe or not, the man and his horseless carriage must move.

"We move it." I say definitively. "You lot stay here; Anselm and I will head over and ask what happened."

I suppose even normal humans can feel the vibe the man is giving off cuz the driver gulps, his head a mess of sweat.

As we approach the still man clad in blue straight and clean attire, I pull Anselm close and say, "I'm sure you're getting what this guy is giving off."

"Clear as daylight." He mutters, not taking his eyes off of the man.

"Great, might want to prepare some of that Frozia magic then."

He doesn't say anything but nods. I'm satisfied with that.

Now then…

"Hello there, looks like you're having some trouble fine sir." I greet as natively as I can manage, a little something I picked up from my stay in Aste.

Up close I scan the man for anything that may be of a threat. There aren't any clear weapons in sight but I suppose with the feeling he's giving off he wouldn't' rightly need one.

He must be a Mage of some sort.

The man, blue coat, blue necktie, blue trousers and black shoes smiles thinly at my greeting and takes his blue hat off to reveal a neatly kept slick black hair that went well with the shining, glowing, piercing blue eyes he stabs us with.

"Ah, yes, I suppose it could seem that way to the untrained eye." He starts, his voice barely a whisper yet I manage to catch every word of it like it's been sent directly…

Directly into my…

"Anselm!" I scream, my hands igniting with mana ready as ever to strangle the life out of the man. 

Anselm doesn't need to be told twice, he sets off, floating in the sky mace in hand and ready to pounce.

"Ah, why so hostile?" the man whispers again.

This feeling, the way he's communicating. It's like I'm talking to a Deity. But it can't be, they can't be on the surface themselves else they risk tearing the entire thing apart.

Unless…unless they're in the form of an Avatar. Like Anera did for meeting my predecessor.

"Who are you!" I yell, changing one of the spells in hand to a Soul Drain.

He shakes his head, as though disappointed.

Then he shrugs and taps the body of his carriage, "Can't you tell? I'm a Merchant," his smile takes a sinister turn as he stares at us, "They call me the Merchant of Blue Death."