Pretending To Be God

Chapter 10: The Letter

A dark, mysterious figure peered into a shimmering orb, her hands delicately cradling it. Within the orb's depths, an image of a devastating explosion flickered before her. With a wave of her hand and murmured incantations from an ancient era, the enigmatic language resonated, even in this world.

The image transformed, akin to a captivating video that replayed the events leading up to the explosion. Amidst the chaos, one face stood out, impossible for her to ignore. "Oztanfil..." she whispered the name, intrigue sparking in her eyes.

'Oztanfil' pointed beyond the spy slave, who turned away, desperately attempting to catch a glimpse of what Oz had discovered. Yet, when the spy looked back, Oz had vanished without a trace. "What?" she murmured to herself, confusion tingling in her voice.

Then, the conversation between Michael and the King reached her ears. "Did he truly ascend to godhood?"

Intrigued, she drew nearer to the orb, capturing every word that followed. "Amidst the realm where demigods find their power confined, a solitary wizard arises, his might surpassing their divine essence. Within the tapestry of existence, where boundaries are but feeble restraints, he embodies unparalleled transcendence."

Gripping the orb tightly, she felt a surge of power, humor bubbling within her. "Hahahah... Just as I attain the 8th circle of power, you become even more formidable."

Rising to her feet, she inadvertently cut her hands on a shard of glass that had broken loose from the orb. "It's time for a visit," she declared, leaving the shattered remnants behind in the dimly lit room. With a wave of her hand, she healed her wounds using magic, her hands bathed in a soothing green glow.

As she departed, the room fell silent, broken glass shards trembling with every passing second, echoing the arrival of a colossal presence.

Michael's tiny hand sifted through a pile of letters, casually discarding those sent by unremarkable nobles seeking the attention of the esteemed 'Great Wizard.' The discarded missives found their fiery fate in the throne room. However, as Michael reached the final letter of the day, his hand froze, captivated by the name inscribed upon it. "Captain Roland of Veridiana," he read aloud.

Seizing the letter opener from the nearby table, he carefully sliced open the envelope, unveiling its contents. His eyes widened as he perused the message, struck by its significance. It was a communication from Captain Roland, intended for Oz.

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Meanwhile, George busied himself repairing an illusionist machine, which he had employed to perform his distracting flying pigeon tricks. A subtle shift in the atmosphere caught his attention, compelling him to turn toward Michael. "What's going on?" he inquired, his curiosity piqued.

"You won't like it," Michael replied with a sigh, folding the letter.

George approached, undeterred. "I don't have to like it to hear it. We're already knee-deep in this mess." He joined Michael and perused the letter's contents.

Both men's expressions transformed as they digested the brief but weighty message. It left them reeling. The letter read:

"Great Wizard, you are likely already aware, but the spy we apprehended possessed traces of dark witchcraft energy. As I attempted to extract information, he disintegrated into fragments before my eyes. I won't elaborate on the gruesome details. However, I managed to examine his ears and tongue before his demise. They were deliberately rendered useless, impeding any identification of the culprit. The King expresses his gratitude for sparing him a messier situation. I, too, extend my gratitude.

Sincerely,

Roland of Veridiana."

George turned to Michael, his face mirroring the shock etched on Michael's features. "Who have we just crossed?" he demanded, searching for answers.

Michael shrugged, sharing the same sense of unease. "I don't know, and I'm not fond of the situation either. But it seems we have no other choice but to face it."

George shifted his gaze to the damaged machine he had been repairing, his resolve hardening. Walking toward it, he declared, "I must fix this immediately. If that... maniac dares to attack me, I don't know if I could stand against them. All I can do is act..."

Michael concurred, suggesting a contingency plan. "We need a plan B. If we encounter a threat beyond our control, it's best to flee until Oz returns. He knows the locations of the other machines."

"Machines? Are you telling me there are more magical devices like this?" George queried, raising the pigeon illusion machine.

"He possesses a projector that allows him to appear larger and alter his appearance. But he concealed it once he discovered the Persona ring, which can also change his size and appearance at will."

George's gaze fixated on the ring, pondering the possibilities. "Are there more than one Persona ring?"

Michael shrugged, acknowledging the uncertainty. "I believed there was only one in existence until you arrived. Now, I suppose there are two. One with him, and one with you"

"Is it possible there could be one more?"

Understanding George's line of thinking, Michael scratched his furry chin. "Perhaps. There's always a chance."

"I can't proceed if there's even the slightest possibility. If I'm going to do this, I must truly grow stronger," George declared, determination glinting in his eyes.

Michael shook his head, instantly opposing the idea. "Your survival thus far hinges on the absence of mana within your body. If even a trace of mana were to appear, the illusion of 'Oz's' godhood would crumble."

Standing tall, George ran a hand through his hair. "Damn it..." he muttered before his eyes caught sight of something on the map of Emerald City.

Approaching it, he pointed at a corner. "Hey, monkey."

"It's Michael, what is it?"

"What's this?"

Michael walked over and squinted at the area George indicated. "That? That's the Emerald City Academy."

"I can read, Michael. But what exactly is this academy?"

"It's the institution Oz established to train a formidable force of wizards and non-magic users alike, comprising soldiers. It's one of the few things that makes sense about what he's done."

"So, you're saying that if I go there, I can become stronger?"

Michael raised an eyebrow. "Yes, but as I mentioned, if you possess any mana in your body, the entire illusion will crumble."

George smiled mischievously, tapping the map. He turned to Michael. "Who says I'll be learning magic?"