Chương 199: 188. Lemonade and gods

"What the—?" Peter stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide as he entered the cathedral-like bar. I also looked around, but with a rather pleasant smile plastered on my face. The place wasn't crowded yet, but for the first time, I could call it properly lively. The upper floor was also open, and some of the tables were taken by creatures of all kinds. Even a new human bartender was helping the observer behind the bar. No musical performance today, sadly.

We walked to the bar, greeted the floating head, and I watched with amusement as Peter almost jumped out of his skin at the sight. I got myself a whiskey, while Peter asked for an actual lemonade, which was slightly disappointing given the number of options available. But to each their own, I guess. We went to the usual room, where Ophelia and Q'Shar were already waiting. Peter had had a run-in with the cats before, so he wasn't that surprised. Yet Myhur's arrival once again gave him a slight heart attack.

"Yooou shall rot deep in the ground, feeding many a worm," Myhur greeted.

"Um… thanks?" Peter answered.

"And you too?" Myhur nodded, satisfied, as he plopped himself down on the cushion.

"I see you still don't explain anything for your own sick amusement," Ophelia commented from the side.

"The ability to act when surprised is a must-have for any mage, I'll have you know," I answered.

"It's all part of the training."

"Mhm. That's bullshit," Q'Shar said, putting his head down to drink. Peter remained really tense for quite some time, but thankfully, Luna joining us after the mushroom helped slightly. That was for about a minute before Peter found out she was a real-life vampire. Once everyone who could make it on short notice was present, Peter received treatment similar to Ophelia's, with a basic introduction to magical society and hierarchy.

The kid gradually grew slightly calmer as he got used to the presence of rather unusual-looking individuals. Myhur, on the other hand, decided Peter was a prime target for preaching, and I had trouble guessing whether he was just explaining his gods or trying to convert him.

"So, gods are real, but they don't care about judgment?" Peter asked, frowning deeply.

"Weeell, they do in a way. But it's more a matter of their personality. The promise of life after death is just about how your soul will be devoured. That's why we mycanoids are one step ahead, and instead of looking forward to the false paradise where only your shell shall remain, we look forward to all the lives that shall feed on what is left. Our death has real meaning through that." Peter nodded slowly, trying to wrap his head around the idea.

"Aaaand all can pray to the Ghyllothar. Any being with flesh is welcome into the covenant." He looked to Peter.

"Right," the kid answered hesitantly.

"So what if I don't believe in any gods? I mean, believe, but don't contract with any of them?"

"There is an underworld," I spoke up this time.

"It's another plane where the very concept of death rules as a god. If you don't have any creature interested in your soul, you will go there to fade away. Usually, when necromancers try summoning, they drag the incomplete souls from that place because there is no being holding on to them."

"So you can resurrect someone?" Peter piped up as I, Ophelia, and Q'Shar winced.

"No," I said firmly, making sure to cut any such idea before it grew into something dangerous.

"When mages speak of souls of the dead, we speak of the construct, not the person. Once the spark is gone, even if you bring them back, even if they regain a new spark—which, mind you, is very hard to do—they will become a completely different being. And that is assuming you somehow summon a soul complete enough to be able to hold a new spark, and that you somehow get the right one from all the souls in the afterlife. So no, it's not possible." Peter nodded slowly, clearly disappointed by my words.

"But think of it like that," Ophelia spoke, feeling the mood drop.

"You know what will happen to you after you die. Most dream of that. Having it in a contract still weirds me out."

"You have your afterlife on paper? Like signed by a god?" Peter asked, looking at Ophelia.

"More or less. I'll lose myself upon the oceans of stars," Ophelia recited.

"Not sure what that means, to be honest, but most likely I'll fall asleep, slowly forgetting who I was. Should be peaceful," she said, swirling her drink.

"Doesn't it bother you?" he asked. She stopped the motion, frowning lightly.

"No, not really. It seems… appropriate. I don't know how to explain it. But trust me, you will change perspectives once you spend some time around strange people," she said, giving me a look.

"Yeeep," Luna agreed.

"So no matter what I do, I'll just fade away in one place or another," Peter said, trying to get his head around the concept.

"Nope," Luna spoke this time.

"You contract a demon, and it will straight up eat your soul once you die, or even before if you fuck up a contract. I'm pretty sure Sam's end won't be the peaceful kind either," she finished, nodding at me. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. The people at the table all turned to me, questions in their eyes.

"You don't know?" I asked, slightly surprised.

"Your mysterious speeches about processions of pipers aren't exactly enlightening, Sam," Q'Shar said. I was taken aback that even he didn't know. It wasn't much of a secret, after all.

"I'll join the pipers only if I fuck up and die thanks to my god's magic. That's the gamble. The afterlife is a separate matter. Assuming I don't mutate myself out of this plane of existence, my soul will be dragged into the void, where, in an infinitesimally small instant, all the forbidden knowledge of existence shall be laid before my eyes as it tears what is left of me to shreds, my god feeding on the remains," I said with a slight smile, almost longingly.

'To see the entirety of existence. What would I see? What knowledge would I comprehend in that infinitesimally small span of time?' I stopped daydreaming and brought my eyes back to the rest of the people present, who looked at me with deep frowns.

"That's horrible," Ophelia said, concern written across her face.

"How's that horrible?" I asked, confused.

"I don't think there's a point to this discussion. Trust me, many people better than us tried to talk some sense into that family, and none succeeded," Q'Shar commented from the side, looking at me. I rolled my eyes.

"That's how you go out properly," I informed Peter.

"Fading away is for amateurs and boring mages. I say you contract with something that will at least blow you up. Go out with a bang."

"So what, I should contract a god to have an afterlife?" Peter piped back up. The people at the table shrugged.

"Wouldn't do it just for the afterlife," Q'Shar said.

"That's a bad deal. An afterlife is standard practice since the war. If you ever do deal with a god, you'd better go for some power." I nodded absentmindedly at his words.

"You won't care once you're dead. Bargain for power or something fun at least."

"Can't you ask for enough power to be a god yourself? Then the problem's over," Peter said with a chuckle. It was clearly intended as a joke. But the atmosphere became awkward. Silence hung around us for a few seconds.

"Um, sorry, did I say something wrong?" he said slowly.

"No," I replied.

"I mean, you did. But you didn't know. The topic of mortals becoming gods is a bit touchy. Especially recently." The kid only nodded, not pressing on, eager to get rid of the strange pause. But Ophelia wasn't as subdued as he was, and so she simply asked.

"And why? For all your talk of power, you never even suggested godhood as a joke." I sighed. We were having light-hearted fun, talking about death and gods, but now the conversation slowly moved on to a serious topic.

"Because there was an attempt once before, and it didn't end well," Luna said.

"Back in the day," I began slowly, bringing Peter up to date, "there was a war. It's a long story, but overall, it ended up being one massive group of mages against another, with mortals as the, well—""Cannon fodder," Q'Shar proposed.

"Yes. At least at the beginning. Once the sides figured out what you could do with sheer numbers, the war turned bloody. Massacre after massacre among the mundane people. The tactics became increasingly similar to those of modern warfare. The normal people charged to break past the line, while mages acted like artillery, mostly trying to cause maximum damage while the enemy mages tried to shield a charge. But the gist is, it was deadly."

"Weren't there any mages among the common people?" Peter asked, frowning.

"Much fewer. But yes. Soon, it turned out that there was potential for magic in the mortal world, so a change took place—those who could do magic were trained. A lot of them joined the mages so as not to go back to the front line, but there was an outlier, a man who loved mortals and was willing to sacrifice. He wielded a rather uncommon combination of death and life magic and was known as a great warrior on the battlefield and a great healer off it.

But he never took a more comfortable position with the other mages, and stayed on the ground with the common man." Peter nodded lightly, an expression of respect on his face.

"So a hero." We all smiled.

"For a time," Luna whispered.

"Famously, when common folk said that a miracle would be needed for them to survive, he would simply say that if so, then he would bring them miracles. And in a way, he did. Even though he fought on the side of the warlocks, he used his growing fame to unite the common man and push for the end of the war. His followers grew and organized groups to care for the wounded on both sides, tried to ban plague magic, and help regardless of affiliation. Bringers of Miracles, they called themselves.

'If a miracle is what it takes to save you, then miracles we shall bring.'" I quoted the famous saying.

"But… his growing fame among the mortals began to spill over to the mages. It started to make some powerful people uncomfortable, not to mention his own staggering magical talent."

"Did they kill him? Don't tell me the Miracle cult is made up of vigilantes." Ophelia frowned.

"Nooo," Myhur shook his head in sadness.

"Sadly, they were too smart to just try to kill him. Whichever side did that, the other could easily use it to rile up the mortals. They came up with a much worse plan."

"Death by a thousand cuts," Luna said, her eyes glued to the glass in her hand.

"Yeeees," Myhur confirmed.

"Destroy his work, and with it, his reputation. Those he healed would coincidentally go straight to the most grueling front lines. Anyone he helped would be the next to be drafted into a meat grinder. His work was slowly dismantled as he turned from a messiah to an angel of death, his 'help' and 'miracles' bringing misfortune. And they did achieve their goal. It is not known when the man broke, but he did. The problem was that he did not break in the way they suspected."

"Did he swear vengeance on the gods, or something along those lines?" Ophelia proposed.

"No," I shook my head.

"He decided that the problem was something else. The common man lacked a god."

"But you said gods are real?" Peter cut in. I nodded.

"But they aren't interested in just any soul. Non-magical people don't carry that much energy, so they won't get much power if they offer it, and by association, the churches didn't care much for the common man. Gods weren't interested in those unable to wield their powers. They still aren't. So the hero decided he would become a god for the common man… No matter the atrocities he would need to commit."

"Is that even possible?" Peter asked. I shrugged.

"Not sure, but he did fail… hopefully."

"Why would atrocities be needed to become a god?" Peter continued. I looked at him with a smile.

"To understand, you need to understand how other planes work, and what separates them from ours. We'll come back to that talk once you do." I could see Peter deflate while Ophelia was deep in thought. I guessed that, for Peter, it was still just an old story, while for Ophelia, it was the history of the world they were part of. Afterward, we returned to lighter topics about the magical world and its traditions, and as the sun slowly climbed in the sky, we concluded the meeting and finally headed home.

The moment I left the underground, my phone once again caught a signal, and a message from Rey appeared on the screen. We had obtained permission for me to attend the autopsy, and the Lazarus case had been officially transferred to the SID's jurisdiction.