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Lord of Entertainment C302 The others
🕑 Added 2025-04-08 15:56:23 +0000 UTC(3rd Person POV)
At that moment, Arthur couldn’t help but wonder—was there truly anyone left who could challenge him now?
He was technically a «Deity» now. Even if only at the entry level, that status alone placed him far beyond the comprehension of mortals.
Standing by the window overlooking the glittering skyline of Horn Kingdom, he gazed into the distance. The stars above the mortal world shimmered, ignorant of the divine presence now walking beneath them.
“With this power,” Arthur murmured, “I should be able to sense almost all of the Anatolia Region…”
He slowly raised his hand, palm facing outward, as if trying to cradle the entire land.
Suddenly, a massive, unseen hand—a projection of divine will—materialized and engulfed Horn Kingdom. Within moments, it expanded outward, stretching across neighboring lands.
Arthur’s eyes narrowed, pupils glowing faintly with golden light.
“This technique…” he muttered. “It’s more than just a detection skill. I can feel it—touch it.”
In his palm, an illusory mirage formed: a miniature representation of Anatolia. Horn Kingdom was the center, but he could also see Morningstar, Thorn, Choson, Japon, several Southeast Anatolian kingdoms, and even fragments of Bharat Kingdom shimmering faintly at the edge.
The divine ability he had just purchased from Entertainment Divine Shop was called «Divine’s Grasp»—a skill that allowed a deity to extend their awareness, almost physically, over vast lands.
But this was merely its initial stage. Far from being able to grasp the entire world… for now, he could only touch half of Anatolia.
He studied his glowing palm. “It feels… heavy,” he said aloud, brow furrowed. Then realization hit him. “Wait… is this actually the weight of half the continent?”
His eyes widened slightly in alarm as his hand began to tremble. The floor beneath him cracked under the invisible pressure.
He could hear it now—millions of voices, shouts, cries, laughter, whispers. The chaos of life in Anatolia, compressed and amplified through the divine connection.
Arthur clenched his teeth.
“This isn’t just a divine scanning technique…” he muttered. “This thing… if I willed it, I could crush half the continent. All of it… in the palm of my hand.”
A thrill shot down his spine—a mix of exhilaration and dread.
‘This power… it’s not just overwhelming. It’s dangerous.’
Veins bulged slightly along his arm, the pressure threatening to overload his senses. He exhaled slowly, focusing on control. ‘Hold it gently… don’t squeeze.’
Then, as he tried to sift through the chaos and sense the strongest presences across the region—
“…This…” he whispered, eyes widening.
A chill ran down his spine.
Without hesitation, he dispelled the technique. The pressure, the voices, the weight—it all vanished in an instant. Silence returned.
Arthur stood still, the ghost of awe still lingering in his eyes.
“There are others…” he finally said. “Other Deity-level beings… right here in Anatolia?”
---
In the remote mountains of the Bharat Kingdom, where mist draped the cliffs like silk and the air was serene, an old man walked down a jagged path. His appearance was unassuming—clad in a plain white robe, with long snow-colored hair and pale, sightless gray eyes. Though blind, his gaze carried a strange depth—calm, wise, and unfathomably intelligent.
An eagle swooped down from the sky and landed gently on his shoulder.
“Ah, little eagle,” the old man chuckled softly. “Looking for another free meal, are you?”
But before the bird could respond with a squawk, a sudden gust of wind swept past them—unnatural, sharp, and charged with power.
The old man froze. Even the eagle stiffened.
His expression shifted. A single bead of sweat formed on his forehead.
“…Such overwhelming power,” he whispered. “In all my 370 years, I’ve never felt anything like this.”
He rubbed his shoulder slowly, the pressure still lingering in his bones. His thoughts turned inward.
‘Who is it…? Has the Church finally grown tired of my disappearance? Have they sent an ‹Angel› to drag me back?’
He sighed, weary. “Tch. They just had to make me ‹Pope›, didn’t they? All I ever wanted was a quiet life…”
---
Elsewhere across Anatolia, several hidden figures felt the ripple of divine presence.
In an ancient temple deep within the Choson province, a frail-looking man sat cross-legged on an altar. His body was so thin, it looked like a gust of wind could blow him away. He wore a faded monk’s robe, his skin pale, veins showing beneath the surface.
Kneeling below him were several followers, all clad in the same monk-like garb.
“This vessel… won’t last much longer,” the man rasped, clutching a bracelet in one trembling hand. “You must find me another—something stronger. A healthy body. A capable one.”
“We understand, my lord!” one of the followers said, bowing lower.
“Do it quickly,” the man said, his breath shallow. “If you succeed, you’ll be rewarded. And this church of ours… it won’t be called a cult for much longer. We’ll take this province first. Then the world.”
But then—he froze.
His body jerked upright. His eyes widened in shock.
“My lord? Is something wrong?” one follower asked, alarmed.
The thin man didn’t answer. He was trembling.
‘This power… this pressure…!’
He gritted his teeth, rage and panic bubbling beneath the surface.
‘I knew it… I knew we weren’t the only ones eyeing this world. That divine aura… It has to be a warning. Either Solarus himself… or one of his enforcers. They’re telling us to back off. To stay in our place!’
The floor of the temple quaked. The air grew thick, heavy—suffocating. Several followers clutched their throats, gasping as the oppressive aura weighed down on them.
“Urgh…”
The frail man finally snapped out of his thoughts and glared down at them.
“Useless fools!” he roared. “I told you—find me a proper vessel!”
“Y-Yes, my lord! Right away!”
---
Across the Anatolia Continent, hidden cults and factions felt it—the tremor of a divine presence descending into their world.
In a packed cinema deep within the heart of the Horn Kingdom, a figure sat in the center row, unmoving. The High Arbiter, cloaked in simple clothes to blend in, paused mid-popcorn bite. His eyes gleamed with subtle amusement.
‘Hmm? A new deity… already making a statement? So eager to be noticed?’ he thought with a chuckle.
A nearby shadow twitched—and from it stepped a tall, sleek figure with midnight skin, green eyes and curly hair. The Shadow Elf. His voice was low and sharp. “Did you feel that, High Arbiter?”
The High Arbiter didn’t look his way, but nodded. “Loud and clear.”
The Shadow Elf frowned. “Another damn «Invader». They never learn. Our world already belongs to the Three Known Gods. Do they truly think they can challenge that?”
The High Arbiter gave a soft chuckle. “I wouldn’t judge them too harshly. After all… weren’t our gods once the same?”
The Shadow Elf stiffened. “That… was different. That history is behind us, my lord.”
The High Arbiter’s eyes glittered. “Is it? Or have we simply rewritten it to suit our pride?”
The silence stretched.
“You seem unsettled,” the High Arbiter added, glancing sideways. “Are you feeling guilty, perhaps?”
The Shadow Elf lowered his head and said nothing.
The High Arbiter leaned back in his seat, crossing one leg over the other. “Four hundred years ago, the gods we serve now destroyed the pantheon before them. They didn’t ask permission. They didn’t negotiate. They conquered.”
His voice dropped, a whisper laced with amusement. “So, if one deity could do it… why not another?”
Without another word, the Shadow Elf vanished into the darkness. The High Arbiter leaned back in his seat, letting the flickering screen paint light across his face.
He looked toward the ceiling, beyond the theater, toward the unseen heavens.
‘This world grows more unstable by the day… and I can’t help but feel it’s all building toward something. An end, perhaps… or a beginning.’
A quiet smirk tugged at his lips. “How thrilling.”
“I wonder how Arthur Pendragon is doing. His creations are a delight. Let’s just hope he doesn’t end up as someone else’s puppet... It’d be a shame to waste such talent.”
And then, with a chuckle that echoed faintly through the crowded cinema, he whispered,
“This show… is just getting started.”
