Chapter 204: Game In Motion

“These three are also part of the arrangement with the Moon Mother,” the Incarnate announced. “I want everyone to look at their faces carefully. Study them well.”

The scrutiny intensified. Finn felt dozens of gazes weighing him, assessing threat level, calculating advantage.

“No one is to harm them,” the Incarnate declared. His voice carried absolute authority. “And if they require aid, that aid should be provided promptly. Is this understood?”

Confused murmurs rippled through the hall. Why would the Incarnate protect unknown outsiders? What value did they hold?

The Incarnate smiled at the confusion. “As part of the Moon Mother’s plan to keep me properly motivated, She has allowed another young divine,” he pointed directly at Finn, “to attempt ascension to Godhood alongside me.”

Every gaze on Finn turned greedy and hostile simultaneously. Envy flashed across faces. These Champions and priests who’d dedicated their lives to serving divinity, and here was an outsider being handed an opportunity they could never have.

But they tried to mask that envy with affronted looks on the Incarnate’s behalf, as if Finn’s very existence was an insult to their chosen.

“Don’t concern yourselves too much,” the Incarnate said dismissively. “He’s guaranteed only a fair chance at divinity. Nothing more.”

His smile turned sharp. “He has no knowledge of lore-building. No understanding of the intricacies of ascension. No divine authority to claim as a foundation. And he has the Moon Mother’s protection for only one year. After that…” he shrugged, “…he’s on his own.”

The tension in the room eased immediately. Several priests even chuckled in cruel amusement.

One year? Against the Incarnate who had centuries of accumulated Shadow God authority, the Moon Mother’s direct support, and an entire religious hierarchy backing him?

It wasn’t even a competition.

Finn remained unmoved. He simply stared at the Incarnate without any reaction as he spoke.

The young God continued to be deliberately blunt. Revealing all his intentions without inhibition — his plan to devour Finn once he reached Godhood first, his dismissal of Finn as a serious threat, his confidence that the outcome was already decided.

Then he simply moved on to the next matter, as if introducing Finn had been a perfunctory obligation he couldn’t avoid rather than something worthy of real attention.

As the Incarnate began discussing logistical matters about establishing the new capital, Finn processed what had just happened.

Several facts crystallized:

The Incarnate’s agreement with Luna — as arranged through Lucine’s preparations — had introduced Finn and his goals publicly. Established that he was currently under the Moon Mother’s umbrella. But there was clearly no clause preventing the Incarnate from acting against Finn after the one-year protection period ended.

More importantly, Finn confirmed what Lucine’s cryptic words had meant back in the cave.

The Incarnate had taken the deal Finn refused. Claimed the Moon Mother’s vigorous authorities directly, accepting whatever strings came attached in exchange for immediate power and a massive head start toward Godhood.

The confirmation made Finn feel slightly smug despite the threat he now faced.

Here was the Incarnate, feeling superior for getting something Finn had discarded as too constraining. How would the young divine feel if he knew Finn had turned down that exact offer because he’d seen the trap within it?

A small chuckle escaped Finn’s lips before he could suppress it.

But he didn’t voice the thought. That would be petty, and more importantly, it would needlessly jeopardize what Lucine had worked to establish. His position here was precarious enough without adding complications.

The ceremony continued for nearly another hour.

At first, the matters discussed were interesting. Details about the new capital’s construction, further plans for integrating the two faiths’ hierarchies more deeply, strategies for managing the transition. But Finn quickly lost interest as the conversation devolved into bureaucratic talks and political posturing between various factions.

He tuned out most of it, instead studying the people around him, memorizing faces and behaviors for future reference.

By the time the Incarnate finally declared the gathering concluded, Finn was more than ready to leave.

As the crowd began dispersing, Silvana — the Luna Champion who’d guided them earlier — approached their table.

“Please follow me,” she said quietly. “You’ll wait in a private chamber for further discussion with the Incarnate.”

They were led through a side passage into a smaller room furnished with comfortable seating but no windows. A waiting room, clearly designed for exactly this purpose.

“He’ll be with you shortly,” Silvana said, then withdrew, closing the door behind her.

Thalia immediately moved to examine the room’s potential exits in case anything went wrong. The Mnemosyne simply sat, staring ahead blankly like usual. Finn settled into a chair, his mind was already working through what the upcoming conversation might entail.

But after several minutes of waiting, it wasn’t the Incarnate who entered.

It was Lucine.

She walked into the room with her characteristic energy, her veil now removed, moonlight eyes bright with her familiar mischief. And despite being in a divine union with the Incarnate, despite the political theater they’d just witnessed, she headed straight for Finn.

“Well,” she said with a flirtatious lilt to her voice, drawing closer to Finn with each step. “Wasn’t that exciting?”

Finn shot down her flirting attempt immediately. Real or not, he didn’t have time for her games.

“Is the Incarnate coming or not?”

She pouted. “You’re no fun. Can’t you at least—”

“No.”

She sighed dramatically, dropping into the chair across from him. “Fine. Be boring.” She glanced at Thalia and the Mnemosyne. “Is he always this uptight?”

Thalia’s expression remained stoically neutral, and the Mnemosyne didn’t react at all.

“The Incarnate isn’t coming,” Lucine admitted. “I’m here to send you off instead.” Her playful demeanor turned more serious. “I don’t have much time. He’s the jealous type, and I’d rather not cause problems for you by staying too long.”

The irony of that wasn’t lost on Finn. She’d just openly flirted with him moments ago, but worried about appearances now?

He kept the thought to himself, though, allowing her to continue now that she was serious.

Lucine produced a small book from within her robes and handed it to Finn. The cover was plain leather, unremarkable, with no title or markings.

“Guard this carefully,” she said with grim seriousness. “Read it, memorize it, then burn it. The contents are for your eyes only.”

She cast a meaningful glance at Thalia, who remained unmoved, watching the exchange silently.

“It explains what you need to know about building lore and ascending to divinity,” Lucine continued. “If it’s not enough, my Head Champion, ” she gestured vaguely toward the door, “will accompany you and provide additional guidance as needed.”

Finn took the book, feeling its weight. It wasn’t physically heavy, but it was very symbolically significant. His key to the divine.

“A carriage is prepared outside,” Lucine added. “Everything you need for the journey has been arranged.”

Then she moved suddenly, attempting to pull Finn into a hug.

He dodged quickly, stepping back and offering a polite nod instead. “Thank you for your help, Lucine.”

Her laugh followed him as he headed for the door, gesturing for Thalia and the Mnemosyne to follow. “So prim and proper! I like prim and proper boys, you know!”

Finn felt heat creep up his neck despite himself, embarrassed by her suggestive tone even as he pushed through the door into the corridor.

Right outside stood Silvana, clearly waiting for confirmation to proceed. She glanced past Finn into the room, meeting Lucine’s eyes.

Lucine nodded, still chuckling. “He’s such a good boy. Take care of him for me, Silvana.”

The Head Champion’s expression remained neutral, though Finn thought he detected the faintest hint of amusement at his discomfort.

“This way, please,” Silvana said, beginning to walk down the corridor.

Finn followed quickly, trying to ignore Lucine’s voice fading behind them as she continued to make suggestive comments about proper boys and how much she appreciated them.

Thalia walked beside him, her expression firmly controlled, leading the Mnemosyne by the hand.

As their footsteps echoed down the corridor, putting distance between them and the celebration chamber, Finn allowed himself a small breath of relief.

But back in the waiting room, Lucine’s laughter slowly faded.

Her smile disappeared entirely, replaced by an expression that cycled through several emotions — amusement giving way to something sadder, more melancholic. Then finally firming into something like hope.

She stared at the doorway Finn had disappeared through, her fingers unconsciously touching the veil she’d set aside.

“Good luck, Error,” she whispered to the empty room. “You’re going to need it.”

Then she stood, smoothed her robes, replaced her veil, and went to find her divine consort.

The game was in motion now.

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