There comes a point though, with self-analysis, that it becomes crippling. A certain amount of self-analysis is good enough, too much results in self-paralysis. We see this in the Divines who wish to theorize about their own creation. We still have the worthless debate, after thousands of years, on whether a Divine possesses a soul or not. One can say it is settled, point to the fact that Neneria can capture the spirit of a Divine and conscript them into her Dead Legion. There is a counter-argument though, we know that souls travel to another place. Or rather, we know that they talk of leaving this world. Whether a spirit that is not born but rather a figment of consciousness can do that is unknown.

The issue stems from the fact that the great heroes, the most famous leaders, the most heroic of warriors that are known in every society, which have more than enough fame and general awareness of them to constitute a fresh apotheosis of a divine have not and do not return. Whereas the person can be mythologized beyond recognition, the fact that is a person still precludes it from reappearing on this world. In this way, is this because humanity simply cannot resurrect humanity? Or is it because a soul is individual and can only exist in one space at one time?

The former answer is pure conjecture, the latter, we have proof of. Yet the latter’s implication is that a soul does not disappear even when it leaves this world. Yet Divinity can be resurrected. This presents the natural problem of why can Divinity return? The theory goes that although a Divine is an incarnation of, it is an individual incarnation of. And that eventually, whatever the original concept is changes enough that it will create a new host.

Of course, that is a long-winded rationalization to take what we know and fit it into the unsolvable question that we started on: is the Divine spirit a real soul? Or is it merely an incomplete parody of one?

It is a question that is not worth seeking the answer to, and it is one I do not wish to know the answer to. I know what I am, and I will never be anything less or anything more. Ultimately, the fact the answer is unknown gives me the certainty to craft my own reality. Whether true reality agrees with mine is unknown, however that does not matter for the certainty of knowing brings about a strength far greater.

Even if my soul was fake, I would still be me. I would conjure up my own soul through force of will. I know I have a soul even if Divinity do not have souls upon apotheosis, because I am certain I have made one for myself already. The question is meaningless for the only answer it can give is that I am correct.

Nevertheless, I am uncertain of how many Divines would perish out of sheer hopelessness if I were wrong.

– Excerpt from the private writings of God Arascus, of Pride.

“We have sent some two million out into the Empire.” Helenna said as she stared at her desk. Arseille had been destroyed four days ago, she had not even been there to watch the city be wiped off the surface of Arda. Instead, she and Malam had been in this office, making plans on how to deal with the crisis that lay at her feet.

“Excuse me little girl.” Malam said, leaning back. “You have sent some two million out into the Empire.” This reminder came almost every hour. “Do you know what I would have done?”

“Bombed them.” It wasn’t even a question at this point, Helenna knew exactly what Malam would have done. She would have bombed them, and this problem wouldn’t exist in the first place. Neither the housing of so many people, nor the fact that they didn’t know how many of them were succubi in disguise. The only way to empty the city in time was to abandon cellular testing.

“And guess what would have happened?” Malam crossed her arms and looked around the office they sat in. It was a hotel room in Aris actually, but it was effectively an office. There was nothing here but plans upon plans upon plans, over the floor, over the coffee table, spilling onto the couch and even climbing up the walls where they had been stuck on with adhesive gum. All save for the kitchen, which was filled with empty bottles. That was Malam’s doing. Of Hatred was currently on the couch, quickly finishing off yet another bottle to add to the pile.

Helenna sighed, her head dropping as she looked at her own bare legs. Malam at least had to go out to restock on alcohol, Helenna had no such vice, so the sun had not kissed her skin directly in the four days since she got here. It was just a constant grind of planning and making contingencies, of trying to design the IBI singlehandedly, with the odd advice disguised as a snarky comment from Malam. “We would be in this situation.” Helenna said, defeated.

Malam chuckled to herself and swung her head back as she took another sip. Helenna felt something cold touch her bare knee. “Here.” Malam said.

“What?” Helenna said and the was cut off. Oh. The bottle. “I don’t do vodka.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“I’m not a beggar.”

“But you are a thirsty horse and I’ve just led to you water. Here.” She bounced the bottle against Helenna’s knee. Her leg jumped slightly at the sensation.

Helenna sighed and rolled her eyes. “It hits me harder than it hits you.” She took the still.

“Good.” Malam said. “Name me a single good decision you made whilst sober.”

Malam was honestly a rancid creature. It was one thing to be a drunk. It was another entirely to be a drunk that tried to get others to join the club. “Sleeping with your father.” Helenna replied, Malam just chuckled at that as Helenna tipped her head back and drank the damn vodka. She felt the burn in her stomach and the drunkenness hit almost immediately. It would be gone within a half hour. She would need to empty a full bottle in her before she got sleepy, two back to back to have a headache.

“Oh my my, what a touchy subject.” Malam said. “You speak about it so much I just may have to tell everyone else.”

It was infuriating because Malam was untouchable and because Helenna firmly believed that Of Hatred would actually put a hole in the ship simply out of spite. But then there was a way to meet this behaviour. Fire had to be fought with fire. Malam could not put a hole in the ship if it was already sinking. “Do you think I could not convince Arascus to marry me?”

Malam called her bluff. “I doubt it sweetie.”

“I am the Goddess of Love and Romance.” Helenna said. “Don’t forget that.”

“The lonely Goddess of Love unrequited.” Malam cooed back.

“Do you want to bet on it?”

“You don’t know even know how capable I am.” Malam said, she leaned back and extended her arm out. Helenna took another swig from the bottle immediately. “I like your cherry lipstick.” She said. Helenna would have blushed at it some time ago, at this point, this was the standard.

“Guess who else likes it?” Helenna said. The booze was warm and she had swallowed a solid quarter of the bottle. It was good.

“Oh I’m sure a great many people. Should I ask my dad for a preliminary report?” Malam chuckled. “I’m sure he’ll be willing to share.” Helenna just stared at Malam. She knew Arascus but Arascus had adopted Malam as a daughter. She knew Arascus, but was she willing to risk whether she knew him better than Malam? She should press on. She knew fire had to be fought with fire. And she could not say it. Malam sensed the hesitation. “Do not worry sweetie, I’m not going to embarrass you like that.”

There it was. There it fucking was. A comment like this always came. It was utterly devastating each time. Malam had seen the opening and she went straight for the jugular. There was just no retort Helenna had, no name that Malam had not heard a thousand times before. “Degenerate.”

“Girlfailure.” Malam cooed that word. Helenna utterly fucking hated it. Why was Malam even on the internet? For what reason? Just to learn this slang so that she could use it as ammo in an argument.

“Not this again.”

“Is my little luddite annoyed?” Malam asked.

“Luddite?” Helenna asked. “What?”

“Do you need a dictionary definition?” Malam asked. “Truly a ludditious luddite.”

“Shut up, I know what luddite means!” Helenna shouted back. “Shut up for fucks sake, I’m planning.”

“Mmh.” Malam answered. “I see that, we’re making big progress.”

“How else do you create an organisation?”

“You find a cult and then you scale it upwards, like the olden days.” Malam replied dryly. She drank from the now empty bottle, then closed one back eye to look into from the top. “They do not make these in proper size.”

“No, they don’t.” That, Helenna could agree on. Whoever thought to stock this hotel needed to lose their job. A half-litre bottle wasn’t even a start for a major Divine. Malam lazily swung her head to the cabinet.

“Can you get me one?” She asked.

“Get one yourself.” Helenna’s returned to the structure of a professional IBI team. How would it look like? What was even the purpose of this? How did Malam organize her troops? Well, Helenna knew, it was based off standard police but with more weaponry and licenses to kill. It was less about the number of troops but more about the fact that they were allowed effectively unlimited authority because of being an extension of an Imperial Princess.

Malam’s head fell backwards, she made a sigh that filled the room. “I’m lazy! Get one for me!” Utterly repulsive creature.

“How did you organize your SIS?” Helenna said.

“I’ll tell you if you get me a bottle.” Malam said. Helenna’s eyes narrowed. This was another trick. It had to be. But then she was stuck. Moving her legs would be good at least.

“Will you tell me?”

“I will tell you.” Malam said. Helenna didn’t bother wasting time, she wasn’t a child. She just stood up, marched through her papers and opened one of the cabinets. Empty. Another. There were a few bottles remaining here, all of the same shit that Malam had specifically requested on the way here. She took one and stopped herself from throwing it at Malam’s head when she saw how the other Goddess was practically rotting on her couch.

“Here.” Helenna said, putting the bottle on Malam’s lap.

“Open the cap and pour it in my mouth.” Malam moaned. Helenna just stared at her. She opened her mouth to say a disgusting retort, then just about stopped herself.

“Pour it yourself, you said you would answer.” Malam sighed.

“I know and I’m an honest girlie.” She said. “A girldictator you could say.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

“If you know what girlfailure means, you should be able to put two and two together.” Malam said and finally sat up. “Alright, how did I organize the SIS, you wanted to know.”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t.” Helenna slowly closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them again.

“What?”

“I didn’t.” Malam just repeated herself.

“I heard you the first time.”

“Do you know what I did?”

“Please.” Helenna said.

“I have this lovely little sister you know, she loves working, she has red hair, she’s has the hots for Kavaa. Do you know her?” Helenna looked down at the pieces of paper in defeat. She was an idiot. She was just an idiot. That was all that their could be said to it. Why had she not thought of this?

“You just asked Kassandora?”

“Mmh.” Malam said. “Do you actually think I can organize the SIS from the ground up?” The moment the words left Malam’s mouth, Helenna just sat there in stunned surprise. It was such an obvious question and yet she had never thought of asking it. Why would she? “I just wrote the doctrine and things, but the actual ground up procedure, that was all her.” This time, Malam said it smugly. “Why? Did you not think of that? Did the Goddess of Love not think to consult on the family of a friend? Aren’t you two friends anyway? Shouldn’t you have just asked?”

“I…” Helenna just trailed off. She actually had nothing to say. What was there to even say? She was a fucking idiot. That was all there was to it.

“Tut tut tut.” Malam said. “Can’t handle relationships, you know what that is a trait of?” Yes. Helenna knew exactly. Malam answered for her. “Girlfailures, not girldictators like me.”

The worst, most repulsive, most disgusting, waste of air and space on Arda.

Helenna sat in stunned silence as she thought of what to say. How should Kassandora even be asked? Surely she needed some guidance. Her eyes went to the sheet in her lap. Why had she been planning the layout of an individual team of IBI officers when she could have been writing operating procedure? She just sat there, her mind recalibrating to the fact that the Empire did actually possess the Goddess of War in their midst. There was so much that could be done. And why did it even have to rely on Kassandora alone? Couldn’t Fer be brought in too? She sat there as her world crashed down and bloomed at the same time. For how long, she didn’t know. She could even ask Arascus! Why had she not rang him for help yet?!

An explosion. The two Goddesses looked out the window. Fire. A fireball heading upwards, towards the sky from another part of the city. It any major buildings but almost immediately the sounds of police sirens were heard through the window. Helenna pursed her lips, it wasn’t Ardan magic, Ardan flames were not tinged purple. The blue sky in the distance was now taunting. It was one thing to see combat under the grey of Ashen Skies, it was another when it was terrain that supposedly should be safe. “Oh well lookie here.” Malam said. “Why do you think that is happening?”

“Because we didn’t just bomb them.” Helenna bit each word off. This is what she got for wanting to save people.

“Exactly.” Malam said. “Because we didn’t just bomb them.” Of Hatred stood up and smoothed down her white shirt. “Now you’re going to have to excuse me, I have a job to do.”

“The police can handle it.”

“The SIS handles internal threats.” Malam cooed and waved her fingers as if tapping a series of keys on a piano. “And must I remind you Helenna, what did you say?”

Helenna’s head collapsed down even more. “That I would solve it.”

Malam burst out in a torrent of utterly horrendous laughter as she put her coat on and pulled out that cape of snow-white hair from underneath the collar. “Of course my precious princess! Of course! That you would solve it! Music to my ears Helenna! Get to work on that IBI and solve it! And do it fast too! The SIS is good at what it does! You don’t want me to just completely embarrass you, do you?”

“And if I can’t?” Helenna asked. It was a monumental task.

“Start small little lady. The SIS began with the Tremali Division and that was a gaggle of prisoners.” Malam bent down to lace her black boots up. “And now look at what it is now.” She stood back up, buckled the belt that had been left on the island in the hotel room’s kitchen, and rolled her shoulders before checking the pistol still in its holster. “How do I look? Beautiful enough to go out?”

Helenna turned her gaze to get a good look. This was one of the worst parts of the day, the fact that Malam was so endlessly confident was a crime against this world. She was a monocolour of black and white, the hair, the shirt, and the pale skin on one side of the extreme, the coat, the belt, the boots, the eyes on the other. “You look terrible.” Helenna muttered.

Malam cackled with laughter as she opened the door. “Then it fits for I am off to do terrible things!” She closed the door behind herself. Helenna heard her laugh even in the corridor.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep