"[Part One: Power]

In an age older than dust, gods still walked the earth. They poured light like sunrise over fields, and people knelt like wheat in wind.

They held absolute power, rule carved from storm and stone. A flick of a finger split mountains; a shrug sent seas heaving.

One raised step, and the ground caved. The sky tore like cloth. Stars fell like hail. Day and night flipped like a coin.

It was a god, yet empty of heart. It knew how to reap like a sickle, not how to return like rain.

It was pure reason, cold as winter water. Every move served its own survival and strength.

So if a god sheds humanity and bares only godhood, then humans...

Humans challenged the divine, wave after wave like tides against a cliff. None could touch even a thread of its light.

So they imagined another path.

Sacrifice 'people' to become a 'god'.

From who knows where, they learned a method. By hidden means, 99% of human will was forged into a single, towering divinity.

Thus, humans slew the gods. Humans became gods.

[Part Two: Reason]

Afterward, the 'god' inherited human will. It blessed like spring, sowed like autumn, and cast a world-bright glow for humankind.

For millennia, humans rose like fire on dry grass. Soon they climbed to the peak of their kind.

The god gave and gave, like a river that forgot its banks. It did not teach awe.

So...

Humans slew a god again.

This time, not for dreams, not for freedom, not for faith. The banners were ash.

War broke both sides. Gods died. Humans dwindled like embers in the snow.

[Part Three: Creation]

The survivors learned, like scorched earth learning rain. They poured all remaining strength into a holy sword and a sacred codex. Only the one recognized by all humanity in the same breath could inherit the sole divine power.

Thus... a man-made god was born.

To prevent chaos like weeds, the god penned humans inside the seas. It sealed the land beyond with terror bright as lightning.

With a humanlike will, it held a sword in one hand and a hymn in the other, and laid the foundation for a peaceful age called the 'Human Realm.'

Yet under that calm surface, rot had spread. The lake shone, the water soured.

Humans split the land and ruled like chessboards.

Faith and desire tangled like vines.

That half-sized cage could not feed a sky-sized hunger.

So humans raised blades toward the god again.

But this time, the god had its own believers. It did not fall with the first strike.

[Part Four: The End]

The god learned. It let humans go like birds. Shackling freedom only fattens desire like shade breeds mold.

Scattered, things did improve. People still clashed like flint and steel, yet sparks faded. The road seemed to straighten.

But long estranged from a god, and armed with god-slaying force, humans forgot awe. They forgot fear. The night lost its wolves.

So the god abandoned rule. It knew this creature called human is a knot of contradictions. Even a god is a knot.

At last, in a white flash like a winter sun exploding, all returned to nothing.

From this little tale, what did you take in?"

Paris finished in one breath, a half-smile flickering like a blade in shade as he watched them.

Silence pooled. After a long while, Ted spoke first, voice cautious as a man on ice. "So... a god shouldn’t stand under our sky at all?"

Paris shook his head, calm as still water. "A god must exist. Without it, humans would sprint faster toward the cliff."

Harrison tried to test the edge. "Then the god ruled the wrong way?"

Paris shook his head again. "Its rule was flawless. Only sword and codex together keep peace from rotting."

Duke Helson kept worrying his fingers, as if pinching thorns. His face showed a jittery storm.

Paris noticed. "Duke Helson, if you have doubts, let the room hear them. It’s a philosophy parley. No harm will come of words."

Helson’s lips trembled. Cold sweat slid like rain down a stone. "I think... people should just obey the god... and ignore everything else..."

"No, no. That’s puppetry, not humanity. People must not be sand. If so, what’s the difference between them and a crowd of sand-men I can wave around?

What joy is there for a god to toy with sand, to rule sand?

You still haven’t caught the pulse of the story." Paris shook his head, disappointed, like a lantern dimming.

Helson went white as chalk at dusk.

Grand Duke William had been listening in stillness, a lake with no ripples. No one could read what lay beneath.

He stayed silent for a long time. Paris waited, quiet as a hunter at the tree line, for the final answer. At length, William said, "Your Highness, I don’t know your true intent.

I’m a blunt man. I have some answers, but they may stray from what you expect.

I’d like to ask for your guidance."

Paris raised a brow in secret, cursing the old fox in the privacy of his mind.

"Very well. I’ll share my take.

[Part One]

The god did nothing wrong. From its own height, there’s no need to care if ants drown in rain.

That is also why it failed.

[Part Two]

‘Humans’ were not wrong either. They dreamed of tomorrow, built a pure, false being, and lived in a painted garden. Extinction was only a matter of season.

[Part Three]

The man-made god held the world steady—sword to press down, codex to praise. Yet it made a fatal error. It caged humans in a cramped space.

It ignored human nature, and it ignored human hunger.

This time, it did gather believers of its own.

[Part Four]

The god tried one last road. It opened the gate.

Unbound, humans forgot awe like children forget winter. They forgot fear like a city forgets its walls.

They raised blades again.

The god tried every key, then saw the lock for what it was, and chose to let go."

"What a tragedy... isn’t it?" Grand Duke William’s voice ached, like a harp string pulled too tight.

Paris’s gaze deepened, as if seeing through fog and bone. "A tragedy? No, I don’t think so.

The fourth part is near-complete.

One more step, a small push, and that species could be finished to wholeness.

Pity. The god was man-made. It bent before human thinking and quit its great work. It let go of the most terrifying, most powerful species under heaven and under stars."

"Your Highness, you mean...?" they asked together, voices braided like rope.

Paris’s eyes were heavy, a king on a cold throne. "In the fourth phase, the god needed to bring divine suppression. Sweep the world with the sword.

Carry the divine standard to every horizon. Under absolute force, the ugly side of man would stay buried, and the god would finish a feat for the ages.

Humans don’t learn without scars.

Peace is a matter of one thought."

Eyes widened. They still didn’t fully grasp Paris’s intent.

Cold sweat slid down Harrison’s back. "Then, Your Highness... are we in the fourth phase now?"

"Who knows? It could still be the third.

Anyway, my wish is simple.

In my lifetime, I want to see the tale end—the birth of the fifth phase.

By then, there’ll be no walls between people, no painted peace. And the god will become the first true ‘human’ since the dawn."

They fell quiet for a long time, silence like snow. At last, they spoke in one voice. "Thank you for your grace, Your Highness. We’ll go and ponder your little story. In seven days, we’ll give you an answer worth your smile."

"Mhm." Paris nodded assent. As they turned to leave, his cool voice, edged with iron, drifted after them. "Today’s talk stays between the five of us.

I’m a suspicious man. If a single word leaks, I..."

"Rest easy, Your Highness. No one will know."

"No one will know."