Fifty-Seven: The Ask-Me-Anything Alien

"Eve?" Lilith knew the name—ink from a past life's myth—yet in this world she wondered what roots hid under that soil.

"Not the primordial mother you mean; that mighty one’s in the Godrealm, drifting like a sun on quiet seas."

"I'm just a regular thief of names."

"Annie—no, Eve—shook her head, a crescent smile like moonlight on steel.

"Born in the Demon Realm, a common Demon, tagged by parents with dust on their tongues."

"I don't buy it." Lilith watched the silver-haired woman like a hawk on a cliff.

The Little White Dragon wasn’t a fool; that Vampire mask smelled of night and roses, not of any common Demon.

"Really? I thought you'd swallow my words like warm wine." Eve lifted a brow, mischief sparking like flint in a dark cave.

"Looks like you're sharper than I pictured."

"What do I look like in your head?" Lilith couldn't help the bark of a laugh, bitter as frost on stone.

She raised her sword; the tip kissed the silver hair’s shadow, and her voice dropped like a storm before rain.

"Cut the chatter. Why build the Void Sect, and why show up in Morris?"

"Eh? I wanted to chat more, such as leaves fluttering before a storm."

Eve kept a smile, voice light as a cat on a roof.

"Fine. Sharing a few pieces won't crack the sky."

"Before my goal, answer me this—what do you think a god is?"

"A god? What are you even saying?" Lilith paused, breath snagging like silk on a thorn.

Since crossing to this land, she'd taken gods like wind and river—always there, like dawn at the horizon.

She'd never asked what they were or where they came from, like mountains that simply rose out of mist.

"Gods are a kind of life, just higher up the ladder," Eve said, words falling like pebbles into a deep well.

"They existed here before the continent rose, like stars hung in empty night."

"This land holds no records of the world before earth budded from the void, like a tree sprouting from darkness."

"But we know this: when history arrived with land, gods were already gods, like crowns waiting on unseen brows."

"Each god holds a different office, splitting rule over all things into countless motes of power, like sand in an hourglass."

"Then each gathers a handful and names it a Divine Persona, like sealing wind inside a jar."

"A Divine Persona isn’t fixed; most keep shifting like tides under a fickle moon."

"From a small tribe’s guardian to the Mother of All, the Life Goddess, their personae swell and shrink like breath."

"As time carves the continent, a persona can appear from thin air or fade like footprints in rain."

"Wait—so you built the Void Sect to…" Lilith caught the thread like a fisher feeling a tug.

If personae grow or vanish with change, then faith can steer that river like a dam.

"You want to create a Divine Persona?"

"Exactly. An empty one, unclaimed by any god, like a vacant throne in a foggy hall."

"Before the others find it and snatch it, I’ll seize it and press my name into the gold."

"Then I’ll own a Persona and join the gods, like a moth forcing its way into the sun."

Eve pressed a hand to her chest, smile going feral, like blood blooming on snow.

"I’ll become a god. That’s why I founded the Void Sect."

"Including your name?" Lilith’s brows knit, a bowstring drawn taut.

She guessed Eve chose “Eve” to leech faith from the Godrealm’s Eve, like ivy taking a wall, then mold an empty persona for herself.

Or cut a slice straight from that goddess’s Persona, like stealing fire from a shrine.

"Not that. My father named me," Eve said, voice flicking like a match.

"The old fool was drunk on the Bible; on my birthday he flipped a page and stuck me with it."

"I should thank the stars he didn’t brand me with a courtesan’s name, like chalk on a door."

She shook her head with staged regret, then grinned, eyes glinting like knives.

"I still love it, because those ignorant Demons truly thought I was that god come down to train."

"It made building my power easy, like wind filling a ready sail."

"Then why come to Morris?" Lilith watched Eve, gaze steady as a winter moon.

"I don’t see anything here to help your bid for godhood."

"Of course there is." Eve’s answer was clean as a blade through silk.

"This is where one of the former main gods—the Grim Reaper—split apart, like a statue cracking under frost."

"That sun hanging above and that baby buried below both matter, like twin anchors in deep water."

"And on the road to Morris I stumbled into this pocket space, like a rabbit hole under roots."

"The dead little thing behind you is dumb and weak, but she carries a smear of the Grim Reaper’s bloodline."

"All of that is treasure, bright as gold under ash."

"You’re aiming for the Stillborn and the Black Sun?" Lilith’s tone went flinty, like hail on tin.

"And on your way you met Abaddon, caged in this space, and now you covet the Divine Fragment in her?"

"Yeah. Your summary’s not bad," Eve said, words dripping like honey with a bite of gall.

Lilith ignored the barb, eyes like ice.

"You earned Abaddon’s trust by running the Void Sect and took power from her, but it lacked the piece you needed."

"So you ripped out Abaddon’s heart?"

"That’s right." Eve’s shrug was a ripple on dark water.

"What she granted me, beyond this vortex-door, was mostly her own tricks, useless to me like feathers in a forge."

"A shame about her soul—so delicious."

"If used to inherit a god’s blessing, it’d be perfect, like wine aged in thunder."

"Soul… Abaddon’s soul is inside you?" Lilith caught the key like a blade catching light.

"Yes. I swallowed her heart; her soul sits in me, like a caged bird behind ribs."

Eve tapped her chest where the tide beat.

"Pull my heart out and press it back in that girl’s body, and she’ll rise, like dawn after a long night."

Lilith’s fingers clenched on the sword hilt; her body sank low, a spring coiling under stone.

She’d been waiting for those words like a hunter waiting for a breath.