Chương 25: Interlude: An Unwanted Audience

Far away from the mortal realms, beyond the grasp of any Tutorial participant, a vast platform of polished stone drifted through a sea of distant stars. At its center stood Kordon. The god's towering frame was motionless, yet everything around him bent subtly to his presence. His skin was a deep cobalt blue, smooth and unmarked, reflecting the shifting glow of the countless screens that surrounded him. Four powerful arms rested at his sides, each one embodying a different aspect of his dominion.

Thousands of displays hovered in the void around him. They flickered endlessly with scenes pulled from across the Tutorial under his watch. Battles erupted and ended in moments. Creatures hunted and were hunted in turn. Humans struggled, adapted, and died while others survived. Each moment unfolded in perfect clarity. Kordon's expression remained calm, composed, untouched by the chaos playing out before him. Internally, he was anything but. This has never happened before.

His gaze flicked, just briefly, to a space where no screen lingered. A nearly imperceptible gap among the thousands of displays. One of his participants had vanished. Not died, for he would know the moment that Normie died. No, somehow he had vanished completely. Kordon's jaw tightened slightly, though no other sign of his agitation showed. In all his eras as an Overseer, he had never lost sight of a participant. The System obscured their stats and internal states, but it had never cut one from his view entirely.

What did you do…? The thought lingered, unanswered. Then a thin silver seam stitched itself into the fabric of his domain. Kordon's attention snapped toward it instantly. The seam split apart with a distorted, tearing sound, like a corrupted transmission forced through an unwilling speaker. From within stepped Jackal Quipshade. The second rate god brushed at his fur as if removing dust, bushy tail swaying lazily behind him as though he had all the time in existence. A second figure followed.

Kordon's eyes narrowed at both of them. Now? Of all possible moments, Jackal has the gall to come now? Internally, irritation flared into anger but externally he made sure nothing changed.

"What are you doing here?" Kordon asked, his voice even. Jackal looked up at him with a wide, toothy grin, ears twitching with exaggerated innocence.

"Oh, come now," he said lightly.

"Can't a fellow god drop by to enjoy the show?" The other god said nothing, their presence still and unreadable beside Jackal. Kordon's gaze lingered on Jackal. Suspicion came easily when dealing with him. The creature was infamous for inserting himself into matters that did not concern him—always with a reason, always with something to gain. He knows something. The thought formed immediately. Two gods did not arrive uninvited to observe a Tutorial without cause.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. And yet… Jackal had said nothing. No mention of the anomaly. No hint that he knew. Kordon's eyes narrowed slightly. Or he's waiting for an opportune moment.

"So," Jackal continued casually, reaching into empty space and producing a large tub of buttered popcorn.

"I've heard your Tutorials are particularly entertaining. Thought I'd see how the new generation handles things." He tossed some popcorn into his toothy mouth, chewing thoughtfully. Kordon exhaled slowly. Jackal was annoying and his timing was suspicious. But technically, watching was not forbidden. And Jackal's offerings… Kordon's gaze flicked briefly to the popcorn. The last time he had accepted something from Jackal, the beneficial effects had lingered long after the taste had faded.

"Fine," Kordon said at last.

"You may observe." Jackal's grin widened.

"Fantastic!" A plush recliner materialized beneath him as he dropped into it without hesitation, settling in as though he owned the place. The soot-robed god, in stark contrast, produced a simple wooden stool and sat with rigid precision, hands resting neatly in their lap. And just like that— Kordon was no longer alone.

Jackal tossed another handful of popcorn into his mouth, eyes already scanning the nearest screens with open amusement as he leaned sideways in his recliner, elbow draped over the armrest before giving Kordon a casual nudge.

"So," he said, voice light with curiosity, "who's your pick?" Kordon did not answer immediately. All four of his arms folded slowly across his chest as his gaze remained fixed on the constellation of screens drifting before him. Internally, his thoughts sharpened. Of course he knows. Jackal Quipshade did not arrive uninformed. If he had come here, if he had brought another god with him, then he already knew something was amiss. And yet… He hadn't said it outright. No mention of the disappearance.

No probing questions. Kordon's eyes narrowed slightly. How much do you know? His attention flicked, just briefly, to that same empty space among the screens. One moment, the Coreless human had been there—performing some strange ritual alongside the Viscount of his quadrant. The next moment, both of them were gone. Even now, Kordon could replay every other moment within the Tutorial with perfect clarity. Every battle. Every death. Every decision. But the System had cut him off near the end of the Viscount's ritual.

Why? The question lingered, unanswered. Kordon finally spoke.

"I have narrowed the field to a short list of potential candidates." One of his arms lifted and several screens detached from the greater mass and drifted closer, hovering between them.

"Multiple individuals display potential to be the System's Chosen." He gestured toward the first. A frozen mountainside filled the display. Snow whipped violently through the air as a group of humans struggled against an encroaching tide of undead. At their forefront stood a woman with long blonde hair, her blade moving with precise, almost unnatural efficiency as she carved through skeletal ranks. Another screen shifted forward. A volcanic landscape dominated the view.

Two colossal elementals clashed atop the mountain's rim—one of molten fire and flowing magma, the other of jagged stone. Each impact sent rivers of lava and tons of rock cascading down the slope. A third display emerged. A calm oasis, untouched by the chaos of the wider Tutorial. At its center, a man stirred a bubbling cauldron with measured patience, adding ingredients with careful precision as though the surrounding desert posed no threat at all. The final screen drifted into place. A crude swamp encampment.

Makeshift structures rose from mud as a pale man stood at its center, directing others with a surprising authority, his expression composed despite the danger lurking beyond their fragile settlement. Jackal leaned forward, eyes gleaming with interest.

"Oh, this is fun," he said. The other god remained still, arms folded, content to remain silent as they observed.

"Which one do you think it is?" Jackal asked, a grin tugging at his lips. Kordon's gaze moved from one screen to the next, studying each in turn.

"It is too soon to tell." With a subtle motion, he sent the displays drifting back into the greater sea of observation.

"The Chosen does not reveal themselves immediately," he continued.

"Their path must be observed. Their decisions weighed." Jackal tossed another piece of popcorn into his mouth, watching the screens with open enjoyment.

"So you're just… waiting?" he asked. Kordon inclined his head.

"I will observe the flow of fate surrounding each of them," he said calmly.

"In time, possibility will narrow into certainty." Jackal leaned back into his recliner, completely at ease.

"Well," he said cheerfully, his ears flicking with amusement.

"Guess we'll just have to keep watching."