Sunny's feet barely touched the ground as he walked through the ethereal world, a realm where the air felt thick with power, yet empty of warmth. The godly figure before him seemed more like an illusion—an image conjured by the collective belief of the masses. His presence radiated immense control, but something about him felt hollow, as if he was playing a role, wearing a mask of divinity.
The figure stood tall, cloaked in shimmering robes, his face serene yet distant. His eyes glowed with a strange light, almost as if they were searching, probing.
"You've come here," the god said, his voice calm and soft, yet echoing in Sunny's mind. "What is it that you seek, mortal?"
Sunny's brow furrowed. He had spent countless lifetimes in dreams, in suffering, in death and rebirth, but this was something else entirely. There was a chilling aura surrounding this being—a being that called itself a god.
"You're not a god," Sunny said with a defiant tone, stepping forward. "You're just a product of manipulation. A construct, made by others. You aren't divine. You're just... playing pretend."
The god's eyes gleamed with amusement. There was no offense, no anger in his gaze, only a strange pity. He took a slow step toward Sunny, his presence growing larger, like an immovable mountain.
"You think so?" The god's voice lowered, laced with an almost sinister wisdom. "Let me tell you something, child. I wasn't always this way. I wasn't always what you see now."
Sunny stood still, his gaze never wavering. "What do you mean?" he asked, the skepticism clear in his voice.
The god chuckled, a sound like wind through dead leaves. "I wasn't born a god. I didn't have this power from the beginning. I was forged through pain, through countless experiments. I went through trial after trial, pushed to my limits, broken again and again. Through the help of others, I became... immortal. And through manipulation, I learned how to control not just people, but the very fabric of existence.
I didn't gain power by knowledge. No, knowledge is a tool, not the answer. I learned how to bend others to my will. How to make them believe in something greater than themselves. That's how I became what I am now."
Sunny's fists clenched. He couldn't deny the twisted logic that rang true in the god's words, but it only left a bitter taste in his mouth. "So, you're just a puppet with the strings cut. You don't have power because you're a god. You have power because you manipulate everyone around you."
The god smiled, but there was no warmth in it. Only a dark, knowing smile. "Exactly. Power isn't about what you can do. It's about what others believe you can do. A god is someone who manipulates the hearts and minds of those beneath them. They don't need knowledge or true power—they need control."
Sunny stood there in silence, feeling something shift within him. The weight of the god's words seemed to hang in the air, pressing down on him like a thick fog. He had always believed that power came from understanding, from wisdom, or strength. But this god, if he could even be called that, had shown him a different path—a path that relied on deceit, control, and belief.
"So, it's all a lie?" Sunny muttered, more to himself than to the god. "Everything you've done, every action you've taken, it's just a game?"
The god's smile widened, and there was something dark and unsettling in the way his eyes gleamed. "Of course. Power, immortality, control—it's all a game. A game that I have mastered. You see, I didn't gain this power through divine insight or sacred knowledge. I used others. I twisted their minds, their beliefs. I showed them a path, a path that led to my glory."
Sunny's mind raced. The idea that someone could manipulate the beliefs of an entire world, shaping them into a god-like figure, was not something he could easily accept. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that the god's words held weight. This god wasn't a being of divine power—he was a master manipulator, someone who had learned to control not through strength, but through the belief of others.
"You're right," Sunny said slowly, his voice gaining strength. "Power isn't something you learn. It's something you enforce. You didn't need divine wisdom. You needed the ability to manipulate. And you've done it well. But that's not what a god is to me."
The god tilted his head slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "And what would you call a god, then?"
Sunny's eyes hardened. "A god doesn't manipulate others. A god guides them, protects them, leads them to something greater. Not through control, but through trust, compassion, and understanding. A god should be something worth believing in, not something that just bends people to their will."
The god's smile faltered, replaced by a look of mild amusement. "Your naive idealism will be your downfall, child. But perhaps that's what makes you interesting."
Sunny clenched his fists. "I don't care about your world. I don't care about your manipulation. What I care about is understanding the truth. And the truth is—you're not a god. You're just a man who learned how to lie to the world."
The god chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming with a strange mixture of pride and mockery. "So be it. But remember this, Sunny: you will need more than ideals to survive here. If you wish to become something greater, you'll have to learn how to manipulate, how to deceive, and how to control. That's the only way forward."
Sunny took a step back, his resolve hardening. "Then I'll find my own way. One that doesn't rely on lies."