A week passed.
Aeren stood waiting for Dipti, his posture relaxed, his gaze distant. A thought surfaced—one he had never expected to have. He had never thought he would need something like this. In the past, he would have simply destroyed a few realities and moved on without hesitation. Yet now, he understood.
To awaken his consciousness fully, he needed worshippers. The more they become aware of me, he thought, the more my consciousness will awaken. If he wanted worshippers, he would have to give them something first.
He would have to sacrifice for them. Share kindness with them. Allow himself to be mocked. Protect them when they were weak. Stand before their despair. And even… play with them. Slowly, without realizing it, they would begin to feel for him. To rely on him. To believe in him. They would call it faith.
Aeren's eyes narrowed slightly. But first, I need to slow down. I need to get to the root of their fear. And that root was Pause.
He planned carefully—step by step—how he would gather worshippers, not by force, not by command, but by quietly becoming the center of both fear and salvation in their minds.
If Nothingness or Pauseness had consciousness, he mused, this would have been unnecessary. They already embody everything I need. A faint, humorless thought crossed his mind. Ha… if they were aware, I wouldn't need gods or demons at all.
Standing there, Aeren realized something almost absurd. To awaken—He needed noise.
Aeren turned his head and looked into the distance. He spotted Dipti walking toward him. A smile spread across his face, and he raised his hand, waving openly.
"Dipti—over here!" His voice carried easily.
As she drew closer, he noticed her expression—and the frustration written clearly across her face.
He's here too… Dipti realized. Her eyes flicked to Aman standing beside Aeren. In an instant, all the daydreams she'd been lost in shattered. She clenched her fists, her teeth grinding together as she stomped forward, anger sharpening her steps.
"Hey, Aarav," Dipti said, forcing a smile that was anything but warm. "Why is he here?"
Aeren turned slightly, finally noticing Aman's presence properly. Aman stood there awkwardly, silent, looking between them with confusion—just as lost as Dipti was irritated.
"Hm… I'm sorry," Aeren said lightly. He stepped closer to Dipti and lifted his hand, gently patting her head. "I didn't inform you," he continued in a calm, gentle tone. "I just ran into him on the way and brought him along."
Dipti stared at him for a moment.
Then she exhaled softly, the tension easing just a little. Her shoulders relaxed, and she looked away with a quiet sigh—accepting it, even if she wasn't entirely pleased. Aeren's hand lingered for a second longer before he pulled it back.
Aman, meanwhile, remained utterly confused—standing between something he clearly didn't understand, yet could feel pressing heavily in the air.
Aeren took Dipti's hand and led her toward Aman, stopping a short distance in front of him. He smiled casually at Aman, who stared back with visible surprise—though he tried hard not to show it.
"Hm, Aman," Aeren said lightly, glancing between them, "you've never formally met Dipti, right?" He stood squarely between them, pointing subtly from one to the other. Aeren could feel it clearly—neither of them liked the other. Not even a little.
"Oh, right," Aeren added, still smiling. "You've seen each other, but you were never introduced. Let me—"
"No need. Let's go."
Dipti cut him off immediately. She didn't even look at Aman. "I don't want to know a drunkard," she said sweetly, the mockery in her smile sharp and deliberate.
Aman stiffened. Anger flashed across his face as he turned fully toward her.
"Hey, Aarav," he snapped, stepping closer. "What is this ugly pig doing here?" Dipti's smile froze. "Didn't I tell you?" Aman continued, voice rising. "This ugly pig is using you. Leave her behind. You and I are enough to see the world without dragging around something this unpleasant." He scoffed. "Don't worry, my friend. I'll find someone far more suitable for you."
Aman turned back toward Aeren—Only to see Aeren looking at him with something close to sympathy.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
Dipti struck him three times in rapid succession, smashing the stick down on his head without hesitation.
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING AN UGLY PIG, YOU BASTARD?!" she screamed.
Aman collapsed instantly, unconscious before he hit the ground.
The surrounding area went silent. Then whispers erupted. People turned. Eyes widened. Murmurs spread through the crowd.
Aeren laughed softly.
He stepped in, wrapped an arm around Dipti's waist, and pulled her firmly to his side—claiming her presence without a word. The noise around them grew. Whispers layered upon whispers.
"Did you see that?"
"She didn't hesitate at all…"
"That man deserved it, but still—three hits?"
"Who is she to strike someone like that?"
And in the middle of it all, Aeren smiled—truly smiling—as if this chaos were exactly what he wanted.
"Calm down, Dipti."
Aeren pulled her back, placing himself slightly between her and Aman's fallen body. He glanced down at Aman with something like sympathy before turning to Dipti, who was trembling—on the verge of tears.
"The crowd is watching," Aeren said loudly, deliberately raising his voice. "Calm down. Aman is on our side."
His words were meant for more than just her.
Dipti snapped her gaze toward the onlookers. The moment her eyes met theirs, people flinched. Faces turned away. Whispers died mid-breath as the crowd quickly scattered, retreating from her glare.
Then Aeren spoke again, softer now. "What happened to you, Dipti? Why did you hit him?"
That did it. Dipti spun toward Aeren, fury blazing in her eyes. Her tears stopped halfway.
"Didn't you hear what he said?" she snapped. The stick was still in her hand—raised slightly, instinctively ready.
Aeren noticed immediately. He took a step back. Then another. An awkward smile crept onto his face.
"Oh—right," he said quickly. "Sorry. I forgot." He glanced at Aman again. "He deserved it."
He continued stepping back, just in case. Dipti's breathing slowly steadied. Her gaze drifted down to Aman's unconscious body, but only for a moment. There was no regret in her eyes.
She turned back to Aeren. "Let's register our names with the Royal Gods," she said firmly. "We'll take a permit to travel the world."
She didn't ask for his opinion.
She didn't wait for his response. Dipti walked past him, grabbed his hand, and started pulling him forward—away from the scene, away from Aman, leaving him behind without a second glance.
Aeren followed.
And behind them, Aman remained unconscious on the ground—forgotten, as if he had never mattered at all.
****
A brief moment later—
Aman's eyes fluttered open.
"Ahh—!" A hoarse, low scream escaped his throat as he stared up at the eternal sky above him, bathed in warm, eternal light. For a second, everything felt distant—soft, unreal—and he almost forgot what had happened.
Then pain throbbed sharply through his head.
Memory rushed back. I knew it, he thought bitterly. That pig was never right for my kind friend. Aarav always thinks of others. Always helps people. I doubted her before… and now I've seen her true colors—the ugliness she was hiding from him.
Aman paused, anger burning behind his eyes. He pushed himself upright and sat on the ground, scanning his surroundings.
"…Where is everyone?" he muttered.
The place was nearly empty.
Only then did he notice the crowd at a distance—people laughing, whispering, pointing at him. Aman clenched his fists and ignored them. He rose to his feet, brushing himself off.
Where is Aarav? Did he really leave me behind?
His shoulders sagged slightly as the thought sank in. Then he saw it. A letter lay on the ground near his feet. He picked it up and read the simple message written clearly across it:
"Come to the palace. I will be there."
A smile spread across his face. I knew it, he thought. Aarav wouldn't abandon me.
But the relief lasted only a moment. Another realization struck him—sharp and immediate. Aarav was forced. That woman dragged him away.
Aman's expression hardened.
"I have to save him," he muttered fiercely. "Before he's put in danger by that woman."
He burned the letter without hesitation, letting the ashes scatter into the light. Then he turned and ran—straight toward the palace—his steps fueled by anger, loyalty, and a conviction that blinded him completely.
As he ran, the palace loomed closer. The crowd of gods and celestial beings thickened around him. But Aman didn't slow. He pushed through, his body still aching from Dipti's strikes, his mind consumed by one certainty:
If I lose him—if Aarav is truly lost to that woman—I will have nothing left. No friend. No purpose. Just eternity, alone.
Yet somehow, even as desperation drove him forward, a strange warmth bloomed in his chest. For the first time in eons, he felt something he had almost forgotten.
He felt needed.