Layra Academy, Remote Infirmary
In one of the neatly arranged beds, a man lay quietly.
Sitting up, he began to unwrap the bandages wrapped around his head. The lump on his forehead—caused by smashing his head against a desk—had been completely healed.
He reached for the shattered remains of his glasses.
Whoosh.
A mysterious aura began to swirl around his hand.
As his divine power gathered, the fragnts of the glasses started to reassemble themselves.
This was part of the Authority of Knowledge, which allowed him to perfectly reconstruct objects only after fully understanding their structure.
Beep-beep-beep.
Pressing his index and middle fingers against his ear, he answered the communication device.
“Go ahead.”
He focused on the voice of the First Apostle of Wisdom coming through the connection.
“It is possible. Yes. Understood.”
For a while, he nodded as he listened to the instructions.
“I understand. I will arrange to et her before classes start tomorrow at the academy. Do not worry—it will be done. Everything as Wisdom desires. Yes, then.”
When the voice in his mind cut off, the man rose from the bed.
“This works out well. Who would have thought she’d be the supplier?”
The god he served, [Lustful Wisdom], possessed vast knowledge and insight but also had a peculiar obsession with certain fields—particularly, eroticism.
It didn’t matter whether the subjects were tentacles, sa-gender relationships, or even inhuman entities; as long as it was sexually stimulating, she wanted it.
Her most faithful servant, the First Apostle, used her unique divine authority, [Small World], to locate objects of interest and identify the individuals best suited to procure them.
This was far from the first ti the man had been tasked with delivering such items. He vaguely recalled that the last item he had delivered was a custom-designed female pleasure device, crafted through advanced magitech.
This ti, however, the god desired a book centered around a particular character.
Though it was the kind of item distributed exclusively through secret channels, the man was unconcerned.
“It won’t be a problem. She owes .”
He exuded confidence. After all, he was an Apostle of the [Lustful Wisdom], a god whose supre intellect could topple even the strongest of powers.
* * *
“I am Rian, Apostle of the [Archive].”
Monica, her face blank with disbelief, shook the hand extended toward her.
“Let’s get you on your feet,” Rian said.
The man gently pulled her up from where she had been sitting.
“Are you truly… the Apostle of the Curator?” she asked hesitantly.
“Technically, I am an Apostle of the [Archive], but you could say that.”
If the Curator’s Apostle had been a woman, Monica wasn’t sure she could have handled it.
But with a man like this… well, it was a different story.
Such a handso Apostle…
It made her want to beco one herself even more.
“Monica,” Rian addressed her.
“…Y-yes? Yes!” she stamred, startled by his voice.
“This is another god’s shrine.”
“Ah, right.”
“One that belongs to a god closely acquainted with him. So why did you hold his morial service here, without the shrine’s owner’s permission?”
“Well, I… I just thought it was an abandoned shrine, and… I didn’t an any harm…”
“Is that so?”
“Yes! Absolutely!”
Rian nodded.
“It seems your intentions weren’t malicious.”
“Exactly!”
“However, the shrine’s owner is furious. Naturally so, since their shrine was used without permission.”
“No… that can’t be…”
“Oh, it can. And their anger will, of course, be directed toward him. After all, the morial was for him.”
“What should I do?! What should I do?”
The thought of her actions causing harm to him was unbearable.
“Is there a way to fix this? To atone for my mistake?”
“Hm… There is a way, but it will require ti and effort. Are you willing to do what it takes?”
“I’ll do it! Whatever it is, I’ll do it! Please, let !”
Rian, his expression unreadable to Monica, allowed a faint smile to appear.
He had found the perfect solution.
Soone to clean up the shrine, deal with the odd tastes of certain deviants, and even fetch snacks for his god.
* * *
“Ugh, so sleepy…”
I rubbed my eyes as I slung my bag over my shoulder and arrived at the academy.
[The Wrathless Magitech Engineer pats your shoulder, thanking you for your hard work late into the night.]
The crowned frog plush on my shoulder gave a reassuring tap.
“It's just what I have to do,” I replied.
After encountering that fan—if you could call her that—in my ntal realm last night, I had returned to reality pretending to be the Curator’s Apostle.
It was all a ploy to have her clean up the shrine and beco an errand-runner for delivering snacks to my Constellation.
Revealing my current face was worth the trouble.
But after finishing all that and returning to my dorm, a new issue arose…
[The Dreamteller, embarrassed, scratches their tiny head with their short arms, explaining they fell asleep while scouting divine candidates for the ga.]
Apparently, my Constellation had been scouting gods corrupted by sin, intending to recruit them for the ga while I was in class.
The results were surprising.
An unexpectedly large number of gods expressed interest in appearing in the next [Akashic Archive] storyline.
It seed that, until now, many gods hadn’t approached because they were too concerned with appearances. But once the floodgates opened, they all ca rushing in.
My Constellation had narrowed it down to three gods to feature, but there was a problem: I couldn’t include them until after running a thed event.
In my previous life, subculture gas often held events tied to seasonal thes like Halloween or Christmas.
Following that model, I planned to release special skins and events for [Akashic Archive] tied to morial Day, this world’s equivalent of Halloween.
However, my Constellation had thrown extra work my way.
[The Dreamteller apologizes profusely, clapping their tiny hands together in an earnest plea.]
This was becoming a real headache.
I hadn’t even unraveled the mystery of the Abyssal creatures or the corrupted gods, and now this?
At least I had outlined the event frawork last night. Once it was complete, I could move on to the next story update.
“Sado-nim! Sado-nim!”
I heard soone running toward as I walked through the academy’s corridor.
“Sado-nim?”
When I turned around, it was Monica, the Apostle of Courage, waving at as she approached.
What the…
“Did you sleep well, Sado-nim?” she asked, all traces of her violent deanor gone, replaced by a demure politeness.
“…Huh?”
I grabbed her wrist and guided her to a secluded corner at the end of the hallway.
“Please refrain from calling ‘Sado-nim.’”
“What? But why…?”
“I can’t explain in detail, but the [Archive] is currently in a precarious situation. Drawing attention isn’t advisable.”
“Oh… I see. A prison, secluded from the world…”
Her misunderstanding only deepened as she lowered her head, looking dejected.
“I-I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Never mind. It’s partly my fault for not clarifying things yesterday.”
If word got out about pretending to be an Apostle, it could cause trouble.
“So, what brings you here?” I asked.
“Well, it’s about the task he gave …”
Oh, right. Sothing about dealing with certain… groups.
Definitely not sothing I wanted to get involved in. Better for her to handle it as his Apostle.
Just then,
“So here you are, Apostle of Courage,” a familiar voice called out.
I turned to see a man adjusting his glasses—yesterday’s Apostle of Wisdom.
“What do you want?” Monica’s voice had turned cold and sharp.
“No need to worry. I’m not here to cause trouble over yesterday.” He shrugged.
“But our Constellation has requested a particular item you possess. Could you spare one copy?”
A book?
Monica’s face turned pale.
“I hear you’re the author. I know you have a copy. Na your price—I’ll pay generously. Can you hand over one right now?”
Monica spun around, panicked.
“S-Sado-nim! That is…!”
Her bag, shaken by her frantic movents, slipped open slightly.
Rustle.
A book slid out:
[The Curator and the Incurable Lady].
Thud.
The book fell to the floor, pages splayed open.
“…What the hell…”
I froze, unable to close my mouth.
On the open page, drawn in shoujo manga style, was an image of the Curator—based on my past life—kissing a beautiful lady in a field of roses.
“H-how, howww…”
Monica clamped her eyes shut, as though hoping the situation would disappear if she couldn’t see it.
* * *
The Heavens
In a small, isolated room cut off from the realms of other gods,
A goddess, curled up amidst piles of random trinkets, writhed in her sleep.
“For the ultimate knowledge!”
“You are my masterpiece!”
“Stop…”
Her face twisted as if plagued by a nightmare.
“When knowledge is complete, you will rule wisdom, trapped forever in the prison of knowledge.”
“It is a mission even ascension cannot free you from.”
“Stop it!”
The goddess’s eyes snapped open, bloodshot with frustration.
She grabbed a long object lying beside her.
Creak.
The bad mories swirling in her mind needed to be erased.
She had to endure, holding out for salvation that might co soday.
She desperately wished for the freedom she had only dread of.
Reviews
All reviews (0)