[Months ago, Diavolo had made a simple request to the Fog God that she couldn't fulfill. Today he seeks out another god, with a different demand entirely.
Pleading to a so-called "god" is uncomfortable — it feels like it should be far beneath him. But what else is he to do? He's been killed multiple times. He's been mauled and left for dead. It will happen again, he knows, and he's running out of chances. He is not infallible. Another death and he will surely start to lose pieces of himself.
And Elias, he'd heard, is capable of helping, of granting power and protection.
But before he makes any rash decisions, he needs to assess this "Fourth God".]
Fourth God. Elias. However it is you wish to be addressed:
Let me make this clear to you. I am grateful to be here — this world is infinitely preferable to the existence I was trapped in before I arrived. I hold nothing against the Fog God for allowing me to be here. And yet I feel no loyalty towards her. When I called on her for help, she had nothing of value to offer me. She said you were at fault for her weakness — that you took a portion of her power, and that there was nothing she could do for me while you still had it. I imagine she wanted to bait me into fighting you. I don't care to fight. I am not a soldier. Her battle is not mine.
All I want is safety. I want peace of mind and solace in this world, and I've been unable to find it. In my months here, I have died three times, and nearly died a fourth. It is nothing compared to what I endured at home, and yet it's every bit as agonizing. There are people here who want me to suffer for all of eternity, and I have few defenses against them. I am outnumbered, I have been brought here wrong, and I don't know where else to turn. The Fog is useless and her followers are largely unbearable. Mana is unreliable.
But you.
Your priests, Reira Akaba and Marco Evangelisti, have provided for me. While my body was recovering from being torn apart and eaten, Marco offered me a home to stay in. Reira, in my time of need, took me to your arcade, giving me room to breathe and recover in its safety. And these were not the only times, for either of them — they have given to me, and asked nothing in return.
no subject
Pleading to a so-called "god" is uncomfortable — it feels like it should be far beneath him. But what else is he to do? He's been killed multiple times. He's been mauled and left for dead. It will happen again, he knows, and he's running out of chances. He is not infallible. Another death and he will surely start to lose pieces of himself.
And Elias, he'd heard, is capable of helping, of granting power and protection.
But before he makes any rash decisions, he needs to assess this "Fourth God".]
Fourth God. Elias. However it is you wish to be addressed:
Let me make this clear to you. I am grateful to be here — this world is infinitely preferable to the existence I was trapped in before I arrived. I hold nothing against the Fog God for allowing me to be here. And yet I feel no loyalty towards her. When I called on her for help, she had nothing of value to offer me. She said you were at fault for her weakness — that you took a portion of her power, and that there was nothing she could do for me while you still had it. I imagine she wanted to bait me into fighting you. I don't care to fight. I am not a soldier. Her battle is not mine.
All I want is safety. I want peace of mind and solace in this world, and I've been unable to find it. In my months here, I have died three times, and nearly died a fourth. It is nothing compared to what I endured at home, and yet it's every bit as agonizing. There are people here who want me to suffer for all of eternity, and I have few defenses against them. I am outnumbered, I have been brought here wrong, and I don't know where else to turn. The Fog is useless and her followers are largely unbearable. Mana is unreliable.
But you.
Your priests, Reira Akaba and Marco Evangelisti, have provided for me. While my body was recovering from being torn apart and eaten, Marco offered me a home to stay in. Reira, in my time of need, took me to your arcade, giving me room to breathe and recover in its safety. And these were not the only times, for either of them — they have given to me, and asked nothing in return.
Are you anything like the those who follow you?