Lemme see if I have this right. You created a god who is terrified of dying, and will in deed sacrifice a gazillion maidens to a Hell-Tree in order to live on. At the same time she hates her life and has tried to foster a newbie to take her place so she can live forever but without any “responsibility”, which makes no sense, to me, since that position of responsibility is what has allowed her to live nearly-forever so far.
And our sweet little whiny protagonist runs away yet again and in doing so: wins? Why doesn’t she do Mo-Mo a favor and turn her into a peach tree? Let her give back.
Hail and respect to the Master of the Universe, Godking Ascendant, Al-Yis-Un.
I am humbled and awed by this exhibition of the Art of Cutting. The Invincible Blade of Want is manifest in a thousand ways, and even though she has not a thought in her head, the new bearer of Glory is already a master of the Art.
Amazing. Exalting.
Bravo! Brava!
Now, time to gird loins and gaze to the guiding star, a journey awaits!
I remember sometime in the fifth age of the Disciples, I came across a god crying in the desert. I had traveled long to escape all living things that I might perhaps have a few years to myself between embarrassing deaths.
Though at first I feared for my safety, for in those days my number was a mere four decimals long and death something worse than mere tedium. However upon observing the weeping deity for several days while hiding behind a rock formation, I became convinced that this being was perhaps even more wretched than I was, and therefore of no threat to me.
I emerged from my hiding place and cautiously approached the god, kneeling beside Him. The being took no notice of me. I raised my voice slightly, asking Him what was wrong and he looked up at me suddenly, eyes filled with a burning hatred that outshined the sun hanging low overhead.
I cried out in alarm and fled but before I had a fully turned, bolts of righteous flame had errupted from his eyes and blasted through the thin porcelain that (for reasons that are best saved for another time) is required to be used for my shell.
I died again. I was reborn again.
In any event, I learned my lesson well. No matter how wretched a being of power appears to be, they are still dangerous. So when next, several eons later, I encountered a god weeping in the mountains, I decided to take a different path.
And then a bolder fell upon me and crushed me dead. But that is a different story.
This reminds me of a story about my fifth master.
I served her in Crimson livery as a butler and bodyguard, something that very much surprised those whom she invited to tea, for she was a fair, timid, and sheltered. She was also very, very clever with a hilarious sense of humor.
One day, while serving her tea in the wilderness, we were visited by a rival vatra. She invited him to join us and the two talked while I tended to their needs. This vatra was himself rather skilled, and he too was waited upon by a gilded devil of some fame. Indeed, the sight of her sent chills up my spine, but I of course held my tongue. In any case, our visitor came to ask my mistress who had bound me into her service, and seemed incredulous at her response. He refused to believe that such a frail and trusting girl could have bound a crimson devil to serve her tea and iron her clothes, and demanded she show him some proof of her power. So she obliged and with a flick of her fan, shattered the mask of his devil and banished it to the void. With a snap of her fingers she send him flying some distance where he crashed into a boulder and went tumbling down the hill. The episode amused her greatly, and she asked I retrieve a memento, and so I did, dragging his body from where it landed some distance from a crushed angel, and turned his bones into a very fine tea set.
Such a lovely lady, and one of few masters I’ve ever had die of old age. I still have that tea set.
It seems to this one, having read previous comments and studied the last panels, that Motom’s expression is one of triumph, satisfaction and possibly happiness. She’s moved things along in her desired direction.
The devil-man in his bone-white suit,
With his bone-white teeth and his bone-white skin,
He speaks a sermon from his bone-white soul
And lead us all in his bone-white sin.
hello!! Very interesting discussion glad that I came across such informative post. Keep up the good work friend. Glad to be part of your net community.
Better start working on that alternative way of not dying, Your Majesty.
Lemme see if I have this right. You created a god who is terrified of dying, and will in deed sacrifice a gazillion maidens to a Hell-Tree in order to live on. At the same time she hates her life and has tried to foster a newbie to take her place so she can live forever but without any “responsibility”, which makes no sense, to me, since that position of responsibility is what has allowed her to live nearly-forever so far.
And our sweet little whiny protagonist runs away yet again and in doing so: wins? Why doesn’t she do Mo-Mo a favor and turn her into a peach tree? Let her give back.
And where are all the damned banisters?
Sic Transit Gloria Mundorum.
So wait, is she truly smiling or is she the new Joker?
Mother Om said she would find another way to live forever. Maybe she’ll find one that involves sacrificing less maidens?
Maybe she’ll find one that needs more.
She reappears 20 feet away. š
Directly behind the queen. Last page: everyone tip toeing quietly away with shushing fingers to lips.
Glorious.
Al-Yis-Un is the Incipient Godking no longer!
Hail and respect to the Master of the Universe, Godking Ascendant, Al-Yis-Un.
I am humbled and awed by this exhibition of the Art of Cutting. The Invincible Blade of Want is manifest in a thousand ways, and even though she has not a thought in her head, the new bearer of Glory is already a master of the Art.
Amazing. Exalting.
Bravo! Brava!
Now, time to gird loins and gaze to the guiding star, a journey awaits!
See this is why you don’t play with your food.
I remember sometime in the fifth age of the Disciples, I came across a god crying in the desert. I had traveled long to escape all living things that I might perhaps have a few years to myself between embarrassing deaths.
Though at first I feared for my safety, for in those days my number was a mere four decimals long and death something worse than mere tedium. However upon observing the weeping deity for several days while hiding behind a rock formation, I became convinced that this being was perhaps even more wretched than I was, and therefore of no threat to me.
I emerged from my hiding place and cautiously approached the god, kneeling beside Him. The being took no notice of me. I raised my voice slightly, asking Him what was wrong and he looked up at me suddenly, eyes filled with a burning hatred that outshined the sun hanging low overhead.
I cried out in alarm and fled but before I had a fully turned, bolts of righteous flame had errupted from his eyes and blasted through the thin porcelain that (for reasons that are best saved for another time) is required to be used for my shell.
I died again. I was reborn again.
In any event, I learned my lesson well. No matter how wretched a being of power appears to be, they are still dangerous. So when next, several eons later, I encountered a god weeping in the mountains, I decided to take a different path.
And then a bolder fell upon me and crushed me dead. But that is a different story.
This reminds me of a story about my fifth master.
I served her in Crimson livery as a butler and bodyguard, something that very much surprised those whom she invited to tea, for she was a fair, timid, and sheltered. She was also very, very clever with a hilarious sense of humor.
One day, while serving her tea in the wilderness, we were visited by a rival vatra. She invited him to join us and the two talked while I tended to their needs. This vatra was himself rather skilled, and he too was waited upon by a gilded devil of some fame. Indeed, the sight of her sent chills up my spine, but I of course held my tongue. In any case, our visitor came to ask my mistress who had bound me into her service, and seemed incredulous at her response. He refused to believe that such a frail and trusting girl could have bound a crimson devil to serve her tea and iron her clothes, and demanded she show him some proof of her power. So she obliged and with a flick of her fan, shattered the mask of his devil and banished it to the void. With a snap of her fingers she send him flying some distance where he crashed into a boulder and went tumbling down the hill. The episode amused her greatly, and she asked I retrieve a memento, and so I did, dragging his body from where it landed some distance from a crushed angel, and turned his bones into a very fine tea set.
Such a lovely lady, and one of few masters I’ve ever had die of old age. I still have that tea set.
gods are kinda overrated in this universe. or out of shape al least
All the gods are dead, Mottom and her peers are but demiurges, and not even the most powerful.
It seems to this one, having read previous comments and studied the last panels, that Motom’s expression is one of triumph, satisfaction and possibly happiness. She’s moved things along in her desired direction.
Ah, the tears of the mighty brought low. Something I have not seen in at least four reincarnations.
Also, good to see the art of cutting applied in its most base form, the Key of Kings allowing travel between worlds.
Hail the King Ascendant, forever may she reign.
With this, I do believe I have shirked my duties as a lawman long enough.
And now a brief interlude as our hero moves toward the next Master and the next mastery.
The devil-man in his bone-white suit,
With his bone-white teeth and his bone-white skin,
He speaks a sermon from his bone-white soul
And lead us all in his bone-white sin.
OH NO I CAUGHT UP
A girl dwells upon plain soil.
A power comes and chooses her.
She rises.
She suffers.
She fights.
She suffers again.
And then she falls.
In the past is written a possible future. Let Alison heed the lesson of Mottom.
Thanks very handy. Will certainly share website with my friends.
Jump device charging at 10%…20…30…40…50%…60…70…80…90…jumping…
Wow … the old crone is kinda handsy, isn’t she?
i’m feeling more and more sorry for her
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This is so sad. Such a beautiful way you have to bring out emotions from us.