Perfected God complex

Seko steps into the Shadow Temple, where an eerie silence engulfs him. The stillness is so profound that he can sense the vibrations of his own footsteps, the faint whisper of the air, and even the subtle crawling and buzzing of insects. As he moves deeper, strange drawings begin to appear on the crystalline walls—etchings of alien creatures that once inhabited this world, fleeing from something… or perhaps someone. The meaning seems paradoxical, unsettling—until his eyes land on a depiction of his own sister. A jolt of shock surges through him. His usually calm, cold gaze—prepared for any possible outcome—begins to waver, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"This... Is not possible, The band painted on her... it is too familiar."- Seko says to himself in a quiet tone, his eyes still widened.

Although the picture didn't depict his sister as the one the aliens were fleeing from, she appeared more like a savior trapped by a group of villains, with the aliens running from them instead. Seko struggled to make sense of it… but his thoughts were abruptly cut off by a voice that sent chills down his spine.

"Do you seek knowledge, child?" The voice belonged to a woman—divine in tone, yet dressed in a simple shirt and pants.

Seko narrows his eyes, before saying-

"You don't look like an ideal angel... But you sound like it."

The angel offers a warm, gentle smile. One hand rests on her hip while the other lightly taps her thigh. When she speaks, her voice still carries that divine resonance.

"That does not answer my question, child."- She says, her tone carrying no amount of offense.

Seko still doesn't trust her, but he pretends otherwise. Though his words suggest willingness, his tone carries a deliberate skepticism—just enough to make sure she knows he isn't convinced.

"That depends on you. What information do you have?"

"My child, no matter how deeply you delve into psychology, I am omniscient. It is futile to test your mind and intellect against me."

Seko wastes no time to ask. He immediately fires the question he wanted to know about, desperately. There was a rare moment of vulnerability in his eyes.

"Would I be able to solve the case.. and find my sister?"

The angel looks momentarily taken aback by the question. She draws in a long breath, releasing it in a quiet sigh before finally responding to Seko. Hoping that he wouldn't let his emotions out.

"My child, I am sorry I cannot tell that to you."

For a moment, Seko feels his heart sink, crushed under the weight of the moment. Confusion, a flicker of anger, and a sense of hopelessness swirl inside him. When he speaks, his voice trembles, betraying the storm within.

"W-what do you mean? Y-you were supposed to be omniscient, r-right?"- He responds, trying to understand the situation of The angel.

The angel hesitates, struggling to find the right words. She rubs her temples, as if searching for clarity, before finally responding in a calm, gentle tone—one that carries a motherly warmth.

"I am omniscient, Yes, My child... But I cannot reveal the information for you."

"I-is it because the future may change? O-or Maybe-.. Maybe because of the laws of existence? O-or A-a-are you are forbidden to say it?? Anything, I will do anything to get the answer.. P-please."

The angel's expression softens with quiet sorrow. She watches Seko for a moment, as if weighing the pain her answer will bring. Then, with a slow, deliberate shake of her head, she speaks—her voice still gentle, but firm.

"No, my child. The future is inevitable, it cannot be changed. Nor am I forbidden to say it."

There is no hesitation, no loophole, just an undeniable finality. Yet, in her eyes, there is something else—an unspoken understanding, as if she wishes she could give him more.

Seko gets angry and lets his emotions out.

"If there is nothing that forbids you to say it! Then why don't you answer!!!?"- Seko is filled up with rage, unlike his usual calm, observing self.

The angel remains still, unfazed by Seko's outburst. She watches him with quiet patience, letting his anger settle into the silence between them. Then, in that same unwavering, motherly tone, she finally speaks.

"Because some answers are burdens, my child. And not all burdens are meant to be carried."

There is no defiance in her voice, no challenge—only understanding, as if she has seen this struggle countless times before.

Seko's breath is unsteady as he clenches his fists. His rage still burns, but it no longer flares—it simmers beneath the surface, controlled yet undeniable. His usual calm fights against the storm inside him, leaving his voice low but sharp.

"And who decides that? You?"

His eyes lock onto hers, searching, demanding. He is no longer shouting, but the intensity in his gaze speaks louder than words.

The angel meets Seko's gaze with quiet sorrow, yet she does not waver. Her expression is neither defensive nor dismissive—only understanding.

"Not I, my child… but the weight of truth itself."

Her voice remains steady, gentle, as if she has witnessed this struggle before, countless times. Yet, behind her calm demeanor, there is a hint of something else—a sadness that suggests she, too, knows what it means to seek an answer that cannot be given.

"I need answers, please say something to justify yourself." - Seko asks with a pleading expression.

The angel feels a bit conflicted, But she replies nevertheless.

"I cannot reveal answers to gods or celestial beings... My child"

Seko feels a flicker of confusion. Frustration lingers, tempting him to lash out, but a deeper instinct warns him that something far greater may be at play. When he speaks, his tone carries a mix of uncertainty and curiosity.

"But I am no God... Neither a Celestial being... why can't you-... do you have some sort of knowledge regarding me?"

"I am afraid my role is done, my child... But I am going against the rules, I am telling you... You have the potential to be much beyond---The angel begins to fade away as she says---Even you know that, don't you?... About your Perfected God-Complex."

Seko becomes cold and serious all of a sudden as he hears that, Then he gives a small twisted smirk. His tone changes to ideal, perfect, dark, and mysterious tone. He looks at the angel as if he knows what happened much before that it ever did... Or maybe it was one of the scenarios he already imagined.

When he speaks, his voice is low, precise—ideal, perfect, yet laced with an unsettling darkness.

"Ah… I see. So something like that exists, huh? Perfected God-Complex."

It's unclear whether he truly knows or if he's merely playing a game, but in that moment, it feels as though he holds the answer, even if unspoken.

Seko slowly shifts his gaze away from the angel, turning back to the image of the cube. His smirk fades, his expression returning to one of deep focus. It is as if everything that just transpired—the conversation, the emotions, the struggle—was nothing more than background noise, irrelevant and insignificant.

With an almost mechanical precision, he resumes examining the cube, his mind already moving forward, as if the moment before had never even mattered.

End Of Chapter