"It sounds like you might have a revolt coming.." The spectator said as they watched the conversation between Tyson and Zeal on a large screen in front of them. Hoping that the idea of a revolt would bring Numen to his senses he waited for the god to react. Though the reaction that he hoped for was not the one he got in the end.
"So.. he wants to try and free them all? Interesting.. Interesting! I accept your challenge!" Numen cackled from his chair as he saw everything on the screen in front of him. He was able to watch the action and words of every single life among the survivors at will from within the comfort of his mansion. Years, possibly even centuries, had passed since someone had tried to go against him. There were not many alive who would become willing to take a stand against a god and he was loving the idea of something new and unexpected happening in front of him.
"Perhaps this is a sign that it's time you stop?" The spectator asked while standing a few feet away from Numen. He was worried about angering the god with his words but nothing more than a slight scoff could be heard.
"I have no intention on stopping my game when the players are finally getting interesting." His long white hair dragged across the floor as he flipped his chair around to glare at the door. Sensing the presence of an unwelcome listener to his conversation with the spectator his cold glare immediately caused the other god to be pushed in to silence. With a faint glow to his golden eyes he snapped his fingers.
Hnnggg! Thud!
The sounds of a woman falling to her knees outside the door could be heard. Climbing to his feet he went over and flung the door open with a swish of his hand. He had no need to touch the handle because everything within the garden including his own home could move simply at his own will. Staring down at the violet haired woman the golden veins on his face seemed to tighten. Her entire body trembled as her eyes slowly lifted to look at him.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" She shouted repeatedly in a pleading tone for the god to spare her life. She was dressed in black pants with a white shirt, a black tie around her neck.
"She's just a servant girl.. you don't need to be rash." The spectator stated as he stepped forward. Wanting to aid the girl he reached out to help her to his feet but she slapped his hand away. If she took his hand without permission from Numen she knew her life was as good as forfeited. She could not allow him to think she was not loyal to solely him no matter how generous the spectator was to her.
"What are you doing here? You're suppose to be in the kitchen." Numen's eyes squinted slightly as he tried to understand the young woman's intentions. It was not the first time he had caught her snooping about the mansion over the years. Beginning to to feel as though the woman was hiding something from him he wanted to shred her to pieces and find a replacement but she had already been with his staff for so long that it almost felt like a pity to kill her.
"I came to tell you lunch is ready.." Her voice shook as she kept her eyes on the god. Trying hard not to waver in her words she still could not manage to hide the fear in her voice when she spoke to him. No matter how many days, months, or even years passed she could not rid herself of the fear she had every time she confronted him.
"You're beginning to irk me.. For your sake I hope you're not hiding something from me. If I find out what it is you wont like how I respond to it." Numen muttered out as he stood there. There was no need for his gray suit that covered the lower half of his face to hide his expression because it was clear in his eyes. Immense killing intent was put out into the air nearly suffocating the girl in front of him.
"If you kill her now you wont have a cook, will you?" The spectator asked simply from the side. Though his words were meddling in Numen's personal affairs the god did not get angry at him. Instead he considered the fact that finding a new cook would be troublesome in the end. Having too much on his hands to deal with finding a new cook when he knew the possibility of a revolt among the players was coming he would need to keep the staff he had on hand alive unless he had no other choice to replace them.
Reaching down and playing his fingertip under her chin Numen's eyes seemed to smile at her. Long, sharp, fingernails like claws were on his fingers so the mere touch of his fingertip was enough to make it feel like he'd pierce her throat. As beautiful as the god was he was just as terrifying to her. Her fear must have been enough to calm his suspicion of her because he slowly retreated his hand and began to walk down the long hallway. Following behind Numen was the spectator who couldn't refrain from taking a glance back at the poor servant girl.
Tears began to fall from her eyes as she stayed there on her knees in the hallway long after Numen had left her. Arms wrapped around herself she tried to calm down but unlike the top ranking ten survivors every year she was not one who was allowed to go home. Neither her nor any others Numen kept under his control as a servant was allowed to see their home or loved ones again. She was trapped in a daily cycle of serving a deity that would end their life at the single wave of his hand if he felt displeased with them.
"Brother.." She cried out as the tears continued to fall like rain onto the wooden floor below.