“Who's that?”
“You can hear him, as well? Interesting. But that's beside the point. I'm putting enough energy into this signal as it is. We are in danger, my friend—and soon, you will be, as well.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Not from me.”
Angel went into a cold sweat. “This is...I don't understand. This isn't right. You're fictional characters. You arestories. You're not real!”
“Much more than a story, much more. Gaze into the red, and you will know your duty.”
A red-colored folder appeared: “PRAYERS.” Against every part of their brain telling them not to, Angel opened it.
A rush of noise filled their head, from thousands of different voices at once.
“Gods bless mommy and daddy, and...”
“Argo, give us the courage to defeat our enemies...”
“Wheel, Flame, and Fleece have mercy on you....”
“Please, Argo, give me a sign, does she still love me...”
“Rafeth of the eternal flame, please save my son from his cancer...”
“Argo...”
“Wheel, Flame, and Fleece...”
“Voice Highmost...”
“Noumenon...”
“Rafeth...”
“Galgalim...”
“Noumenon...”
“Please...”
“Please...”
“God...”
“Are you there?”
Angel wanted to throw up. They heard the collective prayers of the people of Luminar, and could do precisely nothing to answer them. Angel hit the back button and broke down in tears.
“Do not be afraid,” said Titania.
“I'm God,” whimpered Angel. “People are dying because of me. You must hate me.”
“I do not hate you or resent you one bit. Truly, you have nothing but my gratitude.”
“You should hate me. I'm the reason bad things happen to good people in your world.”
“Sir Era! Do you hate them?”
“Hate who?” said the other voice on the line.
Angel's heart jumped—Erasmus. Their favorite character. The one that got them into this ridiculous game franchise in the first place. The one Angel loved to watch on their brother's PS2 in the third game, the one that always made them laugh.
He was real.
“See, they do not even know you exist,” said Titania. “Not yet. And when they will, I believe they will greet you with open arms.”
“I hope you're right,” said Angel.
“The burden may seem too much, but you have more power here than you realize.”
“What can I even do? I'm a game design major. I can barely even file my taxes.”
“Look upon the green.”
A nameless green folder appeared. She clicked on it.
Rather than any magical effects, she was greeted with a series of text documents, unfamiliar software, and names like “ASTRID_KOSCHEI.TXT” and “3GODSACCESSTOOL.EXE.”
“Who's Astrid Koschei?” asked Angel.
“The single greatest threat to both of our worlds. You alone can stop her, but that does not mean you are without help in the battle to come. I must go. Save us.”
Click.
Dial tone.
Angel took a deep breath and wiped the tears from their face.
They pulled out a flash drive, and began to copy the source code, the colored folders, and anything else they might need to secretly finish the job at home.
Perhaps it was against company policy to alter the source code in private. Perhaps Angel would be fired and wouldn't be able to graduate without the internship's credits. But considering that they had just gone from unpaid intern to Supreme Being with one phone call, this was probably a more fulfilling career path.
Besides, Angel had gone to Huxley Digital Media College for two reasons: to escape their religious upbringing, and to find their life’s purpose. Now, their purpose couldn’t have been clearer: if God wasn’t doing a great job running their own world, why not prove that a mortal like Angel Sanchez could do it better?
Or was Earth’s God just as overwhelmed?
Angel grinned. Questions for later.
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Neverstone: A LitRPG Adventure (The Mad Elf Book 1) Page 51