Chapter 275: The meeting with the god of light

"Welcome, Alias. I have been waiting for you."

The voice was smooth and soft, feeling less like a sound and more like a whisper directly to his soul. The formless presence before him shifted, a kaleidoscope of brilliance that hurt to look at, yet he couldn’t turn away.

Alias? The name echoed in his mind, sparking a flicker of confusion that cut through his awe. He wasn’t Alias. He was Julian—or at least, that was the name he had claimed in this life. Before that, he had been Jowoon. So who was Alias? And this light... Was it truly the God of Light that the Church worshiped with such terrifying zeal?

"All your questions will be answered," the light said.

Julian’s breath hitched. A cold shiver ran down his spine as he realized that just like in the dark void with the Fallen God, his mind was an open book here. This being wasn’t waiting for him to speak; it was simply reaching into him and pulling out his confusion.

It felt unpleasant—violently so. To be in a space where he could not keep his own thoughts to himself was a violation he hadn’t prepared for. In the world below, he could hide behind a scholar’s mask or a tutor’s smile.

He could keep Alaric at a distance when he absolutely needed to, and he could keep his secrets buried deep. But here, there was no skin to act as a barrier, no skull to cage his fears. He was raw, exposed, and utterly transparent.

Stop it, he thought, instinctively trying to coil his presence inward, to pull his thoughts into a tight, guarded knot. Don’t look at me like that.

The light didn’t recoil. Instead, it seemed to pulse with a faint, weary amusement.

"You seek answers. A lot of answers, and I have come to your aid."

"Then, will you give me the answers now? You are a god, so I assume you are all-knowing. You see everything that is happening, so you must know my situation better than me." He nearly choked on his words. "So, please tell me why the fallen god chose me to be a spectator. Tell me what drives his hatred, tell me how to stop the demons, tell me..." his his voice was sounding small but defiant in the infinite white. "And I want to know why you call me Alias. My name is Kim Jowoon and Julian."

The presence of light drifted closer, the warmth it radiated becoming almost stifling. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

"Names are merely masks for souls in different bodies, and yours has worn many," the being murmured. "But the mark on your spirit remains the same. You were the first to turn away, and now, you are the only one who can turn the key. Do you not recognize the home you once built, Alias?"

Julian could not understand. Mask for souls? His first home? Why did it not make sense to him? He was sure the being was speaking in a way he should understand but for some reason, he could not.

The light being saw this and let out a little huff of breath.

"For you to understand why all this is going on, you must first understand the past. And to understand the past, you must... remember."

Before Julian could process that, a gazebo appeared out of nowhere above their heads, and he was made to sit on a chair in front of a tea table, and sitting opposite him was the being, taking a structured human form with a body, hands, and legs, but still a silhouette of pure radiance.

"This will take a while, so let us discuss." Julian felt uncertain, but he nodded his head.

He stared at the being, his mind struggling to reconcile the celestial weight of the incoming conversation with the sudden, mundane domesticity of the gazebo. The transition was one he did not anticipate—one moment, he was a speck in an infinite white void, and the next, he was sitting at a tea table as if they were merely two scholars debating in a garden.

But given the fallen god liked to replicate his home style before pushing him into the dark void, this ability seemed to be natural.

"I will call you Julian for now, so you are not alarmed. So now, I would like to ask you, whether it be in the past, the present, the future, different worlds, different galaxies, what do you think is the best form of passing information?"

Julian looked down at the table. There was no tea in the cups, only a swirling, pearlescent mist. He thought about his life as Jowoon—the libraries, the digital archives, the endless scrolls of data, the internet that connected a world. Then he thought of his life as Julian—the heavy, ink-stained ledgers of the library, the scrolls, old parchment records...

"Language," Julian said, his voice steadier than he expected. "Words. Whether they are written on stone or spoken in secret, information needs a vessel. It needs to be told."

The being tilted its head, a gesture that felt hauntingly human.

"Words are fragile," the Light countered softly. "They are often misinterpreted. They are burned in libraries and forgotten in graves. They are manipulated by men like Clement to serve a narrative. No, Julian. Words are the second-best form."

The being leaned forward, and the light around its ’hands’ pulsed.

"The best form of information is experience. To feel the heat of the fire, rather than reading the word ’burn.’ To feel the weight of a choice, rather than hearing a proverb about it. A proper narrative comes from experience, after all."

Julian felt a sudden, sharp pang in his chest. "Is that why you’re doing this? Why I’m here? To ’experience’ something?"

"In a way," the being murmured. "But you see, you have forgotten your own experience, that is why you are so lost... so confused."

"My experience?" Julian asked. "What experience are you talking about?"

The Light went silent, simply waiting for Julian’s racing heart to ease, and then he spoke, dropping a bomb that Julian did not expect to hear.

"You were once a Creator, Julian. You and the one you call the Fallen God..."

Julian’s breath hitched. Creator? The word felt like a mountain falling on him.