Sword God in a World of Magic

Shang stood in front of a pile of bloody meat.

This pile had once been Queen Primordium.

The God had ordered Shang to punch, slap, and kick that pile of meat for nearly half an hour.

Could Shang have declined?

Shang was free to do whatever he wanted, but he wasn’t free of the consequences.

Shang could have said that he wouldn’t follow the God’s orders.

But then what?

The chances were very high that the God would just kill him.

And then, he would be dead.

That would be it.

The past 1,200 years would have been for absolutely nothing.

All because Shang thought about refusing an order.

When under immense stress or pushed into a corner, humans often think about how great it would be to do this or that.

Just throw everything away.

No matter what anyone said, you wouldn’t do that.

You had your principles.

You had self-respect.

And then, you would die.

A bloodied corpse with principles.

A survivor without principles.

Many people would believe that they would belong to the first category.

They would never let themselves be suppressed.

They would never do something like this.

But when their lives were on the line, they would realize that their morals were far more flexible than they had thought.

Your loved ones wouldn’t be able to talk to you again.

Your loved ones would cry.

Your pets and children would lose their provider and guardian.

Your best friend would lose their best friend.

Your community would lose the service you provided to it.

For what?

Just so you could follow your principles?

Just so you could say that you wouldn’t do something?

Out of anger?

Out of spite?

Shang had been in this situation just now.

Did he enjoy slowly punching his teacher to death?

No.

Did he want to do it?

No.

Would he have avoided it if he could?

Yes.

Yet, avoiding it would be akin to risking his life.

Yes, a teacher was an important person, but risking one’s life for them was not expected.

Naturally, there were several degrees of danger.

Donate a kidney, which could be seen as a slight risk due to missing a spare kidney?

Maybe.

Try to save them from a speeding car?

Maybe.

Take a bullet to the chest for them?

Unlikely.

The God had essentially put a gun towards Shang’s head, and if he refused, he would shoot him.

Would he actually do that, though?

Impossible to say.

The God was far beyond rational.

It could have gone either way, but Shang guessed that the God would have killed him.

The God wanted entertainment, but he also didn’t want his toys to defy him.

Shang might be entertaining for the God, but that was it.

An apt comparison for people from Earth would be destroying a keyboard or a controller because of a game.

Was it a worthy exchange?

Venting your anger in exchange for a piece of equipment?

Most likely not.

Did you do it anyway?

Possible.

Was the God someone that would smash his belonging because of something that annoyed him?

…

Shang just looked forward.

His Spirit Sense wasn’t concentrating on anything in particular.

He had no desire to continue looking at the pile of meat, and he also didn’t want to look at the God.

He just waited.

The only thing he could do was follow the God’s orders until he was satisfied.

After a while, the jester walked over and poked the pile of meat with the bottom of his hammer.

“You remember her blue hair?” he asked with a self-satisfied smirk.

Shang didn’t say anything.

“You remember her eyes?”

“What about her help?”

“You know, she actually was someone that could put the overall good of the world above loyalty, and she also had enough determination to see when sacrifices are necessary.”

“If you actually told her about your Affinity, she might have actually decided to help you. Well, assuming you managed to convince her that you would get rid of the Abominations eventually.”

Shang didn’t say anything.

“And now, look at her.”

“All bloody.”

Shang remained silent.

The jester poked the flesh a bit more.

“Do you believe my power now?” the jester asked.

“Yes,” Shang answered.

The jester poked some more.

“Want me to kill the Lightning Emperor as well?”

“No,” Shang answered.

“Why not?” the jester asked with a smirk.

“I need one Emperor that speaks up for me,” Shang said.

“Do you really?” the jester asked. “You haven’t heard the answer to your next question yet.”

“I doubt it will be less dangerous or easier than having the Lightning Emperor’s permission and backing,” Shang said.

The jester continued poking the fleshy pile. “You know, you told him about me.”

“Or I would have died,” Shang answered.

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“And you think I wouldn’t kill you?” the God asked.

“One was a certain death. The other is an uncertain death,” Shang said.

“Hmmm,” the jester hummed. “But I can do worse things to you.”

“No,” Shang said.

The jester blinked a bit in surprise.

Then, he understood.

And snickered.

“That’s why you’re my favorite toy, Shang,” the jester said. “Every single other person would agree with my statement.”

“After all, what is worse than being forced to live forever in agony?”

“What’s worse than having your soul attached to a literal eternally rotting piece of shit?”

“What’s worse than dying over and over and over and over again?”

The jester snickered a bit more.

“But all of that doesn’t matter to you.”

“To you, all of these things are the same.”

“You won’t be able to realize your dream anyway, which makes everything equally bad.”

The jester chuckled some more.

“You’re so fucked up, Shang.”

Shang didn’t answer.

“When you came to my palace, you were so very different.”

“Tell me, what would your past self think of the current you?” the jester asked.

“Hate me,” Shang answered.

“Right,” the jester said as he poked the pile of meat some more. “He would hate you.”

“He would believe that you were living for nothing.”

“You’re throwing your life away.”

“You are already living a life worse than death.”

“And the best thing is that you don’t care about that. These are the thoughts of a young and naïve mortal.”

“You’ve become so powerful, and you’ve come so far. How could some weak mortal know more about life than you?”

The jester continued snickering as he poked the pile some more.

Silence.

Some poking.

More silence.

“Want to know what will happen now?”