Demonic Po*nstar System Chapter 898: Watched

~4 minute read · 1,115 words
Previously on Demonic Po*nstar System...
Kaiden's test awakened a forbidden protocol, causing reality itself to warp. The artifact registered an unknown response, and a tear in space opened, revealing a colossal, multi-armed titan that eclipsed the sky.

Then it leaned forward.

Asia saw it leaning west. Europe saw it leaning west. Africa saw it leaning west. The Americas saw it coming.

Clouds over the United States flattened beneath the pressure of its attention, stretched thin across the continent as the titan lowered itself through a direction the human mind had no name for.

Above the city where Kaiden Grey stood, the sky became an eye.

It opened without eyelids, without flesh, without any mercy of anatomy, a wound of black-gold pressure so wide the people outside the Association headquarters stopped screaming for Kaiden and started screaming at the heavens instead.

Inside the testing room, concrete, wards, reinforced steel, and twelve layers of Association security meant nothing. Everyone looked up anyway. They could not see the sky from where they stood, yet their bodies knew where the eye had settled.

Directly above them.

Directly above him.

Kaiden looked back through the opening in the orb with a crooked grin.

"I get it. You’re watching."

...

At the Shogunate Circle Shrine in Kyoto, the elderly monk who had once called Kaiden touched by a forgotten kami stumbled out beneath a sky that no longer belonged to Japan.

The media interface showed the testing room for one frame, Kaiden grinning with his hand on the artifact. The next frame showed the same eye hanging over the distant American city, close enough that the monk felt the pressure of it in his knees.

The shrine maiden behind him dropped to the stone path before the altar.

"That is no kami," the monk whispered.

...

In Cairo, beneath the Relic Guard Citadel, an archivist tore open a sealed drawer with hands that had gone numb.

The Scrolls of Al-Mutasim had always shown a black sun ringed by seven arms. For centuries, scholars had argued over whether the image was metaphor, warning, or fevered art from a dying prophet.

The sky ended that debate.

One scholar began praying in a language older than the current city, while another reached for the emergency vault and missed the handle three times.

...

In South Africa, the Soulbound Consortium’s spirit-fire went still.

The elders had heard ancestors whisper through storms, bloodlines, beasts, and battlefields. They had built an entire sacred discipline around listening.

For the first time since the Mana Apocalypse, the ancestors went silent.

The eldest lowered his painted mask with both hands. "Do not call him Walker of Beasts anymore. He is..."

The man gulped, words coming out with far too much difficulty.

"More."

...

Deep in a Radiant Order command chamber, Raziel’s Conviction Manifestation appeared around his hand without permission, a white-gold shield forming from pure belief.

It cracked down the center.

Across from him, Evangeline’s Judicator’s Scales manifested in the air between them, both plates dropping at the same time with a sound like a verdict nobody had been authorized to pass.

Evangeline stopped smiling. "What the fuck?"

...

Beneath the gutted casino that housed the Blood Pact, the woman on the throne paused with Kaiden Grey’s dossier open on her lap.

She looked up, and a crooked grin mimicking Kaiden’s materialized on her face.

...

In bedrooms, churches, guild halls, military bunkers, occult forums, and dorm rooms across the world, humanity tried to force the sight into words it already understood.

#ReturnOfLucifer appeared on social media.

The satanists stopped joking first.

Threads that had been all aesthetics, irony, and borrowed blasphemy died mid-scroll.

Then the prayers began. Some called Kaiden Lucifer returned in human skin. Some called him the vessel. Some insisted Lucifer was too small a name for whatever had looked through the sky.

...

Inside the testing room, Kaiden lifted his hand.

The sky emptied.

Daylight returned across the day side. Stars snapped back into place over the night. The American sky above the Association headquarters held nothing but clouds, and every screen that had bowed beneath the eye showed only the testing room again.

Only after it vanished did the word projection become possible.

The official term would become global presence event, because that sounded cleaner than admitting the sky had opened an eye over one man.

The testing room snapped back so hard one of the containment artifacts exploded in a shower of white sparks.

Air returned all at once. The examiner folded over her console and vomited into the trash bin beneath it. One guard made the sign of the cross before his own professionalism caught up and locked his hand at his side. The younger technician slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor with both hands over her mouth.

Every monitor came back online.

The reading started climbing.

It passed through the tiers the way the girls’ readings had, the same violent upward sprint that had already shattered every record in the building. D, C, B, A, S, beyond, and the examiner watched it go with numb resignation.

Then it passed the girls’ readings.

Her head snapped up. "It’s higher?!"

The value kept climbing, blowing past the identical ceiling that seven women had hit, and for the first time since the testing began the examiner lunged for her console because the number was still accelerating.

Higher than any reading the artifact had ever produced. Higher than the theoretical maximum her diagnostic software had been designed to display. The progress bar hit the edge of the screen, wrapped, and started filling a second time.

"It’s still going..." she whispered to no one, looking like she was on the verge of breaking down in tears.

It went for another eleven seconds.

Then it stopped, stuttered once, and collapsed.

The reading plummeted back through every tier it had just passed, faster than it had climbed, the numbers blurring downward through S, A, B, C, D.

The value bottomed out at F.

PARAGON OF SIN.

[F-TIER.]

The same reading he’d walked into the Association with months ago, back when he was nobody and the artifact had nothing interesting to say about him.

Nobody spoke.

One of the government officials found his voice from the far wall. "What... what does that mean?"

Kaiden looked at the monitor, then shrugged, grin still refusing to leave his face.

"Guess I’m still F-tier."

"..."

The lead examiner straightened from the trash bin with bile on her chin and murder in her eyes.

F-tier.

The man who had just ripped a hole in the artifact, summoned a presence that made half the planet’s religious institutions file emergency doctrines, and broken every piece of equipment in her laboratory dared utter the term ’F-tier’.

She looked ready to strangle him with the console cable.