A Theory on Godhood: An Overlord Story

Chapter 28: Tea for your thoughts?

Ninth Floor of Nazarick, Tabula's Personal Suite and Laboratory

To one such as Tabula Smaragdina, there existed within everything a contradiction. A great flaw, or strength, or contest of will, that contrasted greatly with its origins and creation.

Where there was perfection, there had to be imperfection. For every shade of white there existed a shade of black. Every kind word hid an insult. Every fresh fruit picked only belied the rotting stench of unpicked harvest.

He reveled in it. For such contradictions provided excitement. A sort of harsh beating in his chest and a spike of adrenaline as if he'd been freshly terrified by the latest horror film or piece of literature.

In a way, he supposed this made him a bit of a connoisseur. A sampler of the fine art of terror in his eternal chase to always find that feeling of exhilaration at being downright scared of something.

And as of right now, he was facing perhaps the greatest contradiction of his life. A horror so profound and bone-chilling it put all his previous highs to shame.

"Father, might I interest you in some sugar for your tea?" Asked a voice directly across from him, kind and innocent despite its appalling visage.

Indeed, he was forced to attend a sort of tea party with his creations. His beloved NPCs, Albedo, Nigredo, Rubedo, and Citrinitas. All four a reference to the great Philosopher's Stone itself, back in the old days at least.

His thin, willowy, but tall form sat hunched over in an entirely too plush and velvety chair. His facial tentacles whipped around at their tips in impatience and, oddly, anxiety. The ragged cloak he typically wore was wrapped tightly around his thin frame.

Perhaps the horror came not from having to deal with something so mundane as drinking and enjoying tea, like he was now. Perhaps it came from the very idea that now he was having to reap what he had sown all those years ago.

The voice from earlier was Nigredo, a hideous and deformed creature who's visage was hidden by the thick wall of black hair that grew from her scalp. The only portions visible of her skinless face were the shockingly beautiful eyes and pearly teeth she had.

Her dress was as dark as her hair, torn at the edges of her sleeves and gown. For the main body, it was perfectly sewn into a remarkably well-crafted piece of fabric.

In one of her pale arms was a Raggedy Ann baby doll, with that same hand carrying a pair of brightly polished shears. Her signature weapon for mercilessly tearing apart her enemies, at least when she wasn't pacified like she was now.

Tabula shook his head at his eldest creation. "No... I think I'm good with what I have, thank you."

To prove his point, he reached out from his cloak and gripped the saucer and porcelain cup with his webbed, elongated fingers. The fine China clacked as he brought it up to his beak and savored the lemon honey flavored beverage, before setting it down.

Another voice huffed. "Really? You want to offer dad sugar for something this sweet already? If I didn't know any better I'd say you're trying to kill him with all that sweetness."

The owner of that voice was Citrinitas, the sort of "middle child" to his quartet of creations. She looked far more human than her older sibling, but bearing a fanged smile that could easily rival a sharks. Her bright eyes were full of mirth, active and seeking any sort of stimuli to cross her vision with.

Rather than a dress, she wore an insane asylum straight jacket, a mess of buckles dangling loosely to allow her arms free movement as she pleased. Her bottom half consisted of a pair of safety-orange, prison jumpsuit pants.