Above.
The gods look down on all beings other than their own kind. Then, as the mightiest, you must enforce the norm and allow the lowest animals to follow, bow, repent, and pray.
They had endless lives, they were bored doing nothing, and the gods decided to invent entertainment suitable for a deity that monarchizes every world they control.
The gods have an eye in every universe; they established this link to facilitate communication and wagering. Gods that crave amusement will go to any length to obtain it.
One example is the development of angels, demon lords, heroes, saints, and monsters to compete for the perfect piece to utilize. Whoever wins will be fortunate.
They LIE.
This is a never-ending cycle of battle, life, and death.
But all changes when the Ertoverse, a component of the multiverse, gives birth to a solitary man on planet Ert.
They refer to him as a miscalculation, a mistake, or a bug, to be precise. The guy they believed was the weakest link turned out to be the most deadly; he disputed God's manifestations and demolished them all.
Did the real gods punish him?
No.
They let him fight the deity that rules over Ert for fun. The man fought a losing struggle for years.
Even though the insect army lost the war against God, the one they dubbed a mistake triumphed. He won by slaying the ruler of the planet Ert.
The ruling gods were pleased with this error's bold act of freeing humans, demons, angels, and other creatures from servitude; he almost died, beaten black and blue.
And the gods invited him to be Ert's new ruler.
'Accept, and you'll be one of us; refuse, and you'll be cursed, and it will endure eternally until the last speck of your soul perishes.'
"I don't need your assistance; I never needed you in the first place," he added, motioning his staff at the gods.
They crushed his remaining spirit, burned every particle, and flung his body into the abyss after being dissatisfied with his response.
"Did he die?" the youngsters inquire, holding their breath in suspense.
"No."
They have a glint in their eyes; they are ecstatic about what is to come. He smirked under his plague mask as he said, "The hero survived."
The kids peppered him with questions. "The gods are strong," one of them said.
Screw shook his index finger and said, "No, no, no." Screw laughed behind his mask and regarded you in the eyes, saying, 'Gods are not omnipotent—not holy but gamblers, a kidnapper—these Gods abduct people from the other world. Pleading for aid. Oh, wonderful hero, defend our planet from the demon king, blah blah, whatever.'
The children became perplexed. "Who are you talking to?" they ask, turning to face the person he's talking to.
"My readers," he said. "Readers? Who's that?" The kids peered at Screw, wondering if his head was still working correctly.
"You don't need to know," he remarked as he drank from his teacup. These kids are even more surprised by his quirky act of having a cup of tea while wearing a blackbird mask.
"Sir, then who is the hero? What is his name?" One of the youngsters asked, and they all looked at Screw with interest.
"The hero's name is Mohammed Mahakuttah Kiram," he said, everyone falling silent, and they all gazed at Screw with disdain.
"Sir, don't joke around," one of the children remarked. "Everyone here knows that he's a sworn enemy of humanity—a self-proclaimed hero and exiled sage of Petagram."
"Who teaches you that?" Screw unbelievably asked. People these days teach their children the wrong information about the hero—about the mighty savior Kiram.
"We've learned it from our parents."
"Books."
"History."
"Community." The children answered one by one, fair enough, the winner change it all.
-----
They had been in this little community for five months. After leaving the dense forest, the master and pupil looked for a neighboring town to dwell in.
Instead of standing, he strolls beside Gura, who is honing her writing ability. Gura is writing her name repeatedly; her work is a little sloppy but readable.
"You're learning quickly," he says as he pats Gura's head, encouraging her to study hard so she doesn't disappoint her father.
After class, the father and daughter arrived at the abandoned house after a long day of singing and sharing stories. This is the house that the villagers lent them while they were looking for suitable property to build their own.
*****
Night.
The father and daughter are eating dinner at the table.
A single candle was placed in the center to provide illumination. As Gura was eating, Screw asked, "How are the people of this village?"
"Good, did you already decide to stay?" she said, gulping the last of her soup. "This village already has a hundred residents; even though there are abundant resources, it is not a good idea to stay."
"It's much better to go to a bigger town," Screw said as he handed Gura the cup of water. She picks it up and drinks it.
There is a brief interval of stillness after she finishes drinking a cup of water.
"Do you have any questions?" Screw asks, placing his arms on the table. "Questions like what?" she inquired.
"Anything, like studies?" Gura glanced through the lenses of his plague mask and muttered, "Nothing."
"Oh ho, Gura, you don't have to hold back; you can ask me anything." The room was silent again. "Why don't you ask about my past? Are you not curious?" The candlelight flickers, and Screw's shadow dances.
"I am."
"Then why won't you ask? I can—", "Do I need to?" Gura interjects.
"I don't have a reason to ask you; you are a storyteller; you can tell me your secrets whenever you want... I'll wait for the right time." Gura's smile opened up a whole new universe for Screw. 'This child...'
"So, what do you think of me?"
"You like... uhm?" Gura paused for a bit before responding.
"You're like a null, void, and chaotic person."
"That's how I feel," she said, gripping her cup even more tightly. "What exactly do you mean by null?"
Gura bites her lower lip as she stares at her foster father, master, teacher, and best friend.
"I feel like you're here and not here at the same time; I'm afraid that if I blink, you'll vanish for eternity; in my dreams, you exist, but in reality, you're just a dream." Gura's eyes misted, and she glanced down to conceal the tears.
He stood up and walked towards Gura's side. He held his lone child and tenderly caressed her head.
"You need to sleep, my Gura; everything will be fine." "You won't vanish?" Screw didn't respond, and Gura went to sleep.
He carried Gura to her bed, then went to the kitchen and placed two bottles in the cupboard.
[How long do you intend to drug her?] The system asks. "Until..." He came to a halt and decided to close the cupboard quietly.
[If other people take this, they will experience exhilaration and become hooked on it.]
[People are willing to murder for this type of medicine.]
[Please keep in mind that Gura is not a test subject.]
"I know this because I—"
[Don't even think about it, not in your current state.]
[Not with that wicked smiling expression.]
Screw opted to end the conversation after reading the system prompt. "You're too much, Alyssa. You're way too much."
-----
Screw took a bag, stepped outdoors, and breathed in some fresh air for the night. He turned his head and stared into your eyes as he went. "Isn't it a lovely evening?"
"No, no, no, I'm not slightly evil or the incarnation of devils; it's just a drug—a sample of drugs; in time, you readers will understand how my love works; enough! I won't spoil you."
Screw begins humming after snapping his fingers to generate a rhythmic beat. His feet begin to move, allowing his full body to experience the beats of the tune he is singing.
He strolled around, enjoying his walk while dancing, until he reached the dark forest.
"I guess it's time to do the simple and easy job that only I—Screw—can do." Smirking gleefully beneath his plague mask, he goes faster into the dark woodland, and his shadowy figure vanishes.
-----
"At long last, Mr. Screw," the young lady in white remarked as she emerged around the corner.