Judge moved on to the next story like a chief editor at a newspaper— except his 'news' was far more dangerous and less likely to involve petty gossip about who's wearing what to the ball.
The Dragons Daily demanded a certain standard, and Judge wasn't about to let it slip. He mentally noted how many crimes involved explosions these days— probably some kind of trend.
His enhanced cognition zipped through the details like a hyperactive squirrel on too much caffeine. Otherwise, he'd be stuck sifting through this mess all day. He could only give Clio the best, and he definitely cannot mess up.
People lived their lives, some basking in happiness, others drowning in sorrow, but Judge didn't have time to read every sad love letter or grocery list. He skimmed over them like a bored student flipping through an encyclopedia. That is, until something truly popped up.
"Oh, classic murder scene," he muttered. He'd seen so many, he could probably open a murder museum. This one, though, stood out— not just because someone's head exploded like a forgotten soup pot on a high flame, but because of the setting.
Two beast-race farmers were diligently working on their patch of land, bless their simple hearts. One had a pair of pointy, fluffy ears on his head, while the other had long white fur that covered his body like he was auditioning to be the next shag carpet model.
Judge squinted— ah, the fur was only thick on the back. His face, on the other hand, looked like a teenager desperately trying to grow a beard but not even managing a few stray wisps. A valiant effort, really. He could make millions and get off that farmer's life if he had gone for K-pop instead.
The village was tucked away in some countryside that even the travelers had probably forgotten about. Trees nearby were cleared for proper sunlight, and the whole scene screamed, "We're just trying to live our quiet lives— please don't explode us!" But alas, one of them was about to learn just how inconvenient divine powers could be.
Judge hit replay on the scene, furrowing his brow. 'Derek,' the guy with the white fur, had his head unceremoniously turned into a confetti explosion, followed quickly by his body. "Well, that's a bit excessive, even for a murder in the middle of nowhere."
The killer, whoever it was, had clearly flexed some serious divine muscle. And divine powers didn't just come from nowhere. They were gifts from gods, like those fancy presents at a party that only one person gets and everyone else pretends they didn't want.
The question was: why would someone use divine power on a beast-race farmer in Nowhere Village?
Judge scratched his chin. The power that was used belonged to Tenebris, a god known for night and false realities— basically, the kind of guy who'd make sure you lose your car keys, even if you don't own a car.
The church of The god of night was established in the village long ago, along with the church of Umbra, the Goddess of Shadows and Obscurity. Judge shook his head. "Never trust a church with a name like that."
However, despite the name, the church was extremely popular, mostly among youngsters who were a bit too much delusional. Not to say that old people were not on the list, but youngsters were more.
People usually never change their faith, unless they are forced. The reason why there was a low rate of old people in the church was because of the high death rates of the followers— they were not sacrificed, but they did in one of their bizarre monster fights.
The church of Umbra which had been once set up in this remote village, was demolished for 'mysterious' reasons, leaving Tenebris' believers to continue their midnight rituals in peace.
Not that Judge was pointing fingers, but he'd seen enough shady divine interventions to smell one a mile away. Plus, the ether involved in this particular crime had a distinct flavor— like someone spiked his usual ether vanilla with a very specific brand of mischief.
Ether was like ice cream, in Judge's mind. Everyone and everything had their own flavor, and he'd become quite the connoisseur. Most people's ether was indistinguishable, but this ether had a unique twist. "Ah, yes," Judge murmured in his mind.
"This ether feels familiar." It was the same ether his supposed father had used back when he'd tricked the dragons into something that Judge didn't bother to remember in full detail.
He never did figure out how no one else noticed the ether manipulation. He suspected it had something to do with the principle being so subtle that it flew under everyone's radar— like a particularly sneaky ice cream thief.
Two tasks suddenly weighed on Judge's mind: one was a bit too easy for him, and the other— well, it was personal. He decided to hand off the easy one because multitasking was for people with less flair.
"Gabriel!" he called out, waiting for the inevitable squeak.
Sure enough, a startled squeak followed. "Y-Yess! Master Observer."
"I need you to gather everything you can find on the church of Tenebris," Judge said, barely containing his amusement. He knew Gabriel had never heard of it.
"Tenebris?" He blinked at him, confused. Most people had never heard of the god of night and false realities, and for good reason. It wasn't exactly on the church brochure. The knowledge was reserved for high-ranking officials, the kind of people who took themselves way too seriously and probably had titles like 'Most Blessed Keeper of the Mystical Night Parchments.'
"Indeed," Judge said with a dramatic pause, loving the tension. "The church of the god of night... and false realities."
Gabriel blinked again, but this time with determination. He wouldn't let his confusion show anymore. "Your wish is my command... Master."
Judge's inner critic gave himself a pat on the back. "Ten out of ten," he thought. "That played out even better than expected." Mentally, he had scripted the whole exchange, and Gabriel had nailed his lines. With that out of the way, he turned to his next co-star: Lucifer.
"Lucifer," Judge said, almost humming with excitement for what was to come. His tone remained calm— after all, he was a professional. "Follow me. I've found a new vassal to serve our lord."
Lucifer bowed. "As you wish, Observer," he replied without complaint, though Judge could see the faintest glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. Good— curiosity kept Lucifer obedient. For now.
Asmodeus flashed her purple card towards Gabriel just before teleporting, Gabriel frowned and cursed her before he left, leaving the stage to Judge and Lucifer. With a flourish that would make any magician jealous, Judge teleported them to his next prey.