I Transmigrated Into A Goddess Body In Another World: But I'm a Man Chapter 49: What the Witness Saw

Mason did not ask the question.

For several seconds after Zereth revealed the sentence from the damaged record, he simply stood there in the corridor staring at the faded parchnt.

When the Witness returns, the debt will awaken.

The words lingered in his head.

Not because he understood them.

Because Athlian’s reaction terrified him.

She was completely silent.

Not avoiding the conversation.

Not refusing to answer.

Just silent.

The difference mattered.

Normally she did argue, deflect, change topics, and mocked him.

Now there was nothing.

And sohow that felt worse.

Zereth studied him carefully.

The immortal’s silver eyes are missing very little these days.

Especially when it involved Mason.

Or Athlian.

Or anything remotely suspicious.

Which unfortunately included most of Mason’s existence.

"You recognize sothing," Zereth said quietly.

Mason imdiately shook his head.

"No."

Not technically a lie.

He didn’t recognize anything.

Athlian did.

And Athlian wasn’t cooperating.

A distinction he intended to abuse for as long as possible.

Zereth looked unconvinced.

Most people are becoming unconvinced lately.

An unfortunate trend.

The silver-eyed immortal eventually folded the docunt.

"The archives contain more gaps than answers."

"That seems to be the kingdom’s official policy."

A faint smile appeared.

Gone almost imdiately.

"I’ll continue searching."

Mason nodded.

"Please do."

Because if Zereth found answers first, maybe Athlian would finally stop treating every mystery like a state secret.

Unfortunately that felt optimistic.

The conversation ended shortly afterward.

Mason returned to his chambers with a headache and approximately three new reasons to distrust ancient civilizations.

The mont the door closed behind him, he spoke.

"Athlian."

Silence.

"Athlian."

Nothing.

He walked toward the balcony.

The capital stretched beyond the palace walls.

Lantern lights illuminated damaged districts.

Construction crews still worked through the night.

Even from here he could see evidence of the Heaven Fracture.

The city was healing.

"Athlian."

Finally...

’I rember them.’

Mason froze.

That alone was more honest than usual.

"The Witnesses?"

A long pause followed.

’So of them.’

Interesting.

He sat heavily in a nearby chair.

"What were they?"

Again silence.

Not complete silence.

Hesitant silence.

The kind that suggested sobody choosing their words very carefully.

’Observers.’

"Observers of what?"

’Everything.’

That answer wasn’t remotely helpful.

Mason pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You have a gift for making conversations harder."

’I learned from immortals.’

Unfortunately that was funny.

He hated that.

Athlian continued before he could respond.

’The Witnesses existed before many kingdoms.’

"Religious group?"

’No.’

"Political faction?"

’No.’

"Secret organization?"

Another pause.

’Closer.’

Wonderful.

Progress asured in milliters.

His life remained consistent.

"What did they witness?"

Athlian imdiately withdrew again.

There it was.

The wall.

Every ti the conversation approached sothing important.

The Wall.

Mason sighed.

"You’re doing it again."

’I know.’

At least she admitted it.

That was new.

The admission softened so of his irritation.

Only so.

Before either could continue, another knock sounded.

Peace remained impossible.

"Enter."

The door opened.

Draca stepped inside.

For a mont neither spoke.

The commander looked exhausted.

Armor partially removed.

Dark circles beneath his eyes.

Dust is still clinging to one shoulder.

Apparently saving a kingdom was tiring.

Who knew?

"You should be sleeping," Mason said.

Draca raised an eyebrow.

"So should you."

Annoyingly fair.

The commander crossed the room and placed several reports on a nearby table.

"Problems?"

Mason asked.

Draca stared at the stack.

"Many."

"Excellent."

"The eastern temple district nearly rioted."

"There it is."

A tired smile briefly touched Draca’s face.

The commander sat opposite him.

The movent felt casual.

Athlian noticed imdiately.

Of course she did.

Mason ignored her.

Professionally.

"The temples are fighting each other now?" he asked.

"Verbally."

"That’s political language for ’not yet physically.’"

Draca nodded.

The kingdom continued improving.

The commander leaned back slightly.

"The Coalition representatives arrive tomorrow."

Mason groaned.

"More etings."

"Several."

"You’re determined to ruin my week."

"I don’t control politics."

"You participate in politics."

"Unfortunately."

That answer surprised a laugh out of him.

A genuine one.

Draca looked pleased.

Which felt suspicious.

The conversation shifted naturally afterward.

Damage reports.

Recovery efforts.

Supply shortages.

Reconstruction plans.

Normal problems.

For almost half an hour, they discussed ordinary matters.

And sohow Mason found himself relaxing.

Not completely.

But enough to breathe.

Enough to forget ancient debts and mysterious witnesses for a little while.

Athlian felt it too.

The change, comfort and safety.

Her emotions stirred quietly through the soul bridge.

Before Mason could examine that further, Draca suddenly spoke.

"You trust Zereth."

The statent caught him off guard.

"What?"

The commander remained calm.

"You trust him."

Interesting question.

Mason considered it.

Did he? Maybe, a little?

More than was probably wise.

"I think he wants answers."

Draca nodded slowly.

"So do I."

The sincerity in that response hit unexpectedly hard.

Because it was true.

Draca wasn’t investigating him.

Or Athlian.

Or hidden conspiracies.

He simply wanted to protect people.

The simplicity felt refreshing.

Athlian noticed his thoughts.

’You’re smiling again.’

"I am not."

’You are.’

"Traitor."

She laughed softly.

The sound surprised him.

Because she hadn’t laughed in days.

The realization lingered long after Draca left.

The following morning brought new problems.

A ssenger arrived before breakfast.

Mason imdiately distrusted the situation.

Nothing good ever arrived before breakfast.

The ssage summoned him to a smaller council eting.

Not the full council.

The important one.

When he entered the chamber, several familiar faces were already present.

Seraphine.

Draca.

Zereth.

Assura.

Three senior ministers.

And one empty chair.

Mason imdiately disliked the arrangent.

The empty chair was obviously for him.

Tragic.

He slowly sat.

The eting began.

No introductions.

No ceremony.

Everyone looked too tired.

"The Coalition arrives within hours," one minister announced.

Another imdiately followed.

"They are demanding access to the investigation."

Seraphine looked unimpressed.

"They can demand whatever they like."

"Unfortunately they possess influence."

Political language.

Mason was learning.

It roughly translates to: they can make our lives miserable.

The discussion continued.

Funding.

Authority.

Jurisdiction.

Docuntation.

Everything politicians loved.

He endured it bravely.

Mostly by imagining escape routes.

Then Zereth spoke.

"The archives remain the greater concern."

That changed the atmosphere instantly.

Several people stiffened.

Interesting.

Assura’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"What did you find?"

Zereth hesitated just briefly.

"Evidence that soone began removing records long before the fracture."

Silence followed.

The ministers exchanged looks.

Not a surprised look.

Worried looks.

Mason noticed.

So did Zereth.

Interesting again.

One of the ministers cleared his throat.

"Many records disappear over centuries."

"No."

Zereth’s answer ca imdiately.

"Not like this."

The room grew quiet.

The silver-eyed immortal continued.

"The removals were systematic."

Another silence.

Longer this ti.

Athlian felt uneasy.

Mason could feel it through the soul bridge.

Like a distant storm gathering.

Eventually the eting ended.

No conclusions.

Only more questions.

As everyone departed, Assura approached unexpectedly.

The ancient immortal looked unusually serious.

That alone felt concerning.

"Athlain."

Never a good sign.

"Yes?"

Assura studied him.

Like sobody examining a fragile object.

The attention made him uncomfortable.

"The dreams are becoming stronger."

Mason imdiately disliked that.

"Why does everyone keep knowing things?"

Assura ignored him.

Ancient beings truly enjoyed that habit.

"The soul bridge is changing."

Athlian instantly beca alert.

The reaction did not escape Assura.

Nothing escaped Assura.

That fact alone remained deeply irritating.

"What does that an?" Mason asked.

"It ans the separation is weakening."

Wonderful.

Those words sounded terrible.

"What separation?"

Assura’s expression remained unreadable.

"The one keeping old mories buried."

Athlian recoiled.

Mason felt it imdiately.

Fear.

Not fear of Heaven.

Not fear of the chained creature.

Sothing else.

Sothing personal.

Assura noticed.

Of course he did.

The immortal’s gaze softened slightly.

Which sohow felt even more alarming.

Then he left.

Just like that.

No explanation.

No clarification.

Nothing.

Mason stared after him.

"I hate immortals."

Athlian laughed.

"They’re all terrible."

’Not all.’

Interesting answer.

That evening the Coalition finally arrived.

The palace transford instantly.

Additional guards appeared.

Servants rushed through corridors.

Officials ran between etings.

The atmosphere shifted.

Politics had entered the building.

Mason preferred cosmic horrors.

At least cosmic horrors were honest.

A formal reception followed.

Lengthy...filled with speeches.

Mason survived through sheer determination. And several internal complaints.

The Coalition representatives appeared polite, professional and reasonable.

Which imdiately made him suspicious.

Athlian agreed.

That was never encouraging.

The reception ended shortly before sunset.

Mason escaped at the first opportunity.

A tactical retreat.

Draca called it sothing else.

Mason ignored him.

The palace gardens provided temporary relief.

Fresh air.

Quiet paths.

Actual peace.

Rare luxury.

He followed one of the stone walkways toward a secluded section of the grounds.

The mont he arrived, he realized sobody else was already there.

Zereth.

He stood beside a fountain...thinking.

"My goddess."

There it was again.

That tone.

The serious one.

"What happened now?"

Zereth didn’t answer imdiately.

Instead he produced another docunt.

Mason imdiately regretted asking.

The silver-eyed immortal handed it over.

Ancient parchnt.

Faded writing.

"What is it?"

"A copy."

"Of?"

"The oldest surviving reference to the Witnesses."

Interesting.

Mason unfolded the docunt carefully.

Most of the text had deteriorated beyond recognition.

Only fragnts remained.

Sentences broken by age.

Words missing.

aning incomplete.

Yet one section remained readable.

Just enough.

His eyes moved across the page.

Then stopped.

The fragnt read: They were not chosen to witness the world. They were chosen to witness the gods.

Mason’s stomach tightened.

Athlian froze.

Not fear this ti.

Sothing else which is a mory.

A mory so sharp it felt like a blade.

For a brief second, an image flashed through the soul bridge.

A distant hall.

Countless lights.

Soone standing alone.

Then it vanished.

Gone before he could understand it.

Mason looked up sharply.

Zereth was already watching him.

And then he asked the question Athlian had been dreading.

"The Witnesses observed the gods."

A pause.

A asured breath.

"So why were all records about them hidden by the heavens themselves?"