Lox's figure slowly descended from the air. The Emperor's Custodian Guard remained at their posts as usual; only the fleeting glimmers at the corners of their eyes proved that they were not as calm as they appeared.
"Look, our Machine God has returned."
"The Imperial Palace of Terra is truly honored by your presence."
The moment Lox entered the Throne Room, he heard Neoth's familiar teasing voice.
A nameless anger immediately rose within Lox.
Neoth possessed extraordinary talents and abilities in many respects, including, naturally, an exceptional talent for infuriating people.
He could have offered a few encouraging words. If he had used even a tenth of his damned charisma, it would have been enough to make any human swoon and serve him with utter devotion.
But he refused to do so. He insisted on saying things that could only be called an "emotional-intelligence disaster."
"Heh. If I really came back as the Machine God, you probably wouldn't be laughing."
"If you're dissatisfied, I can go back and come again."
"I'm coming clean. No more acting. I'm going to become a god."
Lox made as if to leave, but as he turned and approached the grand gates of the Throne Room, the flustered Neoth grabbed him.
"My apologies, my friend."
"I thought this little joke might ease the tense and heavy atmosphere."
Although Neoth's expression did not visibly change, Lox could tell that the man was truly anxious.
More than anyone, Neoth feared that Lox would be unable to resist temptation and submit to the power of the Throne.
If Lox yielded, possessing most of the Void Dragon's power, the authority of the Omnissiah, and the forging authority taken from Vashtorr, his path to godhood would become far easier and more natural than anyone imagined.
What Vashtorr had desperately pursued