Divine Mask: I Have Numerous God Clones

Zeus left the tavern, his steps light and purposeful as he moved through the darkened streets. A satisfied smile played on his lips, knowing that Thalrik Malachor's fate was already sealed.

The thing that he had placed on him would ensure that, no matter how far Thalrik wandered, the plan was already in motion.

As he continued down the winding streets, Zeus's mind was already turning to his next target. "One down," he muttered to himself, his tone calm but laced with anticipation. "Now, where's the next one?"

Just as he was about to formulate a plan, his sharp ears caught the sound of a commotion nearby. A woman's voice, panicked and desperate, echoed through the narrow alleyways, her cries for help breaking the stillness of the night.

Zeus's eyes narrowed, his interest piqued. "What do we have here?" he murmured, quickening his pace as he moved toward the source of the noise. His expression darkened with curiosity, the thrill of the hunt pushing him forward.

As Zeus turned a corner, he found himself standing at the edge of a small, dimly lit square. His eyes quickly focused on the scene unfolding in the center—a man with a dark, sullen expression was violently assaulting a young woman. Her cries for help pierced the night, desperate and filled with terror.

"Help! Someone, please!" the woman pleaded, her voice trembling with fear. But her cries fell on deaf ears.

The onlookers, a group of locals who had gathered around, kept their distance, their faces pale with anxiety. They exchanged nervous glances but remained rooted in place, too frightened to intervene.

Zeus's gaze swept over the crowd, his expression cold as he listened to their hushed whispers.

"That's Vortas Malachor," one man muttered, his voice barely audible, but the fear in his tone was unmistakable. "Even though he's from the side family, he's still a Malachor. We can't get involved."

"Better to stay out of it," another added, her voice shaking. "This town isn't the place for heroes. You know what happens to those who cross the Malachors."

Zeus's eyes narrowed as he processed the information. So, the assailant was Vortas Malachor, a member of the Malachor side family. Despite his lower status within the family, the mere association with the Malachor name was enough to paralyze the townspeople with fear.

The man in the center of the square sneered at the woman he was tormenting, his voice dripping with cruelty. "No one's coming to save you," Vortas taunted, his words harsh and cold. "In this town, I'm the one in charge."

Zeus's expression darkened, a flicker of anger crossing his features. He watched as the woman's strength began to wane, her struggles weakening under Vortas's relentless assault. The townspeople remained passive, unwilling to risk their own safety for her.

"Pathetic," Zeus muttered under his breath, the word filled with disdain. His voice was low, but the intensity behind it was unmistakable.

As Vortas finally grew tired of his cruel game, he shoved the woman aside with a dismissive gesture. "Get out of my sight," he spat, before turning on his heel and swaggering back toward a nearby inn, clearly satisfied with his display of power.

The crowd quickly dispersed, their faces etched with relief that the ordeal was over. None of them dared to look at the woman as she struggled to her feet, too ashamed or frightened to offer any assistance.

Zeus wasn't finished—not by a long shot. As Vortas Malachor retreated toward the inn, Zeus's gaze followed him, cold and calculating.

His mind was already working through the possibilities, the best way to make his next move. He didn't need to speak; his actions were guided by the silent resolve that had brought him this far.

Keeping a safe distance, Zeus shadowed Vortas, his steps quiet and deliberate. He watched as Vortas entered the inn, not bothering to check if anyone was following. The arrogance of the Malachor name made him careless—a mistake Zeus intended to exploit.

Zeus lingered outside, concealed in the shadows. The faint light escaping from the inn's windows provided just enough visibility for him to see inside. Through the flickering candlelight, he caught sight of Vortas with another girl, clearly reveling in the power his feared reputation afforded him.

Zeus's expression remained neutral, his eyes cold as he continued to observe. He knew better than to rush; patience was often the most valuable weapon.

"Indulge yourself while you can," Zeus murmured quietly to himself, his voice barely more than a whisper. "It's the last bit of pleasure you'll have."

Time passed slowly, the sounds from Vortas's room gradually quieting as the night wore on. Finally, after two hours, the room fell silent. Zeus knew his moment had come.

Moving with the precision of a seasoned hunter, Zeus crept closer to the inn. His movements were silent, his presence undetectable as he approached Vortas's room. He paused at the door, listening carefully. Inside, there was only the sound of soft breathing—Vortas had finally succumbed to sleep.

Zeus pushed the door open with a light touch, slipping inside like a shadow. The room was dimly lit by the dying embers of a candle, casting long, eerie shadows on the walls.

The girl Vortas had been with was gone, leaving him alone, sprawled across the bed, vulnerable and unaware of the danger now standing beside him.

Zeus approached the bedside, his expression unreadable, his eyes devoid of emotion as he looked down at the sleeping figure. Without a word, he reached out and placed a hand on Vortas, his touch light but purposeful.

"Sleep well," Zeus whispered, his tone cold and devoid of sympathy. With a subtle movement, he implanted the same thing that he had put on Thalrik, ensuring Vortas's fate was now sealed as well.

Zeus turned his attention to Vortas's belongings, his gaze sharp and calculating. He reached down and carefully inspected the items scattered around the room. As he had expected, there was a collection of spatial pouches, much like the ones he had taken from Thalrik.

"Let's see what secrets you're hiding," Zeus muttered under his breath, a faint smile curling at the edges of his lips.

He quietly selected half of the pouches, his movements precise and deliberate. He knew better than to take everything—leaving some behind would delay any suspicion.

With practiced ease, he replaced the stolen pouches with empty ones, ensuring that when Vortas woke up and checked, he wouldn't immediately notice anything amiss.

"Can't have you realizing too soon, can we?" Zeus whispered, his tone laced with a mix of amusement and cold calculation.

Satisfied with his work, Zeus straightened up and gave the room one last glance. Vortas remained fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the mark that now sealed his fate or the theft that had just taken place.

With his task complete, Zeus slipped out of the inn as quietly as he had entered. The night had fully settled in, wrapping the town in a blanket of darkness.

Zeus moved through the streets with the same calm confidence he had displayed all night, a sense of satisfaction settling over him as he considered the progress he had made.