48. Needy

  Atla was embarrassed. Deeply, deeply embarrassed, and he didn’t know who to talk to because he had only just realized how very, very much the one person he wanted to ask for advice had given him over the extent of his the last few years.

  His awareness did not really start with wakefulness. Before that had been a long, endless dream. He was aware of things living and dying, but not on an individual level. He was aware of his mountains moving and his magma flowing and his tides and his dragon veins and other things.

  But he had no thought. No ego. No soul.

  Then had come the quickening, and all at once in a blinding confusion of light he had been born, looking around at millions of these little things on his surface who were crying out in joy and happiness, and they were all speaking to one figure, and that figure was standing resplendent in the light that was being cast from the world.

  Even in places where the battle had not been being fought did people cheer for “Little Bug” as he fought back the darkness and brought back the light.

  So Atla had reached out to this figure and asked him a very simple question. “Are you my father?”

  And the figure had turned to him and smiled and with utter love and conviction in his voice he had answered “Yes! Hello child!”

  Or that was how Atla remembered things anyway. Those early hours were so very confusing.

  Then Little Bug had gone somewhere and the other little people had settled down and stopped praying to Atla’s father, and Little Bug had spoken to Atla for years. Atla’s father had spent every waking moment with him, and every unwaking moment he had an avatar ready to answer Atla’s questions so that the young planet-child would not be afraid or confused.

  Atla had never thought anything of it, because if all of those noisy people couldn’t bother his father than one little voice was probably fine. And his father was so strong. Atla’s Qi reserves were greater, of course, but he couldn’t use techniques like his father could. And when he was empowered by Atla, then the man was literally unstoppable by anyone except another Xian Lord.

  But that wasn’t what had Atla embarrassed.

  What had him embarrassed was that he only just understood what his father had meant when he’d called him ‘needy.’

  When Atla had manifested his Eidolon, he had utilized that part of him that was used to whispering to his father. It was the part of him that he had the most control over, and the part of him most suitable for the task. After all, the constant interaction with his father had strengthened it until it was what it became, and then it continued to grow stronger as his eidolon self grew.

  But Atla only just now connected the fact that his father’s seclusion ended right around the same time that Atla had first manifested his Eidolon, and how much more his father had been since then.

  He was embarrassed because he had just realized how much of his father’s attention he’d been claiming for himself.

  His father was a powerful cultivator. But a cultivator was still a man, and not a planet. He hadn’t heard all of those voices all over the world calling out for him, only just a few of them.

  But he had recognized and claimed Atla as his beloved child immediately.

  And Atla wouldn’t accept any world in which Little Bug wasn’t his father.

  He wanted to apologize for his earlier neediness. But his father was so busy these days, and now that he realized that humans had attention spans that were limited to what was going on right in their environment, he couldn’t tell when his father was busy thinking important thoughts or when it was okay to bother him anymore.

  He knew what it was to be overloaded with requests after the whole “I’m Atla! Pray to me if you want babies!” thing had gone wrong. He hadn’t revealed to his father just how wrong it had gone, or how desperate he’d been to fix it when he thought of the Matla solution.

  Being able to dedicate a part of his planet self and having mortal servants to answer most of the questions took off so much of the pressure. Or he thought it would. It was already making a difference, as people were starting to pray to Toorah instead of Matla, and Matla instead of Atla.

  But this was a diversion, he reminded himself. How did he show his father that he was grateful for all of the time they had spent together when they were younger without being needy about it?

  Atla sighed, and he decided to ask someone who might know.

  ~~~~~~

  “Hey Toorah! Toorah! Wake up, I know you can hear me!”

  Toorah groaned, rolling over in bed. Ever since he had unintentionally agreed to become Atla’s priest, he had the little god’s voice constantly in his ear, and it was unexpectedly loud right now.

  “What is it, Atla? Do you actually need something or—”

  “How do you tell someone sorry and thank you at the same time?” Atla demanded.

  Toorah blinked. Was this the god trying to make amends for ruining his chance at the tournament? “It’s alright. I actually am looking forward to being your priest, I think,” Toorah admitted. “This wasn’t the shape that I thought glory would find me but—”

  “Yeah that sounds like a you problem and I’m wondering how to say sorry and thanks to my dad,” Atla said impatiently. “I didn’t realize how much I was bugging him when I was waking him up in the middle of the night with my questions about insects or fish or whatever.”

  Toorah sighed. For a god, Atla was decidedly self unaware. “Atla, can this wait until I’m awake? And dressed? And thinking clearly?”

  “Huh? Oh right, you’re on the side of me where it’s dark right now,” Atla muttered. “I’ll ask again in a few hours.”

  Toorah relaxed, and a few minutes later he was back asleep.

  ~~~~~

  The tournament restarted the morning after I made my announcement, and surprisingly little had changed. Junior, the contestant that had fought against Toorah when Matla had made her divine appearance, was soundly defeated in the fourth round. The matches continued for several days until the championship was won by a ninety-year old woman. She was quite beautiful, despite her age, as she had stepped onto the silver path when she was twenty-five and looked to be no more than middle aged.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  When I appeared to give her the reward, however, she surprised us all.

  “Instead of begging a boon of the Worldfather, might I instead make a request of Matla, the divine mother?” she asked.

  I blinked in surprise. “That wasn’t the arrangement.”

  “My flows have stopped, and in this new world I wish to be a mother,” she continued as though I hadn’t objected. “I beg that this—”

  “Yeah sure,” Matla said, manifesting briefly. “There’s nothing wrong with your bits they’re just a bit old. I’ll freshen them up for you and you should be able to have kids again. I hope you have the man picked out though, because I have no say in those matters, you know.”

  “Oh I know,” the woman said, and she winked at the third place winner, who was a man her own age. He looked shocked when she said “And make certain that his bits work too.”

  “Oh they do,” Matla said, and the old man in a young man’s body blushed deeply. All of the contestants who had placed were old, having been on the silver path for decades. They had beaten out their juniors with their experience and superior technique, which they had developed over the course of their lifetime.

  With the matter of the reward decided, I stepped back into the box to watch the closing ceremony. The parade was cut short to keep the rest of the tournament on schedule, lasting only two of the scheduled five days, but with theological matters settled everyone was very happy.

  It took some time for me to realize that there was something wrong. Atla had been quiet, and while the reprieve was generally a good thing, as any young parent can tell you, silence from a normally active and inquisitive child is usually a bad sign.

  To my shame, it was Toorah who brought the matter to my attention. He was nervous about stepping forward, but his role as one of the high-priests of our new religion gave him the right to approach me, whatever his previous station in life might have been.

  He came into the box seats during one of the opening gold-ranked matches between a fire cultivator and a wind cultivator. The wards protecting the audience were getting a workout, but they were holding strong, with people cheering as they flashed into light when an errant attack hit their section.

  It was a rowdy and jubilant atmosphere, with happy people calling out cheers on one of the competitors or the other. Unlike the silver ranked fights and below, only one gold ranked match was permitted at a time due, so although it had half of the number of contestants, the gold tournament was scheduled to last for twice as long.

  “What is it Toorah?” I asked when he came in.

  He seemed nervous for a moment, then steeled his resolve. “You need to talk to Atla,” he declared.

  I blinked. “What?”

  “Atla is worried about bugging you,” he said. “He feels bad about how much of your time he’s been consuming and has been avoiding you. If that’s how you want things then that’s fine, and it’s not really any of my business except that as his priest I’m...well I’m still figuring out what all is in my job description to be honest, so maybe—”

  “Atla?” I asked, and the boy-eidolon appeared before us. He had a sheepish expression on his face and looked annoyed at Toorah.

  “I told you not to bug him,” Atla said. “It’s not that important.”

  “I think it is,” Toorah said.

  “What’s this about?” I asked.

  And so Atla explained, in his very Atla-esque way, that he had only just realized that maybe he hadn’t quite had a grasp on the idea that humans had a limited attention span and that maybe he hadn’t quite realized that he might have been inconveniencing me when he’d woken me constantly or buzzed into the middle of a conversation with his childish concerns.

  It took me a moment to realize how serious the situation this was, but as he spoke I turned to give him my full attention. I allowed him to get all of his concerns out of the way, and then I considered them carefully for a moment.

  “Is that all?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” he said sheepishly. “I’m sorry for being needy.”

  “Atla, I’m sorry I haven’t been paying as much attention to you lately,” I said.

  “That’s not—”

  “Let me finish,” I said. “I allowed you to vent your concerns without interruption, please extend the same courtesy to me.”

  He swallowed and nodded.

  “Allow me to explain something, Atla,” I said. “You needed my constant attention when you were younger, the same as an infant needs their parents to bathe them, change them, clothe them, and teach them. Had I not given you my undivided attention at that time, then you wouldn’t be feeling sheepish now, because you would still be struggling to put together a coherent ego.”

  “I know that,” he muttered.

  “Do you think that I am embarrassed that my parents once changed my diaper?” I asked him.

  “That’s different,” he said.

  “It’s exactly the same. I am your world-father, Atla. Helping you to develop was my responsibility the same as taking care of your physical needs would have been if you were human. But you are older now, and your personality is still malleable, but it’s developing into something wonderful, so I have taken a step back to allow you to shine. I’m sorry if I didn’t explain that, but I am no less devoted to seeing you come into your own than I was five years ago, when we first spoke.”

  His child-self blushed. “So you don’t hate me?”

  “I love you. You were a little exasperating at times when you were younger, but it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. And I will always make time for you, so don’t feel like you need to avoid me in the future. But you’ve grown into a powerful world and have a well developed ego with a just and thoughtful moral compass. I am so proud of you, and while I will always be here to answer your questions, I trust you to make the right decisions.”

  He looked deeply embarrassed. “So I can still bug you like before, and you won’t be mad?”

  “I’ll always make time for you,” I said. “Although with the way things are turning out, I might need to spin off an avatar to do so. That doesn’t mean that I love you less, it means that we’re entering a new phase in your development. I trust you, Atla, but you’re not ready to be without my guidance yet. So if you’re ever in doubt, come seek my guidance, and I’ll provide it.”

  Abruptly he hugged me, pressing his face into my belly. I hugged him back, and looked around at the others in the box office, who were consciously ignoring us. I sighed, wishing that I’d noticed sooner that something had been bothering my world-son, but pleased that things seemed to be resolved now.

  “Now then, is there anything else that is bugging you?” I asked.

  “Some of the people I punished are begging me to reverse their punishments,” he said. “Some of them I’m thinking maybe I was unfair to.”

  “Well, that will take some time to discuss. Let’s go case by case. Let’s start with the ones that are bothering you the most,” I suggested.

  So we spent the rest of the day watching golden-path cultivators lighting up the arena wards while discussing divine punishments while our priests took careful notes.

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