Let me clarify something important, dear reader: I did not mean for the cat to become a god.
But somehow, against every rule of theology, magical taxonomy, and common sense, Fluffernox—my supposedly cuddly, definitely carnivorous magical companion—ascended.
It all began when he ate the Echo Shrine's sacred tapestry.
"You do realize that tapestry depicted the entire metaphysical history of the world, right?" Belladonna asked, not even looking up from her book as Fluffernox burped pure starlight.
"Yes," I said, gently prying glowing thread from his fangs. "I'm aware. I was hoping no one else would be."
"Too late," said Seraphina, emerging from the shadow of a potted tree that had definitely not been there a moment ago. "The monks are panicking. One of them tried to reenact the history of the Third Era using only interpretive dance."
"...Did it work?"
"No. He pulled a hamstring."
It spiraled from there.
The tapestry, you see, wasn't just a symbolic piece of worldbuilding convenience. It was imbued with residual Echo magic and tuned to prophetic frequency. So when Fluffernox consumed it (along with several nearby enchanted floor tiles), it initiated what scholars refer to as "an unsanctioned divinity cascade."
The rest of us refer to it as "That Time the Cat Floated, Glowed, and Spoke in Perfect Celestial Rhyme."
Day One of Fluffernox Ascension
Signs included:
Hovering six inches off the ground.
Demanding tribute in the form of warm socks.
Speaking in riddles that, once decoded, mostly criticized my haircut.
Mirielle swore he gave her a blessing. Her hair hasn't stopped sparkling since.
"He touched my forehead with his tail," she said dreamily, staring at a mirror. "And whispered: 'Thy strands shall shimmer in moonlight eternal, even when no moons remain.'"
"He licked my hand and called me a disgrace," I muttered.
"Divine judgment," said Spoon solemnly. "Fair."
Day Two of Fluffernox Ascension
A cult had formed. Not by my doing. Not even by Belladonna's. (Though she did start designing the robes.)
The new group called themselves the Order of the Velvet Paw and promptly submitted a request to the Echo Monastery for recognition as an official spiritual branch.
"They've already built a shrine," Aureline informed me. "With a tiny cat-sized throne. And incense made of tuna."
I found Fluffernox perched atop the shrine, blinking slowly.
"Oh great Purrveyor of Light," one acolyte said reverently, "guide us with thy whiskered wisdom."
Fluffernox responded by vomiting a comet-shaped hairball onto their donation box.
They wept. "It is a sign!"
Day Three of Fluffernox Ascension
The Monastery tried to intervene. It failed.
One monk attempted to perform a cleansing ritual. Fluffernox stared at him, tail twitching ominously, then sneezed directly onto his soul. The monk has since joined the Order and now chants exclusively in iambic pentameter.
"I'm losing control," I admitted to Spoon.
"You never had it."
"Fair."
"Also, I think he's rewriting the local leyline grammar. Look."
I looked.
Reality had begun... twitching.
Sentences appeared in midair, narrating my every move.
Kael blinked. He questioned everything. Especially why he let a small, vaguely spherical creature anywhere near prophecy.
"...That wasn't me," I whispered.
Spoon shrugged. "We're in divine fanfiction now. Buckle up."
Day Four: The Reckoning
I found Fluffernox meditating in the shrine. Yes, meditating. Legs crossed. Floating. Surrounded by orbiting fishbones and purring with the weight of a thousand existential secrets.
"Hey," I said, arms crossed. "Buddy. Pal. Literal glitch-cat. We need to talk."
His eyes opened.
They glowed.
Mortal Kael, Echo-Touched. Thou art not the first to question thy companion.
"You're using third-person omniscient voice. That's cheating."
Silence. The fluff doth judge thee.
Spoon stood at my side. "I warned you about adopting strays."
"He wasn't a stray! He chose me!"
Nay. I chose chaos.
At that moment, the walls peeled back like curtains of thought. Reality blinked. And suddenly, I was standing in a giant cosmic theatre, with my life projected across stars, watched by an audience of spectral cats in tiny judge robes.
"...Is this some kind of test?"
All is test. All is theatre. Thy every quip hath weight. Thy every denial... a script.
"Okay, that's enough. I'm pulling the author card."
Thou canst not break the fourth wall.
"I LIVE in the fourth wall!"
I pointed upward.
"Reader? Are you seeing this? This is why I can't have nice things."
Resolution (?)
Eventually, Belladonna (bless her ruthless diplomacy) managed to strike a deal with Fluffernox.
He would cease divine interference in exchange for:
One (1) daily fish offering.
Full access to the Echo Archives' sunbeams.
Recognition as "Honorary Dean of Mystical Affairs and Nap Logistics."
Also, the Order of the Velvet Paw now holds monthly poetry slams. Fluffernox judges them by purring or turning his back.
I'm not saying I understand what just happened.
I'm saying we now have a god-cat who may or may not be editing the story.
And honestly?
I'm too tired to object.
Next time on Yes, I Was Reborn. No, I Don't Want a Harem. Stop Looking at Me Like That:
Chapter 76: "Glitch Cults, Spoon Sermons, and Why Is There a Floating Belladonna?"
Everything gets weirder. Again. And Belladonna might be glowing.