A/N - Thank you, Andrew Kluttz, & HerShi Savage, for becoming God of Velmoryn's Patrons!
I spent the entire night planning how I wanted to develop the tribe. Ideally, I'd have surrounded the settlement with towering stone walls, raised several oak guardians, and branded beasts strong enough to serve the Velmoryns without question. But I wasn't that powerful, at least not yet. I didn't have the luxury of throwing around Divinity Points just because my imagination wanted something grand. And more importantly, the Oak Guardian, and likely any divine sentinel I could create, clearly required more than just energy - it needed a soul. A willing sacrifice from someone who believed in me.
My eyes darted toward the dimmed, empty core Roy had left behind. I still didn't understand why it hadn't disappeared. At the moment, there were four things in my divine plane besides myself, though I wasn't even sure I counted, given that I had no tangible form. There were Tekla's and Mel's glowing crimson stars, the Oak Guardian in its true shape with roots stretching deep into the clouds below, and then Roy's core - dull, silent, and motionless.
Is this thing still usable? Or is it just leftover junk I'll have to clear out eventually…?
I reached out, trying to sense any kind of connection. A pull, a flicker, anything. But no matter how many times I tried, no matter how much I focused, nothing came. No sensation. No response.
Then I tried something else. I willed it to move toward me.
I hadn't dared to touch the living stars - those still had names and souls, one wrong move could have harmed them. But this one was different. Roy's core was extinguished, hollow, silent. I didn't mind experimenting on that.
It drifted slowly, like a weightless speck floating through void. But other than that, no reaction.
Maybe I can awaken something inside it. Maybe Roy's soul isn't entirely gone. And if I can recreate a soul once… then nothing's stopping me from building more later. Velmoryns created by me… completely loyal and devoted.
The thought alone sent a jolt through me - this was more than an experiment, more than curiosity. This was the first step toward a power far beyond giving blessings or smiting the foes. Creation. Life from nothing. The purest expression of a true god.
Still, I wasn't going to throw everything I had into a guess. I funneled only the tiniest sliver of divine energy forward, barely more than a spark, just enough to provoke a reaction if there was one.
And there was.
The core shimmered, ever so faintly. Faintest crimson light danced across its surface. A mortal would've missed it entirely, but I saw it clearly. Not just the glow, but the bond beneath it. For a heartbeat, I felt the same connection I used to have with Roy. And then it deepened, far more than I expected.
What the hell was that?
[Warning: Passing the Divinity consumed 0.1 Divinity Points!]
Startled by the sensation, I severed the flow instantly, retreating from the bond as the glow vanished and the core dimmed again. I checked myself, bracing for damage or drain, but everything felt intact, exactly as it had been, except for the odd sensation that something had been momentarily removed from me. Not taken violently. More like it peeled away gently, only to be replaced with something identical.
This felt almost like when I took over Avenor… but this time, I couldn't maintain the connection with the part of me that the core pulled away.
The uncertainty from earlier was gone now, replaced with raw curiosity. I had no idea what I was dealing with yet, but I knew it was worth exploring.
My gaze locked onto Roy's core. If he'd still been alive, he probably would've shivered at the look I gave it. Cold, analytical, like a man staring at a puzzle he planned to take apart one piece at a time.
This core would be my experiment. My prototype. The first real step toward understanding the limits of my divine power and perhaps even myself.
As usual, the excitement faded quickly, replaced by focus as I reeled my thoughts back in. I looked again at the dimmed core. Something about it had changed. Even if its appearance hadn't, the feel of it was different now.
And then I noticed it. One of the cracks, the same ones that had bled energy when Roy sacrificed himself, was gone. Not just faded or dulled, but fully sealed.
Does that mean if I channel more divinity into it, the entire core might restore itself? And if that happens… could a soul be created afterward?
The idea was tempting. For a moment, I nearly reached for my divine power again. But the memory of how much it cost just to bless a silver rank was still fresh, and whatever this was, it felt like a different league entirely. If the process of restoration required a continuous stream of my divine energy, I might not be able to pull back in time before the core drained more than I was willing or able to give.
And even if I ignored the risk of burning through too many Divinity Points, there was still the part that had unsettled me more: the sensation of something being taken. Not just Divinity Points, but a part of me. A sliver of my consciousness pulled into the core before I could even realize it was happening.
It's too risky. First, I need to gather more Divinity Points, and when I do…
But even that wouldn't be enough. Not until I understood what had happened when the core took a piece of me. That fragment, whatever it was, might have been replaced, or maybe rebuilt in the background without me noticing. But I had no guarantee that a larger piece wouldn't take longer to return. Or worse, that it wouldn't return at all.
And even if it did, would I still be me?
I didn't know. I had no answers, not even the theories, just questions that sank deeper the longer I sat with them.
But I understood one thing clearly: if I wanted to become something greater, something that didn't have to ration every fragment of divine power like a starving beggar counting crumbs, then sooner or later, I'd have to figure this out.
"High Father, Your devoted child has finished setting up a temple."
The voice came suddenly, brushing into my awareness with the kind of eager warmth that I immediately recognized it - Tekla. She sounded almost giddy, like a kid who just finished their homework and couldn't wait for a parent to say well done.
I shifted focus through the Window, letting it narrow in on the newly built structure. After the funeral, Tekla had asked for permission to build a temple. She'd been too caught up in her upgraded priestess form, still high from the vision I'd shown her, and apparently decided that what she needed next was a temple to match.
It had been shaped by the Oak Guardian itself. The roots and branches had formed an open corridor - tall, reaching almost as high as the trunk it merged with - and just above it, woven into the bark, was my statue.
The outside looked modest and simple. But the interior caught me off guard. I liked it more than I thought I would. The walls were dark red, lined with thick crimson leaves that pulsed faintly in the light. It didn't feel like some pristine, overdesigned sanctuary. It felt raw. Wild. Alive. More like a temple belonging to a god of the land than one born from polished marble and symmetry.
Maybe it's better like this.
I'd originally imagined something more gothic. Elegant, cold. A little closer to elven design, with high obsidian arches and delicate runes etched in crimson. But this was the kind of place that didn't just reflect reverence, but forced it.
At the center stood an altar, and that was the real reason I'd commanded Orrvyn to help her build the temple in the first place. Tekla had explained they'd need a divine space, a physical link to me strong enough for offerings, especially when winter came and they began farming soul essences in earnest.
Technically, I didn't need it yet. But I let her go ahead with it anyway. Because… well, a god should have a temple.
What surprised me more than the outcome was Orrvyn's ability to actually help. It couldn't speak, but apparently it could listen, or at least it could listen to my priestess. And Tekla had managed to give it instructions well enough that it built something better than I'd pictured.
"High Father, if You deem this temple worthy of You, please bless it."
I could feel her excitement sipping through the connection. It even affected me a little. But then her voice shifted, deepening in resolve.
"But if You don't like it, the Divine Tree and I will do our best to create a new one. One worthy of Your greatness."
Before she asks for something else, I need to bless this thing fast.
I didn't even know what blessing a temple was supposed to do, exactly. But I figured I could improvise. I just had to picture something that matched the new tone I was leaning into. A tribal, wild god. A symbol of primal strength. And most importantly, something that wouldn't cost much…
I stirred the power within me, keeping it under my own control instead of using any system-granted skill. I had a clear image in mind, something the temple still lacked. The interior felt bare. Not minimalist in a refined way, just… unfinished. Simplicity had its place, but too much of it didn't say restraint, it screamed poverty. Like a god with no substance behind the title - me.
I didn't want a space where believers gathered just to kneel and whisper requests I had no intention of granting. Prayers were noise, and even when I tried to ignore them, I still heard the echoes.
No. This temple wasn't for them to ask me for anything. It was where they'd offer.
Their blood. Their possessions. Their devotion in tangible form.
The crimson oak was already my symbol, so the design started there. The ground split with a deep rumble as roots tore their way through the earth. A single trunk surged up from the center, twisting as it grew, bark layering in on itself in jagged crimson ridges until it reached the ceiling. From there, the upper branches began to unfold slowly, curling out in long arcs like fingers stretching after a long sleep.
Then the leaves bloomed. Dozens at first, then hundreds. Smaller than the Oak Guardian's, but more intricate. They formed in clusters, each one catching the faint light in a different shade of red, like drying blood.
[Warning: Creation consumed 0.1 Divinity Points!]
This was no decoration. I shaped the ritual with the forming of the tree. The Velmoryns would feed it their blood, nourishing it. And in return, the tree would produce fruit that could heal wounds and cleanse curses, but only once enough of their essence had soaked into it. A perfect exchange. No divine energy needed to form fruits. Their constitution would become my currency.
Then I turned to the altar.
I didn't want some flat stone where people dropped their offerings and hoped for the best. I wanted a symbol. A figure that embodied the kind of god I was becoming. Not gentle. Not kind. Predatory.
A basilisk.
I willed it, and Orrvyn instantly responded. Dozens of the crimson roots rose, curling around the altar like coiling snakes, twisting and tightening until they merged into a single trunk. I channeled energy into it, watched as the outer bark hardened and shifted - scales forming one by one, dark and heavy like armor.
The trunk thickened at the top. Then it began to shape itself - nostrils first, then the jaws splitting open. The tongue came next, thin and forked, followed by two hollow sockets that slowly filled with a faint crimson glow, like something inside had just woken. I didn't stop there. Horns followed, four of them, curling back along the sides like twisted branches hardened into bone, adding weight to the creature's presence.
[Warning: Creation consumed 0.1 Divinity Points!]
[Warning: Passing the Divinity consumed 0.2 Divinity Points!]
It wasn't just an altar anymore. It carried my new symbol - a basilisk, or at least my version of one.
When the Velmoryns placed their offerings inside its mouth, it would swallow them and send them to me. Maybe. I wasn't sure if the transfer would work yet. But I'd test it later. One thing at a time.
For now, it was enough.
Next, I meant to speak to Tekla. Explain how the tree worked and give her a few instructions veiled as divine insight to steer the tribe subtly toward the shape I wanted. But before I could, something pulled my focus. A sudden burst of divine energy erupted from the tribe.
I froze.
It was my own divine signature.
How the hell…?
Someone had used my power. Not borrowed. Not begged.
Used it.
And I had no idea who it was.
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