There are 12 pretender gods all vying for the throne of the world. Each one was born in various ways.
The Champion Gods are born of normal humans made deities, the Elder Gods are unfathomable creatures from beyond the void of space, come to claim even greater, terrifying power.
Then there are Demonic and Angelic Gods who possess incredible powers over destruction and rulership alike.
There are Fable Gods who are mystical creatures with divine strength, created from pre-existing beliefs.
There are many, many more. Countless types of Pretender Gods for all beings, regardless of lofty origins, vie for power, for the endowment of one's will.
But these deities used to be mortals of Earth, that, when offered the chance by a higher power to become Pretender Gods of a new world, they jumped at the chance.
This higher power made a video game of unparalleled complexity and realistic specificity. It possessed an AI that was a veritable superintelligence.
This AI changed or made new code in response to player activities and goals. Originally, this game was a classical high fantasy role-playing game(RPG), Tolkien stuff.
But over time, it transmogrified into a more strategic 4X game(Explore, Expand, Exploit, and Exterminate), yet retained elements of its previous RPG coding.
This higher power called this thing an AI so as not to confuse the masses with something they could not understand, making a whole new divine spirit who calls itself AI.
Religion and control, power and manipulation. These things often go hand in hand, and this game was no different, as it was but a training ground to get their players used to the idea.
Finally! When time grew short for the game's relevance, AI, the divine spirit, summoned players at random into this new existence.
With a choice and consequence of death should they lose this divine game is repelling enough to dispel the weak-minded players, and they went back to their bodies, living out their lives in mundane nothingness.
But those with the will to dominate and to thrive stayed. Ready to slay each other should the time arise.
"Pretender Gods, please come up when you feel spiritually compelled to, and your luck shall be drawn." Said the higher power.
None of the players could see each other as when they looked at themselves, they were their avatars, but when they looked at their to-be enemies, they were nigh-shapeless smokiness, vaguely humanoid.
"Hang on, if we're our avatars now, why shouldn't we just kill you and take over?" Asked a voice whose qualities none could ascertain, for it was concealed to them.
The higher power just smiled almost sinisterly. "My friends, my name is God. You are grasping for my throne. Strong as you may be, sure, but can any of your avatars accidentally crush universes and say 'Woopsie?'" Silence. "I thought not~!"
The arrogance God exuded was almost enough to convince some to punch him.
Thankfully, their mind won over their hearts and knew anyone strong enough to simply create deities just because is not someone they want to start a fight with.
However, some aggressive-minded individuals still felt the need, so God flicked his finger and all thoughts of aggression fled their brains like burglars caught thieving at dawn.
_________________________________________________________
It seems I am the last to be called. The ones whose fortunes were decided left via an ominous portal to the left.
I wouldn't trust a portal that demonic looking, but considering my current predicament, it's likely a foolish endeavour to fight it, seeing as I've already agreed to this. I doubt God is generous enough to reward. hesitation with mercy.
Maybe it's a ploy to weed out the last of the pansies by killing those who have their reservations. Either way, I'm not taking chances with my life this early on.
I take pride in my intelligence, though I am more of a savant. I was top 5 in the world because I had a perfect win/loss ratio. No one else has that and I'll be damned if I lose now.
I felt the inexplicable need to walk up to the altar-like space and have my fate chosen. That's the cue.
My steps are prideful and with purpose. If this is God, I'm not going to bow my head like so cravenly towards a deity so evil as to create a death game.
He's a cartoon villain with too much power; all he needs is a twirling mustache and top hat, and then the look will be complete.
Just as I think that a tophat and thin moustache appear on God and he begins twirling his new facial hair in thought, a smirk adorns his features.
That's highly unsettling. God is in my head. So long as he doesn't fiddle with the furniture, I'll let it slide.
A woman, I can only assume, is the AI of the game, and stands side by side with God, leaning on her and touching her absent-mindedly.
The woman hands me a pair of d100 dice. I roll both. The results are 99 and 92. Very good rolls. They hand me 2 cards, facing down. A map of the world appears on the altar table.
As expected, the world is obscured to me until I discover it. I turn to look at God and he as a malicious-looking grin. Ignoring him, I turn over my cards, revealing their secrets.
-Species Type: Elfkin
-Starting Race: Dark Elves
-Spawn Area: Underworld
-Greater Domain: Darkness
-Lesser Domain: Power
I must be lucky. I've always had an affinity for shadows, and I've always wanted power. Splendid.
"Satisfied?" God asks, a smirk cornering his mouth.
"Very." I don't want to talk to God any longer than I have to. He gives me serial killer vibes.
"Wonderful, now, go tear your buddies' apart now, little guy~!" God shashays away and vanishes in a puff of golden smoke like some cheap theatrical effect. Thunder sounds in the distance despite being in the void of space.
Quickly, I enter the portal, and I fall into a shadowy realm. I think I'll name it Shadowfell. It's dark and I fell into it.
__________________________________________________
All around me is darkness, not nothingness like before. Just shadows.
A simple, blocky throne of black ivory, fit for a king, manifests near me.
Sitting down, a pool of water about the size of a living room expanded in front of me.
With my increased size, it felt a lot smaller than it was.
In the water's surface, a group of half-starved Dark Elves in torn-up clothing are revealed, carrying the dead on their backs.
With my divine intuition, they're going to eat the corpses as food when all else is lost.
They are journeying to an ancient shrine that their people have always visited.
They believed in Mor, the God of Darkness. That's me!
They believe this is a cruel trial, a test of faith. How sad.
The Underworld was always an awful place, terrible monsters roamed here and there, are little resources.
It was called the Underworld because the dead are the energy source here.
When someone dies aboveground, they go to the Underworld and are promptly eaten by the monsters.
Even if you survive, without a body, your soul will gradually weaken and die. In the game, they had a version of the Underworld, but it was never where you began!
This is fine, as a Fable God, I already possess some level of power at the beginning, and Dark Elves are superhuman warriors, so I can work with this.
My influence needs to grow stronger before I do any major miracles. This shrine is my centre of worship right now, so I need to get these half-dead Dark Elves over there hastily.
But, aHh! I don't have any Miracles for food! Strange, in my list of Miracles it says 'Dark Arts', who am I, Voldemort? I kind of like it.
.
.
.
They finally arrived at the shrine, and unfortunately, they lost a few more.
Dark Elves are a powerful, hardy species, but even they can only take so much punishment on an empty stomach.
I did some observing and discovered they aren't just a collage of random pilgrims; they have a leader.
His name is Rhamga, as my worshipper, I can see his stats and…
Good lord! The amount of magical potential this man has is off the charts!
High Elves are the supreme spellcasting race, while Dark Elves are eminent warriors with incredible strength and innate, instinctual prowess.
While both are masters of their respective realms, they suffer in either one's areas. It's a matter of nature, put a Shark on land and it dies, put a Lion in water and it drowns.
That's not to say that a Dark Elf can never be a good mage, just that they'll not have the intrinsic natural talent High Elves do.
Rhamga's magical strength is average for a High Elf, but for a Dark Elf, it's extraordinary.
Rhamga can grow strong if he goes down that path.
Let's see about making Rhamga my High Priest early on so I can cultivate his loyalty and might.
I currently have 40 Divinity Points. I'll need much more if I want to grow into a higher-ranking god.
I consider granting him a divine boon. Nah, let him earn it.
If he wakes up with divine powers, the people he leads wouldn't see it as a divine reward but rather as some guy getting cool shadow magic while their families are dying.
I need to provide a reason for granting Rhamga divine strength.
Knowing how the Underworld works, they're liable to be attacked by a monster sometime or another.
I suspect they're being hunted. In the game, some monsters in the Underworld stalked others like prey.
They haven't found even the barest hint of a monster in a while, and that's usually the first hint.
I remember I almost lost a match because my army went down here and got halved by a bunch of the lads jumping my troops.
Thankfully, my opponent wasn't exactly the cleverest, so with some tricks and traps, victory was mine in the end; however, that was too close for comfort.
With my experience and newly acquired divine intuition, this is likely going to happen.
It's risky as Rhamga might die in the attack, and maybe the rest of my followers, but I lack the power to spare right now.
I'll take the gamble.
A scream.
A follower's cries of death.
During my thoughts, a follower was killed.
The threat I expected has arrived.
I will avenge that follower. Her name was Elenorn!
They're a hideous twist of humanoid appendages and limbs.
They have a single, beady head like that of a disgusting liver-like grape with about 10 arms, accompanied by only 3 fingers, each with nail-like talons that can cut unenchanted materials easily.
Eyes dot their head's top part with their back-arms that sprout from their posteriors and shoulders alike, they cover their sensitive eyes like they're shy.
"Get to the Shrine of Mor, you'll be safe! I'll fight off the Underhunter!" Rhamga reacts quickly and responds like any good leader should, with self-sacrifice.
The screams of his people as they stampede past him echo in his mind.
His shabby and chipped copper sword draws slowly from its sheath, metal screeching against cheap scabbard.
"RAAAAGGHHHH!!!" The Underhunter is enraged. Their quarry is escaping them!
The Underhunter rushes to kill the one with the weapon, hastily.
SHING
Rhamga's blade hisses when applied to the creature's talons.
The Underhunter has many hands and shoves a handful of sharp, knife-like nails directly into Rhamga's side.
"RGH!" was all Rhamga could manage.
A grunt.
Rhamga twirls his blade around and rams the butt of the sword up into the monster's wet, underprotected head.
BLAHM!
Rhamga is starving and wounded, but even still, he can match the predator.
Rhamga's shredded clothes are dripping blood. 'Not good. I can't show weakness.' were his thoughts. (As my follower, I can see his surface-level thoughts.)
They stare at each other. The Underhunter is stalling. 'My prey had ensnared themselves in that crumbling ruin. All I have to do is kill this one warrior, and the rest will be easy pickings.'
Not on my watch, buddy. I am Mor, God of Darkness.
I will not let my worshippers fall under harm when I can help it.
Rhamga is tired of waiting; his warrior blood as a Dark Elf rages in his very bones. He charges the monster, sword in hand and goes into a veritable frenzy.
The Underhunter slashes at him with its many sharp claws, but Rhamga blocks and parries each attempt, but not all. He's racking up serious wounds. His stomach, his thigh, his shoulder, his chest, his face, he ignores all of it and stops parrying at all.
With a last desperate strike, Rhamga draws a large slash of blue blood from the top of the monster's human-like yet inhumanely thin body from the collarbone to the waist.
"RAAAHHHH!!!!" The Underhunter limps away, trying to run, as such deep pain is a new experience for the creature.
Rhamga approaches behind the shambling creature and decapitates it.
Blood spurts like a gory fountain from the monster's neck, but defeated, its body slumps to the cavern floor.
Blue blood makes a puddle around it.
Tired and bleeding all over, Rhamga falls to one knee, then two, and collapses.
Life force and strength utterly spent in every fashion.
Fear of all fears, another growl of an Underhunter.
It sprints at the exhausted warrior, intent on bringing death.
NO! I must protect him! I must possess him!
I leap into the shimmering pool I have been viewing out of and hop into Rhamga's tired body.
"PEST! LEAVE AT ONCE!" My voice roars from Rhamga.
It's not mine.
It's mighty, it's deep and has powerful bass like if a mountain could speak.
Shadows darkened, all concept of light fled as if scared and only darkness remained.
A darkness where only the outlines of the world could be made out.
In sharp detail, like the unrefined doodlings of an artist.
"EEE!!!" The Underhunter ran away.
I shape the shadows around me into a greatsword-like design.
Chains of gloomy shade wrapped around the creature, slowly pulling it towards me.
They screamed and thrashed and screamed and thrashed, and yet, I laughed. I laughed and laughed and laughed.
Raising my sword high, like a god poised to punish lowly mortals.
The force of my blow shakes the Underworld, parting the Earth like the Red Sea.
A vast canyon revealing rich ore deposits is revealed.
I flick the gore off my blade. "Low lives," I mutter beneath my breath. Turning on my heel towards my faithful followers, I bellow,
"FAITHFULS! I DECREE WHOMEVER HOLDS THIS SWORD WITCHKING!"
I ascend once again, and Rhamga's body falls like a sack of potatoes to the floor.
The Dark Elves shiver and tremble in terrified awe.
Their faith enhanced 10-fold.
I think I overdid it with the theatrics and the title but if they don't like they can shove it where to suck it. I'll never apologize for being fabulous!
"H-hail, Witchking Rhamga!" One petrified Dark Elf began, and the rest took up the chant.
"Hail Witchking Rhamga!"
"All hail Witchking Rhamga and Lord Mor!"
"ALL HAIL WITCHKING RHAMGA! PRAISE BE LORD MOR!"
"HAIL!" "HAIL!" They thunderously continued.
One recognized Rhamga's critical condition and rushed over to give medical aid.
"HAIL LORD MOR AND THE WITCHKING!"
"HAIL!"
The Doctor lugged the newly proclaimed king over to the shrine floor, where she improvises using makeshift stone tools and leather threads to patch him up.
In all the excitement, I guess I forgot that Rhamga is in terrible need of medical assistance. Oops.
-Divinity Points: 40 —--- Divinity Points: 30
Losing 5 Divinity Points to Descend and 5 to keep the greatsword I conjured in the mortal world is an acceptable cost. I'm speedrunning Culture.
Essentially, technology will suffer in favour of magic and myths.
By creating that sword, I hope to make it a royal heirloom and a religious artifact.
In the game of being a god, myths are currency and baby, am I going to be rich.
For now, I'm just going to let them build a home around my shrine.
With my Descent came a chunk of power, the remnants of which will stain the land for long enough to build decent defences. (Divine power wards off monsters)
It's sad.
They'll worship me like the god I am, but do I truly deserve it?
I could've been any of them, if instead of being a god, I was one of my followers, would I faithfully serve… Myself?
Or would I hate myself? I never could stand arrogance.
.
.
.
______________________________________________________
2 days
.
3 Weeks
.
2 Month
.
4 Months
My followers made quite the homely hamlet.
There are a few homes with rudimentary bunk beds for efficiency, and they expanded the shrine slightly as well as cleared their surroundings.
They make me proud. They even started a small mine in that canyon I accidentally made (Note to self, I'm a god and should remember that).
While they've been hard at work figuring out what weird plants they can safely eat, I've been doing some thinking on the god I want to become. I'm reminded of deities like Zeus.
He was a philanderer and evil tyrant, but was widely worshipped. Odin regularly manipulated others for his benefit.
After thinking about these two, I realized I was thinking about the worst of the bunch. Suddenly, deities like Hades and Hermes came to mind.
Hades was hated by popular media for representing their impending demise, and Christianity looped him in with Satan, the personification of evil.
Hermes was a trickster deity of chaos who showed up at random to help and just as randomly decided to destroy. He helped just as he was hurt.
Maybe, I'd like to be like Hermes. Maybe, being a deity of evil like Satan will help me in the long run. Like Odin, I look for optimum benefit but lack his tactfulness.
Like Zeus, I'm prideful. Like Hades, I want to thrive even in the Underworld. Like Hermes, I want to have a little fun with divinity.
A groan pulled me from reminiscing. My High Priest Rhamga is grunting in pain from the Doctor's stitches.
"Aril, do you have to be so rough?" Rhamga asks her.
"My apologies, Witchking, but I only have rough clothing fabric to stitch your wounds together." Aril offered a kind smile. "What does being a Witchking mean?"
"No idea. But I feel so much stronger, and I feel some kind of magic beneath my skin." Rhamga's eyes crinkle in wonder. He's confused, thinks it's his cross to bear.
He's my High Priest. As such, I can channel plenty of divine power through him, granting him even more superior muscles and innate control of magic.
He can't be Witchking without some kind of magic, eh?
"That's nice. I wish I were as powerful as you. In mere days, your muscle mass has doubled, and you have grown many heads taller." Aril awkwardly shifts. "It's embarrassing. I'm a Dark Elf but a doctor."
"Despite my strength, I'd be dead without you. That's something." Rhamga says. "It may not be traditional power we so value, but it's important nonetheless." Aril turns away for a moment and wipes her cheeks with some powder. She turns back to Rhamga.
"Thank you. That means a lot to me." Aril smiles like an indoor sun for a brief moment before focusing back on Rhamga's wounds. "What's with the sword? If you don't mind indulging me, my Lord."
"Everyone keeps calling me Lord. I don't deserve such respect." Rhamga says so resolutely. He's truly humble, isn't he? "The sword is a piece of Lord Mor. It has a direct connection to him and his realm. I can commune with him and channel his power through it."
"I highly disagree with your first statement." Aril puffs up, her cheeks expanding with air. "You protected and led us for as long as we can remember. You saved us when we were but food for an Underhunter. You lead us to a home. Even Lord Mor must've recognized your good deeds. That sentiment is in everyone's hearts, and we won't soon forget." Aril ranted passionately. She wholeheartedly is against Rhamga's humility, or rather, his self-image.
"YEAH BOSS! BUT WHAT'RE THE COMBAT APPLICATIONS?" A heavily armoured warrior crashes through the shrine's rafters.
Rhamga quickly stands up and catches the warrior mid-fall at the cost of undoing his stitches.
"Arlax! Lord Rhamga is still recovering! And what the Mor are you doing in the damn roof?!" Aril screams angrily. Her gentle bedside demeanour lost instantly.
"We know it's divinely powerful, but what can it do in battle?!" Arlax enthusiastically beamed at the Witchking. Aril, furious, stomped over and punched Arlax in the face. His nose bleeds, and he slurs his last words a bit, but he's fine.
"You big buffoon! Rhamga needs to heal!" Aril shooed the soldier away while steering Rhamga back to his seat like a kindergarten teacher guiding their favourite child. "Begone!" Aril was upset, but Rhamga wants to strike a peace between the two.
"Now, now it's my fault my stitches reopened. Let's not attack each other." Rhamga raised 2 hands in a gesture of peace.
"Only because that idiot fell from the rafters!"
"Hey! I object!"
"Oh yeah? What's your defence?!"
"I-uhhh…" Arlax couldn't think of one.
"Moron. Simpleton. Fool. Nitwit. Dope. Prick!" Aril frustratingly lists. A bead of sweat drops down Rhamga's temples.
"Hey, Arlax? Don't listen to her. Why don't you ask me some more questions?" The Witchking was trying to mediate the peace between his best doctor and his best warrior without causing future violence.
Aril huffs exaggeratedly. "If Lord Rhamga's so merciful, I guess I can forgive you…" Aril crosses her arms just to be clear. 'Oh, thank Mor!' He silently prayed to me. His faith is like a narcotic to me. I want more.
"Oh yes!" Arlax cheerfully began. "Again, what's the combat application of your sword?"
"Well, beyond it being a holy artifact, it can cut through anything like paper and gives me greater divine power." Rhamga laughs. "I tested it. It cut through solid rock like air." Well, that's true. It's not an object. It's like if air solidified. It's the intangibility of my divine strength given physical form. When it cuts, it's a part of me striking. It's a little over a tenth of my power as a sword, so it's quite potent.
"Awww, that's so cool! Can I use it?" Arlax enthusiastically grabbed for the sword, but Rhamga pulled away like a parent keeping the candy away from their child.
"I must stress that it's a piece of Lord Mor, I doubt he'd like you swinging a chunk of himself around willy nilly when he gifted it to me."
Blud got that right! If that big buff brute so much as sneezes on that sword, I'm smiting him! At least Rhamga is adept at reading me~ Errr, is that a good thing?
"Can you do magic?" Aril asks, curiosity conquering her anger.
"Yes. I was granted divine power and can use my own, natural magic to a certain extent." Rhamga smiles benevolently. "Though I am not an outstanding spellcaster, I can cast well enough." Aril's eyes twist in doubt. 'He's a powerful warrior and priest with high arcane potential. Is there anything Rhamga can't do? I suppose that's why he's Witchking…' She smirks. She knows his growth potential is truly sublime and can't wait to see what her godking turns out to be.
That sword is a powerful weapon and will serve Rhamga and the kings to come for generations. It's a divine tool to reshape both banner and battle.
A Dark Elf opens the door to the shrine and falls to one knee in fealty. "Witchking, we'd appreciate some aid…"
Rhamga stands just as Aril finishes restitching him. His sword is slowly sheathed. The large, black and ornate weapon pulses with divine strength. "What is it? Monsters? Are we in danger?"
The Dark Elf grins maliciously. "No, Witchking. We are seeking your permission and help to hunt some monsters." The messenger shakes slightly in excitement.
"Surely, my king, that's unnecessary for someone of your current health and status to hunt some lowly creatures-" Aril began arguing, but was cut off when Rhamga raised his hand.
"I will have no debate. This might be a test from Lord Mor. Who knows?" The Witchking grins ear to ear devilishly. 'Liar. He just wants to kill something… Good luck, my king' Aril thinks as Arlax, Rhamga, and the messenger exit the shrine.
.
.
.
Arlax had to leave to train other Dark Elves at their makeshift training ground. They built a humble wooden wall around the hamlet(It's established on a hill with the shrine at the center). There are wooden planks hammered intermittently throughout the place, acting as walkways with only those in a hurry running through the center so they don't accidentally crash into someone. Their settlement reminds me of those old wild west towns in films… Just underground with bluish light coming from above, the occasionally wailing of a dying spirit and monsters making a mess about. With islands of stone connected by rocky bridges, with limited, alien-like flora sparsely spread out. Some areas are heavy with that alien-like flora, but other areas are all rock. Rhamga and the messenger stroll towards the gate. Other Dark Elves bowing to their king before going on with business, labouring to improve their homes.
"My Lord, may we expand the shrine?"
Rhamga turns his head. "Why's that?"
"If it's bigger, maybe many people can worship in there…"
"A fine idea! I'll order the construction!" Rhamga's very excited about the prospect.
He's thinking of what it should look like and imagining all the people praying… Note to self, being possessed by a god and saved inspires religiousness.
Rhamga before wasn't a very faithful guy, but after sharing a body with me his religious heart seems to have grown 3 sizes(Or 10).
That seems to be a trend with my other followers, too. Good. Faith is good.
"Sir!" A soldier runs up to them from the wooden ramparts. A group of troops follow him. "I heard you are going hunting. May I join you?"
"No. I need you here to protect the hamlet." The Witchking's very firm about this.
"But lord! You need a protection detail!" The other soldiers nod in assent. They agree.
"How about this? Let's play some game of chance and we'll see what Lord Mor thinks." There's no way Rhamga just pulled that card!
That's crazy. I never anticipated he would say that and I'm literally in his head.
A part of me hangs around his hip for goodness sake!
"Very well. What shall it be, my lord?"
"Think of a number between 1 and 10,000. I'll guess it." Wow. Rhamga. Bro really wants to be alone. I can relate to that, maybe I'll help him. A brief search in the guard's mind reveals the elusive number and I whisper the number into Rhamga's head through the sword. '1392, 1392, 1392, 1392, 1392, 1392'
"1392."
"Ah. It seems Lord Mor was not on my side today. You may, my king." The soldiers split into two groups, allowing Rhamga to pass.
"Messenger, you should assume other duties." The Witchking gently orders. Saying it like a request.
"Yes, my lord." With that, the messenger bounds off, quick as lightning.
The Witchking passes through the gap the soldiers made and waits for the gate to open. Shortly, he leaves.
______________________________________________________________________________
-Second turn, +15 Divinity Points
-Total: Divinity Points: 30 —---> Divinity Points: 45
Good. The extra power will come in handy.
I give Rhamga a Pouch of Keeping. It's a bag that allows for reasonable storage of any items.
Good thing, too. Rhamga was having trouble carrying all the carcasses.
A black pouch falls into Rhamga's hands as he was praying. (He thought to pray to me after killing something. How sweet!)
He looks around for a bit before feeling stupid and gives one final prayer to me in thanks. He then stuffs all the magic ingredients he found in there as well as tons of meat.
Wow. He sure knows how to hunt.
With his hunting, he has acquired a great supply of magical ingredients.
These will aid him in his Witchcraft.
Witchcraft… Is like the edgy, dumber younger cousin of Spellcraft. Spellcraft, for instance, relies on an understanding of the components at play.
To cast a spell, you need to know the names of each gear in the clock, how they work together, and the history behind each one.
Learning Spellcraft is truly a trial, and only the most dedicated and talented people can master it.
Theocraft is more popular as all you need is genuine faith in your deity, and that's it.
It's infinitely easier, and anybody can do it. But, depending on the god you worship, it can have unnecessary drawbacks, with some strengths, I'll admit.
-Deity [Lavina] Wishes To Summon You
-Yes
-No
-Reply ()
Lavina… That name… In the game, every race had differing naming customs. Of course, if you wanted to, you could name yourself something ridiculous. For example, Mor, Rhamga, Aril, and Arlax are all Dark Elf-themed names. But Lavina? It's either a Naga's name or a Vampire's name. While this could be a player, it could also be an NPC(Non-player-character) created by AI to offer up early game resistance.
-Selected: (Yes)
-Leaving [Shadowfell]... Entering [Goldenhill]
-Transported!
The darkness that surrounds me fell away slowly, like acid melting malleable metal. A skyblue roof appears above me, mimicking the actual atmosphere.
Golden items and coins lay everywhere.
Gold piles the size of solar systems expanded in every direction. Atop it all, a gaudy throne comprised of every valuable item to ever exist stood.
Languishing like a bored high schooler on their phone while somehow looking royally dignified stretches alongside gold and jewel-encrusted armrests.
-Welcome to [Goldenhill], ruled over by Lavina, [Lady of Avarice] and [Goddess of Blood]
"Welcome to my domain, young god! You have trespassed on my cattle's territory and for that you must pay a toll. All of your Greater Domains and Divinity Points now. Hand 'em over." Gosh, I want to beat the daylight out of that pale, Victorian ass-vampiric noblewoman.
The arrogance and greed she radiates wants to make me punch her. Hard. I never could stand excessive pride.
"How about you go stuff it where the sun doesn't shine." I spat. This prideful rat is making me lose my temper.
"'Where the sun doesn't shine?' I'm afraid I'm unfamiliar with this vocabulary." She tilts her head curiously. "Either way, if you cannot pay, you must perish."
"Try it, mosquito."
"You insolent bug! I was here before bones evolved, before trees grew, before life wailed, you are an insect to me! I am greater than you and have survived and thrived for innumerable millennia!" Interesting… This will require further inspection. I wonder… Are we, the new gods, an invasive vermin?
Boom!!!
Lavina charged at me, hand raised to slap me.
BAH!
DDUUUMMM!!
I grabbed her arms and punched her chest. She is launched into a mountain of gold and brushes herself off angrily.
"Little rat!"
Lavina pointed at me. A universe-sized ball of gems hurdled itself from her fingertips.
Child's play.
I conjure a warhammer as massive as a multiverse, and it crashes into the gem-ball mid-air. The hammer doesn't stop and keeps spinning and strikes Lavina directly in the face.
"RAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!"
At Lavina's outraged roar, the domain trembles like an aggressive child shaking a snow globe. I temporarily lose my balance. Seeing this, Lavina casts a spell at me.
"[Chains of Penance!]"
Lavina shouted. Blood-red shackles wrap themselves around my entire body.
She rushes forward and delivers the nastiest combo I've ever seen.
Left Haymaker
Sweep the Leg
Punch into the Abdomen while Falling
Ankle Grab
Throwing into a Wall of Gold
Standing up after being so unceremoniously rocked, my face meets Lavina's fist and I fly backwards further.
I fly the length of galaxies, the universes, then multiverses, then complex multiverses.
Considering we're in her domain, she has the advantage by a long shot. She has absolute control over this realm, and there's nothing I can do about it.
I can run, but I'm no coward. This lady needs to be humbled, too.
She once again tries to rush at me, but I gather all of my divine strength, my entire arm radiating the infinite abyss I embody.
This black, abyssal power slowly morphs into a halberd. She still dashes towards me, anger and gleeful sadism plain on her face.
I jut the halberd forward; Lavina dodges, I use the energy to slash towards her in a horizontal arc.
Steel makes contact with skin, and Lavina lets out a blood-curdling scream as tendrils of black, ooze like metal erupts and pierce her entire body as if being consumed by bramble.
Lavina lets out a pathetic, pained whimper as every movement pained her beyond measure.
Her pride and arrogance, and greed left her like winter fleeing spring. She's quite gorgeous when she's not rambling about how superior she is.
A real mature beauty that one. One could mistake her for an pale angel if not for her red eyes, sharps nails, and gothic attire which contrasts sharply with her pure white aesthetic.
To be honest, she reminds me of a black and white photo of a particularly good-looking actress in a set for a vampire movie.
"Puh-plea-please?" The quiet, almost inaudible, soft whisper that came from Lavina is starkly out of character thus far. Her agonized expression was just from making such a silent sound.
I suppose having your veins replaced with very sharp, thorn-like metal will do that.
You see, since the metal is a part of my power, she cannot impose her divine authority over it, even though we're in her domain.
She can conjure up infinite multiverses, rewrite the laws of reality and anything she wants as in a deity's realm they are omnipotent but she cannot force another god to do anything unless they are of a higher rank that works vice versa as if I was a higher ranking god I could simply command her to…
Oh
My
God.
"Stand up," I order.
"W-wait-!"
Lavina lets out a heart-wrenching, anguished scream. A scream so potent it renders the almighty goddess a crying mess, which only furthers the pain, which makes her cry more.
I… I'm… I'm evil, aren't I? Usually, in the game, no one was hurt by my ultimate attack as it was fictional, but… Her pain is real, and worse, she cannot die. I bet she's wishing she could, though…
I'm not a god.
I'm a vile, vile torturer with too much power.
I cannot take it out as that would inflict pain that makes this pain a viable option to live with forever. This attack was designed to be most devastating when I reverse it.
I can't just let her stay like this.
Although… I could make a pantheon and… Ah! That'll take so many sorely needed resources… It's my mess. I made her like this. I should create a pantheon with her.
It'll likely set me back immensely. I will probably lose the game and die.
But I can't live with this. She was so proud, and she was a person.
Now? She's a living example of true suffering and more.
My divine power is specifically making this much, much worse and because she's a goddess, her power is rejecting mine, which only deepens her agony.
The damn cherry on top is that the pain of it is a pebble compared to a star when compared to the pain of it being taken out.
I don't think she'll survive if I do that. She'll, in all likelihood, turn into a vegetable or worse.
I gotta do it.
I can't let her stay like this.
"Lavina… I'm sorry. But you'll need to become my subordinate to stop the pain. Do I have your consent?"
"Y-yesh!" Another, reality-cracking, eye-watering screech.
-Do you wish to form a Pantheon?
-Yes
-No
Without hesitation, I click yes.
-Determine Goddess [Lavina]'s Status Godking
-Concubine
-Slave
-Consort
Politely… WHAT?! THE?! HELL AI?!?!
AI must be sick and twisted.
I will not force her to be any of these things!
Usually, there's the option for 'partnership' or 'friend', but no, I got three options I unequivocally DO NOT DESIRE!
Oh, but her pained state…
No. I will not force any woman to be a 'concubine' or whatever because I put her in this agonizing state.
Surely, there's another option, right?
I cannot accept any of these as even if I do not love her, if Consort is chosen, Lavina's and my personality would be overwritten to love each other.
If Concubine is chosen, the same is true.
If a slave is chosen, no matter how much I truly do respect her, my personality will be overwritten to treat her poorly.
I hyperventilate.
None of these are viable optio-!
-Consort Selected!
-Taking 80 Divinity Points from the selector!
-[Lavina] is revoked of 40 Divinity Points!
-Warning! [Lavina] has critically low Divinity Points! Should she lose anymore, she'll die!
I turn, mouth agape in shock and horror as I witness Lavina tap the Consort option. I watch as her muscles shrink greatly, her height dramatically shortens, as her divine glow lessens.
The metals inside her stop hurting her, and she gasps and cries in relief before slumping down.
I run over quick as light and catch her midfall. Carrying her Bridal Style, I take her to my domain as her's collapses at the seams.
Golden piles fall into an endless void beneath them, the sky turns from blue to black, and every treasure seems to turn to dust.
-Goddess [Lavina] title change!
-[Lady of Avarice], [Empress of Goldenhills], [Goddess of Blood] + [Consort of Thorns] + [Lady of the Hollowed Jewel]
-Goddess [Lavina] acquired a new Lesser Domain!
-Greater Domain: Blood, Wealth
Lesser Domains: Pain
That's evil! Those titles are downright diabolical!
______________________________________________________________________________
It's sad. Lavina was a truly magnificent thing. Her prowess, her pride. For all of my smacktalk about wanting to punch her for being arrogant, I can't help but admire her.
Her power dwarfed mine 3 to 1. Without my ultimate attack(Gae Bolg) to beat her, I would've lost in a battle of attrition.