"You, follower of the nameless god! Get back!"
Gods needed names for mortals to worship.
But a nameless god existed—the most renowned of all.
He had no name, but when mortals begged for one to venerate, He called Himself "Yahweh."
His followers were the angels or saints of the Hebrew system.
"This is disgrace!" Melqart, or Baal, roared, his eyes blazing with fury, his voice thundering. "I won't allow it!"
"Get back! Get back!"
His voice carried rage and humiliation.
Melqart and Yahweh's myths were steeped in enmity, a blood feud.
The Hebrew Books of Kings repeatedly condemned "serving Baal" As forsaking Yahweh. In ancient Mesopotamia, their faiths clashed bloodily, with Israel and Judah's rulers shifting allegiances, each change marked by slaughter.
But the dust had settled—Yahweh triumphed.
"Yahweh! My foe! Even your followers would surpass me? I won't allow it!" Baal bellowed.
As he roared, his form shifted.
Initially, a rugged yet majestic warrior wielding a club.
But slowly, his body grew grotesque.
Two tumor-like growths sprouted from his shoulders, swelling into heads—one a cat, the other a frog.
With his original head, now twisted into something fearsome, he had three.
His body bloated, resembling a monstrous spider.
Eight spidery legs, barbed and venomous, emerged from his back.
His clubs fell, dissolving into divine power before hitting the ground—not by choice, but because his hands and feet had become catlike claws.
"I am Baal! I am invincible!" His central, humanoid head roared, the cat and frog heads shrieking alongside. "I will not lose!"
"Yahweh's follower! Get back!"
Verethragna, the youthful war god, trembled—not with fear, but excitement.
Perhaps this time, he'd find the defeat he craved.
"To force Melqart from god-king to the demonized form of scripture?" He marveled.
Baal was once the Canaanites' supreme god-king, but with the Hebrews' victory, scripture vilified him, turning him from highest god to a demon of hell.
Now, a being from scripture used Baal as a sacrifice to manifest, amplifying his demonized form, stripping his divine majesty.
To use Baal as a sacrifice proved one thing: the being's status in scripture surpassed Baal's.
A soft white light gathered at Baal's warped chest, expanding to envelop his grotesque form.
Even as a demon of hell, the light lent him a holy air.
"Baal is invincible…" He muttered, clinging to a shred of divine will.
Then, his monstrous body collapsed.
Invincible Baal had fallen!
"Here it comes," Verethragna said, his lips curling uncontrollably, his violet eyes blazing with manic battle lust.
"To suppress Baal so swiftly—who? The archangel Michael?"
"Or a saint from history? Perhaps Noah?"
"No, even if not Noah, at least someone from before the Great Flood."
"Wait—no! Could it be King Solomon, who commanded the seventy-two demons, including Baal?"
Lucius, watching from afar, tensed.
Verethragna's voice, less a mutter and more an ecstatic shout, reached him, quickening his pulse.
Unlike Verethragna, Lucius didn't revel in battle.
Verethragna, confident in his might, sought defeat in vain, eager for a worthy foe.
This time, summoning Baal only to see him overtaken by a higher being thrilled him.
He even dared hope—impossibly—for Yahweh Himself to appear.
But Lucius, ever aware of his limits, sought victory, not battle.
He preferred weaker opponents he could handle.
As Verethragna exulted and Lucius watched warily, Baal's form, wrapped in soft light, shrank to a basketball-sized orb.
The holy light stretched, morphing into a humanoid shape.
As it faded, a pure white figure emerged.
Long white hair, disheveled, draped over a frail frame, with a face ambiguously androgynous.
As a god, he seemed too delicate.
But compared to humans, his demeanor held unimaginable resolve.
In his left hand, he held a tattered book.
"God, oh God—" He sighed, his tone heavy with sorrow, yet his eyes burned with greater determination.
"Why have you forsaken me?"
Lucius's brow twitched, nearly breaking his concealment.
Those words—spoken by Jesus before his crucifixion!
"Those words—could you be the Anointed One? No, you're not!" Verethragna said, his battle lust surging with wild joy.
"The Anointed One wouldn't appear alone!"
He felt the terrifying power within this frail Heretic God.
"Who are you? Who are you really?"
***
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