"What's happening to me? I feel amazing!" One of my people cried, literally jumping with joy as he was healed... eight feet straight into the air.
Hmm. That golden color was obviously caused by me, but why? I'm a god now, apparently. It could be the simple difference in power between us, or it could just be that they're mortals and I'm not anymore. Kind of like the Tainted creatures, only in reverse. It would definitely make sense, kind of.
"Austin!" I shouted, seeing my Advisor stare at the Izveir around him in awe. He looked up, briefly making eye contact with me before jogging over. I placed my right hand on his chest, pouring destructive mana straight into his heart. Austin's eyes shot wide open in pain, shot through with pitch black veins.
"You have been a loyal Advisor to me from the beginning, Austin, and for your service my power is yours. If you accept this taste of Destructive mana, you shall form the blade that strikes down any who dare threaten our people. Alongside Gida, you will be the instrument of our kingdom's growth and success. Do you agree to this burden?" Austin's jaw dropped, but he couldn't do anything through the pain but nod.
I smiled gently down at him before teleporting off into the forest. Murlough was nowhere to be found at the ruin of Haven Clearing, which meant that he must have been somewhere between my Clearing and the small area that Niko had taken over. I focused on him, picturing the Bark Goblin in as much detail as I possibly could. I forced mana to my eyes, feeling the strange sensation of teleportation beginning to take a hold on me.
The first thing I saw after teleporting was Murlough. He was broken and bloody, on death's door but still alive. Dozens of burnt husks that had once been the living dead surrounded him in a ragged circle.
He put up one hell of a fight for being ambushed. If only I had discovered Niko's secret earlier...
I shook my head, clearing the thoughts from my mind. I had to heal him before I started contemplating what had happened. Just like the other Izveir, it was a simple matter to pour mana through his Lifethread. It took a few seconds, but Murlough was soon back on his feet. He was a little disoriented after the near death experience, so I decided to fill him in on everything that had happened since I left. He was just as shocked as the rest of my people, though he hid it well.
"Murlough," I said after finishing my story, "I- I may be leaving Haven Clearing after all of the dust from this settles a bit. It won't be for a while yet, but I thought that you should know. Until then, though, there is much work to be done. Let's return to the rest of the Izveir." Murlough nodded, and I whisked us away and back to the Clearing.
The scene we arrived back to was a strange one. The bittersweet thrill of survival and relief. meshed with an overwhelming sense of loss and anger at the lives taken from us.
I did it. For once, I actually kept them alive. We lost people along the way, but together Haven Clearing pulled through. I didn't lose it all again. Today marks the beginning of a new era. Today marks the beginning of not just Haven Clearing, but Haven Empire. Our ordeals have made us stronger, and we will only grow stronger still. Finally, the future looks bright.
Chapter 13
"Oh, shit." I stopped dead in my tracks, surprising Austin. It had only been a day since my Rising to godhood, but things were already looking up. I had given Antuhr and Murlough each part of my power, as I had done with Gida and Austin, and resurrected as many of the dead Izveir as I could. There were only five that I was able to bring back, which wasn't many considering the death toll of eighty or so, but it was something. It was going so well, until now.
"I fucking forgot about Ur'Rak! He's still in the damn castle!" I focused on the last place I left him- near the ungodly painful portal- and quickly teleported to him. As soon as I got there the bronze feathered raptor-wolf jumped on me like a crazily oversized dog. I caught him, barely even noticing his weight.
Before teleporting back to the Clearing, I patted him on the head and gave him a good tussle. "How've you been, boy? Sorry I forgot you." I chuckled, shaking my head at myself. Then, holding him securely but awkwardly in my arms, I traveled back to Haven Clearing.
"Get him some food." I ordered a nearby Izveir. She was carrying a bundle of wood to the wall, which was already in the process of being repaired. She nodded and dropped the wood without a second glance, trotting off with Ur'Rak to Turner's longhouse turned town hall. I had half a mind to join them, but instead picked up the discarded wood.
Despite the convenience of being able to teleport, I walked the wood over to the wall. A few gruffs tossing dice waved as I passed by. They were using notched cubes of bone as dice and food and drink for betting.
Where did they learn that? And that reminds me, we still need to find a way to print currency.
"Where do you need these?" I called up to a Crafter standing atop the rapidly expanding wall. The smell of fresh wood filled the morning air, and errant beams of sunlight illuminated floating specks of sawdust. A pleasant, cool wind blew through the Clearing, bearing the first hints of Fall.
I breathed in deeply, relishing the expanded senses of godhood. I could feel everything for miles around as if it were a part of me, see everything as if I had hundreds of sets of eyes strewn across the sky. It was glorious, and I loved every second of it, but it was also overwhelming enough that I had to forcibly keep my senses contained.
"Milord?" The Crafter called down, breaking me from my reverie. I flashed a quick thumbs up, and he continued, "Just lean the boards against the wall so we can pull them up when we need 'em." His voice was low and rough, exactly as I would have pictured a construction worker back home.
"Hey Shard, did you use my memories to-" I began, until I remembered that it was only the Dark Shard now. "Oh, right." Sadness started to prickle at my otherwise cheery mood and memories of my other lost friends and allies began to flood through me. "No." I growled, shaking the thoughts from my head.
"You have my apologies about the Shard of Creation's sentience. Gathering more fragments may reawaken him, though they are spread widely throughout the universe."
"Really? That's great! As a god I can fly, right? I can probably survive in space, too, so there isn't anything to worry about!"
"Don't misunderstand me, Donovan. Yes, you can fly and withstand the pressures of spatial travel, but so can many other deities out there. On that list, you are currently in the lower end of the scale- that is to say, you're estimated position on the minor cosmic scale is 6,916,488 out of 43,141,503. Of course, given that you have not fought any other deities, that number may be off by a considerable amount"
"That doesn't seem so bad, all things considered. Sure, six millionth place isn't great, but still."
You are indeed quite powerful for a newborn, but that is only on the minor scale. On the true cosmic scale, your place is in the quintillions. Begin cultivating ichor, and you will be powerful enough to surpass the fragments' guardians... Eventually."
I sighed, both dreading and looking forward to chasing down fragments of Creation and Destruction. My apparent weakness didn't help, but I pushed that aside for the moment. "What do you mean, ichor? I get that it's supposed to be the blood of gods, but how do I cultivate it?"
"It's simple, really. You just need to kill other cosmic beings and absorb their ichor. If you're a pus- er, pacifist, on the other hand, it's a little more complicated. Additionally, ichor slowly accumulates with age."
"Complicated how?" I asked, ignoring the not so subtle barb. The Dark Shard made an odd noise at my question that sounded somewhere between an exasperated sigh and a groan.
"First, you've got to find a quiet place to meditate. My previous masters usually just hovered in orbit, but a few of the more powerful ones preferred the privacy of black holes. After a while, you'll feel what can only be described as a click. You'll be rooted spiritually, and from there your ichor can be manipulated. It gets a little strange after that point though, so it's best to just leave the rest for when you get there."
"Uh huh. How strange are we
talking?"
"Given that your natural blood has been replaced with ichor, it is slowly replaced if you lose it."
"So you're saying..."
"Exactly. You must drain yourself of blood and wait for it to replenish itself, whilst maintaining a perfect meditative trance. The process is both extremely painful and time consuming."
"You alright milord?" The Crafter called down for the second time, and I could hear the worry in his voice. Other Izveir were starting to sneak looks at us as well, so I assured him that all was well and walked off after wishing him luck. As soon as I was out of sight, I teleported into the forest.
"Help me with this whole flight thing. We're going to space, Dark Shard."
"Sure thing."
A mismatched pair of light and dark wings sprouted from my back, equal opposites to each other just like my arms. I moved them experimentally, wondering how they worked.
"You don't need to flap them like a bird. They are merely a physical manifestation of the mana you are expending to keep yourself afloat. For the most part, they are purely aesthetic."
"No way. You of all people have a sense of style? You have got to be shitting me." I chuckled, unable to help myself. Still giggling, I pushed myself off of the ground with a burst of mana. I could sense my wings flare as I did so, and I could see the black and white streaks that they left behind as I rocketed into the air.
"So. Fucking. Cool." I muttered to myself, barely containing the urge to shirk my responsibilities as a newborn deity and fly around. Okay, so maybe I did fly for a little bit. Or a couple of hours.. But hey, who can really blame me? What kind of person gets to fly and doesn't enjoy it for a while? It was nice to let loose for a little bit, and let's be honest- Flying is way fucking cooler than walking.
Eventually, though, I got myself back on track (Mostly because my urge to see space outweighed my urge to fly, but baby steps, right?). Unfortunately, I never got the chance to make it very far.
"Look out!" Dark Shard's voice exploded in my mind, and I careened to the side with a burst of mana as a blue streak whizzed past me. I turned to look at the streak's source, ready to summon my weapons at a moment's notice.
A gangly, almost skeletally thin man hovered a few hundred feet in front and above me. His eyes blazed with a blue flame identical to the attack that had almost hit me, and his left arm had been replaced with an almost comically large cyberpunk cannon. Blue tendrils of excess power drifted from its barrel, curling lazily into the air.
"What the fuck, man? Do you make it a habit of going around trying to blast people?" I shouted at him, waving to the crater his attack had left in the ground beneath me as I spoke. "I've killed a lot of shit in the past few months, and I'm not afraid to make your skinny ass one of them" I continued, practically growling. Seriously, can't a man get a break once in a while?
"Careful, Donovan. I believe that this man is the deity that originally brought you to Irunthia. If memory serves correctly, he is a few thousand places above you on the minor cosmic scale. If I had to guess, he holds you responsible for throwing his world into imbalance."
"That wasn't really my fau-" I started, but was cut off as I had to dodge another blast. I was still reeling from the attack when the man shot toward me, grinning maniacally as his arm shifted seamlessly from a cannon to a blue-edged sword. I shifted to the side, but the blade's tip caught my shoulder before I could get away in time.
"Bastard." I hissed, holding a hand to my shoulder. Liquid gold dripped through my fingers, but instead of dripping to the ground it dissipated into thousands of tiny flecks that were carried away on an invisible wind.
The man started forward again, but I held up a hand. He stopped, giving me a confused glance. "Just give me a sec," I said, shaking my head, "I get that you want to kill me, but just tell me your name first. My inner monologue can't stand constantly referring to you as 'the man'."
"I am Izaiah. It will be my pleasure to kill you."
"Donovan, and likewise. Asshole."
The gangly god shot forward again, but I was ready for him this time. I summoned Shadow's Bane, and our weapons collided in a shockwave powerful enough to disturb the trees hundreds of feet below us.
Letting my shield dissipate, I summoned Hope's Shadow. Holding the massive axe in both hands, attacked with a vicious overhead strike. The air crackled and split around the weapon, as if afraid of the destructive energy. Damn right.
The blow was too fast for Izaiah to dodge, and he rocketed toward the ground as it connected. I knew it wouldn't be enough to keep him down for good, but it did give me time to prepare. Tapping into my new powers, I drew strength into my body with an ichor fueled version of Inner Channeling.
I watched as Izaiah leapt to his feet. There was a sizeable chunk missing from the blade of his sword arm, but he was otherwise unharmed. "I'm impressed," he shouted with a grin, "but you'll need to do better than that."
He jumped, blue energy crackling as he swept his blade in a wide arc. I caught the sword against the haft of my axe, gasping in surprise as the force of the blow sent me hurtling backward. I steadied myself and summoned my shield as Izaiah came back around. He attacked with a furious assault that I was hard pressed to block, even with Shadow's Bane protecting me.
Finally, spotting an opening, I stabbed forward with the vicious spike atop Hope's Shadow. It sunk into Izaiah with a wet squelch. The rival god's face twisted in pain, and he launched me backward with a powerful kick.
Pain seared through my chest as several ribs cracked, but I ignored it and began drawing power from the Shard of Destruction. "This has been fun, Izaiah, but it's time to die." I wheezed, and launched a volley of Force Spears coated in destructive mana. They flew like midnight black missiles, covering the distance to their target in a fraction of a second.
In a burst of speed that stunned even me, Izaiah danced around the hail of destructive Force Spears like a twisted ballerina. Only one struck home, piercing deeply into his hip. He shouted wordlessly for a fraction of a second before the weapon detonated in an explosion of impossibly dark fragments. A shower of ichor and bone fragments sprayed through the air, but they dissipated into nothing within seconds.
"I meant what I said earlier," I said, my voice hissing through the pain of my body knitting itself back together, "I've done a lot of killing in the past few months. Too much. We don't have to do this." Izaiah watched me with narrowed eyes as I spoke, but I couldn't tell if it was from pain or simple hatred. We stared at each other for a dozen heartbeats, and a dozen more, unmoving. Izaiah's face softened for a brief moment, so quick I almost missed it, before settling into a grim mask of pain and rage.
I sighed, wishing he had chosen differently. "So be it."
I drew deeply on my ichor, casting aside Shadow's Bane, and held Hope's Shadow in both hands. Destructive mana popped and hissed along the massive weapon, building until it glowed like a midnight sun of pure darkness. I could hear Dark Shard in the back of my mind, cackling like a madman at the sight.
I surged forward, drawing on every spare scrap of power I could manage. Izaiah did the same, and we clashed in an explosion of power and mana that rent the air for miles around. The glowing blue edge of his sword clashed with the immutable darkness of my axe. Our weapons strained against each other, perfectly matched for an entire second until Hope's Shadow began to burn through the godly steel of Izaiah's blade.
"Impossible!" He screeched, "A newborn whelp, born into godhood for no more than a few hours!" A surge of wild mana accompanied his words to reinforce the sword, but it lacked the intense power that ichor possessed. He had thrown his best at me and failed, succumbing to the unrelenting hunger of destructive mana.
With an ear wrenching squeal, the dark blade of my axe rent Izaiah's sword arm in two and plunged deeply into his chest. His flesh sizzled and dissolved at its touch, melting like so much wax in a candle. "I didn't want to do this." I said, feeling a tear start to roll down my cheek before evaporating under the sheer amount o
f power on display. Then, with a final, brutal heave, the blade of Hope's Shadow burst out of Izaiah's back.
Lord of Creation Page 23
