[Warning: Divine Kingdom consumed 1 Divinity Points!]
Lyle stood motionless at first, her gaze darting across the vast expanse of mist and starlight. She looked in daze as if struggling to believe what she saw. Her crimson eyes moved slowly, measuring the realm until they stopped at the throne. Her breath hitched, shoulders tensing, then she dropped to one knee, lowering her head in a respectful bow.
“I beg forgiveness, God of Velmoryn,” she said, her voice surprisingly composed. “I wish to offer my utmost respect, but my tribe kneels only before its own lord and I have none.”
I took no offense. Pride was a dangerous indulgence, and I had little interest in inflating mine further. I had chosen to summon Lyle here rather than appoint her as Inquisitor through indirect and passive means. Dragging her into my dominion uninvited and then demanding reverence would have been hypocrisy in its purest form, especially while knowing full well that she was not among my believers.
“Fear not,” I said, my voice echoing softly through the realm. “I shall not impose my will upon you.”
“I’m grateful, Velmoryn God,” she replied evenly. “While it is a great honor and grace for any mortal, including myself, to glimpse a divine realm… may I ask why I was brought here?”
“I wished to show you the grace I’ve prepared for the Velmoryn. Yet it isn’t gods who shape the world, but those who walk it. Power alone means nothing without hands willing to act, and you’ve proven yours are capable.” I answered, weighing my tone carefully. “You’ve shown conviction when others hesitated, and clarity when others faltered. That’s why I’ve chosen you, child. I’ve chosen you as my sword; one that will carve the path ahead for your people.”
Lyle’s eyes widened. A gasp escaped her lips before she regained composure. She hesitated, searching for words that could decline a god without offending them.
“I’m proud that the path I’ve walked has earned God’s praise,” she said at last, bowing her head deeper. “But my fate isn’t mine alone. Too many lives depend on my decisions, and I have no right to bind them by impulse. I must hear their voices first.”
I understood her reasoning, even if honesty wasn’t the foundation of it. She was offering a polite answer - a shield wrapped in respect. I could’ve let her return, speak with her tribe, and bring her back later to make her decision properly.
But that felt beneath what I was supposed to be. A god shouldn’t pester like a merchant, pleading for loyalty or pressing mortals into faith. And yet, forcing or deceiving her would’ve been worse.
So I chose a different path. I would show her the vision I carried for the Velmoryn, and the storm waiting beyond their horizon. Let her witness the truth and decide for herself whether to stand beside me.
First, I showed her the vision of what could be - united Velmoryn settlement beneath the vast canopy of a crimson oak. The same image I had once shown Freya and Dariel, only now more complete. The tree’s roots spread across the land like veins, its branches shielding homes from the sun. Water glimmered as it coursed through clean stone canals, weaving through the streets and connecting every house with the river nearby.
Children ran across the bridges, laughter echoing over the sound of flowing water. Elders sat near the temple steps, watching them in peace. The houses were no longer crude huts but sturdy dwellings of carved wood and stone, larger and well structured. It could no longer be called a tribe. It was no longer a settlement clinging to survival, but a village on the edge of becoming more.
Tekla stood at the temple’s entrance, her white hair bright beneath the tree’s light. The Velmoryn gathered to hear her speak, and when the sermon ended, they dispersed across the village, craftsmen, hunters, mages… all working with purpose. Smoke rose from forges where new blacksmiths learned their trade beside Gundir. Alchemists crushed herbs, the air rich with unfamiliar scents as vials bled with color. Beyond them, fields stretched where herds grazed peacefully under watchful eyes of a few Velmoryn.
And all of it would rest on a single foundation - a strong army. The Velmoryn were too few to rely only on army, but I still needed warriors who would live and die for battle itself. Not conscripts, not temporary fighters, but those who would shape their entire existence around the art of war.
They would be the heart of my strength. A chosen few, disciplined and unyielding. I would bless them personally, arm them with the finest weapons, and grant them mounts worthy of their purpose. They wouldn’t fill the field with numbers, but with quality - each one a blade meant to strike where it mattered most.
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And so the vision shifted.
The sound of hammering faded, replaced by the rhythmic thud of boots and the clash of steel. A squad of Velmoryn moved across an open field, training. Greatswords tore through dummies, each strike heavy enough to split a varnok in two. Spearmen advanced in perfect sync, thrusting and withdrawing with a speed that turned their formation into a beautiful blur of motion. Mages stood behind them, their mana surging like a living tide.
Lyle’s heartbeat quickened. I could feel the awe and excitement. She was seeing what her people could become: a force that would no longer bow.
Then the light dimmed.
The field dissolved into shadow, and the crimson oak receded behind a curtain of smoke. From that darkness, an army emerged - a swarm of creatures crawling beneath a single will. At their head stood the Night God’s Inquisitor, the shape carved in Elizabeth’s likeness.
She raised her hand, and the horde moved as one, surging toward the forest that sheltered the Velmoryn. The forest both Lyle and I wanted to protect.
The vision dissolved, leaving only silence. Lyle’s breath came uneven, her chest rising and falling as she stared at the dark floor beneath her. Her pulse began to steady, but her thoughts were scattered, trapped somewhere between awe and dread.
“Is this what threatens my kin?” she muttered hesitantly. “Are we caught between two rival gods, forced to exist on their battlefield?”
There was no anger in her tone, only the faint echo of bitterness.
“The Velmoryn were born on that battlefield,” I replied, my voice calm and emotionless. “It took the death of one deity to shape this forest and hide your kind. I intend to give you freedom instead. I wish to see you walk free, to live as life was meant to be lived. Not by circling the same struggles and calling it survival, but by taking a step forward and claiming something greater.”
The words carried more of me than I intended. I realized too late that the conviction in them belonged to my past life.
Am I just projecting my old regrets onto them?
Perhaps I was.
“Some will always choose the safety of the pit they’ve dug for themselves,” I went on, accepting the weight of my thoughts as they came. “But others will claw their way upward, chasing the light above. The world won’t welcome them, many will try to crush what dares to rise… But nothing worth having is ever handed freely. To grow is to give, to endure, to trade comfort and safety for the chance to become more.”
I stopped. Lyle’s eyes were fixed on my manifestation - wide, glistening. She was crying.
“Is that how gods see us?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Is that all our lives amount to? Struggling in the dirt just to survive?”
Her gaze dropped again, scarlet eyes dim beneath the haze of the realm.
There was no fear in her, none at all. She was the first being who had spoken to me without restraint. In that moment I truly believed she simply could not feel fear.
“Lord,” she said after a long pause, her voice quieter now, fragile. “What if the creature trying to climb out isn’t alone? What if the smaller ones follow and… and die on the way?”
“Nothing comes without sacrifice,” I answered, my tone softer. “Those who fall on that path carve the road for those who come after. They pass on strength, wisdom, and purpose - and that is exactly how mortals achieve immortality.”
“That's how mortals achieve immortality…” she repeated, her gaze sliding past the throne as memory clouded her eyes.
In her mind, she relived everything - the tribe’s endless struggle to endure, her parents torn away by the beast tide, the years she spent forcing her body past exhaustion to grasp the strength she now carried. She remembered the day they told her to become a mage, to abandon the sword and how she had refused. She remembered the weight of her first kill, the silence that followed victory, and how, once she stood as the tribe’s strongest warrior, she finally understood that strength did not free her. It bound her to every life that now looked to her for protection.
“Lord,” she said at last. “How can my kin stand on a battlefield of gods? How can we survive things mortals were never made to face?”
“You shall never be alone, I shall not abandon my children,” I said, my voice shaking the dominion. “Even if my name fades from your lips, my gaze shall remain upon you. As long as I exist within this creation, no Velmoryn shall walk in darkness alone.”
Her pupils narrowed, resolve hardening her features.
“Lord, do you promise?” The question came out as a whisper and then a plea. Her voice cracked, the first tremor of fear I had heard from her. “Swear your name that you will never leave my kin.”
She was pushing it too far, and she knew it. Yet I felt no anger. What I felt instead was a creeping caution. Every part of me warned that whatever I said in that moment would define something deep within me, something that wouldn’t change once spoken.
For an instant, the entire realm seemed to hold its breath. The stars stopped their pulse. The crimson guardian stood frozen, its form trembling faintly, and the Angel… the Angel stirred. Not visibly, but its presence shifted; as though my answer alone could wake it.
I thought through every path. Sending her back without a word would destroy any chance of earning her trust. Killing her would go against the one rule I had imposed on myself and besides, I didn’t want to. She hadn’t done anything to deserve it.
If I said yes, I would bind myself to a heavy promise, even if it granted me much in return. Saying no would cost me her faith, the chance of gaining an Inquisitor, and any hope of peacefully converting the Brown Tribe.
But there was no time to weigh it properly. A pause too long would already be a denial. I had to choose.
So I did what every part of me demanded.
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