God Class, page 21
Townsfolk and foreign merchants screamed and ran from the docks. They trampled toward land like an unruly herd of buffalo, some even diving off into the bay to swim for the nearby shoreline and shallow water. The first bottle was ten or so feet short of their target, smashing into the wooden planks and shattering into thousands of glacial shards of glass. The green liquid inside met the fresh ocean air, then exploded into verdant clouds of toxic fumes, as tall and wide a thornbush and as dense as damp, morning fog. Within the span of a blink, dozens more collided with the pier until the sounds of shattering glass had overwhelmed the screams of the fleeing people.
Noxious gasses plumed and grew, each breaking bottle adding to its area of effect. It quickly rose above even the highest homes of the city, and wide enough to consume multiple docks and ships in full.
“Back! Back!” Shouted a guard captain.
“Protect the emperor!” Shouted another, all while the crawling cloud consumed them entirely.
The water below them burbled and groaned as if the toxic fumes cooked it, and the wood sizzled from the strain of the poison touch. Traders feared for their ships and goods, but somehow every person who had once been where the gas now consumed had made it free without harm. Many of them cursed the name of Red Hand Sonju for putting their lives, and livelihoods, in danger with their alchemic bombs. Yet, it was Carp who could see clearly, despite the impenetrable fog.
The first bombs had been decoys, set just far enough back to alert the townsfolk into a frenzy. It was the barrage that followed only a few breaths later that truly hit their targets. The people of Asrashire would speak of this for years, Carp was sure. They would tell stories of the bombings committed by Fujiwara Sonju in a desperate ploy to murder the emperor, and how they had all been survivors. Carp knew the truth, it was his job to see and report these things, and he was sure to document it just as he had witnessed. He had vacated his position behind the emperor when the bombs hit as well, more for fear that he would be amongst the second barrage than anything else, but this had given him the necessary moments to witness it all first hand.
As Carp wrote this down, he stopped for a moment and felt his heart rattle the cage of his chest.
He had not bothered to fear for the emperor. The lord of these lands had been consumed entirely by the dense green cloud, he and his guards were nowhere to be found. Had this actually happened? Had Carp just witnessed the downfall of the emperor at the hands of one of Rainier’s longest allies and former friend? If so, then he needed to document every moment of this in great detail. No stone left unmentioned; no sound left unrecalled. Even the positions of the clouds overhead and the number of birds in the sky would be written down.
“The emperor…” an older merchant said with a trembling voice. “Is he…?”
“By the Gods…” another added, clutching her basket of fresh bread as if it were a child. “The rebels have won on this day. In our town no less.”
“Who will claim the throne?” A portly fellow gnawing on a peppered husk of grilled corn asked.
“Red Hand Sonju, of course,” answered the first merchant. “To the victor goes the spoils, and all of that.”
Carp just shook his head, writing rigorously in his journal, filling out page after page as the clouds slowly dissipated. “No…” He added to their conversation, still focused on his book. “There is no heir, so the emperor’s council will convene to discuss a strategic action first. Admiral-” Carp stopped himself and corrected. “Red Hand Sonju would be aware of this but would temporarily remain an enemy of the Empire until an accord had been set. They would meet with the heads of each rebel House, or a proxy sent by their own council, and from there a treaty would be made offering each house a spot on the council. Together, they would nominate a candidate for the role of emperor out of a pool of noble leaders and House Heads. It may be Red Hand Sonju, but it could just as easily be Napent himself, or a representative of House Cilipe. There would be no emperor for many moons, and proxy wars would consume the redeveloping lands until one is on the throne. In the midst of this…”
Carp turned another page, licking his fingers and shaking his pen before continuing his notes. “A funeral would be held for Lord Rainier, a yearly festival organized in his honor, and the guard would be scattered to defend rioting towns and cities. It would be nearly a full year of chaos…”
“Correct, Carp…” A voice echoed from all around them. Deep, raw, like a dragon mocking human tongue. It cackled like a howling wolf at a full moon. “Should the emperor fall today, Galleon itself will fall with him. Should the emperor fall today, a storm cloud of untold destruction will loom over this world in his wake, as if the dead Gods themselves wept for his loss…”
The clouds cleared more, the green dissipating like sand lost to the roaring sea. As the fog cleared and the clouds thinned, shadows came in to focus. A few at first, then more. Shapes of long javelins and tall kite shields, the muted shine of armor cut through the remaining toxic green, and soon the shimmering of gems and precious metals joined them. All the while, the voice cried in defiant laughter, flooding every onlooker with fear.
In the distance, behind the clearing toxic clouds, the sail of Red Hand Sonju was carving its way into the far skyline, fading from sight with each passing moment.
“Well played, my friend,” Rainier said to the fleeing ship. “You toy with me as if we were still merely children, and that is fine. You play your games, Fujiwara Sonju. Play your games, and I will play mine.”
Rainier turned his back to the sea and faced the townsfolk and traders of Asrashire, a smile hanging from his lips. Around him, his guards looked panicked, some clutching hands to their noses and mouths. Each wore an expression of fear and concern, as if they were praying to any who would listen in the final moments of their lives. At their feet, the ground was dry and untainted in a perfect, wide circle. Glass shards decorated the area just outside of it, along with smoking liquid that darkened and stained the dock. It was as if they had all been sheltered completely by a dome of some kind, and Carp looked back on his pages of notes wondering how he would put this information down.
“Now…” The emperor said and folded his arms in front of him. “It has been a full year to the day, people of Asrashire. I am here for my offering. Please, present them to my guards and let us be on our way.”
Rainier stepped down the dock, the townsfolk parting in their wake, and he made his way to his cart. Once he lumbered inside, the subtle cries of mothers and fathers shook the air. This was the one event Carp would not document, the one mystery he allowed in all of his journaling of the emperor’s life. The sounds of sadness overwhelmed him time and time again, and he wished he could ease all of their pain and suffering, he wished he could tell them everything would be okay.
But the truth was that he could not. He knew what Rainier did with those he claimed as his offerings, and he would never speak of such things. Few did, and those that had mostly died of mysterious, uninvestigated causes. There were rumors that Sonju knew, and it is what caused his separation from the Empire. There were rumors that Napent of the Blighted Lands had known, and this was foretold in the strange lore of their cult. Even Serrula Cilipe, legendary warrior and matriarch of rebel House Cilipe, had hinted at this knowledge before she met her death at the end of Rainier’s former knight captain’s sword.
Whatever destiny fell on the children that Rainier claimed from random towns once per year, Carp would stay silent. It was all he could do, all he ever did.
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Ten
Minor BestowmentS And Critical Regrets
H’Alik sat at the edge of her bed as the door creaked open and Silas was shoved inside. She smiled wide, almost crooning as he made small steps forward. Her dark eyes, like that of a furious void, trailed him up and down, running the course of his body as if pinpointing every weak spot of his flesh.
Silas was uncomfortable by her gaze. The knives at her hips seemed ready to skin him alive, and they were so polished that he swore he could see reflections of the room around them as she stood to her feet. The door slammed shut behind him, and his spine nearly melted right where he stood.
He desperately wished he had a weapon as he watched her skulk around the room, flicking eyes to him then to the walls and ornaments around them. His heart fluttered at his muddled future, and all he could see is his own body lying on the floor, covered in blood, with a clean cut to his throat running ear to ear. Of all of the ways he thought he would die, mainly being one very mundane way in a hospital room, this was the one he felt the surest of. H’Alik was ruthless, and she eyed him as if he were expendable at best, or just worthless altogether.
He shut his eyes during a moment when she had turned to gaze her freshly bound books, the ones most likely created by the endeavors of Rae in her service and focused on his stats.
He had acquired more ability points and more stat points, but the ability points have yet to show their purpose yet, so they remained stocked for the time being. He could at least place his fourteen stat points to give himself an edge but deciding on what would be difficult.
Name: Silas
Class: Deity
Worship: Not Available
Level: 11
Notoriety: Unknown
Strength: 31
Dexterity: 27
Vitality: 33
Intelligence: 29
Wisdom: 19
Luck: 2
He desperately wanted to put more in his Intelligence and Wisdom. He didn’t have abilities aligning with them that would be worthwhile right now, but the idea that he was pushing a tank build hurt his gamer pride. There was nothing wrong with a tank, of course, and he had played as many in his day, but a Deity seemed to be a Class that needed to be rounded out evenly with each stat mirroring one another as he scaled. In this way, he wanted to be a brute just about as much as he wanted to be a complete glass cannon, which was to say he wanted neither at all. If he was truly the only one with these abilities and growth options, he did not want to be the best in one area.
He wanted to be the best in all areas.
Unfortunately, that would not help him now. He opted to put two points into each stat, spending ten total points, then splitting the final four with two into Strength, one into Vitality, and one into Wisdom. He figured Wisdom would be required to grow his Mana pool, eventually allowing him to summon his new familiar when the time was right without expending all of his Mana at once. Technically, he did not even know what his current Mana pool was, but that was a problem for another time. He reopened his eyes and let his new stats flutter away, only to find H’Alik glaring at him.
Name: Silas
Class: Deity
Worship: Not Available
Level: 11
Notoriety: Unknown
Strength: 35
Dexterity: 29
Vitality: 36
Intelligence: 31
Wisdom: 22
Luck: 2
“Tell me, human,” she said and slithered closer to him. The flickering candles and lanterns of her quarters reflected off of her pale, green skin leaving sickly shadows dancing over her body. She looked like a demon. “Do I bore you?”
“Wh-What?” Silas stuttered and stepped back. “No, not at all! I was concentrating on my ability for you, that is all!”
His lie seemed to soothe her, her face softening and hiding the sharpened teeth behind her lips. She scanned his body once more with her eyes just as she had done before, sizing him up as if playing with the idea of attacking him.
“Hmm… You seem… larger,” she pondered aloud. “Not by much, but just a bit. It is in your shoulders… even your height.”
Silas looked down at his body then back up to her eyes, which still hung above his own. He had grown, a side effect of his leveling and stat increases. It seemed Strength filled out his muscular structure a bit, finding himself with just slightly more bulge in his arms, shoulders, back, chest and legs. Vitality had added a layer of healthy fat, leaving him less boney and brittle, while Dexterity possibly effected his height by a small margin. Luckily, Intelligence and Wisdom seemed to leave him alone for the most part.
He sheepishly ran his hand over his hairless head, wishing his hair had grown back in this world. Virtual, dream, or otherwise, it seemed unfair to start him as fragile as he had been in real life and not even give him hair on top of it all.
The warm gusts of H’Alik’s breath descending on his bare chest snapped him out of his trance and caused him to stagger.
Silas had never had real relationships due to his situation. Plenty of short-term partners, just as other kids had in their teen years, but as time went on it was harder to find someone willing to having near-completely one-sided relationship. In fact, his last kiss had been a few months before he was placed in the hospital full-time, and even then, it hadn’t felt much like love, or lust, or even like. It had been his close friend, Rachel, who had simply wanted to put a smile on his face after receiving news that his condition was worsening. It was a pity kiss, but he still counted it anyway.
This interaction was absolutely nothing close to that. This was a dragon, breathing fire on him and fueled with rage. She smelled of charred wood and blood, and the thought that she had most likely feasted on human meat in the last few days only added to the disgust and fear.
“Is this more of your tricks? More of your kind’s traps?” She snarled, pressing forward as he stepped back.
Silas nervously laughed, rapidly shaking his head until he backed up to the closed door and felt the wood settle on his back.
“No, no! Nothing like that. It is… a side effect of my abilities? I guess?”
“Hmph,” she grunted, then took a step back to give him space. “I suppose this is possible. It would explain how you defeated Imgul as well, to some degree. If you can grow yourself at will, then you may be far more dangerous than I anticipated, human.”
She began to draw a dagger when Silas waved to calm her down.
“It isn’t like that! Please, allow me to give you what I promise, uh, leader. Then you will understand!”
Possibly giving her abilities like his own was the last thing Silas wanted to do, but he had no other choice. Either he would die here and now, or he would give her what she wanted and possibly die anyway. At least in the second scenario he got to see [Minor Bestowment] first.
H’Alik grinned.
“You humans are so easy to frighten,” H’Alik said through a laugh. “The tip of the blade had not yet shown itself, and you still cowered from it. This is the one who defeated Imgul! Oh, how humorous your kind can be.”
She stepped back, turned, then sauntered back to the edge of her bed and signaled for Silas to follow. He flexed his fingers as he walked and performed several deep breaths to calm his nerves. This was it; it was now or never. He stood before H’Alik as she sat on the edge of the bed, this time he towered over her, and he pressed his eyes shut.
How do I cast Minor Bestowment? He reached out to his mind’s voice.
[Question accepted] it answered promptly. [Minor Bestowment channeling. To channel Minor Bestowment, the Deity places both hands on the shoulders of their chosen target. The Deity senses their reserved mana, coursing through their body unused and unaware. The Deity focuses on it and visualizes bringing it inward to their core. This unlocks the unique system that is based on their current build]
“Alright,” he said aloud as he opened his eyes. “Let’s do this.”
“Yes,” H’Alik purred. “It is time, I am prepared. Do your worst, Human.”
Silas wanted to crack his knuckles and spout a nineties action hero line, but he didn’t. H’Alik would not understand, then take it as a threat, and he suddenly pictured the image of his bleeding throat all over again. He shivered as he slowly reached out, his hand moments away from her shoulder. He touched down so gently that it seemed to annoy her, and he almost yanked back when he realized just how cold her green skin was on his palm. It was softer than he had imaged, despite the battle scars, but it was the corpse-like chill of it that had made his level of discomfort roam from totally afraid to absolutely terrified, and possibly a bit grossed out.
He couldn’t help but wonder if this is what his father was like when his sister had seen him during the funeral. Had his skin felt like this when she gave her final goodbye?
Silas cleared his mind of those memories as fast as he could, then shut his eyes and placed the other hand down on the opposite shoulder. A deep breath in, a slow breath out, and he concentrated on activating the ability.
[You are granting a Minor Bestowment of a Deity on the willing host named H’Alik. Please note, this will fundamentally alter the host’s being and may trigger unseen world events around them. There are no predictions for how a host bestowed with a fraction of a God’s power may change, and whether that is for the good of Destiny itself or the destruction of all existence, is in your hands. Continue?]
Silas winced at the way his Helper had chosen to phrase that. He knew H’Alik was not inherently good, not even by Goblin standards. Even thinking on the chart of the nine alignments that so many works of fiction utilized, he would most likely put H’Alik as lawful evil at best. Would this then alter her to chaotic evil? A frightening thought, but Silas had to concentrate on himself right now. This world was a game, or a dream, and could not possibly actually have consequences. Unless…
Silas quickly told his Helper to continue bestowing the power on H’Alik and waited for what was to come.
There was warmth. Not overwhelming heat like magma flowing from a volcanic eruption, but that of a warm stream pouring from the core of his being and up into the various channels of his body. It passed through his heart, up his shoulders, and down his arms. The feeling was pleasant, soothing even, and he honestly enjoyed not being in some form of pain for once. He allowed the balmy river to run throughout his body, and eventually it snaked its way down to his hands on H’Alik’s shoulders. Power gathered in his palms and when he opened his eyes, he could see that his hands had begun to glow with a soft light, like those that protected children in the night from imaginary monsters.
