A/N - Thank you, NinjaMode67, & Frardowin, for becoming God of Velmoryn's Patrons!
I watched as Avenor and the others made their way back toward the tribe, their pace brisk, boots crunching against the thin layer of fresh snow that had already begun to blanket the ground. The white sheet of ice was still delicate, but it was growing steadily, soft flakes drifting lazily from the gray sky. The first traces of winter were already here, but my mind was already occupied by a much bigger problem.
The severed link.
The connection between me and my vessel had not restored itself after he left the dungeon. I could still sense him - his thoughts, his location, the subtle waves of his emotions, but it no longer came to me instinctively. What had once been an immediate, seamless flow now required focus, almost the same as with my believers. But unlike them, Avenor was beyond the reach of my divine influence. Because of Hollow Core, I could not affect him directly, nor could I transmit my thoughts into his mind.
I studied him closely through the Window, watching how he carried himself, how he interacted with the others, how his expression shifted even in silence. And despite all my calculations, an undeniable sense of unease slowly crept in. Without the connection, I was losing control of the one being who knew almost everything about me.
If some other god discovered his existence, and managed to reach him before I acted… Avenor wouldn't hesitate to choose his own survival over my existence. Not anymore.
That connection was what made us one whole. I was the main consciousness and he was merely a branch. But now, that branch will begin growing into its own form. With its own mind. Its own desires.
One way or another, I had to answer the ultimate question standing before me - Did I trust myself? Or rather, did I trust a version of myself that no longer answered to me?
The answer was painfully simple. I didn't.
But despite the threat he now posed, disposing of him immediately wasn't something I wanted to do. His usefulness still outweighed the risks.
I'll observe him carefully. As long as I maintain the ability to hear his thoughts, I still hold the advantage.
What I needed was to keep this little detail hidden from him. Let him believe that his mind remained a safe sanctuary, free to think and plot in secret. If treachery ever took root, I'd sever him like a diseased limb.
A strange irony, really, conspiring against a fragment of my own being. But when part of the body refuses to obey the brain, it must be removed.
This entire situation, however, made it clear that I needed loyal, fanatical bloodhounds. Powerful believers with unshakeable resolve who would hunt down heretics without hesitation. All I would need to do was point a finger, and they would deliver judgment in my name.
It sounded like the blueprint of an evil god, scheming how to crush anyone who defied him. But that wasn't my intent. My principle would remain what I had already decided - return what you receive. As long as Avenor remained loyal, he would remain alive. But if he turned, then mercy would become weakness.
"I'm bloody hungry," Gundir grumbled, dragging me back to the present. The Drukyr had stopped in his tracks, wiping the sweat from his wide brow with a sleeve already damp from exertion. His short, bloated frame was not built for such long treks, especially at this pace.
"The Drukyrs don't walk on empty stomachs," he declared with finality, collapsing onto a nearby stone like a sack of heavy fur.
Teryo shot him a brief glance, clicking his tongue with barely concealed irritation, but said nothing.
"Gundir, we cannot afford delays," Avenor replied calmly, though his nerves remained taut. The brief communication we had managed, thanks to the message I had carved into the bark of a nearby tree, had reassured him somewhat. But the uncertainty still weighed on him. "If you are unable to walk, I'll ask Huanir to carry…"
"Unable to walk? Carry me? How dare ya, ya bastard!" Gundir snapped, his voice rising though his body remained stubbornly planted on the stone. I couldn't help but be amused at the sight. The Drukyr was too proud to let the beast carry him, yet too exhausted to stand up and prove his point properly. "I… don't eat while walkin'. Give me half an hour for a decent meal and then we shall continue."
Despite his bluster, Gundir's breathing was heavy, the sweat on his thick neck glistening under the pale winter light. But his pride remained firmly intact, and for now, that was enough - for him, at least.
Teryo, however, shared none of that patience.
"Avenor," he called from the side, lowering his voice slightly but gesturing for him to step closer.
Avenor walked toward him with slow, unwilling steps. Vaelari followed as well. He positioned himself slightly between them, likely hoping to diffuse the tension before it could escalate further.
"We have already slowed down to a crawl, almost as if we are Turyns," Teryo muttered, glancing briefly at Gundir, who had now begun gnawing noisily at a chunk of dried meat. He was irritated, though this time his tone lacked the old contempt.
What are Turyns… The beasts in the forest were similar to animals from my past life, but still different. The only name that seemed to remain the same was spider. I glanced at Avenor, intrigued if he would ask what Turyns were, but he was nodding to Teryo with a knowing smile like he had understood the comparison.
"He would fight us if we tried to force him onto Huanir's back," Avenor replied, his smile widening as the image of Gundir thrashing wildly while poor Huanir struggled to carry him flashed through his mind. The scene played out so vividly in his imagination that it nearly made him laugh, washing away the tension he had been feeling.
"Half an hour won't do much to restore his strength," Vaelari added, watching Gundir noisily stuff another handful of nuts into his mouth. But unlike Teryo and Avenor, Vaelari's mind was already working in a different direction. Through the connection, I could feel the idea forming in his head - playful, even mischievous. "He can't recover his strength by sitting there... but Aria can put him to sleep."
Watching the three Velmoryns playfully scheme as though they were plotting mischief at a village feast made me realize once again just how deeply dark magic had twisted the personalities of most of my believers. Teryo, Vaelari, and Avenor were among the few untouched by that taint.
Avenor finally turned his head, barely suppressing a grin as he called out across the clearing.
"Aria."
…
"Not there, you bloody idiots!" Gundir barked, his voice echoing sharply across the half-built building. Three Velmoryns, tense and visibly irritated, shuffled to adjust the thick wooden beam they had just laid into place. "How the fuck did ya manage to live for centuries and still be this brainless?"
The Velmoryns exchanged glances, clicking their tongues in frustration. Their expressions were carved from stone, but the irritation simmered just beneath the surface. If not for Tekla's careful planning, specifically her brilliant decision to assign the calmest, most emotionally detached workers to this task, Gundir would've likely been strangled by now.
It had only been a week since his arrival, yet it already felt like he had fully embedded himself in the tribe's daily life, whether anyone wanted him to or not. After making an absolute scene upon waking up, furious over Aria's small mind-numbing spell used to transport him safely, he'd practically declared himself the tribe's master builder. The moment his gray, sharp eyes landed on the Velmoryn settlement, disapproval dripped from every word that left his mouth.
"Stop makin' sour faces!" Gundir barked again as one of the workers shifted slightly too slow for his liking. "I'm doin' this for ya lot… and for the Velmoryn God, of course." His voice softened, at least as much as a man like him could manage. Despite his endless barrage of insults and complaints, I noticed he always spoke my name with respect. It puzzled me, honestly. He owed me nothing. I had never seen him pray, never once sensed the faintest trace of divine connection.
It was still a mystery why Gundir was so determined to help. According to him, it was Freya's dying request that he assist whoever freed him from that capsule. But something didn't fully add up. He wasn't a believer, not in me, and not, as far as I could tell, in any god at all. He bore no markings or visible symbols that Velmoryns carried on their skin to indicate divine allegiance. Perhaps his god had died like the Goddess. Or perhaps he had never served one to begin with.
"Good!" Gundir shouted, throwing a quick glance around with a satisfied huff. "See? I can make anyone useful if they just listen."
The room, or what would eventually become his workshop, was little more than a foundation for now. The flat floor had been carefully laid, and several thick logs stood upright like skeletal ribs of an unfinished wall. Gundir claimed that with even the 'junk metal' Velmoryns currently had, he could forge weapons better than anything they'd held before. Once spring arrived, he intended to lead scouting parties to locate proper ore veins. According to him, there was plenty of iron buried beneath this forest. The Velmoryns had simply never known how to find it.
Gundir was not the only change. With Avenor, Aria, Vaelari, and Ninali safely returned, the strength of my tribe had grown exponentially. Especially now that I had blessed both Vaelari and Ninali, raising them to Gold rank. The tribe now had five Gold-ranks - Mirion, Tekla, Aria, Vaelari, and Ninali, with Avenor standing beside them as Silver. His raw stats were absurdly high - only Mirion, after activating Feral Surge, would be able to match his physical attributes. And even then, it would be close.
But despite the rapid growth, I wasn't satisfied. The winter hunt approached, and the threat they would face was still a complete unknown. Besides, Tekla would have to stay behind to serve her priestly role, leaving only four Gold ranks to venture into the unknown. That was not enough.
Fortunately, I had been preparing for this possibility.
The trial I had initiated gave me three more Gold candidates - Rodon, Nia and Lucas.
But Lucas was a problem.
By winning the trial, he had earned the right to expect a blessing, just as Tekla had publicly declared beforehand. Yet, that was precisely why I hesitated. Lucas had already received a blessing once. And if the information system had given me was correct, then another blessing could have killed him.
"High Father," Lucas whispered, kneeling before the Tree of Life inside the temple. Blood dripped from his palm, the crimson drops absorbed eagerly by the tree, nourishing it. His head remained bowed, eyes closed. "I fear the blessing."
I listened closely, surprised by the admission. Of all Velmoryns, Lucas had always been the most silent, his emotions buried deep.
"I know that receiving a second blessing often ends with… returning to Your kingdom." He paused, hesitating. "But I want to live. I want to help my tribe grow stronger before entering Your kingdom. I want to protect my people, but to do that I need more strength…" His expression hardened as he continued. "I know I have not earned the right to make requests… please, give me the courage to welcome whatever happens and don't put shame on my name if I die. Please, High Father…"
Of all things I expected, such a request caught me off guard. It was startling to hear something so deeply personal from someone like Lucas. A man whose emotions had always been locked behind a wall of stone now bared a small piece of his soul, and of all things, his concern was for his tribe and honor.
"Lucas?" Tekla's voice broke the silence as she approached from behind. She had heard everything.
Her eyes shimmered with a complex mixture of pride, worry, and guilt. Guilt, because it was she who had allowed Lucas to participate despite knowing the risks. Now she feared her decision might lead him to death.
Blessing him might be inevitable…
If I refused, it would call into question Tekla's authority and by extension, my own. Her declaration had been public, absolute. The winner would receive my blessing. If I withheld it, some might begin to wonder if I found fault in Tekla herself, or worse, if my words were no longer binding.
Since there was no way around it, I might as well act now.
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