GodWithWings
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Ch 64 - What Lingers After Death
🕑 Added 2025-07-02 16:23:56 +0000 UTCA/N -
Bonus chapter coming later today ^_^
Enjoy <3
**
Deciding whether to act or not wasn’t difficult. A god was trying to take one of my Velmoryns. There was no debate. Even if I wasn’t ready for open confrontation against other gods, I couldn’t afford to stand aside. If I did, I’d lose everything. The faith I’d cultivated, the loyalty I’d shaped, the identity I’d spent so much time sculpting - it would all be swallowed in an instant.
But there was one reason I hadn’t already moved.
I recognized the divine energy coiling around Joriel’s body. Dark and oppressive, but familiar.
I’d seen it before in Avenor’s memory. When Elisabeth’s bracelet had shattered and just the faintest trace of divine power had leaked from within it. The same essence. The same cold, ink-black weight.
The Father of the Night and the Moons.
That’s what Elisabeth had called him.
I glanced once more at the red notification still hovering in front of me, its glow pulsing with urgency. My thoughts turned cold and sharp.
Fuck it.
Letting him get Joriel and raise his rank to Platinum in the process would be the end of the Velmoryns. Or at least, the end of the Velmoryns that belonged to me.
I stirred the energy within me, and this time I didn’t hold back.
I summoned more divine power than I ever had before, flooding it into one single, focused purpose: to tear Joriel away before that leeching bastard could claim him.
Still, I didn’t want to destroy the Yellow Tribe in the process. So I eased into it. Started small. A thin, disciplined ray of crimson light, just enough to test if I needed to use more of my power that was already ready.
The beam surged forward, fast and sharp. As soon as it touched the shadowy mass surrounding Joriel, it split into jagged streaks of light, tearing through the darkness like a sun beam in the dawn.
Something's not right.
I hadn’t even ramped up the flow, and yet the crimson energy cut straight through, punching into Joriel’s chest and planting him into the ground like a discarded rag.
The impact sent a shockwave across the clearing.
Velmoryns who had stood frozen in place moments before scattered like startled birds, snow and debris pelting their backs as they scrambled for cover.
“Everyone, behind me!” the elder who’d restrained Dariel shouted, stepping forward and casting a wide crimson barrier. It shimmered with dense energy, but I could tell that it wouldn’t have withstood even a fraction of what I had sent. It wasn’t meant to block divine power. Just the debris. The aftermath.
The dust finally settled.
And what I saw was exactly what I’d already known.
The dark aura was gone. Not diminished. Not retreating. Gone
My strike had erased it the moment it struck flesh. I had won. But it didn’t feel that way. I should have felt satisfied, relieved, even. But the feeling never came. It was too clean. Too fast. Too easy.
Was the system’s buff and penalty that significant? Or… perhaps it is my divine power that is much stronger?
Neither answer brought me comfort.
Because if this was a test, it had come too early. And if this was a warning… I might have just fired the first shot.
[Warning: Destruction consumed 2 Divinity Points!]
Just two Divinity Points to erase another god’s intervention?
Even weakened by system penalties, it should not have been that simple. The unease stirred in the back of my mind, but I forced it down. Joriel was dying, and his soul needed to be secured before it faded beyond reach.
I reached for it to establish a connection, only to feel a link already in place - faint, but stable. That surprised me. Ever since I gained Authority, which was still dormant, my connection with my believers had grown stronger, more vivid. But I had not realized that even those who hadn’t pledged themselves to me directly now hovered within the edges of my influence.
Is this what the system meant by Domain? Have all Velmoryns, by virtue of their blood, come under my influence? Can other gods gain the same Domain as me?
The questions flooded my mind, but I pushed them aside for now. Joriel’s soul was slipping, and the connection alone wasn’t enough. When he died, if nothing bound him to me fully, his soul would simply dissolve into nothingness. I needed to bring it into my divine realm while it still existed in some form.
I pulled at it, gently at first, then with increasing pressure, but it refused to budge. No matter how much I willed it closer, it clung to the ruined shell of his body, tethered by something deeper than life or belief. Still, I didn’t stop. I maintained the pull, steady and constant, refusing to let up even as it resisted.
As Joriel’s life faded, his body crushed and mangled by the force of my strike, the resistance began to break. Not because of effort, but because death was winning and erasing its anchor. His soul weakened, its last ties loosening. I waited, never releasing the pressure, until the exact moment his eyes dimmed and his spirit slipped free.
And then I caught it.
It arrived in my realm like ash carried on a breath of wind - formless, dim, and unshaped. It had no body, no face, no echo of who it once was. Just a faint gray shimmer, barely held together by the crimson threads of my divine power.
There were no memories to extract. No thoughts to probe. No identity left to interrogate. And I quickly felt the cost of holding it - the steady drain of Divinity, as if my realm was fighting to maintain something that didn’t belong there.
So that’s how it works. Only souls pledged to me can remain whole. The act of belief doesn’t just bind them in life, it preserves them in death. Without that bond, a soul loses its shape, form, and identity the moment the body fails.
It was my conclusion, not a fact, but I was fairly certain in its truth. The god didn’t simply receive souls, the god became their anchor. Without that anchor, the soul would have nothing to cling to and would simply dissipate.
I studied Joriel’s faded essence a moment longer, and then I let it go. There was no value in burning Divinity to hold onto what had already faded.
But the moment my grip began to release, I saw it.
A mass of black. Not fading, not dispersing. Remaining condensed and thick.
Deep inside the soul fragment, nestled like a seed, was a dense knot of divine energy, coiled and dark, radiating the same weight I’d felt before.
I fucked up.
For the first time since becoming a god, I panicked. Whatever fragment of the other god had attached to Joriel’s soul, whatever presence that had tried to claim him, it was now in my divine realm. Brought by my own will.
I quickly increased the divine power surrounding Joriel’s soul and then shifted my attention elsewhere.
I checked every star, each glowing point tied to a believer. Nothing had changed. No foreign intrusion. No corruption. I checked the crimson guardian’s manifestation and even Roy’s dimmed, hollow core. All normal.
Thank god.
The relief didn’t last.
My gaze returned to the formless soul wisp, now completely sealed behind a layered crimson barrier. I had trapped the dark aura of the other god inside, isolated it before it could harm me in any way.
Should I toss it out?
Just casting it out, purging the contaminant before it affected my realm, seemed the simplest solution.
But I hesitated.
The presence of the other god had been dispersed far too easily in the mortal realm. That had already bothered me. Perhaps that other god was trying to communicate? Or if that was their actual attack, and I had managed to handle it so easily, then here, within my own divine plane, where my will shaped reality itself, where my power held absolute authority, I’d have easily dealt with it. Probably. And yet… I didn’t want to take that risk.
But if I could study it in its preserved state, unravel its structure, understand its source... it could give me valuable information about the other god.
It was the perfect material for an experiment.
But it was also a breach.
Releasing it, giving it even a thread of access to my realm, could be catastrophic. The fact that it had followed Joriel this far meant it was strong, and perhaps, intentional. Letting it roam, even under observation, might be too great a risk.
I’ll check with Guidance.
Let’s see what the system has to say before I decide whether to seal it forever or tear it apart.
[A Memory Fragment]
????? has left a memory fragment inside your domain and relinquished any control.
Huh? That god went through all this just to show me a memory? Or... is this how gods communicate with one another?
I stared at the system window again, rereading it for the sixth time. I even reactivated Guidance and compared it word for word nearly ten times. The message stayed the same.
Still, I hesitated.
What if memories held more power over gods than mortals? What if this wasn’t a memory at all, but an invitation into the other god’s consciousness? I didn’t want that. I had no intention of linking minds, especially not with a being that casually threaded divine energy into a dying man’s soul. But ignoring the offer might be just as dangerous. What if this wasn’t a gesture of curiosity, but a warning?
Maybe the god wanted to deliver a message. Maybe its a demand: Surrender Avenor, the one who killed my apostle… or face divine war.
I valued Avenor. He’d proven himself several times already. But if it came down to him, or a full conflict with a god whose rank clearly exceeded mine?
That was an easy choice.
I had other ways to create vessels. Peace was the smarter path.
Fuck it.
Without dragging it out any longer, I dismissed the crimson barrier surrounding Joriel’s soul and allowed the shell to fully disperse. I reached for the dark knot, drawing it toward me in one swift motion 0 fast, like pulling off a bandage. If it was going to harm me, I’d rather get it over with in a single breath.
But no pain came.
No resistance. No surge of backlash.
Instead, the knot simply dissolved. Wisps of dark energy faded into my divine space, and the images began - soft at first, then with mounting clarity.
They were Joriel’s memories.
I saw him in the Blue Tribe’s camp, deep in conversation with their leaders. He smiled as he spun half-truths, promised alliances he had no intention of keeping. I watched him conspire to betray them, planning to side with the Silver Tribe instead. I saw how he convinced the other Vaels to raid my tribe for children, how he sold the idea as a necessity for survival while laying the groundwork for his own power grab. In each vision, he positioned himself at the center, already imagining the tribes united beneath his name.
Why is this god showing me Joriel’s memories?
They didn’t feel curated. They weren’t tailored for me. They played like an unfiltered stream, the most formative, most defining moments of a soul. Some were disturbingly mundane, even indulgent. Joriel had clearly enjoyed his nights in the company of others. That part of him, too, was on full display. Unfortunately.
And then the final memory came.
The moment just before death, or rather, the vision that Elisabeth’s god had granted him at the threshold.
A dense forest stretched from mountain to mountain, bordered by sea on one side and vast open plains on the other. Crimson haze bled through the treetops like a toxic mist, curling in tendrils across the canopy. The aura that shrouded the forest wasn’t natural. It reeked of dark magic - twisted for some, but familiar and welcome for me.
In the clearing, beneath the sunlight at its harshest zenith, the Velmoryns were celebrating. They danced and feasted, shadows barely clinging to the ground. At the center sat Joriel, reclined on a throne of polished bone and stone. Two women flanked him, fanning him lazily with enormous leaves. His posture was regal. His expression smug.
But I knew he wasn’t the focus of the vision. I could feel it.
The scene began to shift. Light faded into twilight. Then night.
A massive bonfire blazed in an empty field, its orange glow cutting against the dark. A woman emerged from the forest line, tall, graceful, clothed in a long black dress that shimmered like oil. The fabric was thin, sheer in places, barely veiling her full, heavy chest, where a gothic medallion rested - two crescent moons etched into its metal, twinned and overlapping.
She turned to the side. Her lips moved, forming words, but no sound came through. Then, slowly, she extended a hand, and a swirling violet portal opened beside her. She reached inside and withdrew a small vial. Crimson fluid clung to its base.
Avenor’s blood…
I instantly recognized.
She removed the cork with her lips and let it drop. Her tongue traced the rim of the vial, and a lecherous smile played across her mouth, her cheeks flushed. Her eyes were sealed with crimson stitches, just like Elisabeth’s, yet she moved with unnatural grace, unfazed by limited sight.
She walked to the fire.
And then, without hesitation, she crushed the vial in her hand. Glass and blood, both hers and Avenor’s, fell together into the flames.
The bonfire hissed, though briefly.
Was that part of the ritual… or did she actually discard Avenor’s blood?
The vision shifted.
Morning light spilled across the field, soft and young, still gentle in its warmth. It brushed against the woman’s face, but her unnaturally pale skin didn’t absorb it. It reflected the light, almost repelled it, as if the sun itself couldn’t touch her.
She rode a familiar mount.
The same towering summon Elisabeth had used against the dragon, the one that had torn through the giant beast's body like it was a small and weak lizard.
Now it carried her across the open plains. Her dark gown, threaded with subtle crimson patterns along the sides, danced in the wind, molding to the curve of her body with every gust. She sat with ease, bare feet wrapped tightly around the beast’s abdomen, locked in place without saddle or reins. She didn’t need them. The creature moved with her, as if they shared the same breath.
The beast increased its speed, its paws landing with surprising softness on the ground. Then it opened its massive wings.
The first flap was gentle, testing. The second, far more forceful, sent them both into the air in a fluid, seamless ascent.
They soared upward, framed against the brightening sky. The orange, bright sphere stood directly in front of them, obscuring the path, blinding the view. Yet the woman didn’t flinch. Her stitched eyes remained closed, her posture still regal. Her face remained fixed toward their unknown and unseen direction.
And yet, I knew.
Even without hearing her speak, without any divine message to confirm it, I knew.
They’re coming here.
Comments
ManguKing
So the other God is just sending him a warning? An honorable duel sort of?
