Name:
|
Value:
|
Kindred Sigil
|
Max
|
Shadowmark
|
Basic
|
Phantom Step
|
Basic
|
Crimson Rite
|
Max
|
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Roy's stats were impressive.
With Aria's status window as my only frame of reference, I could tell the power-up was substantial. The gap between them had shrunk to less than 50 attribute points, when before it had been over 110.
And now, I could also see Roy's skills, something I hadn't been able to with Aria. At first, I assumed it was due to Roy's devotion, which had risen to 50 out of 100, but when I checked Aria's window again, her skills were visible too.
So with the raise in my rank, I can now access more detailed information about my believers.
I made a mental note and turned my attention back to Roy. His prayer had ended, and now he was walking toward the older Velmoryn, the one who had slapped him earlier. I was too excited to continue analyzing his status window now.
Is he going to beat the crap out of him now that he's stronger?
If I could issue quests, I probably would've told Roy to make an example out of him. Don't judge me, I had done nothing but check status windows since I became a god. I was missing action and entertainment. But sadly, I was unable to issue quests, so all I could do was watch. As I observed him, I could not help but notice that Roy's steps were surprisingly graceful now.
He didn't move like this before.
Not only had his strength increased, but there was something more, something refined in the way he carried himself.
Is this the result of gaining confidence and pride after becoming stronger?
There was a precision in his movements now. A control that made each step feel graceful, like he was in perfect sync with his own body. If I had to pick one word to describe it, it would be - refined.
Roy still gripped the bow I had created in his right hand, holding it like it was the most precious thing in the world.
I wouldn't be surprised if he went to sleep hugging that thing like a teddy bear. I chuckled inwardly but snapped out of my thoughts quickly as Roy had just reached the older Velmoryn.
However, all my excitement and hope to see a good spectacle quickly disappeared when, instead of fighting or even raising his voice, Roy gave the older Velmoryn a slight, respectful bow and began to speak.
"Væl Teryo, the Velmoryn God has blessed me. I now stand as Silver Rank." He declared proudly, puffing his chest. "Name me Tribe Warrior. Let me lead the hunt - for our God, and for us all!"
Roy spoke calmly at first, respectful in tone. With each word, his voice grew louder, gaining confidence and authority.
The other Velmoryns had gathered by now, watching in silence as the two stood face to face.
Teryo didn't speak immediately. He simply looked at Roy with an expression that was hard to read. His eyes were filled with a mix of sadness and admiration, two emotions that don't often team up together.
"I, Teryo, name Roy the Tribe Warrior," he said at last, his voice carrying a weight that silenced even the faintest whisper.
He stepped forward, hesitating only for a second before closing the distance. Leaning in, he gently touched Roy's right shoulder with his lips. The contact lasted no longer than a fraction of a second. As soon as it was done, Teryo turned without another word and returned to his home.
No one acknowledged the displeasure on his face because at that moment, every single Velmoryn straightened and placed their right hand on their chest.
"Praise be to the Velmoryn God."
"Praise be to the Velmoryn God."
"Praise be to the Velmoryn God."
…
The rhythmic and united chant echoed across the settlement and it felt really good. And I could tell they were praising me with all their heart. Even those who hadn't yet accepted me as their god chanted my name, which made me wonder:
Are they praising me, or the god they used to follow?
But my thoughts quickly shifted to the tradition I had just seen. The shoulder kiss wasn't unfamiliar. I'd read about it in history books - cultures in the human world had similar rites. But seeing it here made me realize something important - all this time, I was not taking the Velmoryns seriously.
From the moment I found out I was a god, I saw them as NPCs, like characters from some game I used to play.
I never stopped to think that they had culture, rituals, relationships, and loyalties.
That didn't mean I was going to start bending over backward to make them happy. Not at all. But if I wanted to become a god they would be willing to die for, I had to understand them. Learn how they lived, how they thought, what they valued.
Roy's voice snapped me out of the thought.
"Who among you shall join me on the hunt for our God's glory?"
A male, taller and more broad-shouldered than Roy, stepped forward, his face practically a map of old scars.
"This is wrong! I was next, I should've been Tribe Warrior, not this Bronze-rank whelp!" he shouted, glaring not just at Roy, but at everyone around him.
I smiled to myself.
Looks like I am going to get an interesting show after all, and maybe learn a little more about the Velmoryns in the process
"Jira, I understand your frustration, brother," Roy said, placing a fist on his chest, his voice calm and composed. "But we shall not defy the will of our God. The Velmoryn God has chosen me to lift our tribe, and I shall not fail that task. In time, when you see His grace with your own eyes, I trust you shall understand…"
Roy didn't get to finish.
Jira snorted, loud and mocking.
"There's only one Velmoryn God, and She is the Goddess you betrayed!"
His eyes swept over the gathered Velmoryns, his sneer deepening when he saw the crimson markings on their faces.
"That imposter you praise is no god. He couldn't even forge a proper weapon. That weak little bow - what is it supposed to be?"
I'll be honest. I seriously considered killing him the moment he started insulting me. But before I could act, I noticed the change in the Velmoryns around him.
It wasn't just Roy and my believers. Even those still loyal to the Goddess wore disgusted expressions.
Jira had clearly crossed a line, a line still unknown to me.
"You know well that insulting a god is taboo, even if you do not believe in Them," said an elder Velmoryn, her silvery-marked face firm with disapproval
She might have said more, but Roy stepped forward, cutting her off.
He walked slowly toward Jira, the calm fading from his face as fury started to take its place.
"You were my brother," Roy said, voice low and tight. "But you spat on our ways… and you dared to mock our God."
He stepped closer. No mercy in his eyes.
"I shall not forgive that."
Without hesitation, he pulled a small dagger from his waist, a weapon I hadn't even noticed before, and sliced his palm open. Blood welled up instantly, dripping onto the ground as he extended his bloody fist toward Jira.
"I, Roy, Tribe Warrior of Velmoryn, challenge you to a duel."