God Of Velmoryn [ LitRPG, Progression, High Fantasy ]

It took me almost a day, but those damned memories are finally sealed away.

Without any way to measure time inside my divine plane, I relied on the mortal realm as a loose reference.

While working on isolating the Goddess's memories, I'd noticed the only real difference between them and my own was the seal, something either the Goddess herself or the system had placed there. My guess was that even after meeting whatever hidden conditions would lift those seals, I wouldn't lose consciousness or suffer the same overwhelming pain again… but I wasn't willing to gamble on it. I wrapped each one in layers of divine energy, ensuring they stayed contained until I was ready.

The work was tedious but not without reward. In the process, I discovered something else: when I used divine power within my realm to create something reversible, like the thick walls of divine energy now locking away the memories, it cost me nothing. Likely because here, in my own domain, my power flowed without waste.

It was a small revelation, but one that would matter later. For now, my immediate plans required no divine power at all.

If even the Goddess involved herself directly in the elven nation, issuing quests without hesitation, then there's no reason I shouldn't do the same. Why did I ever restrain myself? Why should a god care what mortals think? But… the way my believers perceive me determines how I manifest…

Chaos. That was the only word for it. My mind split into too many threads at once, each weighing possibilities, contradicting the others. Most of the time, I could keep that tendency under control, but not always. When it slipped past my grip, my head became a snarl of competing thoughts. And right now, after exhausting myself with the tedious work of isolating Goddess' memories, my brain was a complete mess. My thoughts were scattered, like marbles on a staircase.

Whenever that happened, I forced myself to step back - pick one thread, follow it, and let the rest go.

After witnessing the Goddess handing out quests, I resolved to involve myself more directly in the tribe's daily life. And since I had no missions to give, I decided on another approach.

I didn't like how narrow the Velmoryns' magic truly was. Most of them were dark magic users, specialists in weakening and slowing their foes, in laying subtle curses and stacking effects that would sap an opponent's strength. It was a fine support role when paired with strong frontliners, but on its own, a dark magician was rarely a force to be reckoned with. Only after reaching Gold Rank would such a mage unlock truly destructive abilities or have the reserves to cast spells capable of defeating an equal Rank foe in a duel.

Dark magic wasn't useless, not at all, but it lacked the kind of immediate, decisive power I preferred. My own tastes leaned toward the straightforward, toward conjuring tangible things or harnessing raw elements the way Ninali commanded fire. Yet among all my followers, there were no wielders of ice, no earth-shapers, no masters of water or light. In fact, Ninali was the only magician among my believers who could use elemental power at all. The rest relied almost exclusively on dark magic, and I could already see the limitations this would impose on the Velmoryns' future.

I didn't love that.

To address it, I had considered the idea of creating a new magical branch entirely, something I could tailor to suit the needs of my people. But creating a new branch, especially one I had never seen before, required a deep understanding of magic's inner structure. Knowledge I did not yet possess. At my current level, it was beyond me.

That didn't mean I could do nothing.

When I'd sent the basilisk after Cellia, the scout had escaped using an artifact that opened a portal. I wasn't absolutely certain of its origin, but I was convinced the portal was the same type Elisabeth had used. That thought lingered, becoming the seed of an idea.

I couldn't give my believers a storage space like Elizabeth seemed to have. To do so would require granting them direct access to my divine realm, where they would store their things, and I had no idea how such a link could even be established. But a teleportation device… that was possible.

When I first saw the scout's artifact, I had assumed it was far beyond my reach. In my mind, creating something like it would require bending space and perhaps even time itself. That sort of manipulation was well out of my grasp. But after accidentally obtaining my dominion, and even pulling Pintre into it, I realized I could use this realm as an anchor.

The concept was simple. I would shape a small, featureless space shrouded in mist, a place where nothing could be seen. That space would serve as a midpoint. When one of my believers activated the portal, they would step into that empty space first. From there, I would manually send them to their intended location.

Of course, the method was hardly refined. I would need to know where they wished to go, and I would have to already have access to that destination myself. The first part was not an issue; I could read my believers' thoughts like an open book. But accessing any location, even inside the forest… now that was a problem. Before witnessing the Goddess's memory, I might have hesitated to proceed, perhaps even abandoned the idea entirely. But now… I no longer felt the need to restrain myself so tightly.

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For a start, I would create an artifact that could only open a portal with my explicit approval. Every activation would require my consent. And if I failed to send someone where they wished to go, or chose not to send them at all, how would they interpret it? As proof their god lacked the means? Or as a sign of displeasure, perhaps even a divine punishment or trial? The latter served my purposes far better.

Yes. This will do.

The first step was to test the concept - see if I could pull a mortal creature into my domain and then send it somewhere else. The key question was whether I could place them anywhere I chose, or only return them to the point of origin.

For this test, I didn't need a sentient being. Any living mortal would do, so long as it carried no trace of divine power.

It didn't take me long to find a suitable subject - a small creature resembling a rabbit, its ears twitching as it nibbled on one of the tree's branches. I fixed my attention on it and reached out with my will, pulling it toward my domain.

[Warning: Divine Kingdom consumed 2 Divinity Points!]

Crimson energy surged around the animal, coiling in tight arcs before swallowing it entirely. In the next heartbeat, the rabbit-like creature was inside my dominion, hopping aimlessly across the pale floor before the throne where my manifestation sat.

I wasn't interested in observing its behavior. That wasn't the point of the test. The instant I confirmed the first step had worked, that the creature was alive, unharmed, and fully within my control, I stirred my divine power again and attempted to release it back not far from the spot where I had found it. I had no intention of carelessly pushing the cost of the Divine Kingdom any higher than it already was.

To my surprise, the act didn't consume any additional Divinity Points.

So, I only spend divine energy on the initial pull. Letting them out costs nothing… perhaps the activation itself uses enough power to cover both entry and exit. Or maybe the mechanism is simpler than I think.

I didn't have the answer, but it hardly mattered. The important part was that it worked. Which meant I could now attempt it with my believers.

In an ideal test, I would have repeatedly drawn the creature into my domain, measuring whether prolonged exposure to this place had any negative effect on living mortals, and determining if there were any limits to the distance over which the ability could be used. But I decided against it. I had no intention of moving armies with this technique, at least not for now, as it was meant only for select individuals. More importantly, after spending 500 Divinity Points to shape my dominion, I wasn't eager to waste even a fraction more than necessary.

I'll test further later, once I've built up more divine energy. For now, I must save every point I can until the spider mutants are dealt with.

Once that was accomplished, I would have more than enough resources to experiment properly. The victory would bring not only a few soul essences, but also new believers from converting other tribes. With that kind of growth, I could continue experimenting and perhaps begin working on something far greater.

Choosing which believer to draw into my dominion wasn't a complicated decision. Only one question truly mattered - whether I believed it was safe. If it wasn't, I could select someone expendable and run the experiment on them instead… though that would mean I'd need a convincing explanation afterward.

Even if I was the mysterious god whose judgment was beyond doubt, would my believers truly not wonder why I pulled a random tribesman into my realm instead of my priestess? It would be easy enough to handle, though. All I had to do was order the chosen subject to remain silent, claim it was a test or whatever. There were always ways to make the reasoning unquestionable.

Am I becoming too full of myself by assuming that whatever I do will be accepted without doubt?

The thought lingered for a while before I let out a chuckle. It wasn't worth worrying over. If something as fragile as that rabbit-like creature could survive in my dominion, then the Velmoryns could as well. Especially Tekla, just a week ago, she had controlled my divine power directly… and nearly died in the process…

I paused at that memory, weighing it for a moment, then decided there was no real risk. In the worst case, I could heal her with divine power.

The decision brought with it a familiar thrill. Whenever the matter concerned expanding my authority as a god, excitement always crept in. Whether it was the System's lingering influence on my mind, or simply that I'd grown to enjoy my role, I wasn't sure.

Tekla was preparing for sleep when I shifted the Window to her location. She had just finished washing her face in a basin of icy water, the pale surface steaming faintly in the cool air. The sight of it stirred an old, human memory of cold that bit at the skin. Painful, yet filled with a melancholy that felt weirdly distant.

I pulled myself out of the thought quickly; letting my attention wander now was dangerous. Tekla was beginning to loosen her clothing, and I had no intention of witnessing that.

The Velmoryns didn't think twice about nudity, but I did. Not because of the act itself, I wouldn't have cared if it were anyone else, but Tekla was different. I valued her, perhaps more than any other believer. Maybe because she was my priestess, the one whose devotion shone brightest. Or maybe because the love she bore for me had found a way to echo inside myself. Either way, keeping her from appearing before me unclothed was, in its own way, a form of care.

The least godly thoughts and concerns imaginable…

I shook my head, dismissing the self-reproach, and activated my new skill once more.

This will be the first time she meets me.