Chapter 8: The Men and the god (4) Trial (3)
Author's Note:
Character Map:
"X" = Protagonist
"(X)" = Protagonist's strong inner thoughts
'0X0= Goddess Mnemosyne
'1X1'=Mike?
'2X2'=Calvin?
'3X3'=John?
'4X4'=Norkin?
'5X5'=Belkorn?
'6X6'=Damian?
'X' = Extras
'XXX'= Enemy
Other Notations:
[X] = What is written on something
--- = POV change
|||| = Time skip
== = Time recap
"""" = Return from Recap
(X) = Explanation/author's note
([X]) = Sound effect
{X} = Buttons or actions that may trigger an event
---
"1 We're ready. 1"
With everyone standing by his side, Human Mike conveyed their intention to fight.
Looking at them, I nodded and flicked my finger. With that, all of them returned to their usual starting positions—then back to the carriage. I appeared before them, standing between them and the beast.
"Now then, here we are—standing at the real thing. First, let me say: good luck. May the gods—including myself—favor you all."
With those words, I handed them their temporary weapons and bound the beast with chains. Then, with another flick of my finger, I resumed the usual flow of events and vanished from their sight—more accurately, I moved behind them, remaining there to observe how things would unfold.
Receiving their weapons, the six took their stances.
Human Mike—now onward, I shall call him Swordsman Mike, for the respect he has earned from me. Regardless of victory or defeat in this trial, my thoughts remain the same: Thought, even if they fall, I will still save them. With his sword in hand, Mike took a stance, pointing the blade at the beast—ready to swing.
Elf Calvin—henceforth, Archer Calvin—checked the bow he received. With a nod, he pulled the string, and a flash of light formed into an arrow. He nocked it, aiming straight at the beast, ready to release it at any moment.
Elf John—now Druid John—grasped his staff with care, placing it between his chest and hands. He began chanting, and flickers of light danced around the staff. Slowly, a marble-sized sphere began to form—glowing with a yellow-green shine.
Dwarf Norkin—now onward, I shall call him Guardian Norkin. With the Warhammer he received, he tightly grasped the handle and gave it a wide swing before pointing it at the beast—ready to take the brunt of the attack the moment the beast was released.
Dwarf Belkorn—now onward, Smither Belkorn. With the spool of wire he received, he ran his fingers along it as if to check whether it was the same kind as before. A small grin tugged at his lips—so faint it would've gone unnoticed had I not been a god myself. Without hesitation, he began unraveling the wire from the spool, pulling a considerable length from it.
Human Damian—now here on called, Mage Damian. With the wand he received, he waved it like a maestro, or perhaps an artist with a brush. He then pointed it toward the beast and began chanting. At that moment, a red-tainted magic circle began forming at the tip of his wand.
And then—last but not least—the ferocious beast, bound by chains and probably rearing to tear flesh and drink blood, with its fearsome roar, intimidating body, and terrifying presence...
...was now rolling on the floor, belly up, mouth open—yet somehow hiding its sharp teeth and only showing its tongue.
If I recall correctly, that's a submission stance I read about in one of the bestiaries.
That's right.
The ferocious beast is submitting.
With its full posture of surrender.
And with that, the fight was about to begi—...?
Wait. What? Submitting?, Submission?, Who?, The Beast?, To Whom?, To the Challenger?
After some time, it became clear that the beast had truly surrendered. Even after I removed the chains, it didn't move an inch—remaining in its submission pose.
The six stood there, bewildered, unsure of what to do. Silence stretched as they glanced at one another, waiting for something to happen.
Eventually, I pondered the situation and came to a conclusion: it didn't matter anymore. The outcome was clear.
With that, I appeared before the six and spoke the words already forming in my mind:
"Now, isn't this surprising? For those unaware—this beast has surrendered. It no longer wishes to fight. That means, mortals... you have achieved victory."
As I said that, the six looked even more confused—but I paid them no mind and continued speaking without regard for their reactions:
"That also means... you've won my game. From now on, you are mine—but your wills remain your own. Now then, if there's anything you wish to say, speak now. If not, come forward and shake my hand. With that, our game—and our agreement—will be complete."
At that, one of them stepped forward and stood before me. I extended my hand.
Archer Calvin looked at it, then looked up at me, and spoke:
"2 Before that... could I clarify something? 2"
"A question, is it? Very well. I allow you to ask."
"2 Well, about our agreement—what exactly did you mean by that? With the limited questions we were allowed, I couldn't really grasp what this agreement truly is. 2"
"I see. Very well. Or rather... to be precise, I made it that way. But before you ask what I mean by that, let me ask you—do you understand why we gods—or more specifically, we aspirant gods—descend to this mortal realm?"
"2 That... 2"
"1-6 ..... 1-6"
Seeing their expressions, it was clear they had some idea. Still, it was better if I, the one in question, explained it myself.
"We—those who come down from the Divine Realm—we aspirant gods—are here for one reason: to become gods."
"By achieving feats and accomplishments in this world, we aspirants may ascend and take our place among the divine. Thus, we descend with our capabilities and seek those willing to put their faith in us. Those who do—those who believe—become our followers, and in return, we grant them power."
"Usually, gods perform miracles—healing, blessing strength, guiding fate—things that cause mortals to place their faith in them. That's the usual way. And one method of doing this... is what I've just done."
"² So... you want us to become your followers? ²"
"Haha. If that were all I wanted, I would have taken the traditional route. But I did not."
"While we aspirant gods may seem equal upon descending to the mortal realm, that is far from true. Surely, some of you—had I not intervened—would have served others already, like the druid here."
At that, silence fell among them.
"For this reason, I've done something more... underhanded. I devised this agreement to ensure that you mortals would become mine."
"The plan is simple. Unlike others—those from established pantheons like the Creek, the Krist, and so on—I am not part of any known divine circle. That means I cannot gain followers through reputation, legacy, or name."
"At such a disadvantage, my options were few—and even those were uncertain. Worse still, using power carelessly risks everything. You mortals know it as divinity. But to us, it is life itself."
"If an aspirant god exhausts their divinity, they meet their end—complete annihilation. No rebirth. No Afterlife. Only myth and dust."
"And so, I made a choice. You mortals—on the brink of death—could be saved by my divinity. But to do that without ensuring loyalty would've been reckless."
"Thus, the game."
"¹–⁶ ..... ¹–⁶"
"You understand now, don't you? So let me be direct."
"Agree—and you shall be mine. But I am no Evil God Aspirant. Your wills will remain your own. That, I vow."
"Refuse... and face the consequences."