Disclaimer: I own none of the works belonging to the author(s) and game designer(s) employed by Illwinter, the makers of the Dominion series, neither do I own any of the characters, factions, monsters, and places inside said media, save for those imagined and created by me.

Warning: The following chapter contains blood/gore, language, and explicit violence and may not be suitable to some readers.

Chapter 1: Gekokujo, Part 1

~"Serving our esteemed master in our endeavors, I often rely on my exceptional skills as a warrior. Aiding me was an aboleth whose greatest weapon is his nearly vast intellect, a lamassu whose wisdom is second only to our master, a bronze colossus who can take on even gods of war, and a goddess with whom I spent more time."~

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~”You dare attempt to overthrow me, your own father?! You must be reminded of your place!”~

~”I didn’t mean to! Please forgive me Father!”~

~”You have the gall to beg for forgiveness after all you’d done, you impudent child!”~

~”I didn’t mean for the mortals to love me so much! I had no intention of overthrowing you!”~

~”Silence you little bitch! Cease your condescension! I’ve raised you to be a worthy heir, the one most deserving of carrying my great name! Your first brother, born of a tear from my right eye, is a pitiable excuse of a man who would rather hoard books and beauty creams than swords and valor! As for your snot-born brother, he is too worthless to deserve any of my affection and attention!”~

~”Please don’t lock me in there Father! Ever since that time, I have had nightmares when I’m in the dark! Please, if being a father means anything to you, don’t-”~

A resounding thunderclap echoed throughout the Void, shaking the very air. A loud gasp rang out, only to give way to uncontrollable sobbing.

~”DON’T YOU EVER TELL ME HOW TO BE A FATHER! Your further impertinence has now convinced me that you believe yourself to be my superior! Well, it’s time to show you who’s really in charge! You will have plenty of time to reflect on your egotism and insubordination!”

~”No, *sob * no Father! *sob * Don’t- ”~

~”I Izanagi, The One True God, Divine-Emperor of Yomi, Father of Stars, Friend of Toilers and Laborers, Burner of Cities and Butcher of Armies, Herald of Flames, Subjugator of Empires, and the Scourge of Lanka, hereby imprison you for all eternity inside the Heavenly Cave for the crimes of sedition and blasphemy!”~

~”NO FATHER, NO- !”~

The empyreal darkness died in a flash of sparks, replaced by daylight seeping in from an opening ahead. Rats and tiny cave spirits scampered for the safety of crevasses and cracks in the rock. The smell of sea air wafted into the cavern as the patter of water dripping from stalactites echoed through the air.

Curled up in a fetal position was a woman thirty-six meters in height. She was clothed in white robes with red trimming on the sleeves and the lower portion of the kimono. Her white obi or sash featured a golden sun motif in the center and red trimming along both edges. Her golden eyes frantically glancing around the interior, the goddess barely managed to calm her hyperventilations down to the occasional gasp. The sunlight reflected off strands of her long black hair, gathered into tightly packed and elaborate waxed folds and accented by a large jewel-encrusted pin with a sun-shaped attachment on the end.

Her sobs finally died down, and the goddess wiped away her tears as she stood up. The cavern shook slightly as her feet found purchase on the ground and a few small stalactites were dislodged by the tremors, shattering into chunks of rock upon impact with the stone. As if on cue, the wind carried mutterings from the mouth of the cavern. There was even something that sounded like a shout.

Though her interest was piqued, the goddess was wary of what awaited her outside the cavern. Extending an arm to the side, she summoned a ball of sunlight in her opened palm. The object elongated as it took on a curved shape. Most of the object suddenly flattened into a blade-like shape as details and etchings formed from the solidified light. After a few seconds of shaping itself, the light dissipated in a silent explosion of sparks and fire.

In its place was a no-dachi, its craftsmanship far beyond the ken of mortal blacksmiths. Its blade, almost as long as her, glowed as if forged from the very heart of the sun itself.

Grasping the no-dachi in both hands, the goddess expertly twirled it between them, getting a feel for its weight and balance. With a flash of motion, the goddess tested her weapon on a huge stalagmite nearby, the blade becoming almost imperceptible as it sliced through the air. To its credit, the stalagmite didn’t even cough up a whiff of dust as the blade breezed through it. However, after a few seconds, the top portion of the rock formation slid off its base and landed on the ground with a thunderous crash. The scalding cut left behind by the blade dully reflected the ceiling above it.

Satisfied, the goddess unsummoned the weapon and walked toward the opening, her leather sandals kicking dust onto her white split-toe socks. Her steps sent soft rumbles throughout the rock surface and more murmurs answered in response. The overall pitch seemed deeper, even masculine, though she swore she heard a female voice. She could almost sense their expectation and hope. Though there could be any number of reasons for the noises, the goddess reached the most logical conclusion.

It was clear that whoever was outside was waiting for her.

As the goddess passed through the cave’s lips, she felt sweet, warm sunlight caressing her face. Flocks of white birds graced the blue morning sky with their presence. Though most cannot look directly at the sun without going blind, the goddess could and she gazed at the distant and massive ball of cosmic fire, noticing myriad loops of supercharged particles that danced on its molten surface. A loud cheer drew her attention downward, and her heart leaped at what she saw.

Standing before her was a large army of humans arranged in five rectangular formations, their fists thrusting into the air in celebration. The closest three consisted of men wearing simple laminar cuirasses and shin guards. Their wide conical iron helmets cast shadows onto their faces though the goddess still saw their cheerful expressions. Some of them were armed with bows and arrows while the rest wielded long pikes with long blades at the tips and protrusions on the sides.

Behind them, the last two formations consisted of warriors who appeared even more intimidating. Armed with bows and curved blades of varying lengths, the warriors wore colorful armor that almost completely covered their bodies. Rectangular flags were fastened to holsters strapped to their backs, displaying what the goddess assumed were their clan heraldry. They wore helmets of varying styles decorated with curved, layered side panels and flat horn-like projections above their brows.

Movement in front of the five divisions drew the goddess to twenty-three individuals a literal giant step away from her. Twenty of them wore white flowing robes festooned with glass beads and pieces of metal. Though they were of various ages, all of them seemed to be in the twilight years of their lives, at least if her understanding of mortal aging hadn’t gone rusty. Come to think of it, how long had she been imprisoned?

The last three humans caught her eyes the most. Flanking the central figure were two warriors who looked even more imposing than the others. Decked in black armor, with lines of jade and reds on their laminar shoulder pads, the two warriors looked for all intent and purposes like bodyguards protecting the figure between them.

The figure in question was lithe even underneath the blood-red armor she wore. The armor itself was specially crafted to emphasize mobility over protection, accentuating her figure as a result. Her helmet has shorter crescent-like horns and two curved swords of the same length were sheathed at her left side.

The human unfastened the straps of her helmet and removed it, revealing a head of short, straight black hair she then shook vigorously, letting it fall to her cheeks in a bob. A youthful face peered up at the goddess in reverence and joy as a tear fell from one of her dark ocher eyes. Wordlessly, the youth got down on her knees and kowtowed before the goddess, placing the helmet on the ground in front of her as far as her arms could stretch. A dull rumble echoed in the air as the other humans fell silent and mirrored who the goddess assumed to be their leader. Soon the howling wind and the cawing birds provided the only sounds.

“Our Divinity, we have finally freed you from Ama-no-Iwato!” the youth shouted, carrying a surprising amount of strength and conviction for someone the goddess deducted to be barely into her adolescence. In fact, her voice was at the stage where it was beginning to break. “We beseech your righteous rule and aid in these trying times!”

“I Hideyoshi Jingū, daimyo of the Hideyoshi Clan, have entreated the help of twenty kannushi to break the bonds that held you trapped in that dark place so that you will lead us into an age of glory and peace, for our lands are in peril! Other daimyo, overcome by petty greed and pride, have burned and bled the land dry in their ceaseless bid to become shogun. Meanwhile, our bakemono overlords have taken what little the daimyo of Jomon could spare. The god who is supposed to govern us all remains content to rule the city of Shinuyama instead while his bakemono rule everything else! Please answer our pleas and deliver us through this ordeal and we swear on the honor of our great clan that we shall serve you forever!”

The goddess gasped lightly as the nearly palpable gestalt of the humans’ collective faith in her entered her very being. Though it carried notes of desperation, it also held the seed of hope within, just waiting to be watered. For a moment, the goddess felt a wave of nostalgia washing over her as she remembered what it felt like to be depended on by innumerable masses before her father imprisoned her in a fit of barely concealed jealousy. Though those days seemed like a distant memory, the goddess could still remember that unique feeling that flowed through her like the soft, life-giving rays of the sun. Needless to say, the answer was as clear as day.

Her mouth stretched into a gentle smile, the goddess took a breath and spoke, her voice gentle but clear and loud enough to be heard by everyone, “Yes, I will aid you in your endeavors.”

Immediately, everyone shouted praises and other declarations of faith at her. The goddess felt the humans’ belief in her weave itself into a thick cord. Wrapping around her heart, the cord tied itself tightly around it, sending sudden but pleasant waves of emotions through her very being. She felt connected to them on a metaphysical level and they became little more than extensions of her influence. The kannushi shuddered as they detected her blossoming Dominion and immediately stood up to raise their hands into the air, tears of joy running down their cheeks.

They were now her people and she was now their goddess.

Jingū sat up and looked at the goddess expectantly, more tears of joy falling down her face. “Now... now t-that you pledged to lead us into a brand new age,” she finally asked as soon as she composed herself. “May we be so worthy as for you to grace us with your name?”

Her face now bearing a determined expression, the goddess assumed a pose brimming with confidence and authority. The sun seemed to shine brighter, casting her in an ethereal light. Overhead, the white birds circled above their heads, distant eyewitnesses to the spectacle. Even the wind itself died down in anticipation.

“I am Amaterasu, Empress of the Rising Sun, Bearer of Nightkiller, She Who Graces Battlefields, Bane of Scholars, Enemy of Night, and Harbinger of Dawn.”

To say that the humans felt joy at the announcement was a massive understatement.

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"You may have just become the new daimyo of the Hideyoshi Clan a few months ago but that doesn't exempt you from performing your duties, little girl!"

The humanoid creature shifted on his horse, his silver and black laminar armor glimmering in the sun. Sweat rolled down his greenish-gray skin as his bulging eyes glared at her in annoyance and boredom. His slick black hair was tied in a short ponytail. Behind him, his entourage traded leers with the daimyo's retainers as if daring them to attack. One of them hoisted a banner depicting a silver fox rearing in front of a full moon on a dark blue field filled with stars, its nine tails unfurling around it like flames.

Jingū gave the dai-bakemono a flat, tired stare yet she managed to suppress the feeling of unease at facing down a being that towered over even a grown man. "His Divinity may rule over Jomon through intermediaries such as yourselves but I am still a ruler, not a common maid. Please address me as such."

The dai-bakemono curled his lips, revealing thick, peg-like teeth, and let out a scoff. "Fine then, Daimyo-san. Perform your duties or proper deference will be the least of your worries."

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Jingū frowned. " I thought my father had already sent the tribute to the nearest outpost this year."

"We had recently started a system where we take turns extracting three-fourths tribute from lands where our zone of control overlap."

"But if you both start doing that every half-year, the villagers in these lands will starve. It will be a repeat of the Hungry Valley."

The dai-bakemono merely shrugged. "Not our problem."

A flash of red passed Jingū's vision and the muscles in her arms tensed in anticipation, particularly in the hand that rested on the hilt of one of her swords. Someone violently cleared their throat behind her and Jingū shot a glance at her retinue. One of them, a tall woman decked in red and black laminar armor, gave her a thin smile as she shook her head slowly, her neck length, black hair wafting around the hilt of the no-daichi sheathed across her back.

With a sigh, Jingū turned back to the dai-bakemono, her eyes aflame. "Does His Divinity know how much you're robbing his loyal subjects? He seems to be a benevolent god or at least that's what I'm told." Venom dripped from that last sentence.

One of the human-sized bakemono snorted loudly at the apparent challenge. However, if the dai-bakemono himself felt that his god was being insulted, he didn't show it. Instead, he leaned toward her as a grin that presumably ate no small amount of cow shit filled his face. "His Divinity and his Prophetess have tremendous faith in our judgment as should you since you humans apparently can't govern yourselves properly when left to your own devices. Now, what about that tribute?"

The right side of her jaw clenched. "The Hideyoshi Clan will have the tribute prepared by the end of this week."

"Good that we can come to an agreement!" Straightening up, the dai-bakemono looked at her expectantly. "Before I forget, have you prepared the tithe?"

Untying a small sack of coins from her saddle, Jingū tossed it to him. The dai-bakemono caught the package with one large hand and emptied the contents onto the other.

"I'd asked if that's going to Shinigami himself but I've learned not to question the obvious."

Counting the coins, the dai-bakemono gave a low guttural growl as he replaced them. "That would be 'His Divinity' to you, Daimyo-san. You Jomonese and your silly nicknames..."

Placing the pouch into his saddle, the dai-bakemono flashed Jingū a derisive grin. "Everything is accounted for as it should be, Daimyo-san. I'll be expecting that tribute soon. Goodbye for now!"

The dai-bakemono was about to leave when he paused to turn back to Jingū. His face was almost devoid of derisive mirth, replaced with a grim expression.

"One other thing: there have been rumors of a giant woman made of light who has been seen wandering these parts, that people have the gall to renounce His Divinity and worship her. If you see anything suspicious, no matter how insignificant, do not hesitate to inform one of our outposts. Fail to comply and there will be suffering.

Holding her in his gaze for a few seconds, the dai-bakemono galloped away with his entourage in tow. As the last of the bakemono disappeared around a bend in the forested road, Jingū threw her head back and gave an exasperated sigh. "I really hate those assholes!"

Another retainer, one of the Hideyoshi daimyo's bodyguards, cantered to her right side. His brown eyes sparkled with mirth underneath his ebon face mask as he stuck a finger under the covering to scratch his small mustache. "If it makes you feel better, Jingū-dono, I hate them too though for a different reason entirely," he innocently remarked.

Jingū turned to him, an eyebrow raised. "Do tell me, Kenji-san.

Kenji's mask seemed to grin. "They make poor singers."

Several of the retainers chuckled lightly with Jingū joining them. However, the other bodyguard, a man whose scalp had been shaved save for a small ponytail, groaned loudly. "Is there no time when you don't joke around, Kenji-san?" he grumbled almost to himself.

"Only when I need to be serious, my friend."

"Allow Kenji-san his humor, Oba-san," Jingū grinned before taking a deep breath. She then turned toward the woman who warned her to control her urges. "Thank you Misato-san. I would've chopped off that bastard's head but gotten us killed anyway."

"Not to question your combat prowess since Hirohito-sama himself has trained you well but he would've bisected you as soon as you begin unsheathing your katana," Misato responded in her typical honesty, a small grin on her face. "Dai-bakemono are much stronger and faster than us puny humans and there are rumors that Shinigami has much more powerful spirits at his disposal."

"You're right, Misato-san. We will have to take that into account once the revolution is put into motion." Jingū's eyes glanced in the direction the bakemono rode, "Let's visit a few more villages before returning to Hitoshima. The other daimyo should be on their way there as we speak."

Thoughts of battle and victory passed Jingū's mind as the Hideyoshi daimyo and her retainers rode down a side path.

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Meditation grounds of the Temple of the Sun

The town of Hitoshima

At the northeastern end of the pond was a huge gazebo-like structure heavily decorated with carved images of dragons and kirin battling each other amid the clouds on the fresh wood. Inside the structure was Amaterasu, sitting cross-legged on a mountain of large pillows. Her eyes closed and her breaths closely regulated, Amaterasu gently and slightly extended her arms out to her sides, her hands rotated upward. The fingers of each hand were straightened save for the index fingers and thumbs, whose tips were pressed against each other to form an O. Nearby, the waters of the pond gently lapped against the shore which, along with the rustling of leaves and playful dancing of cherry blossom petals, gave the scene an aura of utmost tranquility.

The soft whispers of entreaty wafted into her psyche just as they had done since she was freed out of the Ama-no-Iwato or the Heavenly Cave as it was called. Prayers, she instinctively knew them to be. While most of them asked for luck or more money, a few asked for healing for illnesses and injuries. One such prayer, which carried with it the subtle hint of childlike innocence and humility, even asked for the return of a lost dog. Though Amaterasu could only answer those she deemed most vital at her current strength of faith-bolstered power, she decided to do so anyway. The sphere of her influence rippled in response and the tiny machinations on the local reality shifted ever so subtly that only those with a godlike perception would notice it.

As Amaterasu continued to meditate, she heard the patter of steps on the deck. Opening her eyes, she beheld a young man dressed in servant's clothing as he closed a human-sized door on a nearby wall. The front portion of his hair was completely shaved and the rest was tied into an up-knot at the back. She watched as he approached her gingerly, his body trembling as his eyes met hers, though Amaterasu couldn’t tell whether it was due to fear or barely contained excitement.

Stopping about ten meters away, the man quivered as he kowtowed before her. “M-My, um, y-your Divinity! I uh, I have a-a message for you!” he sputtered, beads of sweat swimming down his shaven scalp and onto the brightly colored planks.

“Breath,” Amaterasu commanded in a gentle but firm tone.

“Yes, your Divinity!” Steadying himself with progressively deeper breaths, the young man finally relaxed somewhat. “I have a message from Jingū-dono! She wishes to inform you that she and the other daimyo are ready to begin planning the first stages of the upcoming military campaign and have requested your wisdom and guidance.”

“So it finally begins,” Amaterasu said as she slowly rose to her feet. Despite its size, the gazebo swayed slightly yet held firm, the interlocking frames distributing most of the force. The goddess turned her head to the servant. “What is your name?”

“Taiichi Gozou, your Divinity!” the young man answered barely a heartbeat later, keeping his forehead pressed against the floor.

“Very well Gozou, I want you to inform Priest Ito that anyone wishing to meditate in my garden is welcome to do so. Also, I want you to inform him that there’s a small dog near his home that someone is looking for. Soft brown and white fur with wide eyes and the appearance of a smile when viewed at a certain angle.”

“As surely as the sun rises each morning, so shall your orders be carried out!”

“I expect nothing less,” Stepping over Gozou, Amaterasu was just pushing aside the massive panels that covered the main entrance when she paused to look over her shoulder. “One other thing, don’t fear for your father’s life. You shall find him recovering from his flu when you return home.”

Amaterasu left just as shouts of exultation reached her ears.

Exiting the temple grounds, Amaterasu walked toward the castle. Unlike her temple and gazebo, the wood that comprised most of the structure was darkened and scarred with age. Algae and lichen grew on the worn stones that comprised its foundation. Beneath her, people bowed as she passed. Nodding to them, the goddess made her way over to the nearest section of the wall. The structure rose to her eyes, allowing her to peer over its edge at the citadel. On top of the nearest sections, the garrison gawked at her in awe and curiosity.

Closely inspecting the wall, Amaterasu grabbed the wall and took a mental note of its thickness. Though it was strong enough to bar the entry of all but the determined attacker, it didn't look as if it was going to support her weight. However, there was a better way to traverse it.

That was when she immediately regretted the idea of flying.

Amaterasu reeled as memories surged into her head. Memories of smoke, intense sunlight, and fire flashed across her mind. Screaming of multitudes filled her ears as whiffs of charred meat rose to her nostrils. Her heart hammered against her ribcage like a villager trying to break out of a barn set ablaze. Fingers of stone squeezed her throat and the goddess gasped as she clawed at her neck, a tear freeing itself from her left eye.

"Your Divinity!"

The shout ripped Amaterasu out of her waking nightmare and she turned to look down at a warrior on the wall, decked in iron laminar armor and the familiar horned helmet. Samurai, she recalled.

His stern face bore a great deal of concern. "Are you well, your Divinity?"

Though her heart still beat furiously in her chest, albeit at a reduced rate, the tightness in her throat had vanished. Wiping the lone tear off her cheek, Amaterasu reassured him, "I'm fine, brave warrior. I merely wish to enter the castle. Where can I find the gate?"

Relaxing somewhat, the samurai pointed at a spot on the southern wall not too far away. Barred by two heavy doors of thick wood bound together by strips of metal, the gate looked big enough to accommodate her provided she was willing to crawl through it.

“The gates will be opened for you, your Divinity,” he said before barking orders to men below him.

“Thank you, brave warrior,” Amaterasu replied as she walked toward the opening, the sound of metal clanking against gears ringing into the air.

Right then and there, she made a silent vow to never even think about flying again.

Soon enough, she arrived at the gatehouse whose doors opened inwardly, revealing the awestruck expressions of military personnel. Though she could see a few additional samurai, the majority of soldiers gazing at her were peasant levies equipped with inferior armor, spears, and other weapons that could’ve been modified farm tools for all she knew. These ashigaru as they are called moved back to give her some space.

Murmurs behind her turned Amaterasu's attention to a crowd of awed onlookers, many of them sending wafts of prayers of thanks and entreaty. Smiling warmly at them, the goddess turned back to the gatehouse and took a deep breath. Getting onto her hands and knees, the goddess crawled through the opening as the humans watched. Her arms reaching past the gatehouse first, Amaterasu was just beginning to thank her good fortune when the unthinkable happened.

Her hips got wedged firmly into the opening.

The initial shock wearing off, Amaterasu grunted as she tugged at her hips again and again but they won’t budge. Behind her, the crowd muttered among themselves while the ashigaru and samurai inside the courtyard looked at her in stunned silence. One of them, a samurai in his late forties, tentatively marched up to her, the clanking of his armor grabbing her attention.

“Your Divinity, we have a surplus of butter in the kitchen,” he spoke as he recovered from his shock. “If you would give us permission, we can use it to help facilitate your passa-”

His words suddenly lodged in his throat when Amaterasu sent him a glare that was so withering that it would’ve turned him into dust if she devoted enough intensity into it. Clearing his throat with a small burp, the samurai quickly backpedaled with an awkward chuckle. “N-Not that I would insinuate that you need it for that. It’s there just in case you need it for something else.”

With a sigh, Amaterasu braced her hands against the nearby walls and gave herself a push. Cracks appeared between the stones surrounding the opening as the wood splintered. Finally, after a great exertion of effort and a half roar, Amaterasu found herself propelled forward by a dozen meters, landing face-first onto the stone ground. Tremors shook nearby tables and spilled their contents as a few unfortunate warriors coughed in the large cloud of dust that formed, The tearing of fabric filled the air, quickly followed by sharp gasps.

A snicker came from her left and Amaterasu instinctively reached for the source at a blinding speed. The ashigaru gasped as three of her fingers clamped around his torso and lifted him bodily into the air. In his shock, he dropped his weapon and his conical helmet nearly dislodged itself as he was propelled toward his goddess. By the time Amaterasu brought the now pale soldier to a few meters from her face, he was reduced to a whimpering wreck.

“Do you find your goddess’ misfortune entertaining, foolish soldier?” she asked him in a deceptively sweet tone that promised fiery retribution.

“I-I-I didn’t mean to, your D-Divinity!” he sputtered as beads of sweat scurried down his forehead. Moisture built up in his eyes as he readjusted his helmet. Below him, ashigaru and samurai alike instinctively gave the both of them a wide berth. “Please have mercy on me, great one! I-I have a family!”

“So do everyone else, soldier,” Amaterasu grumbled as she narrowed her eyes, shifting onto her knees. “Where I hailed from, even a harmless joke made at a god's expense is considered an executable offense.”

“Please spare me, your Divinity! I’ll do anything you ask!”

“Very well, it seems you could use extra lessons in respecting divinity,” Amaterasu said as she rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Who’s more suited for doing so than the priesthood?”

The ashigaru’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean-”

“Yes soldier, I hereby relieve you of military duty and order you to join the priesthood. I expect to see you as a kannushi’s apprentice by sunset. That is all.”

More or less roughly setting the ashigaru down on the ground, Amaterasu rose to her feet and inspected her kimono, noticing the large tear on the right side that revealed her leg. Holding the fabric together with one hand, Amaterasu put on a regal air and strolled toward the citadel, her eyes inspecting its large wooden gate. Thank the Source it was much larger than the one she’d just pulled herself through.

Amaterasu was about to walk up to the gate when a whistle turned her attention toward her right. At her feet, Jingū stood in her red laminar armor, holding her helmet in the crook of her left arm as she waved with her free hand. Flanking her were her bodyguards, Hideki Kenji and Setsuke Oba as she now knew them to be. They have been tasked with guarding Jingū with their lives ever since she was a little girl.

“My apologies for neglecting to widen the front gates for you, your Divinity,” Jingū said after she and her bodyguards gave her a respectful bow.

“No need to, Jingū,” Amaterasu said dismissively, managing a shrug. “Being imprisoned inside a cave for a very long time does wonders to a person’s definition of 'comfort'.”

“Glad you understand.” Jingū motioned to a huge tent on the other end of the citadel. It was a few heads taller than the goddess herself. “Fortunately, I have the foresight to set up an area where you can join in our discussions. The inside of the tenshu is much too cramped for your taste, your Divinity. You should have more room to move around once we capture the Imperial City of Jomon. Its tenshu is quite huge by the way.”

“I expect to. Now, should we proceed?”

“Certainly,” Jingū replied as she walked toward the tent. Amaterasu followed after the trio as they passed by ashigaru engaged in combat drills. Unlike the fortresses of Yomi in the distant past, this castle has spacious grounds. In fact, a lot has changed as much as she could remember. In her day, samurai and ashigaru didn’t exist. Instead, hordes of undisciplined and frankly unscrupulous men fought for her father as cannon fodder while oni, demonic ogres that came in various sizes and types, formed the core of his armies. The populations back then feared these savages as they would often descend upon the helpless populace, robbing, looting, and killing to their hearts’ content. Nowadays the civilians held the warriors in honor and additional deference in the samurai’s case, at least as much as she is aware. She is still learning about the people she is meant to rule after all.

Reaching the tent, the daimyo, her bodyguards, and her goddess ducked under the flap. Inside, servants milled around, serving the guests seated cross-legged around a large war table in the center. Four of the guests appeared to be high-ranking samurai who bore the white, twin-tailed birds of the Hideyoshi Clan on the red banners on their backs. Amaterasu immediately recognized them as Jingū’s hatamoto or land-owning vassals. The first one is Seimei Tatsu, a stoic man who is proficient with a yumi, the Jomonese longbow. Next is Karamura Yumeji, a clever commander who utilizes speed and finesse to take down his targets with his two katana. The third is Toriyama Shiba, a calm and focused woman who is a talented tactician and a decent naginata fighter. The last hatamoto is Arakawa Misato, a boisterous woman who’s a terror on the battlefield with her no-dachi. Amaterasu smiled softly as she glanced at Misato’s weapon. She is truly a woman after her own heart.

The rest of the guests bore flags from two other clans. One clan’s flags featured a trio of golden ginkgo leaves on a background divided in half into two colors: yellow on top and black on the bottom. The other clan’s flags boasted an azure serpentine dragon coiled around a blue orb on a pale gray background. Both clans turned to Amaterasu just as she entered the tent, their faces alight with awe and surprise. 'Understandable', Amaterasu noted mentally as the strangers tentatively gave her respectful bows. After all, until this very moment, the Hideyoshi Clan was the only clan aware of her existence.

Below her, Jingū motioned toward a large pile of pillows at the head of the rectangular table. Nodding, Amaterasu sat down on them, keeping her leg covered as Jingū and her retinue took their places next to her. Soon, the tent was cleared of servants and nonessential personnel, leaving Amaterasu, Jingū and her retinue, and the other daimyo and their retinues.

For a few minutes, silence reigned in the interior of the tent. Finally, one of the strangers, whom Amaterasu deducted to be the daimyo of the clan with the yellow and black flags, broke the ice by clearing his throat, his long gray beard wafting in the currents as his pale brown eyes regarded the goddess with reverence and curiosity. “In all of my years as daimyo,” he finally spoke. “I’d never imagined coming face to face with a bonafide goddess, especially one who was trapped inside the same cave whose seal my grandfather failed to break so long ago. To think that of all the clans who’d tried to do so in the past generation it would be one of us, minor clans in both name and territory.”

“And it shall be us who will topple the major clans and rule Jomon,” Jingū said as she took a sip of oolong tea.

“Ah yes, but only the strongest shall become shogun,” the daimyo said as he glanced at Jingū. Despite his calm and stoic demeanor. Amaterasu could see a hint of derision in his eyes. Jingū probably noticed it too because a light scowl appeared on her face. The third daimyo, a young man with a mane of smooth, neck-length dark hair and a small mustache watched the exchange, his green eyes examining each person closely. His face betrayed nothing of his feelings toward each of them.

His attention returning to the goddess, the aging daimyo nodded in deference. “Forgive me for my lack of manners, your Divinity, but I believe that introductions are in order. I am Chosokabe Daimura, proud daimyo of the Chosokabe Clan, the largest of the three represented here...” Daimura cast another glance at Jingū. “...and the most experienced in matters of warfare and inter-daimyo politics.”

Amaterasu smiled slightly even as Jingū’s scowl deepened. A snort coming from the other daimyo drew everyone’s attention toward him. Satisfied that he had everyone’s attention, he spoke, “While I don’t dispute Daimura-sama’s claim, my own clan is no less capable of those very same things. I am Ryutsuke Amaito, daimyo of the Ryutsuke Clan and your faithful servant.” Amaterasu nodded in assent.

Amaterasu decided that it was her turn to introduce herself so she did so. The members of both clans regarded her with renewed interest with some even bowing again. “A fitting title for the goddess who will rule the land where the rays of sunrise first grace this world each morning,” Daimura spoke as he gave the goddess a bow. “You will make a better empress than the emperor living in the Imperial City.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Amaterasu raised an eyebrow. “Is he an incapable ruler?”

Daimura simply shrugged. “It’s not that his ability to rule is flawed, your Divinity. It’s that he doesn’t rule at all, content to remain an over-pampered figurehead under the care of the current holder of the Imperial City while the rest of the province is torn by warfare and chaos.”

It was Jingū’s turn to object. “Daimura-sama, you know the office of emperor is ceremonial in nature and that respect is required. Emperor Daigou is the spiritual head of the priesthood in Jomon after all.”

“Of course he is and he will remain so, provided he is willing to abdicate his title and allow a real empress to take over,” Daimura then turned toward Amaterasu. “Your Divinity, may I be so bold as to ask whether you’d encountered a similar situation with such people prior to your imprisonment?”

“To be fair, no emperors similar to the one you’d described existed in Yomi,” Amaterasu replied as her eyes drifted to Jingū. The young woman seemed to be very annoyed at Daimura’s remark. “My father brooked no threats to his sovereignty neither did he look kindly upon deadweights so people like Daigou would not have lasted very long unless he toughened up.”

Daimura gave a sly smile. “So, do you agree that Emperor Daigou should be ousted so that you can rule in his stead?”

Unable to restrain herself, Jingū leaped to her feet and slammed her fists on the table. Instinctively, the retinues of the three daimyo hovered their hands near their weapons as they watched each other, daring any to draw first. “If she gets rid of the emperor, at least without trying to convince him to defect to her first, every priest and possibly everyone else not loyal to us will be up in arms against us! Daigou-sama is revered among Jomon's priests after all and we won’t be able to hold Jomon against the rest of Shinuyama for long if the incident catches the current god’s attention. He was the one who’d established the imperial system in the first place!”

“Pardon Jingū-chan for her outburst, your Divinity,” Daimura said as he turned back to Amaterasu. Jingū’s face reddened at the perceived insult and she looked ready to launch herself at the old daimyo. “The barely restrained energies of untested youth do cause one to run ahead of their better judgment.”

“Only matched in intensity by the deterioration of wisdom that characterizes the progression of senility,” Amaito mused, the only one besides Amaterasu who remained unaffected by the rising tension inside the tent. He then shrugged when Daimura turned and gave him a death glare. “I’m going to have to concur with Jingū-san on this topic. You must understand, your Divinity, that the emperor is well revered even within this very village. His coup d’etat will be most distressing even among your own worshipers who still respect him but I trust in your wisdom.”

Nodding, Amaterasu turned to address all three daimyo. “While I’m not used to emperors being treated as figureheads and not as actual rulers and thus heavily favor Daimura’s suggestion, that decision is too far off to be made at least at the moment. Right now, we need to win this war for the fate of Jomon. Now, settle down and let's get straight to business.”

Holding Daimura in her hate-filled gaze for a moment, Jingū sighed before sitting back on her cushion. The retinues relaxed somewhat though their eyes remained locked. Picking up a long stick with a cloth pusher on the end, Jingū pointed at the map of the land of Shinuyama.

“Shinuyama is divided up into five provinces, each of which is named after their capital cities: Shinuyama, Yomi, Jomon, Hijisaka, and Yayoi,” she explained as she used the stick to point out the aforementioned provinces. “Daimyo ruled in the other provinces save for Shinuyama, which are ruled by the bakemono directly while the current god rules the city itself. Each of the other provinces except Shinuyama have their own emperors as part of the imperial system.”

“Here is Jomon,” Jingū continued as she pointed to one of the provinces. She then traced a path around three intricately decorated wooden pieces that were painted red. “The three most powerful clans, known as the Big Three, reign supreme while minor clans like our own fight among ourselves for dominance and survival. The Big Three consist of the Ikari Clan, ruled by Ieyasu, the Hojoshima Clan, ruled by Gendo the Fierce, and the Jorogumi Clan, ruled by Lady Ibitsu. If you desire, your Divinity, I can explain them in greater detail.”

Amaterasu shook her head. “It’ll be best to formulate our grand strategy first, Jingū. The exposition can wait.”

“Understood. Anyway, the Big Three doesn’t currently consider us a threat thus we can subjugate a handful of the other clans for a while before they do. The closest clans to our domains are the Fujisaka and Hideki Clans to the northeast.” Jingū pointed at two minor red pieces positioned near three blue pieces that flanked a dot labeled ‘Hitoshima.’ “Under normal circumstances, we would be hopelessly outmatched but now we have a goddess on our side.”

“Of course, don’t forget that the other clans would surely notice that a goddess is fighting for us so we can expect them to put aside their differences to fight us if they feel threatened,” Amaito suggested.

“Plus the Big Three are sure to notice this dramatic change in the political and military landscape,” Daimura added.

“I had already taken those factors into account and have created a diplomatic corps to help convince the other daimyo to join us. Before my father’s death, he confided with me that most of the clans were fed up with the current god’s apathy and the abuses of the Big Three. They will be more than happy to ally with us though I expect that some will resist, if only in fear of incurring the god’s wrath or that of the Big Three. We may have to fight a few battles before the rest of the clans finally decide to stand with us.”

“We would have to work fast to avoid the Big Three dismantling our efforts before they gain momentum too,” Amaito added.

“So your overall strategy consists of convincing the other minor clans to set aside their differences in order to take on the Big Three with as little bloodshed as possible, using my existence and their buried resentment for their current conditions to do so,” Amaterasu concluded as she nodded appreciatively. “That plan sounds promising yet there is one factor you must include.”

Jingū raised an eyebrow in renewed interest. “What would that be, your Divinity?”

“You must account for the bakemono,” the goddess simply said.

“Other than visiting the province to collect their tribute, they usually leave us to our devices, though they maintain outposts within our province to monitor...” Jingū’s face lost color as memories of her encounter with the dai-bakemono resurfaced.

“If the bakemono find out there’s a second god in Jomon, they will inform the current god, am I correct?” Amaterasu asked, her voice becoming slightly tensed.

“I… yes they will,” Jingū acknowledged, her face reddened as if she had just been chastised.

“The god could easily put down our revolt with armies from the other provinces before it could even gain momentum,” Daimura grumbled before turning a glare toward Jingū. “It seems you haven’t accounted for that, have you?”

It was Jingū’s turn to glare at him. “You must excuse me if I don’t have your level of experience in such matters, Daimura-sama. After all, I’ve succeeded my late father as daimyo recently.”

“That poor excuse won’t protect us from a massive failure in the making, Jingū-chan!”

“I’d like to see you come up with a better idea!”

“Enough!” Amaterasu snapped, causing silence to reign once more. The tension could be sliced in half with a dull knife. With a heavy sigh, the goddess turned her glare toward Daimura, who immediately flinched. “I do have to agree with you, Daimura. Jingū is still inexperienced in matters of warfare and politics. She does not have the same level of expertise as you.”

Amaterasu then turned toward Jingū, who’d reacted the same way. “However, the fact that she formulated a strategy that accounted for the other daimyo’s resentment for their current predicament and accounted for the possibility that they may refuse her diplomatic overtures, be it the making of a novice strategist, shows that she does have potential. Perhaps you would be so kind as to become her mentor? Things may be different from when I’d once ruled but I do know it’s the responsibility of the old to instruct the young.”

Daimura opened his mouth but thought better of it. Instead, he merely nodded his assent. Jingū’s face twitched visibly but she too remained silent. Only a suicidal madman would question a goddess’s request. “As you wish, your Divinity,” he finally said.

“Good!” Amaterasu said as she rubbed her temples. “Ah my brother, the one imprisoned inside the moon, would’ve been better suited for grand strategy than I would but at least I know the basics. Now Jingū, can you point out the locations of the bakemono outposts?”

Jingū pointed at yellow dots that marred the map of Jomon. There were twenty-six in total. “Each bakemono outpost, though less defended than even Hitoshima, are constantly in contact with each other and presumably with the Imperial City of Shinuyama. Though most of the bakemono are smaller than humans, each of their outposts contains potent mages and is led by their larger kin. Their defenses dissuade all but the most determined of bandits and no daimyo would be crazy as to attack them without drawing the ire of the current god. The bakemono do not allow anyone near their outposts unless they’re bringing food or coins. May I ask what you have in mind?”

Leaning forward, Amaterasu gave the entire room an amused grin as she folded her hands into her lap. “In the interest of keeping my existence hidden from Shinuyama as long as possible, we may have to silence any bakemono outposts we come across by any means.”

A deathly silence reigned throughout the interior. If the tension was thick before, it has now solidified. The second to break the ice, Amaito spoke levelly, “Forgive my impertinence your Divinity but is it wise to risk the wrath of Shinuyama just to keep yourself hidden from them?”

“It may not be necessary to destroy the outposts outright, at least not yet,” Amaterasu explained. “Keeping them in the dark will suffice.”

Jingū’s face lit up as she realized something. “We just have to intercept their messengers and scouts in areas where you will operate.”

“Even if bakemono outposts in faraway lands hear rumors of a goddess leading daimyo in the conquest of Jomon,” Daimura spoke as he stroked his beard thoughtfully. “They will remain insubstantial so as long as the bakemono operating in the relevant area are unable to confirm them.”

“Of course, the bakemono may decide to send a force to investigate what’s happening to their messengers,” Amaito pointed out.

“That will be accounted for and then some,” Amaterasu said as she turned to address the rest of the daimyo. “In fact, let’s pore over everything we would need to know concerning this military operation. We need to know which daimyo we’re going to approach, who we would likely have to fight, their relative military strengths, the settlements in their holdings, the Big Three and their relative power and tactics, the bakemono and the paths their messengers take. Everything. If any of you or even your retinue have anything to add that can prove advantageous then feel free to do so. We are starting from a position of weakness so we need all the good ideas we can get.”

Needless to say, the goddess and her followers began in earnest, passing ideas and suggestions back and forward. Outside, as warriors and servants passed by the tent, a lone man slipped out of it through a cut made in the fabric, hidden from sight by stacks of crates. Adjusting his filthy clothing, he strapped on his straw hat and slipped unseen into a nearby group of farmers heading in the direction of the front gate. The man walked silently as he mulled over what he’d seen and heard. Though he could barely contain his excitement upon seeing the goddess for himself, the man maintained a mask of indifference. He was after all a professional.

He couldn’t wait to inform his daimyo about this though.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meditation garden in the village of Hitoshima

The evening sun dipped further beneath the buildings of the village and the first chirps of crickets soon joined in the background chorus of sounds. Sitting seiza-style underneath her gazebo, Amaterasu took in the sounds as she ate from the huge bowl of rice, veggies, and steamed beef before her using two long bamboo poles as chopsticks. Nearby, a group of humans meditating in the garden gave her respectful bows before leaving for the night. Though eating and sleeping outside was preferable to spending hundreds if not thousands of years imprisoned inside a cave, Amaterasu would give anything save for the Nightkiller to have a nice, comfortable living quarters and a blessed table right about now.

Hopefully, the Imperial City of Jomon has a hot spring too.

Gulping down a slab of beef, Amaterasu mentally recapped what Jingū explained to her at the end of the meeting. The current god, who is known in Jomon by many nicknames but is most commonly referred to as ‘Shinigami’, chose to limit himself to Shinuyama near the end of the Ascension War over two centuries ago though he usually stayed within the city itself. His reasons seemed to vary among rumors and fragmented accounts though most agreed he was motivated by guilt over some past tragedy committed amid a distant national disaster. He is said to be a prominent scholar in the astral arts and a powerful spellcaster who can speak the language of the dead. He is said to be protected by a veritable army of powerful spirits from realms beyond.

Shortly after the meeting, Amaterasu crept to the outskirts of Hitoshima to sample Shinigami’s Dominion. Though she nearly got seen by passersby on a few occasions, she has obtained vital information about the current god’s metaphysical influence. She sensed it brimming with the ethereal power of countless stars and constellations. She saw hints of grass in an endless prairie teeming with butterflies. She viewed magical energies dancing and playing together in an eternal clash, unbound and unleashed among stacks of books and laboratory equipment. Lastly and perhaps most of all, she experienced the cold hands of darkness wafting amid tombstones and funerary urns just as the fresh earth beneath them began to stir…

The last vision shook Amaterasu from her trance and she decided to head back to the village. She didn’t want to get caught by anyone who could potentially expose her to the bakemono prematurely. Besides, the foreign dominion appeared malignant toward her, sapping at her strength and power. After she was safe within the confines of the village, Amaterasu pored over what she’d just learned from sampling Shinigami’s Dominion. He appeared to be a proficient astral mage just as the rumors say. Shinigami also possessed a bit of knowledge in the path of nature. However, it felt forced, which indicated that such a path isn’t characteristic of this god. Next, the barely controlled magical energies and items of academia indicated that magical energies are more prevalent within and research is much easier to conduct in his dominion as opposed to her own. However, the last revelation sent a chill down her spine.

Shinigami, as befitting his nickname, was a very powerful necromancer.

Shinigami would prove to be a formidable foe should her forces clash with his but that will hopefully be at a later time when she can act from a position of strength. Right now, she and her followers will have to deal with the Big Three whose overall military strengths and favored tactics Jingū explained to her.

From what she told her, the Jorogumi Clan is the strongest of the three who have taken a more ‘combined arms’ approach, making sure that her armies are supported closely by units with different specialties. While this meant that almost none of her armies were good at just one thing, it meant that they could quickly adapt to any situation without being hard-countered. Lady Ibitsu herself is said to be very cunning and ruthless, maintaining a network of spies and assassins that rivaled those of the seclusive shinobi clans to help ensure her dominance by finding and taking out elements that pose a threat. There are also rumors that she’s been imbibing the blood of virgins and can sustain blows from weapons that can kill normal humans though such claims are believed to be insubstantial at best. Whoever she is, Ibitsu will become the biggest thorn in her side for the duration of this campaign.

Next, as the smallest of the clans, the Ikari Clan doesn’t possess enough warriors to fight battles against most foes, so they emphasize speed and agility to launch hit-and-run attacks and lightning-fast assaults on numerically superior foes. They also possessed the greatest number of magic users whose devastating spells can level the playing field. Ikari Ieyasu himself is a daimyo a few years older than Jingū yet it is believed that he possessed a tactical acumen that belied his age. However, there are rumors that he is being politically and militarily dominated by Ibitsu herself, reduced to little more than a lackey. While his feelings about his current situation are unknown, Daimura believed he could potentially be the weakest link in the Big Three, if only Amaterasu’s faction proved stronger.

Lastly, Gendo the Fierce and his Hojoshima Clan is a raging juggernaut that has smashed through armies many times their number. Boisterous and tough, the Hojoshima have sowed terror and dread in the armies sent against them and have grimly weathered assaults that scattered lesser armies. What they lacked in levelheadedness and subtlety, they more than made up for in brute force and zeal. Their lively lifestyle has also attracted equally boisterous warrior monks known as yamabushi from the mountains, supplementing their forces with even more zealous fighters.

Finishing her meal, Amaterasu placed the makeshift chopsticks into the bowl and pushed it to the side. Yawning, she lay on her stomach and watched the humans as the last of them went to the exit. She looked on with interest as a lone figure entered the garden and made their way toward her. Propping her head on her hands, Amaterasu smiled when she recognized him as the ashigaru she’d forced to join the priesthood earlier. Wearing white robes with a yellow sash around his waist, the young man looked more vibrant than when she met him. His short black hair played in the breeze underneath his black cap.

“I see that you still possess enough respect for your goddess to obey her command and you look happier too,” Amaterasu mused as she watched him bow to her.

“To tell you the truth, you’d done me a great service, your Divinity,” the former ashigaru said as he straightened. “Even my father agreed that I’m better off as a priest than a soldier.”

Amaterasu raised an eyebrow. “And why do you think so?”

The man stretched his arms. “It’s just that in the provinces of the Kingdom of Shinuyama, except for Shinuyama herself, we ashigaru rarely get much respect from the samurai and most lords and ladies higher up in the hierarchy. Most of us are barely armed and given the barest minimum of training before getting sent into battle to die in droves. Meanwhile, the samurai steal credit and honor for our hard-fought victories while those who did the actual fighting are either honored only by their relatives and friends or are forgotten forever.”

Amaterasu stared at him. “What is your name?”

The man flinched in surprise, clearly not expecting to be asked such a personal question, or any similar questions for that matter. “...I am Satsuma Abe, your Divinity.”

“Heed my words Abe and do not forget them. Though I understand that you and your ashigaru brethren are frustrated about being passed over by your betters, such things aren’t as uncommon as one would like to believe. I’d ruled countless cultures alongside my father before he’d imprisoned me inside Ama-no-Iwato and I can tell you that he wasn’t always wrong about many things. It is the nature of the few to be seen and honored by all at the expense of the many. Even the heroes of so-called ‘progressive’ cultures had been known to be recognized as such amid the corpses of their lessers. History remembers individuals more than it does entire populaces, do you understand me?”

Abe nodded solemnly before taking a deep breath.” I understand and do not question your wisdom, your Divinity. However, if you would forgive my impertinence, may I ask a question?”

“Speak.”

“Would such great people even be remembered as such by history were it not for the little people who brought them there in the first place?”

Amaterasu opened her mouth before closing it again, deep in thought. Finally, she answered, narrowing her eyes slightly, “You ask what could be considered a dangerous question by the powerful, Abe. Those obsessed with power and glory, especially gods like my father, would’ve had you executed on the spot for basically insinuating that they would have amounted to nothing were it not for the very people on whose shoulders they stood. Pride doesn’t like to acknowledge that it wasn’t just by its own merits that it climbed so high after all.”

Abe cowered, shrinking visibly as he began to regret opening his mouth.

“However,” Amaterasu continued before he could apologize. “Only a fool ignores their lifeline and I am everything but one. As powerful as I am, even I know that without my followers including yourself, I am nothing. Remember, you are my people just as I am your goddess, Abe.”

His body relaxing, Abe gave Amaterasu a deep bow. “Thank you, your Divinity, for listening to me. As my father once said, ‘Even the grandest castle succumbs to a neglected foundation’.”

“Truly wisdom runs in your family.”

After Abe excused himself and left the meditation garden, Amaterasu gathered a large clump of pillows and rested her head on it. As Abe’s words drifted through her mind, she began to wonder how Father would have reacted should someone ask him that same question. Perhaps tear them apart verbally about the sheer audacity of it even as he tore them apart physically. ‘Flowers get crushed underfoot’ would be said as it was his favorite quote. Izanagi tolerated neither weakness nor insolence and few knew how far he would go to punish wrongdoers like his three children. She should know; he’d imprisoned her inside a cave in a fit of jealous rage.

Slipping into the world of dreams. Amaterasu thought of Shinigami, the soon-to-be-deposed god of Shinuyama. Though the rumors seemed to criticize his neglect of the provinces while his bakemono did as they pleased, not one spoke of him being actively abusive. In fact, accounts spoke of him keeping the nation of Shinuyama out of the last Ascension War with relative success, a scenario her father once scoffed at and considered both impossible to do and naive to even attempt. For the most part, Shinigami seemed to her as a kind, if dark and neglectful god. Unfortunately, as the inevitable clash draws near, Amaterasu realized she will come to blows with him for the fate of Shinuyama. The upcoming Ascension War is slowly winding up and the entire world will soon erupt into fire and chaos once again. She must have enough resources at hand if she hope to weather the storm and reign supreme as the new Pantokrator. Anyone who refused to concede their defeat and swear fealty to her shall be banished forever to Tartarus.

After all, flowers do get crushed underfoot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Theological Seminary of Saint Iberia

The city of Marignon in the Kingdom of Marignon

“We’re going to close today’s lesson by going over the four types of gods. Please turn to page 46 of your Book of Divinities,” Antonio spoke as his students flipped through their textbooks. The classroom was built like an amphitheater, its walls adorned with portraits of past professors. Columns with filigree decorations lined the walls, leaving between them wide spaces through which the portraits and the vases flanking them can be seen.

“Can anyone tell me what they are?”

A student raised her hand. “The four types of gods are monument-class, titan-class, monster-class, and mortal-class.”

“Very good, Miss Garcia,” Antonio said as he turned to the rest of the class. “Keep in mind though that these classes aren’t completely definitive and sometimes the differences are dependent on the point-of-view of those studying them. However, those four are the basic explanations that everyone more or less agrees upon. Now, let’s begin.”

“Monument-class deities are spirits that inhabit huge structures like idols, sculptures, and even fountains much like the late Pantokrator. They are typically immobile though the Bronze Colossus of Arcoscephalean myth had been said to be capable of walking, and they often require a secondary method of communication, some more... inhumane than others. However, the amount of dominion they can exert throughout the lands they control is surpassed only by their neighbors in the same class and they are hard to kill. You would need a battery of siege engines to bring it crumbling to the ground.”

“Now titan-class deities, titan-class deities are what most people think of when they hear the word ‘gods’ and for a very good reason. Most of them take the form of massive humanoids from the mythologies of antiquity and are both awe-inspiring and terrifying to behold. The exceptions include a demilich, a powerful necromancer who shed their flesh to become a pile of bones in return for enough power to become a death god in their own right. One such individual is Nero the Deathless, better known as the Pretender of the Ashen Empire and doubtlessly the current bitch of the denizens of Tartarus.” The class chuckled at the remark.

“Combining the magnificence of a monument-class deity with the physical and magical might of a force of nature, titan-class deities are a terror on the battlefield and, as I can tell you from personal experience, are not to be underestimated. A typical titan-class deity can plow through an entire army, sowing terror and destruction in their wake, and it would take an unholy amount of projectiles, sword and claw strokes, and a lot of luck to bring them down.

"However, a titan is often based around predetermined roles and thus finds it much harder to branch off into unrelated skill paths and roles outside of special cases. For example, a titan-class goddess of healing would find it much harder to learn how to raise undead legions or how to be a warrior as opposed to a necromantic warrior-king, who likewise would find it much harder to learn how to grow trees or heal wounds. Simply by learning their titles can one determine in what areas they are strong and where they are deficient.”

“Next is the monster-class deities, which also include shapeshifters and individuals too powerful to be considered mortal-class but too weak to be considered titan-class. As the name suggests, most monster-class deities are gigantic beasts and monsters, some of which have existed since creation and are sometimes known as ‘super combatants’ by those who fought them. An example is one of my best friends Ma’at, the current goddess of C’tis. Another example is my second best friend known as the Lawgiver, who is currently the god of Mictlan and is currently not responding to any of my messages.”

The class chuckled louder this time. Though Antonio grinned, the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Instead, his brow was creased with worry. Over a month has passed and he hasn’t heard from the Lawgiver since the day the Pantokrator disappeared after their meeting, which was uncharacteristic of him. He was sure that Ma’at too was worried so he’d offered to send a messenger and a small escort to Mictlan to see what was going on. The young man should be returning to Marignon sometime today.

“While they don’t possess the magical and physical aptitude of the titan-class, they are less restricted in the skill paths they can develop and they are faster and far more agile than any of the other classes. They can strike terror in the hearts of their enemies, bringing back that primal terror of getting eaten alive that all humanoids possess. However, being gigantic versions of most creatures makes them predictable as they typically share the same quirks and weaknesses as their miniature counterparts. Moreover, shapeshifters tend to rely heavily on the physiology and physique of their secondary forms and thus are otherwise quite squishy.”

“Last but certainly not least are the mortal-class deities like yours truly. Mortal-class deities are formed when sapient humanoids amass enough power and followers to earn the mantle of godhood from the Void, thus becoming a god or goddess. It’s for this very reason that mortal-class deities are often looked down upon by the other classes. To them, mortals have no business becoming greater than they are made to be. The fact that most mortal-class deities become mad with power they are typically too inexperienced to use wisely leads credence to that argument. Also, besides exerting far less dominion than the other classes, these deities fade away just like any other god when no one believes in them anymore so no more turning back into regular people. However, mortal-class deities have absolutely no restrictions on the paths they can easily learn, unlike the other classes, making the aptly named ‘rainbow gods’ a possibility should one have the time and inclination to do so.”

“Moreover, mortal-class gods possess a superhuman amount of durability and longevity compared to their mundane kin as you are no doubt aware. Perhaps the most important advantage these deities have over others; however, is the fact that they know how their kind think. Having been one of them, these deities understand their people much more than any other class of deities. They can empathize with them on subjects such as family, politics, dreams, and even death and mortality, just to name a few."

"Now, don’t get me wrong: being ruled by a benevolent non-mortal god is much better than being ruled by a mortal-class tyrant. However, almost none of the other classes had ever been mortals before. Their minds operate on concepts and perspectives that are distant if not alien to the people they rule over and the consequences of any missteps are often beneath their notice until they start impacting their rule. Most of them are authoritarian, even despotic by default because that’s the closest and simplest they can come to understanding how mortals are to be ruled. However, mortal-class deities can, if they choose to do so, find ways to work within an established system to achieve results more efficiently without causing too many problems. Isn’t it ironic that the deities who can best rule over mortals are those who were once one of them?”

Closing the large book, Antonio folded his arms across his desk. “Okay class, remember your homework assignment on ‘Dominion and Scales’ for they will be on your final exam. Good day.” As the class began to exit the lecture hall, Antonio fished into his robes and pulled out a small scroll. Though he’d already read it since it arrived two weeks ago, he decided to hang on to it just in case it was the last message he’d ever received. It was a missive from Ma’at, requesting for a cadre of inquisitors to aid her investigators. The strange rise in unrest has reached a critical mass and open rebellion has erupted throughout C’tis. To make matters worse, the revolts are far too organized to be random occurrences and she suspected that someone or something was behind them. He hoped the inquisitors he sent could help her find the culprits.

After spending a few hours grading papers and preparing for the next assignment, Antonio grabbed his staff and exited the seminary, walking in the direction of the Cathedral of Saint Iberia. The afternoon sun shone softly on the buttresses that crossed between the red clay roofs of the buildings as the citizens of the magnificent city went about their business. Merchants from Arcoscephale bartered their wares, occasionally trading disparaging remarks and leers with the caravanserai from Na' Ba. Tourists from the Scelerian Empire mingled with Tienchinese scholars and merfolk musicians as a Shinuyamese merchant sold her goods to them, her imposing bakemono guards warding off thieves and cut-purses. Midgardian longships unloaded their cargo in the docks in the distance just as a trading fleet from the Kingdom of Man entered the Antonian Harbor.

In the nearest wing of this area, aptly named the Plaza of Prosperity, a group of metalworkers from Ulm haggled with customers as they displayed a variety of tools and precise measuring equipment. Some of their customers were C'tissians from the nearby spice stalls, the lizardfolk trading bags of saffron and cumin for counterweight scales and measuring cups.

Nearby, people paused to give him a short bow which he returned. Unlike most gods, he barely took stock in being worshiped or fawn over, merely satisfied with teaching those who were eager to learn and conducting scientific research with priests. Despite its horrid deal with the Infernal Lords, Marignon has made several significant scientific and technological discoveries, particularly in navigation, ship-building, and astronomy, and it was all thanks to his contributions.

Passing by a street magician entertaining a small crowd as his imps assisted with his tricks, Antonio found himself standing in front of the massive fountain in front of the cathedral. Taller than even the structure the Oracle inhabited by half, the five-tiered receptacle cast a huge shadow off to the side, giving crowds of pilgrims and clergymen relief from the sun. High-relief sculptures lined the base of the structure, depicting the final battle of Eldergate. Stone Marignoese soldiers and inquisitors, most of whom were far beyond the typical military age of humans with some even bearing long beards, fought alongside carved demons of every stripe as they threw themselves against sculpted testudos and shield walls of undeath, the enemy's lictors and dusk elders commanding and supporting them amid chucks of destroyed walls and hails of arrows, baleful spells, and quarrels of ballistae bolts. Knights from the House of Just Fires clashed with death knights as inquisitors and witch hunters dueled with Ermorian cultists and Spectators. The sculpted figure of Antonio himself, a much younger version, was on the tallest of the seven hills in the background, standing triumphantly on the broken bones of Nero the Deathless. The Chalice itself, the artifact that almost ended the world, was held over his head. The massive structure itself, known throughout Marignon as the Beatific Fount, was constructed centuries after the Marverni first built the city in the Early Era thousands of years ago and the carvings were made in the months after the end of the last Ascension War.

Antonio held a bittersweet expression as he gazed at the fountain, briefly holding it on a certain spot near its bottom edge. Every time he’d passed by this fountain, he felt like blowing it to smithereens with a few well-placed fireballs. Though he knew the people viewed it as a war memorial honoring the sacrifices of those who died putting an end to the madness of Nero and his thrice-damned Ashen Empire, he saw it as a constant reminder of the heavy toll he’d forced Marignon to pay as a result. Now supposedly devout men who preach of righteousness and salvation consort with demons in broad daylight, sacrificing innocents to the Infernal Lords because of his weakness in resolve, all because he’d listened to that damned Hessens.

Was Nero really any worse than him?

With a sigh, Antonio walked around the structure and toward the cathedral. He was about to ascend the steps when he encountered the last person he’d wanted to meet. Dressed in black robes with red sleeves, the young man wore a red mitre cap that barely covered his curly blonde hair. His red cape billowed in the breeze and the thick chain around his neck bore a medallion featuring an opened black book with a burning drop of blood in the center. His blue eyes bore a glint of defiance and pride.

“Greetings Antonio, what a blessed afternoon it is, ja?” the man said as he flashed him a shit-eating grin. Antonio narrowed his eyes as he stared hard at who is perhaps the only human in world history who showed absolutely no respect toward a god. In fact, had Antonio cared about such pleasantries as much as a typical god, he would’ve immolated this man on the spot. Not even his most powerful supporters in Marignon’s power structure would be able to save him.

Only the deal Antonio struck with Mephistopheles stayed his hand,

“You still look… young after all these centuries, Hessens,” Antonio said as he folded his arms across his chest. “Tell me, how many liters of virgin blood did you bathe in to maintain your youth up to this point?”

Cardinal Hessens von Schwarzburg, former citizen of Ulm, currently a goetic master and the man who’d convinced the god of Marignon to get into a contract with the Infernal Lords, simply shrugged. “I don’t know, Antonio. I’d lost count at four hundred and fifty-one and that’s just in the first decade.”

“Clearly not enough to warm that cold heart of yours,” Antonio glowered, his teeth clenching slightly. “Sometimes I doubt you’re any more of a human than I am.”

“Well, I wasn’t the one who’d sealed Marignon’s fate with a signature written in blood.”

Antonio winced as the subtle jab stung and he did all he could to keep himself from disintegrating Hessens. Still, the smug asshole had a point and the god of Marignon was forced to concede.

Hessens chuckled. “Once again, a god has been silenced by a human. What an age we live in.”

Suddenly, Antonio extended a hand toward Hessens, his fingers curled like talons. The human gasped as shackles made of fire formed around his wrists. He thought about resisting but quickly reconsidered as the flames licked at his sleeves, sending wisps of smoke into the air. Instead, he decided to let his arms fall gently to his sides. However, his expression would've chilled the blood of lesser men.

Ignoring the members of the clergy and others who stopped to look at the spectacle, Antonio spoke, his voice obtaining an edge sharp enough to cut through the silence. “Sometimes I wonder whether I should act more like a typical god and punish those who so much as sneeze in my direction. Perhaps I should take Ma’at’s advice to heart and utterly punish you. Maybe that will help you to remember who’s in charge here! No amount of support will save you from a god’s wrath!”

Relaxing his outstretched hand, Antonio waved it dismissively, dispelling the shackles of fire. Hessens rubbed his warm wrists as he averted his gaze, his expression now unreadable. “Go to your quarters and pray for forgiveness, Hessens. I expect to hear whispers of it by sundown. Otherwise, I will strip you of your title and authority and that will only be the beginning of your much needed punishment, the Infernal Lords be damned. No matter how much self-importance you possess, you are no more of a threat to me than this world's most dazzling peacock!”

Hessens attempted to regain his composure and reassume his air of arrogance. However, his short public humiliation still tore at his dignity. Instead, he muttered in a soft voice that had a subtle hint of venom. “I assure you that I have much to pray for, Antonio. You can count on it.”

Antonio watched as Hessens whirled on a heel and stomped back into the cathedral, yelling in Ulmish at a duo of servants who were not fortunate enough to get out of his way fast enough. Despite his hard expression, Antonio was grinning internally. It felt good to knock him down a few pegs.

Inside was Elder Alfonso, one of the few clergymen in Marignon who was completely turned off by their nation’s dark religion. Dressed in the white and silver robes of his office, the aging missionary looked at Antonio in confusion, motioning toward the western doors of the vestibule. “What happened with the cardinal, your Divinity? He seems quite upset.”

“He needed to be reminded of his place, that is all Alfonso,” Antonio said as the two men shared a hearty embrace. Antonio then held the man he’d considered a friend at arm's length. “So, how goes the mission to Nazca?”

“The Nazcans are concerned about Mictlan’s recent displays of aggression at their borders, your Divinity,” Alfonso shrugged tiredly. “They believe that the Lawgiver is preparing to break their longstanding peace treaty though I doubt even he would commit such an offense without good reason.”

“Speaking of which, I haven’t heard from him in over a month. Had you encountered the envoy I’d sent to Mictlan on the way back here?”

“Oh, you must be referring to that goetic master and his acolytes and blood slaves I’d run into a week ago on my way back to Marignon. Secretive bastard, that man.”

Antonio’s facial expression warped in confusion. “I didn’t send a goetic master or any of his sycophants and even if I did, it would’ve been much earlier than that. I’d sent a messenger escorted by Marignoese halberdiers and crossbowmen.”

It was Alfonso’s turn to become befuddled. “Perhaps the fool is visiting the Lawgiver on his own initiative?”

“Initiative or not, he does not have my permission to enter into any agreement,” Antonio said as he paced back and forth, rubbing his temples. “Also, bringing blood slaves is a surefire way of earning the Lawgiver’s wrath. Okay, I need to inform the inquisitors to apprehend this man and question him. I need to know what business he has with Mictlan.”

Alfonso was about to say more when a servant burst into the vestibule, sweat pouring down his forehead. Though he was out of breath, Antonio could see that exhaustion wasn’t the only thing that whacked his face. The boy appeared shaken as if he’d seen something that he wished he could forget.

“Your Divinity *gasp*,” he rasped as he paused to catch his breath.

“What the matter, son?” Antonio asked as he placed his hands on the servant’s shoulders. The youth appeared to calm down somewhat. “Breathe, tell me what’s wrong.”

The servant took several breaths before finally responding, his fear-filled eyes peering into Antonio’s, “The messenger has returned from Mictlan… and you’ve got to see what he brought back.”

~break~

The messenger took the cup of water with shaking hands and brought it to his lips. Supporting it while he drank, Antonio took it when he finished and set it on a nearby table. The inside of the guardhouse was empty, save for Alfonso, the servant, and Captain Petain of the city guard. Next to where the messenger was seated, a golden chest sat on the floor like a harbinger of doom.

“Now, start from the very beginning, son,” the god of Marignon said warmly.

Gathering his courage, the messenger finally spoke, “It was when we entered the city that we realized that something was wrong. Statues of demons and monsters from the jungles were erected in the courtyard and the sole statue of the Lawgiver was defaced with obscene markings and reeked of piss. The civilians greeted us warmly of course, yet I could detect a hint of fear and nervousness in their eyes as if they were afraid of being punished for any small mistake.”

“The Mictlanec and Atlantean warriors themselves made their disgust with our presence clear and began to surround us. Even my declaration as a messenger of Marignon and the dire consequences of bringing harm to me and my escorts has done nothing to faze them. It’s like they didn’t even care. Just as if things couldn’t get any worse, this huge monster showed up. She had the… the body of a woman with a ring of snakes growing out of her waist. She has two snake heads atop necks made of... blood and her necklace... oh your Divinity, you couldn’t imagine the kind of things that foul necklace bore! Severed hands, a shrunken head, and hearts that still beat! Hearts that still fucking beat!”

Antonio’s face paled as he took in the information. Behind him, Alfonso shifted uncomfortably while Petain signed a circle over his cuirass and waggled his fingers over it, slowly raising his hand toward his neck to mimic flames, the sign of the House of Just Fires. Swallowing, Antonio asked, “What happened next?”

“I gathered as much courage as I could and demanded that the beast take me to the Lawgiver. She said that he was ‘indisposed’ and ordered her warriors and demons to sacrifice my escorts to herself. Oh the horrors I was forced to witness being visited on those poor soldiers! Such depravity these… these savages inflicted on their fellow man that Devils-Day looked like a lighthearted festival in comparison!”

“How did you escape?” Antonio asked him tersely. His heart was hammering inside his chest cavity as bile rose in his throat.

“She let me go, wanting me to deliver a message to you as well as this horrid chest,” the man gasped. His hands trembled rapidly. “She said, ‘I’ll be waiting for you’.”

Turning toward the chest, Antonio examined its surface as he prepared a spell. Though he knew it had already been opened he still didn’t want to take any chances. Curses can be formulated to have a delayed activation after all. Making the last incantation, Antonio sent the spell washing over the chest to check for traps. Thankfully there were none though there were hints of subtle animating magics and faint sounds of thumping. With a wave of his hand, the chest flew open and Antonio wrinkled his nose as a stale coppery scent washed over his face. He then carefully peered inside the chest, suddenly recoiling his head in shock and disgust.

"Bloody hells!" he exclaimed.

Inside the chest and covered in blood that had long since scabbed over were thirty-eight human hearts, what remained of the soldiers sent as the messenger’s escort. However, the shock didn’t just come from the fact that a chest had been filled with human hearts.

The shock came from the fact that they were still beating!

Quickly walking away from the chest, Antonio rubbed his beard in vexation as he stared at the ceiling. Behind him, Alfonso and Petain reacted with varying degrees of disgust as they peeked into the chest. While Petain simply swore to himself as he made the sign of the House again, Alfonso retched and quickly emptied the contents of his stomach into a nearby chamberpot. The messenger whimpered as he distanced himself from the chest.

Tentatively, Petain approached Antonio who was muttering something to himself. He could only make out a few words the god was saying, mainly ‘What have I done?’ and ‘What happened to you, Lawgiver?’ Composing himself, the captain finally asked, “What should we do now, your Divinity?”

Antonio pinched the bridge of his nose and turned to him. Petain was taken aback by the sheer fury behind those eyes set in an otherwise stony face, aglow like fresh embers. Wafts of heated vapor rose from the god's hands and the room seemed to get slightly hotter. The head of his staff glowed so brightly that it looked as if it could burst into flames at any moment. The captain had read history books about how the Marignon Pretender fought in the Ascension War. Entire regiments of undead legionaries burned to ashes in the span of seconds. Castles reduced to molten slag with their defenders’ ashes mixing in with the melted stone. The strategies of entire nations unraveled and brought to ruin by a seemly old man armed with the vast amount of potential between his ears and the resources of a nation bolstered by religious zeal and ample amounts of fire. Even titanic gods who’d underestimated the mortal-class god facing them down have often found themselves taken down by clever tricks and stratagems. Petain doesn’t know how many enemies Antonio killed but he knew that to face him in battle meant certain death.

“Captain Petain,” Antonio finally said, his tone brooking neither delay nor countermanding. “Give this message to the grand marshal; I want him to assemble two armies in three months. In the meantime, I will send a messenger to C’tis to inform Ma’at of what happened.”

“What do you have in mind, your Divinity?” Alfonso asked as he sauntered over to the pair, still feeling sick.

Antonio simply gave him a mirthless smirk. “First, I will lead the newly assembled armies to C’tis to link up with any forces they can muster and we will march to Mictlan together to make that monster answer for what she’d done and find out what happened to the Lawgiver.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~