Jax knew true gods were empowered by worship. Their strength grew in proportion to the favor garnered. Some took on a closed circle and demanded utmost devotion, others were more easy going. Palatable to the masses and only skimming a bit from each one. He wished this one was the latter, but he was wrong. With a sorrowful gaze, he turned from the avatar and towards the remaining followers. This was the only way.

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He couldn’t let this go on. It was only a few steps before he stabbed the first man, the dagger piercing straight through the skull. He pulled the gore-covered weapon out before slamming it into the jaw of the second. Even as the knife impaled the man’s cheek, he continued to pray. He pulled it downwards severing the tongue alongside the jaw. Even still, the dying worshiper continued to gargle out praise. Jax slammed his boot downwards, splattering the skull under the treads before tossing the knife into the third. The chanting man fell back as the metal pierced his heart, futility pulling at the serrated weapon. Two more reached for his arms, but the drug-crazed slayer barely noticed. Slamming them down, he heard their bodies crack from the force. Blood spurting from their gaping mouths as their internals were pulverized. He pulled out his dagger and kicked the dying man back–The sternum shattering in the process. Twisting, he slammed the dagger into the cocoon. The smoke scattered and Chothos was gone. He had to have retreated earlier, no doubt to try and recover from the grievous injuries. But that only made things easier for the slayer…

Gods could be classified into two types. The first grouping were known as false gods, these beings were given their powers through an external force. This could be through a breakthrough in science, absorbing some leyline of energy, or just random luck. They were inherently linked with their pool of power. Their abilities reflect their creation as they strive for more strength. They were a bit more…esoteric beings. Living machines, walking globs of magical energy, or even twisted horrors torn between realms. He’d seen pictures of previous false ones. Mortal men merged with long lost alien tech. Their bodies incorporated into towering constructs that aimlessly wandered the countryside. Others tainted by their innermost greed, tapping into the power of money and fueled by the cursed gold surrounding them. With every coin added to the coffer, their own strength grew. To a slayer, the best way to take them on was disrupting that central powersource. Make the rich destitute, unleash a E.M.P, or drain out the leyline. Of course it was easier said than done, they wouldn’t go down without a fight.

The second and most common were the true gods. These were creatures that were birthed from mortal desires. Beings that never lived a normal life. Ideas made manifest, needs begging to be met, or even just elaborate rituals fueled by sacrifice. Some started as folktails, stories to keep children from acting out. But as they spread, the belief hardened. What was once made up, began to appear. Most stopped at that, just creatures praying on humanity’s outskirts. But some continued to evolve. Cults formed around the beings, sacrifices made in their name. Each action strengthens it into godhood.

They had different levels of power proportional to the amount of essence they stole. Some were gods of vermin whose only purpose was keeping the rats out of flour. Others were saints of certain professions. Beseeched to protect blacksmiths from scorching fires. But their inherent power was spread amongst the followers. Sure some may form consecrated lands. Regions where their power drifts and coalesces, but at their core they were just an idea. A living concept, a desperate wish, or some unanswered question that humanity begged a reason for. Their entire existence hinged on the strength of the worshipers.

After witnessing the raw devotion Chothos’ followers displayed. Jax had no choice but to cull the flock. They were living batteries fueling the terrible being. Each one sacrificing their essence to keep the god alive. Their minds addled and followed his commands without question. That kind of power could only be disrupted in a singular way. With renewed vigor, Jax continued forward. They no longer appeared as people, instead only puppets for the dying god.

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This was no longer a duel, it was him versus the village. Sprinting across the muddy field, he rushed towards the remaining villagers. He needed to move quickly. If the god realized what was going on, things would get much harder. Emotions ran rampant as he approached the mourning mass. They were lost, brainwashed, and enthralled–But he would save them all. Brandishing the bloodied knife, he thrust it into the neck of a crying man. Blood spurted from the deep wound, each pulse of the heart sending out another blast. Before the body even fell, Jax slammed his elbow into the next. A sickening crack echoed in the forest as the face caved inwards. Pulling out the dagger, he sliced at the slabs barrier. In a flash of light, he tore through the spell. Whipping winds radiate from the rock as the trapped spirit was released. It was only the first of many, they were too far gone. By the time the sun rose, he would liberate them all. ,

Glistening blood followed in the weapon’s wake. Arcing sprays of the crimson liquid splattering his suit. Screams of pain quickly silenced as they bled out in the mud. Their pleas of mercy falling on deaf ears. Jax knew it was a trick, something to delay and toy at his emotions. But it was hard to ignore the wails. Bile rose up in the throat as he continued to slaughter the congregation. It wasn’t what he wanted, but it was a necessary evil…

Chothos staggered forward, the deity screaming as its lifeforce was chipped away. Each death drains him of power. The unknown man assaulted his very essence. Nothing else mattered, that man had to die. Spinning the staff in the air, it gathered strength from those still alive. Thick, vicious smoke wrapping around his body as he channeled the spell. He cared not for his followers any longer. If he didn’t halt the massacre they’d all be dead anyway. With the decision made, he slammed the weapon into the ground. A wave of putrid rot erupts across the landscape. .

Jax felt the attack before it hit. A sensation of bugs crawled beneath his skin, the chillness of death stiffening the muscles, and a tickle of blood dripping down his nose.. Turning back towards the god, he saw the wave of viscous smog wash over the land. Sparks of divine might flickered within roiling clouds. It covered the entire landscape leaving little room to dodge. With no other option, Jax dug his heels into the ground and tore off his glove. Focusing his own will into the dozens of tattoos, his palm began to glow. A hazy barrier appeared in front of him just as the wall of death arrived. Pain shot through his wrist as the spell absorbed the brunt of the impact. He was a small pocket within the churning mass of death manifest.

The others nearby were not so lucky. That billowing cloud of decay quickly infected the congregation. Dark veins sprouted across the flesh as necrosis set in. Fingers sloughed off leaving exposed bone behind. Lips cracked and eyes melted as they withered away. Bits of flesh oozed from the flailing bodies until only the skeleton remained.

It was a battle of wills. Jax could feel the tattoo’s burn within his skin. The divine ink seared the flesh as its power was unleashed. He couldn’t stop now. Grunting out, he forced back the pain and refused to budge. Time slowed and he counted each breath. How much power had been used for this? He could feel the ink starting to falter, bits of it evaporating as it was used up. But somehow he made it. The billowing wall of death rot dissipates. His arm felt numb after the attack, his brain cloudy from the battle of wills. Glancing up, he saw the god stumble forward. The being using his staff as a makeshift crutch. No doubt that spell drained him of might. But the true horror was the spell's aftermath.

Various worshippers littered the battlefield in different stages of decay. Many in positions of extreme pain, while others in prayer. No doubt calling out to Chothos to spare them. But god’s didn’t care. For all their devotion, their only reward was to defile the land with their putrescence. From the piles of filth, carrion feeders were spontaneously birthed. A hum of buzzing insects swarming the carrion and feasting on the lingering flesh. They ignore the two combatants, instead focusing on the lush banquet before them.

Both took a moment of rest, reassessing the field of battle. However, Jax couldn’t let the god fully recover. Pulling out his trusted pistol, he quickly loaded the weapon and aimed it at the farther members. Each shot penetrated the skulls killing them in an instant. The act further enraged the god. He had spent hundreds of years building up this village. Nudging the community into new ways of life. Slowly ingraining himself into society. Each day his power grew a little more. Even now they were starting to spread to neighboring towns. Missionaries working to extend his influence. He was prepared to battle other gods. But this…man was ruining it all. There was no more time for offerings. He was going to take what was rightfully his.