Azarus stared at his paint stained reflection and wondered if the image represented him. He saw a lonely traveler, his lips curling as he swallowed the taste of defeat. His clothes were victims of his carelessness, as was his champion. That was not who he wanted to be. If he was going to be represented by paint, he would do it properly. If he was sending Moka to do deeds in his name, he would equip her for it.
Dark flames burned in his reflection’s eyes. Azarus frowned, but let it persist. He had a deeper understanding of the gray flame now. When he associated it with his image as a merchant, he thought of the gray as representing trade. The comparison had worked for a time, but it was more than that. The gray flame was a mixing of white and black. It was sacrifice and exploitation, in varying measures. Two sides of the same coin, forever intertwined.
Azarus saw his dark gray eyes and knew. He benefited the most from allowing Moka to die. Tevzaga lost a helping hand, sentenced to face her fate alone. Moka lost her life and experiences. [Memories of a Past Life] was still an unknown factor. There was no way of telling what she would remember. He gambled with her future, betting her memories of Granon and Tevzaga against her life. All to keep his Divine Points and put his purchases to use.
Azarus let out a slow breath and accepted the burden. The black in the gray was part of him. He had made the best decision he could. Guilt did not serve him. He did not allow it to take root.
A slew of notifications waited patiently, floating in the corner of Azarus’s vision. They lined up like supplicants, offering rewards and temptations to their lord. Another benefit for him, and surely enough Divine Points to purchase another Unlock. Delightful.
The god did not call for the screens. There were matters to attend to. Azarus closed his eyes and pictured himself. When he opened them again, he studied his reflection. The paint was gone, his clothes spotless. Otherwise, he looked much the same, but a more weathered version of himself. Slight creases, on the verge of becoming wrinkles, gathered at the edge of his eyes and between his brows.
Azarus studied the curved creases beneath his eyes, and something in him eased. His lips parted in a familiar smile, the creases forming light wrinkles to accommodate the expression. It was not all doom and gloom. What a wonderful adventure, filled with meaningful journeys and many smiles. He would have liked to see Tevzaga’s story to the end, but it was just another stop on a longer path.
The lonely traveler took a deep breath, feeling his chest expanding and a fluttering feeling in his stomach. He had killed another god, helped a mortal face his fears, and given a hero a push on her journey. What was next?
The answer was both small and large. Large, it spelled a future of many runs, complete with many failures. There were many things to see and people to meet. The small answer concerned him now. He had a few things he wanted to address before continuing the game.
Retrieving his painting supplies from his satchel, Azarus approached his first creation. He had figured out what was bothering him about the two scenes. Applying dollops of paint to his palette, Azarus eyed the alchemist. She had poured her potion into the campfire. It burned pure white, illuminating the crowd of jackals spreading out from the forest, a brave few already nipping at her toes. She should not have to fight alone.
An alchemist needed an intelligent companion, one who could sense dangerous fumes and shout warnings. Rascal and the wyverns had given Azarus an idea. Flying had a definite advantage. They should also be big enough to carry potions, but not so large they were a menace around glass bottles. Dipping his brush in several colors at once, Azarus brushed a few delicate strokes over the jackals’ heads. When he was done, a parrot with colorful plumage was dropping a potion from its beak, with another clutched in its claws.
For the dropping potion, Azarus painted something common. It was not right to weigh on the scale too heavily. His goal was to even the odds, not fight the alchemist’s battle for her. With that in mind, Azarus painted lightning into the bottle. Everywhere he turned, someone was chucking lightning around, so it was common enough.
Turning to the parrot one last time, Azarus painted an extra sparkle into the bird’s eye. He held an image of cunning and creativity in his mind as he did. Its size would only hold it back if it let it.
Satisfied with the alchemist’s companion, Azarus’s gaze wandered up to the monster hunter, or the broken hero. Either name fit the man. He was wrestling with a monster’s tongue as it tried to pull him into its maw. He had freed his arm and dagger, which he was using to fend off the lure shaped like a boy as it clawed at him. Azarus considered the situation. The man was like him, a traveler. But he was also a hunter, someone who sought danger. His companion should reflect that.
Considering and dismissing giving him a monster companion, Azarus thought about a large dog, or a bear. Neither suited the man. The broken hero needed a stubborn hand to keep him on the path. Someone to push him forward after every failure, to drag him up and make him try again. Mind made up, Azarus painted a mule.
He drew her with a piece of the man’s ragged coat in her teeth. She pulled with all her might, keeping him in place. Her ears laid back against her skull, every inch the picture of battle hardened stubbornness. The god painted her a glossy black coat and intelligent red eyes, suggesting interesting ancestry. Her sharp hooves dug into the dirt. Azarus added visible heat waves radiating from them, blackening the ground. He painted a history of knotted battle scars on her body, visible through her short coat. Then covered them with white fur.
Satisfied, Azarus added a final touch. Saddlebags, just out of reach. He painted the handle of a wood axe, strapped to the side of a bag, sticking out toward the monster hunter.
The god’s attention hovered over Moka’s scene. He hesitated, then turned away. She needed something, but he was not sure it was a companion. He trusted the answer would come in time.
Walking toward the Mirror of Eons, Azarus pinched off a piece of his soul. It hurt. Less than when he created his painting, and more than when he crafted his body and apparel. As soon as the piece separated, he felt [Through Mortal Eyes] drift out of reach. He would need time to recover before using it again.
Azarus willed his the piece of his soul to manifest over his upturned palm. A spark sprang into existence. It hovered, flickering, for a heartbeat. Ethereal flames erupted from the singular point. Emerald, gold, and gray fire wrapped around the spark, encasing it like a shell. The shell shifted in the starlight as if forged from liquid fire. Holding the seed, Azarus looked into his reflection and considered himself.
He was a god, a wanderer, meeting mortals at the crossroads of their lives. His companion would be with him every step of the way. The seed in his hand extended a tendril of golden flame. He was also a warrior, taking his ideals to the battlefield. A companion could help, but they would not fight his fights for him. Even if they wished to, he would not allow it.
Azarus looked in the mirror and saw the merchant. His thoughts turned to the hunter’s mule. He had no use for a beast of burden. He would carry his own.
Examining the seed in his hand, Azarus watched the flames curl off of it. Emerald, for luck and travel. Gold, representing honor and glory. And gray, exploitation and sacrifice. Pieces of him, coming together to create another living being.
Then he knew. Loyalty was rooted in sacrifice. Sacrifice was a part of himself he celebrated. Across the realms, one beast reigned supreme in that aspect. Azarus tossed the seed up and closed his eyes. When he opened them, a massive hound stared at him. The hound had a long coat of ethereal black flames, marked with a fiery white crest on his chest and forehead. It had gold fangs and claws, with mischievous emerald eyes.
Frowning, Azarus looked up at the house sized dog. He gestured to himself, then to the dog, indicating his stature and mundane clothes. Raising an eyebrow, he spoke to the separated piece of himself. The hound looked around the hall, its tail wagging. A fan of flames spread out behind it.
“You see how this will not work?”
The hound’s attention snapped to Azarus. It cocked its head and closed its mouth in one motion, the tip of its pink tongue hanging out its mouth. Raising one ear, it slowly blinked at Azarus. Azarus hesitated, his skin tingling. He had expected the hound to be more intelligent.
The hound winked at Azarus. It was so fast he thought he might have imagined it. It closed its eyes with a familiar deliberateness. When it opened them again, it swelled in size. Eyes like emerald moons stared down at Azarus. A paw as tall as the god crept forward to nudge him.
Azarus fended the paw off with a laugh.
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“A trickster! I should expect nothing less.”
The hound’s eyes curved into pleased crescents. It sat on its haunches, towering over Azarus like a burning fortress. Closing its eyes with purpose, it opened them again as a knee height pup, practically a mortal dog. Its emerald eyes twinkled, a playful grin on its face as its tongue hung out the side of its mouth.
Azarus reached a hand down, and the pup nuzzled his palm. He scratched it behind the ear, marveling at how soft the hound’s fur was. Its coat was black as night and white as fresh snow, with burnished gold in between. White fur covered his chest and front left paw. It continued up his throat and over the tip of his muzzle. Wavy black hair covered his back like a blanket. A thick line of gold, verging on brown, acted as a buffer between the black and white parts of his coat. The spine of his tail was black, with feathered tufts of white and gold fur extending out. He wagged his tail, causing it to swish like a flag in a changing wind.
Drawing back, Azarus looked the hound in the eye. With a tone carrying an echo of pomp and ceremony, he addressed his second creation.
“Your name will be Zagrus. A name built upon mine, but completely your own.”
Zagrus sat at attention, his tail coming to a standstill. Azarus extended a hand, slow and deliberate, to the hound’s forehead, right between the eyes. He made a show of anointing him with a thorough scratch, Zagrus leaning into the show of affection.
A screen among the waiting pushed past the rest and shoved itself into the space in front of Azarus’s eyes. Zagrus let loose a mighty bark, irritated at the interruption. The sound created a visible cone of force, passing right through the screen. Azarus jolted at the unexpected sound in the vast silence of his prison. He turned to the hound, his brows furrowed.
“Zag! Volume, please. I can’t have you barking at every screen.”
Zag whined, his floppy ears going down and back. He looked up at Azarus, his eyes, like flawed emeralds, going wide. Azarus’s eyes narrowed. He looked at Zag, the very picture of cute innocence, and reached a hand out to pat him on the head. Playfully roughing up his fur, Azarus half pet him and half gave him a light shove.
“Don’t think you can play the puppy routine with me. If you’re going to bark, do it like a mortal dog. Now come on, I bet this screen is about you.”
Azarus turned to address the screen, but before he could, Zag nudged him with his nose. Once the hound got the god’s attention, he stomped his white front paw on the ground. Azarus cocked his head at the dog. Rolling his eyes, Zag mimed pushing a pile of something. Sighing, Azarus suppressed a smile as he touched his temple.
“This one is just for fun. We’ll figure out something to bet with after.”
Quest: Divine Companion - Completed
Many lonely gods craft companions for themselves. That you did so earlier than most says something.
Reward: Divine Points, New feature! [Bloodline II] is now available in the [Divine Store]!
-
[Bloodline II]
Category: Unlockable Function
The second stage of the [Bloodline] Unlock, this function allows [Hound] options to be selected during the evolution process.
Please purchase in [Divine Store] to access.
Zag whined. He stood up and walked in a quick circle, just to sit back down. Azarus side eyed his new companion. The hound pushed his paws forward, lifting them up to reveal a pair of gold coins adorned with Azarus’s face. Chuckling, Azarus bent down to collect the coins.
As if the loss made him disinterested in the screens, Zag wandered off to examine the painting and explore the hall. Azarus gave him a friendly pat on the side as he left. He watched the hound go with a thoughtful expression, idly scratching at his stubble. It was odd to be alone for so long then have another being occupy your space. As much as he was grateful for someone to gamble with, he was glad Zag had a sense of independence.
Azarus watched Zag sniff the painting out of the corner of his eye as he called for the achievement screens. They shouldered past the other waiting notifications, lining up in front of him. It was strange to think that he would need to develop a relationship with Zag, despite the hound being a piece of himself. Zag was his own beast now, capable of doing what he wished.
Pushing away irrelevant thoughts, Azarus read Moka’s newest achievements. It was time he put those points to use and equipped her better. As long as there was no hidden downside.
Achievement Unlocked!
[Improvised Weapon Specialist]
Congrats! [Moka] fought through a group of entrenched enemies with homemade weapons!
Reward: Achievement Points, [Sapper] Classes are now offered for [Moka]
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Achievement Unlocked!
[Junkyard Dog]
Congrats! [Moka] has beaten the odds time and time again.
Reward: Achievement Points, Trait: [Scrappy]
[Scrappy]: Grants [Moka] +2 gift of Resilience and the Skill [Dead on My Feet].
Azarus greeted the achievements like a welcoming host, glad they saw what he did in his champion. As far as he knew, the Achievement Points did not come with the same strings attached. He was intent on finding out. The [Achievement Shop] hovered at his fingertips. Viewing ‘trait’ through [Divine Insight] revealed [Scrappy] was a permanently equipped achievement. The [Sapper] Classes proved equally interesting.
[Sapper]: A [Soldier] subtype, this Archetype offers Classes specializing in stealth, problem solving, and mayhem. [Sapper] Classes have a chance of being offered despite assigned Archetype.
Neither achievement was equipable. Azarus was undecided if it was a boon. Equipable achievements may be rare. He did not have enough data to know. The passive abilities had their drawbacks. Later in the game, he could imagine being annoyed with the [Sapper] Classes taking a slot as he was trying for a rarer Archetype. Moka would always have [Scrappy], unless there was a way to unequip traits. [Dead on My Feet] seemed both a boon and a curse. Permanent changes came at a price.
Azarus glanced over at Zag, just in time to catch the dog leaping into the painting. He shook his head and returned his attention to the screens. Zag was an aspect of him and therefore had his trust. He was just playful and liked to gamble. It would be fine. Probably.
Azarus opened the [Achievement Shop] and saw what it had in store. [Divine Insight] shared its opinion, peeling back the inner workings.
[Achievement Shop]
Equipment
Custom [Variable Price]
Standard [50-250 AP]
Random [50 AP]
Weapons
Custom [Variable Price]
Standard [50-250 AP]
Random [50 AP]
Bloodline Enhancement [Locked]
Consumables [50-250 AP]
Spells
Random [50-250 AP]
Skills
Random [50-250 AP]
Achievement Points Available: 525
Azarus felt rich, and he knew just what he wanted to buy. An emerald flame burned at the tip of his finger as he selected Equipment: [Random], fifty Achievement Points vanishing. In his mind, he held an image of every time Moka cast an envious glance at a suit of armor. The screen changed, showing dozens of pieces of equipment flashing by. Ropes, gloves, magical tomes–many things that vaguely fit into Azarus’s concept of ‘equipment’ showed themselves for an instant. Azarus waited patiently, his emerald eyes sparking.
When the screen settled, it displayed a fine wooden chest piece. It was not the metal Moka craved, but it looked light and sturdy. Vines sprouted from the wood, curling around it in looping patterns.
[Elven Heartwood Breastplate]: Carved from the heart of a living tree, this armor provides extra resistance to magic and has [Regrowth].
[Regrowth] turned out to be an ability that lets the armor repair itself from damage. Azarus was quite pleased with his purchase. There was no pinching in his domain, showing a gruesome loss. He double checked his domain to be sure, but found no damage. It was a fine piece of armor. An option came up to equip the armor to Moka. Azarus accepted. It vanished from the screen and reappeared on Moka’s smoldering statue. The breastplate fit snugly on her chest; the vines rearranging themselves to secure the armor to her.
Azarus selected his next purchase. Equipment: [Custom]. The screen changed, showing a nebulous blob. The bottom right corner displayed a large zero. Azarus reached up to touch the screen. To his surprise, his hands passed through it, allowing him to manipulate the blob. It felt strange, like unshaped potential. He twisted it into the shape of an iron-tipped spear. The blob became wood and metal, as if it was always a spear. The bottom right corner displayed a large fifty.
There was something Azarus wanted to give Moka, more than armor or a shiny new spear. Azarus crushed the spear in his hands, remaking the blob and drawing it out into twine. He took the long line and weaved it together, letting his power bleed from his fingertips. Tri-color sparks ran up and down its length, leaving gray burn marks. When he was done, he held a dark gray braided bracelet. Granon’s rope would not suit every adventure, but he had promised to accompany her. Azarus would keep that promise in his stead.
Create: [Titan Twine Bracelet] for [250 AP]?
Azarus selected yes, equipping the bracelet to Moka. It was more sentimental than practical, but he did not regret the purchase. They were challenging these Trials together. She deserved a memento of a job well-done.
Closing his eyes, Azarus mentally darted to the field representing his domain. He checked high and low after spending 250 AP, searching for the hidden cost. To his continued surprise, spending the Achievement Points was not a trap.
Weighing his remaining 225 points, Azarus considered his options. He opened Weapons: [Standard] and browsed the offerings. The amount to choose from was overwhelming. They ranged from plain bronze knives to mythical swords. Azarus returned to the main shop with a dismissive swipe of his hand. Pouring through thousands of weapons sounded tedious, and choosing the random option was far more fun.
Azarus spent 150 points at once. His arm, from the tip of his finger to his elbow, radiated emerald fire as he selected three options in quick succession. The [Achievement Shop] hesitated, as if deciding what to do. After a beat, the screen changed, showing three spinning boxes. The first held weapons, the second silhouettes performing impressive feats, and the last an expanding fractal, each arm a unique element.
The three boxes clicked into place, displaying Azarus’s prizes. A wet nose nudged the god’s hand. His face lit up into a smile as he turned to greet Zag. It was good his companion was here to experience this with him. He thought excitement was better when shared and was keen to find out firsthand.