“What are planning brother?!” the spirit of water questioned.

On the immaterial plane called the spirit realm, the spirit and his two siblings were located. Where elemental spirits dwell and live is the elemental sub realm. The three most powerful of their domains came together.

“I am doing what I must, sister.” Pyrus replied calmly. The burning flame that was his flickered slightly.

Opposite him was a swirling whirlpool and a giant boulder, abstract representations of the three spirit lords of Judica. The trinity was in a private subset of their realm, keeping whatever spoken of to themselves.

“And what is that, by chance? Breaking our vows, the treaty that bound us, signed all those years ago.” Aquara accused.

“Like that treaty matters anymore, the empire has fallen, Ventus has abandoned us, and war is at our doorstep.”

“The empire has not fallen; they will endure as long as our patronage remains strong.”

The fire spirit laughed, jovially and heartily. As a fire spirit could, sending his laughter psychically to both his siblings. Terranuk remained silent, content to watch and wait.

“It is the end of this farce. No longer shall a system that has failed shall constrain me.” He explained forcefully.

“It is time for a new world order, an order that will keep all we hold dear in line.”

“And what new world order is that?” She inquired.

The flame flickered and then engorged, transforming from a simple flame to a fiery humanoid figure. The fire spirit towered over his siblings, and as he looked down, he spoke the truth.

“That it is time for us to rule. No longer shall we be patrons, but divine rulers of the empire.”

“You speak of yourself as if you are a god, like the abhorrent beings of old myth.” She shot back disdainfully.

“No dear sister, I shall be better than them, a god worthy of the name. It only requires a few key elements and soon the last shall be within my grasp.” The spirit explained ominously.

“You are insane. We are spirits, not gods. We are of nature, not the petty dictators or reality!” The angry water spirit spat, shifting and writhing in anger.

“That is where my respect for you, sister, ends. You are content with your lot in life. All that worship and reverence to the great goddess of the ocean and you do nothing with it.”

“I did not encourage that!”

The fire barked laughter, his flaming arms gesturing around to the nothingness they were in.

“It does not matter, it is a waste. All that power left to a foolish spirit who doesn't dare wield it.”

Angered and provoked, Aquara lashed a tendril of water, attempting to douse his fire. Her attempts achieved only vapor as the water evaporated in contact.

“Pitiful sister, but where you have failed, I shall succeed.” With his last words, the environment abruptly shifted.

In a single moment, the air shimmered, intense heat radiated from his flames, and the crackling sound of embers echoed in the expanse. Pyrus stood at the threshold between worlds, his form pulsating with energy. With a determined gaze, he raised his flaming hands and warped the very realm he and his siblings dwelled in.

“What are you doing?” Aquara demanded an answer.

“What I am doing is the future. Stand with me or stay below.” Pyrus answered, not stopping his action.

They suddenly found themselves in a landscape that defied the laws of nature. Not that such defiance was new to them, but the raw energy that dwelled within was unlike anything they had experienced. Rivers of lava flowed like liquid silver; a fiery pathway meandered through fields of eternal flame. The sky above, a canvas of swirling heat and ember, casting an ethereal glow upon all below.

At the centre of it was a throne, set upon a raised platform. The seat was shifting between substantial and not so much. Composed of molten lava and then suddenly pure fire. Ranging from red, yellow and then blue, the throne was not a simple chair.

Pyrus marvelled at his creation before travelling on air and seating himself. The throne solidified upon his descent. Turning from fire to melt stone with red veins of heat. Now seated, his humanoid form narrowed down at the low spirits. The beings he once called equals and once called family.

“This is abhorrent, brother; this realm should not exist!” Aquara roared, her liquid form slowly growing ever smaller.

“I admit it was a rushed job, didn't want anyone to interfere. But you must admit, it is the perfect seat of power for a new god.” He replied, pompously expounding on his creation.

“Its not bad,” Terranuk added with that monotone voice of his.

“Do you support this, brother?” She asked, giving him a scathing look.

“I’m a neutral sister. Always have and always will be. As long as your business doesn’t interfere with mine, I’m all good.”

The upstart fire spirit nodes his fiery brow. Respected his brother's choice, yet a faint trace of pity crossed his mind. He had desired his entire family to be raised as gods. Only that was impossible. They all were lazy or so caught up in the past. Being one with nature rather than commanding it.

“This is perverse brother; it is not our place to become gods.”

“That is where you are wrong, dear sister. We can become gods. You need only harness the belief of those that worship your name. Through that power, we can become more than what we are.” Pyrus explained as if to a five-year-old.

The spirits stared each other down, both once equal. But in this place of power, Pyrus had the advantage. Aquara was not foolish enough to ignore the abhorrent nature of his new power. She had once deluded herself into believing the changes in her brother were nothing major.

Only now does she realise her brother, the spirit Lord of Fire she once knew, was gone. What replaced him was something her kind both feared and despises. Gods were beings of terrible power, bending the fabric of nature. They were anathema to spirits, just like demons. While gods could range from benevolent to cruel, her spiritual kin rarely had interactions with them. With the few that occurred, they viewed spirits as lowly beings of little concern.

While gods could range from benevolent to cruel, her spiritual kin rarely had positive relations with them. So, when her own brother not only aspired to them, but has nearly achieved such a state, she only wept inside. Looking at his form, she knew he wouldn’t stop.

“If only you could understand...” Pyrus trailed off.

Lingering for a moment, the spirit remained silent. His fiery form rippled with power and energy left him, escaping his realm to the mortal plane. Soon enough, he smiled, joyous at the few words he just heard from the very mortal he enjoyed.

“The last piece of the puzzle.” He muttered, flicking his wrist and banishing his siblings before they could speak.

Pyrus leaned back on his throne, relaxing. Such acts were unnecessary. He didn't have physical form. But soon that would change. He wondered what it would be like. His past observations of mortals were a bit of a mixed bag. Some moaned and wailed at the physical sensations, either from pain or pleasure. He supposed with physical existence; you get the good with the bad.

He would soon find out about himself. The time was right and all his efforts were about to pay off. He reached out into the ether, locating the call. It was the man he expected. His situation was dire. Surrounded by demons, blood, and bodies. This made sense and explained his desperation.

“The deal is struck. Prepare yourself.” He said firmly, projecting his voice across the chasm of reality into the mind of a king.

The fire spirit leaned back in his throne, allowing his existence to drain away. His form and nature fell through a hole in his realm and poured into a new container. This vessel writhed in pain, expected since this was a first. Pyrus would rather make it easier on him to be benevolent. But such things were impossible for now.

The sensations were quite odd. He felt as if he shrank and then expanded. More and less of himself existed and then reconnected. It made sense in the moment; he was detaching himself and connecting to a new existence. Soon, and with quite a lot of screaming, the annoying sound stopped. Quickly, new sensations flooded in, touch, taste and hearing.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Pyrus found he could feel a surface beneath him and various odd implements on his person. In a split second, he could discern most of it. Beneath his feet was the floor, on his body were clothes. Of course, this was not his body, well that is a matter of perspective now.

Slowly, he opened the eyes of King Andre Tarkon and witnessed the scene before him. The bloody scene splattered mortals across the walls, tearing them apart in an art piece. Flexing his neck, a new sensation that was odd but still pleasant. He realised a faint buzzing in his ear. Turning, he discovered its origin; a mortal was begging him to flee.

The man was clearly a Tarkonian knight, desperately defending his king from a horde of demons. The situation was odd. From what he recalled, it was a Lankosian invasion. He wondered when Demonus came into the picture. The demons kept to themselves. Perhaps now they were more overtly interacting with foreign business.

“Silence mortal!” Pyrus, using Andre’s voice, commanded.

The knight was visibly stunned, staring slack jawed. His king, lord, and liege turned to him with burning eyes, both orbs filled with divine fire. Being a follower of Pyrus and a spirit magi, he would sense a dominant spirit. Without question or complaint, the knight fell to his knees in prayer.

The other fearful and screaming knights turned back only to see their king. The fiery glow that engulfed him was radiant and divine. Pyrus, now in full control of the body, raised his hands, commanding the lingering heat in the air. The attacking demons, one by one, burst into flames, each destroyed by the sacred purifying flame. He would later tell mortals that this fire, which countered the typical demonic fire, was a divine manifestation.

“Begone foul fiends. I, Pyrus, shall banish you from these sacred lands.” He declared, his body rising into the air.

The survivors turned to their king, dropping to their knees at his sight. Pyrus was radiating his aura, something he had used previously when incarnating. Except this time, he had a physical body, instead of manifesting in the flames. The spirit lord, once part of that foolish alliance, was finally free. He could now do as he pleased and would enjoy every second.

The survivors parted and Pyrus stepped forward, strong and in control. At least that is what he portrayed. In fact, having a body was strange. All these limbs and solid matter nearly made him trip. But he had been practising, not actual bodies but artificial abstract concepts he formed in his domain. Not the same, but similar enough.

It was the other senses that were weird. Beyond tactile, the sense of taste and smell were interesting and abhorrent. The scent of sweat and blood were not very pleasing, but the smell of fire, that felt like home. Perhaps he should burn things on the regular in this world, he thought to himself.

Shaking his head, he stepped forward, parting the ragged soldiers. Many of them knelt, at least those that were able. The only ones that didn't were Terranuk’s champion. She stood there, her eyes narrowing. She might be a problem in the future, but that was for later, he thought. Making his way through, every step searing the ground with his holy fire.

He reached the entrance and the remaining demons cowered in his gaze. It was only natural; demons were lowly beings. The presence of a new god would cow them effectively, but no matter how they begged, mercy would not be one of his virtues.

Eye’s blazing heat. His every glance was death. From his gaze, demons burst into flames, screaming and begging. He spread death to the abominations with every step, ascending the stairs to deliver his vengeance. Eventually, he grew tired of walking and levitated in the air. Ascending into the light of day, he surveyed the demons and beast-kin that were now defiling his domain.

With no further thought, he set the entire wall into a flame. Many burned to death, their fur igniting, their scales scorching. Death traversed the battlements, seeking every single life it could find. It felt like burning ants from a mound. Many tried leaping off the walls. Desperately they tried to escape his judgement, only to end a burning corpse.

Rising into their air, he glared down in judgement. With a wave of his hand, he batted away several spells and arrow volleys. They were pitiful attempts by lesser beings to harm his divine glory. Suddenly, a few arrows passed through his fire shield. The volley ignored the intense heat and glided unharmed. With a wave of his hand, he batted them away with sheer will. Allowing only a single arrow to reach him, catching the strange missile in his hand, he felt a slight itch upon contact.

Looking down, he found his own palm with a small gash, blood dripping sparsely. He brought the strange weapon to his face and saw it was made of pure glass or some sort of transparent crystal. Sensing the strange energies emanating from the arrow, he scowled in contempt. He knew what this was, and the dark rituals used to create them.

“Foul creatures to make such weapons. I shall punish them for this transgression.” He declared, waving his palm and vanishing the arrow.

Without warning or anymore preamble, his palms rose, and hell descended. Commanding the oxygen in the air to ignite, he set the besieging army ablaze. Thousands upon thousands of beast-kin screamed and burned at his will. Large swaths of the army ignited like napalm scattering across the field. In his mercy, he did not burn the entire army. He required survivors to spread word of his power and grace.

As the army burned, he noticed a large, red-skinned and winged demon ascending to his right. Preparing to smite the foul fiend, he turned his burning gaze to him. As another act of mercy, he waited a few moments to see what that abomination would do.

“An upstart fire god, yeah, I'm not paid enough for this.” The demon spoke tiredly.

Confused for a moment, Pyrus shrugged and prepared to vaporise the demon. The demon's disappearance stopped him from smiting it. He knew what the foul fiend had done, faded back to the Infernum. It was fine. Soon, he would bring that dimension to heel. The sky is never the limit for the gods.

After routing the army and sending them fleeing like burning ants, Pyrus returned... Pyrus returned to the castle, drained of power, he enacted the last part of his plan. Willing his being to transform, he became one with the flame and sending himself to his desired destination. The link told him where his target was and soon; he found himself on the opposite side of the castle.

Emerging from a fireplace, he solidified into a large hall. It had all the trimmings of wealth and decoration. It was likely one of the meeting halls the nobles used. He wondered if it was reasonable to keep the nobility around. Perhaps he could replace them with his priests, but of course, they knew little of the day-to-day ruling. He guessed the nobles would stay for now.

Emerging into the hall, he found his target, as expected. They would be champion, he anointed in fire. The child turned hero, known as Lucy, the gentle flame. A title he found rather stupid and disrespectful to his church. But alas, public relations were important, so he would ensure she got a noble end. The hall was sparsely populated, mostly by women and children.

Upon his sudden appearance, they all tried to bow, believing him to be their king. He supposed he was technical, but soon the term god-king would be the correct title.

“Everyone leave us. I wish to speak with the champion of Pyrus alone.” He commanded, broking no argument.

Without as much as a word, the noble ladies and children fled the room. Only Lucy and her bodyguard remained.

“I said alone!” He commanded again, glaring at the knight.

“Apologise, your majesty, but I am commanded by the emperor to never leave her side.” The knight replied, keeping to his oath even in the face of a god.

“Admirable, but foolish,” Pyrus stated, both respecting the man and thoroughly annoyed by him.

With a wave of his hand, he sent the knight flying and smashing into a nearby wall. The knight slumped to the ground, likely dead or unconscious. Pyrus didn't care. None of this mattered anymore. He turned to Lucy, noticing a shocked expression on the child's face. This would be an easy feat. Human children went into shock when confronted with conflict. Or she would break down in tears. Of course, there was that time when she showed some backbone beyond her years, but Pyrus believed it was just a mask for her fear.

He nonchalantly approached her, clenched his fist around her neck, and yanked her off the ground. She struggled with all the power of a child. Pointless of her but admirable to try. His eyes turned to flame and connected with the mortals own. He established the link, and her inner fire became his to take.

“You are no longer needed; I thank you for your minimal service.” He said simply and coldly, as if she was no more important than a disposable tool.

His eyes met hers, tears falling down her face. Yet defiance was there, which made it all the sweeter. He will return the power to its rightful place. Once done, he would martyr her for moral. We should honour her. He would grant her immortality after he squeezed the life from her.

The blazing eyes locked with hers, the two orbs filling with flame. Energy projected, connecting the two as the power he once granted slowly shifted back. He noticed a soft tug on the power. He wondered if she, a mortal, was resisting. It was a foolish thought. No mortal could resist him, not even a hero he raised up.

The process only started, but he could sense the knight rising from his slumped position. Without turning his gaze, he stopped the descending blade. His grip clenching the sword, the weapon stopped halfway. No matter the knight's skill or strength, it wouldn't budge. Deciding to spare a glance at the knight, he found the sweat-stained mortal muttering something.

“Forgive me.” He said under his breath.

Confused, Pyrus didn't notice the swift kick to his genitals. The blow winded the god, sending unfamiliar pain crackling through his physical form. The pain only lasted for a moment, and then the anger came. He turned his gaze away, the energy streaming from his eyes detaching from the victim. Granting her a small respite yet dooming the knight.

With a single glance, he ignited a small flame before the knight. The flame lasted for a moment before exploding and sending the knight into the wall. Using more power than before, he was sure that would kill him. Happy to see the wretch was down and not getting up, he turned back to his work. What he saw in the eyes of the once fearful child was something he hadn't expected.

Anger replaced her fear. No longer was she quelled or cowed by him. The fire within burned brightly. Defiance was all he saw. This was something he would need to crush if he planned to become a god of this world.

“Don’t try it mortal, you can’t possibly oppose me.” Pyrus proclaimed imperiously.

Silence was the only response he got back. This satisfied him and so he continued. His eyes glowing like embers, ready to strip this vessel of his divine power. Beginning the process, a new, he found it to be different, more resistant to his will. He wonders if her inner turmoil was making the process more rigid.

“Get out of my head, you asshole!” The child cursed, digging her nails into his hand.

The resistance was amusing for a moment, despite the impudence of youth. Yet her resistance seemed to grow, no matter how much effort he put into the task. The child started to heave and roil in his grip. Somehow, her anger and hate were pushing back against him. He tried to hold on, but he couldn't. No matter how much power he put in, the reward was negligible.

“How is this possible?!” He demanded.

“I said get out dick bag!” She cursed with such finality her words seem to echo in Pyrus head.

With one final push, Pyrus found himself dizzy. His spiritual self was whirling inside his vessel. Suddenly, an abrupt force slammed against his essence, forcing him out and propelling him back into his realm. He was shocked just as his vision went blank and quickly shifted to the sight of his throne. Somehow, a force pushed him from his vessel and dumped him unceremoniously at the bottom step of his throne.

“That’s not possible. How can a child repel me?!” He demanded, receiving only silence.

The sudden abrupt shift was daunting and took him a while to get centred. With his faculties in place, he repossessed his vessel, waking up on the ground. Rising to his feet, he scanned the area, finding no one in sight. Even the knight he blasted into the wall was gone. Only signs of his impact remained.

“Damn.” He cursed as the weight of his failure dawned on him.

“Not a good start for godhood.” Sighing and shrugging, he wondered what to do next.