“Holy shit, she’s ruthless as hell?!” I said, eating a mysterious blue glowing berry from the bowl hovering between me and my newfound patron, Perunious.
“Indeed, her potential appears limited only by her will to grow. Be mindful of that one, Tom. Her Patron is not one to take lightly, even by my standards.”
Curious at the idea of this manifestation of pulsating lightning energy being apprehensive, my question almost leaped from my tongue.
“Wait, what God would be so strong to make you feel reserved to the idea of slighting them?”
He glared a moment, a sense of anger flashing in his eyes as they pulsed a bright blue a moment before he relaxed just as suddenly with a chuckle.
“Hah, her name is Kirasu, Goddess of Nature and the art of Archery. She is one of the most vicious, cunning, and decorated Warrior Gods across the multiverse. That includes Khathorn, the one you claimed was ‘totally feeling you’.”
He scoffed a deep, earth shaking exertion of air from his nostrils with a smile, and the kind of look in his eye you give the hopeful friend with an aspiring rap career.
“Just give it some time, I know what I saw.” I said, dismissively.
“But wait, I met another God claiming sovereignty over nature. This other God, Florstrum, was like made out of bark and shit.”
“Ah, that old fool. Yes, Florstrum commands the nature of plant life, but not that of nature itself.”
Seeing my puzzled look, Perunious sat up from his massive bubble bath, making strobing lightning swish about within his tub.
”Kirasu’s path is far less limited in its purview. You see, plant life, sentient or not, must abide by natural law. A law written by Mother Nature. She is the lawman, all life that exists in the natural realm abides by her rule.”
“Oh…oh damn?!” I said, mulling over the implications. Essentially, she is Mother Nature. Frankly, I couldn’t see reason to fear upsetting this God, as I’ve never been a massive proponent for fucking up trees for another shitty mall no one goes to in it’s place. All the same, a mental note to tread with care should I ever encounter her Chosen was made.
Speaking of, her Chosen was incredible. Somehow, she’d summoned a shit ton of trees from her arrows, out of a surface that wasn’t soil. She didn’t even need water, which totally didn’t upset me to an irrational degree at all.
She wore a deep green light armor set, with a beautiful bow and quiver to match. She was above average size, about 5’9, and well, once again I’ll say she’s in impeccable shape and leave it at that. I’m a gentleman after all.
Her skin looked far more sun kissed than mine, though my Irish ancestors didn’t set me up well for catching too much sun. The entire fire, she wore her emotions totally on her face. Yet, never once did I see them hinder her movements or attacks. Truly, she made it look natural.
“Is it me, or is she kind of bad as hell too?”
Alright, I’m mostly a gentleman.
“Honestly, are there any female fighters that haven’t struck you as attractive yet?”
“Yes?!…I mean, none that I’d taken particular notice of.” I said, sheepishly.
“Ah, I wonder why that is.” Perunious retorted through a knowing grin.
To be absolutely fair, there totally were, okay? It just so happened the greatest fighters of our planet in my experience were also incredibly fit, how that’s my fault is beyond me.
Besides, she didn’t seem too keen on that fellow, I didn’t intend on making any moves anytime soon. Not first, anyway. Still, the way she put that pompous asshole in his place was by far some of the hotte-…
You know what? I’m just going to say I was impressed at her morality. Very impressed.
“Pay attention, Tom.” Perunious thundered, snapping me from my stupor.
“My wife’s Chosen is up next, and I have a sneaking hunch you two will get along ‘swimmingly’.”
Looking at the screen and seeing the woman standing with a trident gripped in hand, pommel pressed into the ground, I couldn’t help but cringe.
Ugh, is that what my water puns sound like?
Afraid to razz the God of Wrath to his face in his abode, I let the dad joke slide. Peering at the screen, I found that if based on looks alone, I could see it.
“What’s her name?”
“Veronica, my wife found her on round 65 bouncing between the fire arena your last opponent was cleaning house in, and the water arena you claimed your wrathful ownership over. She is Anutir’s Chosen. The fact she fought neither of you is a mere matter of statistical chance, in whose favor is still undetermined.”
Unsure how to feel about that, I shrugged, and sat back into my chair, crossing my legs on the ottoman before me. No need to cast resentment to someone who doesn’t know me, especially if I’m to be seeing them in passing for the foreseeable future. Besides, water and fire? Talk about ‘two-faced’.
Standing at around 5 '11 and, well, ‘fit’ as well, she wore a thin cloth material, with leather armor patching only the most vital areas overtop, with a long silver trident that shimmered in the light. She had bright red hair that fell to about an inch below her shoulders styled straight back. Her eyes were a visibly bright blue even with the camera angle or, whatever they use to record these, being a bit zoomed out.
Contrarily, her opponent wasn’t much of anything to bring home to mom and dad. The man stood 6 foot-ish, heavy set, with a full body of heavy armor. He held the classical sword and shield, and stood defensively as soon as he was blipped into the arena.
Sighing, Veronica walked forward casually as she spoke.
“How many shelled up brutes must I disassemble before I face more interesting opponents?” She said, looking up to the sky now. The warrior looked steadfast, not moving an inch regardless of her slowly looming arrival. She stopped a few feet away looking him up and down, close enough to touch weapons easily.
“Not the chatty type I see. Broody, that’s cute. Tell me, do you have another shield, or just the one in front of you?”
The man’s head lifted above the shield and cocked to the side, indicating confusion, when Veronica slammed the ground, shooting a fog of mist from the end of her trident. Immediately, the fog almost sentiently rolled all around the warrior, completely removing him from site. She backed away a step, circling the cloud as it moved to stay in front of the now flailing warrior trying to brush away the fog with big brushes of his shield clearing a chunk before it reformed again.
Occasionally, she’d stab into the fog, followed by a loud yelp and a forceful pull of her trident, revealing blood at its prongs. She laughed, and waved her hand, removing the fog to reveal the man, bloodied and breathing heavily.
“I feel bad, did you want to try this without that move? I didn’t give you a chance to be entertaining.”
Without hesitation, the man charged, prompting her to assume a ready stance. He charged with vigor and purpose, only to stop just short of her striking distance, shelling once more behind his shield.
With an exaggerated sigh, her shoulders dropped visibly, disregarding her foes range entirely.
“Ughhh, really? This isn’t even fun anymo-“
Suddenly, he stabbed forward, nicking her waving hand as she voiced her disgruntlement.
“OW?! You cut you me you fucking asshole?!” Veronica said, shaking her hand and checking the shallow cut across her palm. Her eyebrows narrowed as she pointed her trident at her attacker.
“Dick head.”
The familiar fog fired from her trident, once more surrounding the large warrior. It was heavier this time, the sound of him choking on the vapors beginning to crescendo.
“Silly warrior, I was being cool with you. You shouldn’t have gotten me so heated.”
She flicked her hand, and the cloud of vapor flashed a bright orange. Violent screams and sounds of burning skin filled the arena as the light vanished, along with the mist cloud. The man’s skin melted like plastic being dangled over an active volcano. He gurgled in agony for the next 8 seconds before succumbing to his burns and disappearing.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Utterly stunned, my jaw fell completely ajar as my mind raced trying to understand what just happened.I turned to meet the eyes of my Patron, who was smiling, shaking his head.
“Hahaha, women. So easily swayed by their emotional impulses, especially those of your galaxies planet 147.”
He paused, seeing my puzzled look.
“…your planet, Tom. ‘Earth’.
“Ohhhhhh…haha, yeah. Wait but why would that be a bad thing here? She absolutely Molly-whopped him?!” I asked, my expression now genuine.
“A fight so uncompetitive as that won’t bode well for her ranking if she doesn’t win it all. It’s too hard to discern whether one is truly so incredibly powerful, or has had impeccable fortune in lackluster opposition until a winner is crowned.”
“Ah, that actually makes sense. You’re
basically saying that Gods don’t want to jump too early on someone they don’t know for sure is exceptional or exceptionally lucky?”
Perunious nodded in approval at my understanding.
“Okay, that checks out, thanks.”
“Thank me with your growth in both power and prowess, my Chosen. Now hush, the final match is about to begin.”
Now, I know I’m no mathematician, but there’s only been 4 fights thus far, leaving another matchup available.
“Doesn’t that still leave 5 people left afterwards?”
I asked, hoping I worded this well enough for him not to incite anymore angry flairs in his eye. Instead, he chuckled, narrowing his eyes once more as he spoke through a smile.
“Indeed, your math is not wrong. Now quiet your curiosity, it’s starting.”
My attention returned to the projection to find another set of fighters. First to get their pre-match solo shot was a lanky fellow, looking roughly 6 ‘3, not a cent over 170. He held a large wooden staff with a few runes etched onto the length of it, and a red stone at the end of it.
His exposed body was covered in cuts and scars, which was odd considering we healed all attained ailments after each match. He wore a large black overcoat, patterned in red streaks that resembled streams of…blood?
Well, that’s a big fuckin’ tell.
His face wore the expression of a man determined, even giddy for the task at hand. Said task in question being who now commanded the forefront of projections attention. The man was hard to really make out in terms of facial detail, his body covered in white wraps that hung from the ends of his hands, wrapped as if to prepare for a sparring session. His legs were covered in the same loose hanging wraps, with shoes that looked extremely thin, with no laces.
From his knees up he wore an all white set of thin loose fitted pants and shirt with a large hoodie hung behind him, and what looked like the stereotypical ninja mask. A large, round white hat topped off the fighting game character cosplay stood before the realms, with a katana concealed in a white sheath with sand-grey, diamond-shaped designs.
He looked well and truly badass, and my regret for not having meddled further into our starting armor set options grew 10 sizes that day. He uttered no words, but simply peered up to meet his opponents gaze through a rectangular shaped gap at the middle section of his low-hanging hat.
The other man’s leg began bouncing as they stood in front of each other for some 10 massive seconds, before the fidgeting fighter aforementioned blurted angrily.
“COME ON?! What the hell are you waiting for? A photo opp for your stupid costume?”
The silent bladesman simply remained still, his hands on his blade hilt as he stood crouched low.
“Haha, alright buddy. I tried to let you have your time to shine for a bit.” The angry staff holder and assumed mage hissed in a shrill tone at the apparent pacifistic warrior.
His staff waved in a circle for a few cycles, hundreds of red droplets forming in the air above the crystal before flowing in a big circle, like a cyclone of blood. Peering down from his creation, the Mage quipped for a final time.
“Goodbye, you weird fuck.” Thrusting with one hand, a portion of the flowing blood casted separated off of its course, flying forward and shaping into about a dozen tiny shards. The mysterious swordsman stood as still as ever as the blood split apart.
The scarlet blades glistened as they spiraled at him, now within 5 feet. Yet still, he remained unmoving. Finally, as all hope of him waking up was abandoned, his arm shot out revealing a platinum colored blade that somehow looked sharp enough to cut the air as it was unsheathed. He swiped upwards diagonally, stepped back, and swung diagonally once more, only from over his opposite shoulder.
His cuts and were unbelievably fast. So much so that they were early, the shards barreling towards the blade wielder having yet to reach their target. They were a foot from his body when the air exploded outwards in two swipes replicating his prior ‘X’ formation of swings.
The shards within their direct path exploded instantly, while the rest were blown outwardly from the concussive force of those air swipes that had manifested. The blood mage looked absolutely dumbfounded, muttering before elevating his voice back to a toned down version of his authoritative energy.
“H-..how d-did yo-…n-no matter. There’s much left to reap from this vein.”
UGH, why are these people so fuckin’ cringy?
An unyielding gratitude that the integration didn’t happen during my edgy early teen years washed over me at the sound of this blood dorks shitty quips. In truth, those shards would cause me issue if he sent too many out at once, or maybe multi-directionally. However, mages up to this point had been some of my easier fights, barring Derick.
The mage moved his hand once more, this time quicker and with a few more flicks, as shards flew in a barrage followed by a massive blood spear. The swordsman stepped forward, switching his semi-bladed stance over while raising his Katana to a neutral point.
Move dude, move!?
Yet again all ruby-ranged attacks appeared to approach head on noticed by all except their target, until the bladesman’s back foot twisted. Almost instantly, he propelled his body in the air, a gust of wind washing over the crowd of contestants watching as he flipped upside down nearly 3 feet high, and swiped his katana towards the ground. A tidal of air visibly contorted as he swung, before blasting under him with a sharp whistling sound accompanied.
The gust shot the flipping assailant much higher, propelling him into arc headed feet first toward the blood mage. The mage created a giant scarlet shield with a massive blood dripping spike on its face, readying his stance for impact. The wind wielder slashed down at an angle cutting away the blood spike, before striking again at an inhuman speed breaking through the blood shield entirely.
The mage brandished a dagger from his pocket, stabbing up towards his descending attacker as a final stand to his defenses. The wind warrior kicked his leg forward, exhibiting incredible body control in the process as he had to flip to adjust for it. Somehow, he landed on the mages arm. Not as in ‘crushing his arm under the weight of his massive 10-12 foot fall’, as in he stood on his arm with one foot, weightless like a fucking bird.
The mage looked up, wearing utter shock upon his face. The weightless wind warrior flipped forward after a pause, landing on his feet. The mage had time to track his acrobatic display until its flawless finish, before two giant swipes of air manifested tearing his body to pieces in a shape that copied his entry swipes from above to the final detail. They both disappeared just as he sheathed his Katana and bowed to his mangled victim with honor.
“…anything on that fucking guy?”
Perunious sat still, his hand to his beard with his first finger over his mustache, pondering. After a few seconds, he moved his hand and spoke.
“His patron is…an odd one. A seclusionary God, Oshu. He commands air itself, and another example of my fellow Aboriginals. All affinities that function with air as a medium and Gods alike bow to him, yet he chooses to never form an official faction or church for worship. He’s simply ‘with the wind’ I guess you could say.” Perunious shared in a shockingly open manner. He certainly does love his dad-jokes, but there was a major detail he glazed over.
“You mentioned ‘fellow Aboriginals’, and ‘another’ implying you’ve mentioned one thus far. Which ones are your…God family?”
Again, he chuckled nonchalantly.
I’m sure glad he finds my helpless ignorance so damn amusing.
“‘God Family’, I certainly hope your family does not fight like we have, Tom. Unless they’re good at it, then send them my way.”
Perunious continued funding thorough amusement in himself, before finally expanding on my question after seeing my stern face.
“Alright, fine. If you must know, Kirasu is the only other fellow Aboriginal we’ve discussed. She became one before me, just before me.”
His eyes trailed at that last sentence, once more igniting a blue flame in his eyes for a beat before returning to meet mine.
“Oshu was second ever to achieve Godhood, yet he did so unlike any other of us had. He remained alone, never once taking a companion on his quests. Not even a partner, for a sense of companionship. Daily, he’d spend hours meditating, hovering high in the mountains where the air was thin. It mattered not where he had to be, for it seemed he was wherever he needed to be at any given moment. Truly, a bizarre man, and not one to take up a Chosen at any grade. Needless to say, this man interests me greatly.”
Having to take a moment to once again wrap my mind around the heavenly trauma dump disguised as information I’d received, my brow extended at the comprehension of how scary this silent individual may be. A God who never takes on any Chosen, selected a level 1 H-grade human from a newly integrating planet that hasn’t even started its tutorial yet to be his very first, and trillions of years.
Fuck, I can’t decide if him or Brigid are scarier. Hopefully, Korbin was paying close attention.
Mulling over all the incredible individuals I’d seen thus far, a thought began to nag at the corner of my mind. A conversation me and Perunious had regarding the variety of races that existed. He mentioned a myriad of them, a few being devils, giants, elementals, even beasts that grow strong enough to achieve sentience. He also mentioned humans existed long before our world joined the party, and that they’ve been a historically mediocre race in terms of power.
Yet, 3 Aboriginals have all found Chosen in this planet’s Placement Tournament alone, one popping their metaphorical cherry in doing so. How could these both be true?
“Perunious, you said before us humans are relatively middling in terms of power across the multiverse. Why is it there’s so many absolute monsters exist here then? I can’t imagine of the 3 selected by Aboriginals will become a Go-“
“Four.” I paused.
“…what? Four what’s?”
“Four Aboriginals have found their Chosen here. At least, to my immediate knowledge.”
“What?! Who’s the fourth God?”
Perunious did something completely out of character at this moment. It was only a moment, easily missed had I blinked at the exact same time, but he avoided my eye contact. Believing me unaware, he met mine firmly to save face, and spoke in his usual powerful tone.
“Anutir.”
Oh, well why’s that so bad?
“Okay, good thing she’s our ally, got to love having the Wrath God on my side”
Perunious’ posture relaxed a bit, and he smiled proudly as he spoke.
“You are correct in that assessment, Tom. And to answer your question regarding your planet’s strength, you’re correct again. Your world is in fact a special case, one we’ve all taken notice of. That’s not to say man has not become some of the most powerful Gods across the galaxies.”
My face contorted at the dichotomy in power he claimed.
“You see, your species has a habit of being much, much more…’resourceful’ than other awakened races. This being equally true in your history of particularly impressive individuals, allowing them to expedite their objectively longer road to Godhood.”
“Wait, you kind of look like a person. What were you?” I interjected.
“Lightning, boy.” He thundered back.
“As I was saying, your race is smart, and a great many knew to seek blessings from deities who long cracked the ethereal code to glorious power and freedom.”
He leaned over his tub, wrapping his utterly massive arm around my shoulder, making me look like a toy under a child’s care.
“Gods, my wise little Chosen, are man’s best friend.”