Avass stood in silence, observing the armies as they assembled. Four rivers of soldiers wound their way through the path they had carved through the forest. Four different kingdoms had come together to face what they believed was a singular threat. What they didn't realize was that the threat was far greater than they could ever imagine.

The kings and queens of the assembly seemed like hungry vultures, eyeing minor mines and resources, eagerly awaiting the spoils of war. If they were to discover that the leader of the opposing army possessed a founding crystal, the insatiable human greed would drive them to scramble for possession of the coveted artifact and the new alliance would crumble like dust.

To possess the power of a founding crystal meant that your settlement would experience a meteoric rise. Opportunities and rewards would effortlessly come your way. Power and glory would be virtually guaranteed. Even Avass couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy toward the elf who had discovered the artifact and turned his modest village into a sprawling kingdom. The threat had become so substantial that kingdoms that had stood for centuries put aside their differences and united.

Avass didn't have any particular interest in the impending conflict. He had only followed the growing army out of curiosity and to observe one of his champions. Amidst the sea of people, he spotted a knight. A knight with a proud bearing and shining armor that commanded the respect of all those around him. His squires and fellow knights looked to him for guidance, and they accepted his words with bows of respect.

The knight was not wearing a helmet, but a golden wreath perched atop his blond head. It was fashioned after the one he had personally bestowed upon him, a symbol of his special favor as someone chosen by a God. After gifting the wreath to the knight's younger brother, Avass had decided to extend the same gift to the rest of the siblings.

Well, all except for the one exiled in the Dry Sands. Avass couldn't afford a failure among his champions, and that particular individual seemed utterly incapable of wielding a sword effectively or inspiring millions with his brave actions. He watched his champion for a moment as the man assumed his position among the Altian soldiers. But then, he felt it... A terrifying aura.

"Damn it all to the lower planes!" Avass cursed his misfortune. His gaze remained fixed on his champion, hoping that the man’s fate wasn't sealed just yet. He had a few tricks up his sleeve, and if necessary, he would use them to protect his cherished champion. Avass had invested an immense amount of mana to empower the De Luval family, and he wouldn't allow his investment to go to waste.

Swiftly, he flew to the other end of the immense valley, where the impending battle was about to begin. There, on a cliff overlooking the gathering armies, he sensed a disturbance. His eyes could only discern a small opening on the mountainside, bare and forgotten. However, his senses told him a different story.

Avass approached cautiously, extending his aura to notify those within the shroud of obscurity of his presence, and then he waited. He waited and waited until he had to clench his teeth to restrain himself from shouting in indignation. How dare he keep him waiting? He was Avass! The God of bravery, worshipped by millions, whose name was whispered by warriors across the world, seeking his favor to grant them courage. He might not be part of the main pantheon, but his power grew every day. More and more mortals flocked to his temples, seeking the courage to face life's growing challenges. He was benevolent, generous, magnificent! He was Avass!

The bubble of obscurity momentarily faltered, and two figures emerged as if materializing out of thin air. Their faces were devoid of emotion or expression, and they moved with eerie synchronicity as they approached Avass. They bowed respectfully in the presence of his Godliness and, with voices that sounded hollow and foreign, made their announcement. "YOUR DIVINE RADIANCE IS WELCOMED BY OUR FATHER."

Avass couldn't help but grimace at the grating sound, which seemed to carry all the way down to the valley below, unsettling even the oblivious mortals. He scrutinized the enigmatic beings before him. It had been some time since he had last seen them, and his curiosity was piqued.

Name: Oplos

Health points: 5180/5180

Mana: 991/991

Level: 211

Race: Metallurian

Age: 36

Profession: Warrior

Class: Devine Sentinel

These humanoids were the result of divine experiments by a powerful god who sought to create unparalleled warriors. Their skin is adorned with a metallic sheen, granting them enhanced durability, strength, and resilience. Their large bull-like horns serve as symbols of their might and heritage, making them fearsome and imposing on the battlefield. The Metallurians have become renowned for their exceptional combat abilities, forged in the divine crucible of their god's experiments.

Skills:

Swordsmanship

Level:

112

Spears

Level:

67

Dual-wielding

Level:

75

Shields

Level:

92

Hammers

Level:

87

Metallurgy

Level:

89

Axes

Level:

75

Elemental Weaponry

Level:

56

Metallic Resilience

Level:

61

Martial Harmony

Level:

34

Avatar of War

Level:

29

Metallurgical Morphing

Level:

58

Metalsculpt Weaponry

Level:

47

Mystic Resonance

Level:

27

Tactics

Level:

44

Attributes: +7 per level

Strength: 436

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Constitution: 518

Dexterity: 251

Willpower: 98

Intelligence: 112

Charisma: 62

Patron: Xiphos

Blessings:

Blessing of Battle Fury

Divine Retribution

Avass was both impressed and alarmed by the creatures before him. The humanoid Metallurians had been created with a singular purpose in mind: war. Their remarkable stats attested to the God's success in his experiments. Metallurians possessed skin tougher than most metals, rendering them nearly indestructible in defense. Their innate affinity for combat skills, combined with their exceptionally high strength and vitality, made them formidable opponents, ones that even some Gods might struggle to face.

Despite their impressive capabilities, Avass found their mere existence repulsive. They were simple automatons, their will and emotions suppressed to serve their master's bidding. They were undoubtedly useful, but in Avass's eyes, they were abhorrent. They had no drive or ambition to achieve anything on their own accord, no songs would ever be written about them.

He was barely able to suppress his grimace of disdain and he addressed the creatures with the authoritative tone befitting his divine position. "Guide me to your master," he commanded. The Metallurians bowed once more in submission and turned with their eerie, mechanical movements. Avass followed behind them, floating with the grace and dignity for which he was renowned.

As he crossed the invisible barrier, Avass took in the flurry of activity. Metallurians were diligently constructing a wooden stage, at the center of which sat a throne. Marbled columns and deep red velvet curtains separated the stage from the rest of the camp. Two of the God's numerous sons were overseeing the Metallurians' work, striving to prepare the area for their father's arrival. Nearby, a bard anxiously strummed his lyre, stealing occasional glances at the metallic monstrosities. Nymphs flitted about, dancing and sipping wine from crystal flutes, adding an air of festivity to the scene.

Avass's attention was drawn to a luxurious tent at the back of the camp, where grunts and groans emanated with increasing intensity. He took a deep breath, attempting to restrain himself. He had to remind himself repeatedly not to offend the God of War, for the man may be a brute, but he commanded countless nations ready to do his bidding. Suppressing his urges went against his very nature, however.

Inside, he wanted to scream at the God for keeping him waiting while he fornicated, the only thing the God seemed to know aside from warfare. Avass, in contrast, was a man who enjoyed indulging in various aspects of life. He had dabbled in philosophy, literature, and even music. His lyrical genius was celebrated throughout Helios. The brute, however, was known solely for his strength and love of war.

Avass could no longer contain his impatience, and a scowl etched itself onto his face. He called over one of the God's sons while impatiently tapping his foot. "How may I be of assistance, honorable Avass?" The demigod's respect somewhat mollified Avass, but another cry of pleasure, or pain, pierced the air, setting his teeth on edge.

"I would like you to inform your father of my presence," Avass demanded. The man, who bore little resemblance to his father, appeared awkward and reluctant to meet Avass's eyes.

"I am certain the great warrior is already aware of your presence," the man stammered, as though praying for the ground to swallow him up. But Avass had grown weary of being patient.

In a display of power, he allowed his aura to run rampant. The entire camp was suffocated by his overwhelming presence. The Metallurians spasmed and flailed, while the nymphs stifled cries of terror and fled in haste.

"AVASS! WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?" A colossal figure, clutching a fur to cover his privates, emerged from the ostentatious tent. Behind him, a harem of nymphs peered out from behind the curtains, their eyes wide with fear. The man's body bore a patchwork of old scars and tattoos of an ancient people long extinct. But it wasn't his imposing musculature or towering height that sent shivers down Avass's spine.

It was the man's usually golden eyes, which most Gods possessed, that had almost brimmed over with the blood-red energy of the berserker. Avass was thankful that the man hadn't been completely consumed by bloodlust, but the fact that he was on the verge of transformation carried grave implications. As far as Avass knew, during his tenure as the God of War, the man had transformed only three times, each instance brought about by the deadliest of conflicts that had swept across Helios. To witness evidence of such a development was deeply troubling. Perhaps the rumors circulating in the Gilded City held some truth.

"WELL?" the God demanded as his servants draped a red cloak over his nudity.

"I apologize, Xiphos, for my inappropriate behavior. However, when a guest appears, it is customary to set aside all previous engagements and extend a proper greeting," Avass replied, attempting to maintain his composure. The God accepted a goblet offered to him and downed its contents in a single gulp. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and regarded Avass with his unsettling, blood-red eyes.

"You need to learn patience, Avass, and show respect for your elders," Xiphos admonished. Avass huffed in disbelief. How dare this God, infamous for his lack of manners and respect, openly call him a petulant child?

"I will have you informed that I have ascended for two centuries! I am no longer a godling! And I should be shown respect befitting my station!" Avass declared, but his words were met with indifference as Xiphos walked toward the edge of the cliff to observe the gathering armies. The ground trembled beneath the sheer number of people assembled below, ready to lay down their lives for their kingdoms.

Another servant materialized out of nowhere, carrying a tray of drinks. Avass selected a flute of aetherian draught and took a satisfying sip.

"Why are you here, Avass?" Avass took another sip, wanting to keep the other God waiting, just as Xiphos had done to him.

"I was curious to watch my new champion's prowess in battle when I sensed your presence nearby," Avass replied. Xiphos hummed as the bard began playing one of the hymns dedicated to the God of War.

"That is unfortunate. For you, I mean. My champion is an unstoppable force of nature!" Avass fought back a groan of frustration. He had suspected as much, considering the battle seemed too small for Xiphos's tastes. However, he had hoped his new champion wouldn't cross paths with one of Xiphos's agents.

Viewed from above, the battle seemed lopsided. The four kingdoms had amassed an army numbering in the tens of millions, while the opposing force had barely half that number. Nevertheless, Xiphos seemed certain of his champion's victory, regardless of the grim odds.

"I am confident my champion possesses the strength of character to overcome any dangers he may face," Avass replied. Xiphos chuckled and pointed to a man at the vanguard of the elven forces.

"Do you see that man? He is special. The first time I met him, he looked me straight in the eyes as if we were sharing a drink at a tavern. Unafraid and undaunted, he asked me one question: how he could become a God. Can you believe it?" Xiphos shook his head and chuckled fondly. "The kid has guts, I'll give him that. But he's no opportunistic scoundrel. No, all he wanted was to protect his village. You see, they were at war with a nearby settlement, and half of his loved ones were lost in the conflict. He wanted to put an end to it, to protect the few precious people he had left."

Avass was baffled by the whole situation. He looked at the colossal man beside him, wondering if he was being deceived. "Don't tell me you were moved by the man's plight," he asked, his skepticism evident. Xiphos chortled in response.

"Of course not! I told you, that kid is special. I could sense an ocean of blood being spilled in his name, nations clamoring for his attention or wailing for his mercy. All that the man needed was a little help. So, I provided him with some blessings and a couple of wreaths, and the small village managed to emerge victorious, thwarting its enemy," Xiphos explained.

Avass scrutinized the man but couldn't detect the greatness that Xiphos praised. He appeared like any other wood elf, with his brownish skin and long, straight hair. He was somewhat bulkier than the average elf, but nothing about him marked him as a powerful warrior. Even his armor was unimpressive, made from brown hide and leather belts crisscrossing his torso.

Observing Avass's skeptical expression, Xiphos reassured him. "I've never encountered a man so hungry for power, so intoxicated by the prospect of victory that he's willing to sacrifice everything in his path to achieve his goals. He's like an insatiable force, ready to consume everything in his way. When he found the founding crystal, his destiny was sealed. He became a leader, guiding his small village to greatness in a matter of months. I mean, look at this!" Xiphos opened his hand with a dramatic flourish. "Four kingdoms have assembled to oppose my little champion! If that isn't a sign of his greatness, I don't know what is."

Avass remained uncertain about this new champion, but he didn't have a reason to doubt Xiphos's words. The God of War was many things, but a liar wasn't one of them.

"But how did he find the founding crystal? Those relics are among the rarest artifacts on Helios!" Avass inquired, seeking more information. Xiphos shrugged and took another swig of his mead, then motioned for one of his nymphs. The woman hurried to join him, and the God enveloped her in his arms, groping every part he could take hold of.

"I have no idea. He went on a quest with the intention of getting stronger and discovering new resources for his village. He stumbled upon an ancient dwarven mine, and there he found the crystal. Perhaps Tychos had a hand in this; I'll have to ask the little bugger," Xiphos explained casually. Avass grimaced at the mention of Tychos, the trickster God. Memories of their last encounter flooded his mind, causing his blood to boil.

"I've heard rumors of another crystal being discovered near the frost-tipped mountains, along with the founding of a new settlement," Avass added, his words trailing off uncertainly. Even Xiphos appeared to find it hard to believe that two founding crystals had been discovered in close proximity at the same time.

Since his ascension, only three cities had been founded with these special crystals. The appearance of a founding crystal heralded a new power's rise, bringing war and strife until a new order was established.

Avass was about to share his concerns when he felt a connection break. Initially confused, his eyes searched the battlefield below. War cries and clashing metal filled the air as the two armies prepared to collide. Millions of warriors ran with blood thirsty expressions, but one had a vacant one. His champion! His champion had been slain! And not from the elven forces but from one of his own! The betrayal!

He was prepared to unleash his fury to those who dared harm his champion when something unsettling occurred. A probing power began investigating their location, a power so distinctive and alarming that both Gods exchanged a look. Without a word, they both shot straight up into the sky.

They soared through the heavens until the air grew thin, and the distant stars transformed into blazing rocks and formidable planets. There, they discovered the source of the peculiar power, the guardian.

He was a man not of this plane, not a God, but equal to a God. A figure so rare that millennia could pass before someone encountered this enigmatic being.

Avass exchanged a look with Xiphos, who, for the first time since they met, appeared perplexed and even frightened. Avass didn't dare approach the strange man; he had heard tales of his existence, but his presence defied all expectations.

The guardian belonged to a race that did not exist in Helios. His skin was so dark that it seemed to merge with the cosmic void behind him. His body lacked any muscle or fat, appearing emaciated and bony. His limbs had three joints, giving him an alien and ominous appearance. He had neither eyes nor a mouth, yet he could see and speak.

Sitting in a lotus position, he appeared undisturbed by their presence as if he was expecting them. In his lap rested a long scepter, rounded at both ends, with two large, unblinking eyes fixed on their every move.

"Xiphos, Avass, I apologize for troubling you. I was merely investigating some disturbances," the voice echoed directly in their minds. Avass, the God of Courage, felt a flicker of fear for the first time since his ascension. The man had bypassed with ease every protection and defense against mental manipulation that he possessed.

Xiphos, too, appeared deeply disturbed, gazing at the man with a look of startled bewilderment.

"Are you aware of my purpose?" the guardian inquired. Avass, trying to regain his composure, responded, "You are a guardian." Xiphos remained silent, offering no additional commentary. The guardian didn't move, but Avass detected a hum of approval.

"That is true. But it is also false. I am an observer, a witness. I oversee the balance, the harmony, all that is necessary for you to rule, to exist," the guardian explained. Avass was taken aback. This being seemed to suggest that he stood above them, that they owed their existence to him. Who did he think he was? Gods were above everyone, above nature itself. Everything was created according to their will.

"I worry. The balance is at the precipice of collapse. I worry. The equilibrium is in danger. I worry. Anomalies are occurring everywhere. I worry. Balance must be preserved," the guardian continued, and any protests Avass was about to voice died in his throat. The guardian's voice was filled with concern and sorrow, and the naked emotion shook Avass to his core. He looked to Xiphos for guidance, but the God of War appeared as lost as he was.

"Balance must be preserved," the guardian repeated before vanishing, leaving behind the haunting words, "I worry."