Avenger [https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/pw/AP1GczOtGu9gP892XhbkUsmwqBnVDKZEKqkp2-VjOJxHX0LrOL5WXCYuxxWApq4AF8iDElHt1a8UOixOQ3IZufrHqrDR5GFpnvP66wbY1vfU6TmK-iZNWuUYrjOVYWiFe_093zZtJB-mupIs4WJLgV-xfa6z=w661-h992-s-no-gm?authuser=0]
Avenger couldn’t help his pacing within his Sanctuary as he awaited with pent up anticipation for the potential arrival of a man he had been keeping his eye on for a while now. It was a nervous habit from his life as a mortal that he had never been able to shake even after becoming a god. Whenever he caught himself lost in it though, it brought back the painful memories of those last few years he lived.
He would never get that life back.
Refocusing his attention on the man currently standing outside his temple, Avenger didn’t know who to pray to in order to answer his hope that Paul Wayland would take those few steps forward to enter. Not many people sought his temple out and even fewer he was willing to make Anointed Disciples. They were too driven by pure white hot rage fueling their desire for revenge. It would be a hollow vengeance and often disproportionate to the actual crime.
While many believed that was his sole purpose, it was surprisingly his previous mortality that helped keep him in check and regulate his biases and greed. He knew exactly how hollow revenge could be. It never got the person the thing they truly wanted… It never brought back the dead.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips when Paul Wayland took that next step forward. Avenger knew the Wrath Blade had been debating about this for a long time. The questions the former Paladin had asked not only his clergy but related and opposing ones, the research the man had done into every known occurrence of one of his Divine Sigils being leveraged to pay the Adjudicator for breaking the laws of the land and sparing his Disciples for the Quests he gave.
Paul Wayland was perfectly suited to his purpose and had the morality he often sought. Not too upright to refuse to break the law or inflict punishments, but not so depraved that he would go beyond the necessities of his quests or revel within the acts carried out.
Avenger was also perfectly suited for Paul Wayland as well. The man’s obvious traumas and fear of being betrayed again were something he could assuage by his very nature. The god who punished betrayal would never betray others.
As he listened to his High Priestess speak with his visitor his grin grew and he ran a hand through his fiery red hair. If anything, he hoped that would draw a subconscious reminder of the newest reason spurring the visit.
Positioning himself in front of the map on the opposite wall to the door, he tried to appear as though he hadn’t been pacing anxiously impatient and grinned at the peak Emerald Caster as he entered his Sanctuary. “Paul Wayland, I was wondering how long it would take you to finally seek me out.”
The blonde man knelt and replied in supplication, “I thought coming here would be giving into my rage… I believed it would give me a false purpose—a crutch for my wounded pride.”
“And now?” Avenger asked, casually moving closer to hopefully put the man more at ease with him. He didn’t want Paul to see another person trying to take advantage of him and that truly wasn’t his intention even if he would benefit from whatever deal they might strike.
“Now I’ve found my new purpose and have realized that it is in alignment with your own…”
Avenger’s smile broadened and he almost wanted to throw a fist into the air when Paul claimed aloud his desire to become his Paladin.
They spoke a bit more but Paul seemed determined about ensuring the safety of his Protege. That was the core of it. It was the true reason that Avenger had even been raised to Divinity by Hero in the first place. Not the desire for making the person pay for the slight against himself, but for the resolve to stop a sinner from committing even more atrocities. The desire to end the threat of a known harm. To deliver karmic vengeance upon the wicked.
Hero had chosen a man that would turn revenge into a shield for the innocent.
As they finished their brief discussion, getting right down to the nitty gritty and ignoring pointless pandering, Avenger felt a slight surge of power as Paul Wayland spoke the vow of dedication and he could now sense the bond connecting their souls by a thin strand of power. That small connection let Avenger gain even more Aetherius for any time one of his followers acted upon his purpose.
Then the golden man spoke his Oathbond, carefully worded to prevent betrayal on Avenger’s side but committing his life into his service. Soon, Avenger would finally have a Ruby Caster under his command again. They could accomplish so much more good together.
In response to the vow and oath, Avenger made good on his own promise, reaching out to grasp Paul’s hand and pushing his power into Paul’s very soul, Blessing him with a cultivated Talent and making him a newly rededicated Paladin.
It had cost him a lot more Aetherius than the brief surge he had gotten just moments before. Paul’s Caste alone made it a decent amount, but he knew there were hidden fees and unseen taxes working in the background for making a move on the man connected not only to the new Wayfarer most gods seemed to be interested in, but also Paul’s numerous accomplishments, social position as the Lord over others, the resources at his command, connections he had formed with other mortals, enemies he had made both mortal and divine… Abyss, even his Wayland bloodline was adding more to the cost; the history and legacy he carried on through the ages was an added weight to the investment.
As he watched his new Paladin marvel at the new power bestowed upon him, Avenger smiled and hoped Paul would be worth every drop of Aetherius he was willing to spend on him.
Back in the Celes, near the Heart of Creation where many of the gods would congregate simply to socialize with one another in Projected bodies, Champion hugged him tightly as she praised him. “I’m so happy for you, James! You deserve such a promising follower like Paul Wayland. He obviously sees the good you do!”
His cinderen cheeks glowed softly like they had in mortality as he replied, “I know, and thanks. I wasn’t sure I would ever get someone so close to Ruby again, what with the Voidsworn killing off my Disciples whenever they get the chance.”
“You know that just means they’re afraid of you,” she pointed out for the literal billionth time. They had both been deities for multiple millennia now and he had stopped bothering to keep count of all the times she would try to comfort him like this.
“Champion, you know you’re supposed to call him Avenger, now, not his mortal name,” Hero said as he approached closer. Clapping his shoulder in that familiar way of support, he added, “I’m happy for you too, though.”
Avenger and Champion both rolled their eyes at the pink-haired god. Champion retorted first, saying, “No mortal is here to overhear me calling him James just like you both are free to call me Moira. You’re the one who insists it’s a good thing to hold onto the pieces of our mortality that we can.”
“It helps us remain balanced,” he replied with a firm nod. “The last thing this world needs is an unchecked Avenger implementing a police state or an overzealous Champion sowing chaos by obliterating seats of power.”
“Or helping to enforce that lovely police-state you mentioned,” Avenger pointed out, but his smile made it obvious that he was teasing.
Hero just huffed and shoved his shoulder playfully, “Don’t get any ideas, James. You already ran away from one overzealous nation. I know you won’t work to implement another.”
Avenger grimaced at the reminder. “No, but I wish that nation wasn’t still around. It seems like our efforts on that front are all for naught. They’ve only gotten worse and they’re so entrenched in the Purifier’s ideology that their people are willing to throw away their lives to cleanse its neighbors. It’s been nothing but a bloodbath over on Alkupera, made all the worse by the Soul Reapers arrival emboldening them.”
“True, but you know all of our Disciples have been stretched thin across the globe.”
“I know… I just…” Avenger glanced at Champion, encouraged by her smile as he finished the thought. “I wish there was more we could do. Sometimes I think clinging to our mortality is also holding us back from truly competing against the more zealous deities.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Hero gave them both a sad smile, repeating the phrase he would often use to reassure all three of them. “We can hope our Disciples will be enough to make up the difference.”
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Avenger was pacing again, this time in the Celes while suspended in the air high above the ensuing battle between Paul Wayland and an interdimensional dragon that looked more like an overgrown fish.
“Fucking idiot!” he spat down at the foolish Paladin taking on two Ruby Caste enemies at once.
“Now, now,” Hero said from his seated position nearby. “He’s doing exactly what he believes is right. That resolve of his morals was what drew you to him in the first place.” He was dressed in his usual white leathers and resting his chin on his hand as he watched the fight below taking place, a soft smile gracing his lips.
“It’s not something to look so happy about, Hero!” Avenger yelled at his patron. He was so beyond frustrated right now that he couldn’t be bothered to be more polite. “He’s going to get killed! Just like you! Just like Moira! Just like every other foolish mortal attempting to be a hero!” He ineffectively kicked at a cloud in a futile attempt to reduce his anger. “And unlike you, I don’t have the power to raise him to Divinity to try and avoid that fate!”
“What would he even become the god of?” Hero pondered aloud, seeming completely unconcerned about the inevitable death of Avenger’s only Ruby Paladin. “We already have the Mentor and the Parent and the Avenger, obviously. Maybe the Poet? I know he likes to dabble in that, at least.”
“God of Fools is more like it!” Avenger growled, making a strangled noise the next moment as Paul got eaten by the dragon. “A god of DEAD FOOLS!” he shouted down at the fight, completely unheard by any mortal.
“He’s not dead yet,” Hero pointed out with an amused glint in his brilliant blue eyes. “That’s barely a flesh wound really. Didn’t even hit the teeth.”
Avenger gave him a flat look. “You and I both know he’s not going to make it out of this alive. You’re just happy because he’s going to die a hero.”
The other god finally frowned and actually turned to face him. Avenger already knew he had said the wrong thing. He knew he was being unfair and simply lashing out in frustration, but he wished Hero would get frustrated on his behalf as well.
“You know that never makes me happy, James,” Hero softly said. “If there was anything I could do to trade my life for his, you know I would.”
Avenger deflated at that, moving over to sit in the air next to his second-oldest friend. He placed his face in his hands, trying in vain to rub his worries away. “I know… I know.”
His friend and patron patted his back. “If he dies a hero, his legacy will hopefully inspire others to follow in his footsteps. You may get more people joining your clergy to carry the mantle Paul Wayland leaves behind. I’m sure you’ve thought about others to recruit with your Paladin as a shining example of the good that can be accomplished under your guidance.”
“I’ve thought about ways to approach his soon-to-be son, but I’m honestly not sure he’s well suited yet. He’s also been wary of any clergy, especially since getting involved with Destroyer’s Chosen.”
Hero chuckled. “Yes, many deities have contemplated chasing after young Dazien at one point or another. I wish you all the luck in this reality and beyond should you pursue that.”
“I’ll keep it in the back of my mind,” he muttered, then gasped in mild panic as his attention refocused toward the fight below. Paul just got struck by a wild bolt of lightning then stabbed in the back, twin daggers piercing both shoulder blades where his crow-like wings connected.
Avenger loved those wings… despite him refusing to talk to anyone other than Moira about it.
Moira understood. She had loved Crow just as much as he had before the playful Fae had been ripped from their side and consumed by shadows. Those wings looked almost exactly like Crow’s had.
Now he worried that he’d never get to see them again.
As if knowing his thoughts, Champion appeared beside him opposite of Hero and placed her own hand over his. Gripping it tightly, she said, “He’ll be okay. I promise that—”
“Don’t, Moira!” Avenger cut her off. “I don’t need empty hopes.”
“No hope is empty,” Hero interjected. “It’s what has pushed your Paladin this far. It’s what will fuel his victory.” With a smirk, the pink-haired god gestured back down where Paul turned just in time to swing and cut his foe in half and then screamed up at them. Victorious… yet, still defeated.
As Paul reached down to pick up his loot, he staggered and all three deities reacted instinctively to try to catch him only to watch as the golden Familiar manifested to complete the task for them.
Avenger’s fists clenched as he heard the Familiar speak to Wayland’s mind through his own connection to the Paladin. “Wayland must stay awake to see the young ones again.”
“I… I don’t think I can anymore, Bela,” Paul weakly replied, slowly staining the snow below him crimson.
“This is siva shit,” Avenger said through gritted teeth as he helplessly watched his Paladin dying atop an alien ship after accomplishing an impossible win. He glared up at Hero through angry tears that he knew were completely unnecessary. “We’re gods and yet you’re telling me that all I can do is stand here and watch him die?”
“Yes,” Hero firmly said, despite his tone being gentle. “Paul Wayland won his fight. There’s no one for you to avenge against.”
“I can make every blasted Soul Reaper pay for—”
“That is rage talking,” Hero interjected. “We know they initially offered peace. Our own adversaries are to blame for this war… for all the death that could have easily been avoided.”
A portal appeared nearby and the deities all turned to watch the redheaded Wayfarer arrive and drop down across from the Moonsong Voxen that had been getting involved as Rebel’s Cleric. The young woman had been closely watched by all of them as she struggled to survive and learn about this often ruthless world. Her other party members arrived shortly after her; Destroyer’s Chosen, the healing leader of the Dewsong clan, and the boy who might one day become a king.
Hero moved closer to his Chosen, reaching a hand out as if to comfort her but pulling back at the last moment. Despite their ability to see the Mortem from the Celes, the window only went one-way. They couldn’t see the deities watching over them. Couldn’t feel the reassurance their touch might offer.
“I wish she would dedicate herself to me, simply so I could tell her how much I believe in her,” Hero surprised all of them by admitting aloud. “To tell her that I don’t wish this pain upon her. That every move I make is in an effort to prevent more of this grief from falling upon her and others.”
Champion placed her hand on Hero’s shoulder. “I’ll make sure she and her companions remain safe. I don’t have a ton of Aetherius left, but I can offer a deal should her current champion die.”
“I’m not sure death will need to happen,” Scholar said, suddenly appearing next to them as she curiously looked at the snow-colored voxen who seemed transfixed on the dying Paladin before him. “I may have a way to save Paul Wayland’s life, but no guarantees on this one.”
Avenger looked at the tiny goddess in surprise. “You can?” He paused a moment later, recalling all the past promises of hope that were never ‘guaranteed.’ Just to make sure, he had to ask, “This isn’t going to result in another failed experiment is it?”
The goddess was at least honest as she shrugged. “No idea. I’m pretty sure it’ll kill Phoenix if it works, but he should live in that case.”
“I’m sure that’s a price she’s more than willing to pay at this point,” Hero grumbled. “While I’m pleased to see her resolve to protect others, I never wished for her to recklessly endanger herself so often. Yet another reason for me to wish she’d let me Whisper advice to help guide her.”
Everin Starlark’s cries toward the sky drew their attention back to the tragedy in front of them as he called out to a handful of deities. “Mender! Cultivator! Parent or Lover! Hero or even the blasted Avenger! We beseech any and all of you, to grant us a blessing, an item, a bloody miracle even! Anything to save the life of this man!”
Both Hero and Avenger grimaced at hearing their names and not being able to offer the miracle asked for. It was outside their domains. It did make Avenger angrier though, and he called out himself to the deity that should have answered, “Mender! Do you not hear his cries?! Do you not care about saving another life?”
An older weary looking woman appeared beside him, carefully patting his arm and she soothed, “Of course I care, but I am almost so depleted by the miracles I’ve been spending elsewhere that if I were to intervene with another Ruby Caster I’m not sure I’ll be able to project in the Mortem again. If Scholar believes she has a way to save him, I would rather her pay the cost at this point. This war and blood moon aren’t over yet. Frankly, there are many other lives more important than this one man.”
“Oh good,” Scholar interjected, making it clear that she wasn’t talking directly to them, “he’s asking me for the answer now. That’s my cue!”
Her projection shifted into the Mortem at that point as the rest of them looked on in envy at the Aetherius usage. They all listened and watched as Scholar once again pursued learning something new. They had not been expecting her to create a new Avatar right then and there in an effort to save Paul Wayland’s life, and they could only speculate at her motivations behind the expensive act.
Avenger held his metaphorical breath as the ritual proceeded, daring to hope that they would be in time to stop his Paladin’s soul from crossing the Veil as they could all see his aura unraveling around it. The soul became like a visible thing to them, much like souls did upon entering their reality. It was terrifying for Avenger to watch at this particular moment. He wanted Paul Wayland to live and accomplish so much more.
When it was over and the deities could all sense the outcome, Avenger thought his heart might break. It had been foolish to hope that—
Hero’s hand on his shoulder pulled him from his spiraling thoughts as the smaller god softly smiled and said, “Your Paladin lives, my friend. The hope he offers remains for both his children and for you.”
In a rare show of gratitude, Avenger turned and wrapped Hero in a hug.