Ralak ventured deeper into the luminous forest, the vibrant glow of the alien flora lighting his path. The enormous trees, their bark shimmering with an ethereal light, seemed almost sentient, subtly bending and shifting as if guiding him. Strange alien beasts roamed nearby, their eyes catching his presence, but none dared approach. Instead, they slunk back into the shadows, as if recognizing the divine aura surrounding him.It felt as if the entire forest was conspiring to aid him in fulfilling his mission. With a smile, Ralak pressed forward, assured that the Primordial God was by his side.
After nearly three hours of walking, he reached a small Nyth settlement. This was only one of many tribes scattered throughout the forest, but it was teeming with life. About a hundred Nyths were already gathered outside, waiting. The leader of the group that had attacked him earlier shouted, “THAT’S HIM! IT’S THE EVIL MAGIC MAN!”
Ralak raised his hands peacefully. “I mean no harm, my friends of the forest. I come only to preach the word of my Lord.”
“PREACH IT SOMEWHERE ELSE! WE DON'T WANT ANY EVIL MAGIC HERE!” the tribe's leader yelled, his face twisted in anger.
Ralak could see the fear and misunderstanding in their eyes. Unsure of how to change their minds, he closed his eyes and silently prayed to Carter. “Lord, the Nyth cannot see your truth. Please, help me show them.”
As if in response to his plea, a golden light began to shine down on a large tent in the center of the tribe. The beam of light bathed the tent in a radiant glow, unlike anything the Nyth had ever seen.
Ralak opened his eyes and smiled, knowing his prayer had been answered. “The Lord has spoken,” he declared, his voice strong and certain. Ralak moved toward the tent at the center of the Nyth tribe. Though the Nyth warriors bristled, eager to stop him, it was as if something unseen forced them to stillness. Their mouths remained closed, hands frozen, and despite their inner protests, they found themselves parting to make way for him. Eyes followed him as he walked, their expressions a mix of fear, confusion, and awe.
As Ralak entered the large, looming tent, he was struck by the overwhelming sight before him. The air inside was thick with illness and suffering. Rows of sick Nyth lay on makeshift beds, their once-proud, tall bodies weakened by disease. Some looked too feeble to even open their eyes, while others moaned softly in pain. It wasn’t just a handful; there were dozens—perhaps more than a hundred—clinging to life inside the dimly lit space.
The tribe members crowded at the entrance of the tent, watching in silence as Ralak stood in the center of the room, feeling the weight of their suffering. He knew this was the moment Carter had guided him to, the reason his prayer had been answered.
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Ralak raised his hands forward and his palms toward the sky, his fingers trembling slightly as he closed his eyes in deep concentration. The Nyth gathered behind him, watching with anxious hearts, unsure if this was a blessing or a curse about to fall upon their people. Their instincts told them to protest, to stop him from using what they believed was dark magic, but something held them back—whether it was fear, awe, or some unexplainable force, none of them could say.
A soft golden light began to glow from Ralak’s palms, slowly expanding and filling the tent with a warm, radiant aura. The light moved like a gentle wave, spreading across the room and touching each of the sick Nyth lying in their beds. The sight was breathtaking—like watching the dawn break through the darkest night.
As the light passed over the ailing Nyth, their moaning ceased. Twisted faces, once contorted with pain, now relaxed into peaceful expressions. The change wasn’t confined to the tent; even the Nyth outside, who had stood in doubt, felt the golden light brush against their skin. Old scars and wounds, which had long marked their bodies, began to vanish, replaced by fresh, smooth flesh. They exchanged looks of disbelief, feeling a warmth they had never known before.
Ralak slowly lowered his arms, his hands returning to his sides. One by one, the sick Nyth opened their eyes, blinking in confusion, free of the pain that had plagued them for so long. As they stirred and sat up, murmurs of awe swept through the crowd outside. A sense of reverence filled the air, the atmosphere now charged with something far greater than fear—belief.
The Nyth chief, who had finally been able to move and now regained his strength, shakily walked toward Ralak and dropped to his knees. “Great one, thank you. My wife and child were among the sick. How can we ever repay you?”
Ralak placed a gentle hand on the chief’s shoulder. “My friend, I am not the one you should thank. I am but a servant. The true great one is His Lord Primordial, the One Deity.”
The other Nyth, seeing their chief on his knees, followed suit, dropping to the ground in unison and shouting, “All hail the Primordial God!”
As the echoes of their praise filled the air, a notification chimed.
[SYSTEM] Religion has been created.
Meanwhile, in Carter’s grand palace, the air was still and silent until a soft chime broke through the quiet. A notification appeared before him: Religion created.
Carter smiled, leaning back on his throne as he read the message. "It seems spreading that 'virus' through the forest paid off," he muttered to himself. The corners of his lips curled upward as he thought of Ralak’s progress.
Carter rose from his golden throne, his six wings stretching behind him, casting dark, majestic shadows on the palace floor. “Ralak is working hard for us,” he said aloud, his voice filled with amusement and a hint of satisfaction. He started to walk, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the vast marble hall. "Now, it’s time to get moving on our end as well.”
The air around him seemed to hum with energy as he called out, “System, prepare the next phase.”