Within a desecrated nation of levelled metallic spires and torn monoliths, two humans stood as the only ones alive. One, the cause of its downfall and the other, the witness. However, the witness was deemed worthless and thus, had been removed from the stage.

  In his place, a God descended.

  The Gods were an esoteric bunch. Known to possibly all but understood by very few. Fundamentally, they could come from anywhere and anything and unlike people, they were distinct individuals. There were groups which were alike as a result of affinity but otherwise, they could vary in great extremes. To realize his plan, he had provoked and targeted a God that was easily understood. A God that was practically human in every way except power.

  The moment after the radiant crimson spilled forth into the world, a subtle but magnifying distortion could be felt. Immense power began to flow through his bloodstream, each and every vein becoming visible through the skin as divine energy began to permeate the mortal vessel. Each drop bolstering and elevating the sack of meat into a greater being.

  “Test Providence? Mortal, do you not comprehend hubris?”, Tavelly or the husk of Tavelly responded with a peculiar resonance in his voice. Arcs of fierce crimson energy crackled, slightly distorting the world as the power flared sporadically.

  With incredible ease, he then got up and effortlessly extricated the tattered and worn body he inhabited from the mountain of debris that attempted to pin him down. The pile shook tentatively before crumbling like baked clay from the immense pressure exerted by the former human.

  With an emission of his divinity, the right leg visibly and swiftly repaired itself through the realignment of broken and contorted bones to the pulsing muscle tissue which grew like invasive vines. The left leg then inflated right before initiating a similar grotesque process.

  He then levitated and soared to be just above the masked man in elevation.

  “Tell me. You went so far as to annihilate this entire nation, even putting in the effort to make the occasion ostentatious enough to force our hand. Completely crushing your initial efforts of removing the Empire’s every major obstacle. Was this the Commandment of your God?”

  The masked man briefly adjusted his mask, holding it closer to his face.

  “They seem contradictory but everything has been planned. Whether it be the rise of the empire, its destruction, and of course, your forced intervention. Not a single Commandment has been followed or even issued throughout this process. But it would be far easier on you if that had been the case, am I wrong?”, he stated without breaking eye contact.

  A deep silence ensued.

  If it had been a God, then that would be acceptable. Perhaps, there was a grander vision in mind. If the God had been greater than he, then that would be tolerable. He could not intervene but discourse could be held as fellows. If the God had lost their mind, perhaps he could retreat and deal with them alongside others.

  Visions of the cities razed, the people slaughtered, and the countless deaths surfaced again and again.

  Reaching forward, he annihilated the world before him.

  Intense tremendous waves radiated forth, each emission devastating anything and everything in its reach. Carving deep ravines in its wake, the blast erased all vestiges of life on the battlefield and left scars that could be witnessed from even outer space.

  And directly in the path was the masked man who stood perfectly still with no indication of evasion or resistance. As his body began to fade and fall off as specks that could be blown away by the wind, the God noticed the mask which remained unblemished.

  He then moved with perfect posture and motion despite retaining less than a tenth of his initial body mass. Each step was perfect as if he had never noticed the damage. And with each step, he was gradually rebuilt. The legs, the torso, the arm, then the hands. It was like watching grains of sand return to their origin, their place which made them whole, before time ate away at their existence until it was utterly ground to dust.

  Seeing this, the God paused. He appeared visibly agitated. A man on the path to apotheosis.

  “What could justify committing such a great sin? Could you even answer for or face the atrocities you have created?”

  Fully reformed, he briefly stretched the body to check for any inconsistencies. He then stopped right in front of the God.

  “My transgressions might indeed be grave enough that the only absolution is with a judgment so grand that it would cripple a God. But they are necessary. In order to realize greater possibilities in spite of the countless disasters the divine has wrought”, the masked man declared.

  “...And to this end, you would cull the world of life itself?”, he questioned, doubting his intentions and perhaps sanity.

  “I won’t reveal anything to correct your perspective. But it should be abundantly clear that this world is already beyond redemption. Every person of significance and even the nations of old have been wiped clean, supplanted by creatures from other realms. Innumerable lands suffer from the impact of eternal blights, incompatible entities existing in great chaos, and most importantly, the world itself is collapsing. Free to be invaded by any and all. This has all happened irrespective of my involvement, has it not?”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  The God then peered past the masked man, at the ruined cityscape which bustled with life and purpose less than a day ago. Then at the world itself which undeniably had its halcyon times torn asunder. A hint of mourning could be seen.

  “We are not blameless. In our bid for more, we forgot ourselves and our standings… succumbing to greed and grew negligent. Ultimately, ruining the world… But those were the unforeseen long-term consequences of our plans… Your transgressions… Can you truly justify them? How will the slaughter of your fellows reform the world? Everything merely results in more death, so how are we different, Nascent Godling?, he bellowed with righteous fury.

  “They are not my fellows or kin… In case you conveniently forgot, the Antares were brought forth by you Gods. At their core is a penchant to shirk sacrifice when they would force it upon others. Irredeemable if not for their capacity to dedicate effort towards their creations that transcend their limits as a flawed species”

  “So you intend to dismiss your sins as our crimes? Just because they are not of your world, you believe it acceptable to cull them?”

  “No, not at all… I am not a hero nor am I fighting with the intent to save the world or on behalf of humanity. I am merely here because the path ahead is bleak. The end of each path carved by your kind will lead to nothing but blind zealotry amidst the apocalypse. And you resemble this path down hell the most, Aorrata...”

  The God tensed at the mention of his name.

  Understanding the considerations, the God before him had given to his actions and the state of the world, the masked man paused. Although the Gods all governed and reigned over different distinct domains, their motives and reasons were ultimately similar even if the execution and methods employed wildly differed.

  They were here to infiltrate a new world, extract value from the beings within along with the world itself, while finally propagating their influence. And from their haste and avarice, the world was overwhelmed with the countless deities that intruded and began to crumble without resistance.

  The only difference with this God was that he had human compassion. A trait created as a result of harnessing power from society. But the flaws of the divine were too great for that to matter. Arguably, his compassion was merely a means to an end.

  “This world is beyond saving no matter how much effort you personally commit… for now. You might have compassion and provide hope as the God of Sanctuary but you conveniently ignore your own true nature. You seek and certainly have the capacity to save many but they will suffer as you slowly fragment them, incite chaos, and then thrive off of their endless torment that will seed a yearning for peace and a swift return to despair. The conflict inherent to humanity amplified unreasonably and consistently. An infinite cycle which will effectively bolster your Godhood. I will admit your compassion is real but you will always relent to your true nature as a being born into overwhelming power. Both sides of you don't contradict as you'd like to pretend, your compassion merely facilitates your capacity to harness suffering as the holder of Turmoil. An eternal hell perpetuated by the short-lived lives of mortals which you will herd like sheep to the slaughter”

  Exposed to the core, Aorrata did not protest.

  “...you know far too much..”

  The masked man then abruptly shifted his position, travelling entire miles across the battlefield out of anticipation. Narrowly he avoided the barrier that formed in an instant, spanning an entire mile around Aorrata in a perfect sphere as it permeated underground and reached towards the clouds.

  “I will no longer dismiss your efforts, our sins, or my incentives as a God. I will only act on behalf of the man who desired to avenge his homeland”, Aorrata stated with a new resolve.

  “You should have just started with that, sanctimonious bastard!”

  He then struck the exterior of the barrier with tremendous force. As the impact reverberated, the barrier peeled like a cracked egg. In tandem with the barrier, his hand exploded from the force exerted.

  Following the momentum, he charged forward but right as he entered, the gaping hole which revealed the sky closed in an instant.

  A heavy pressure then converged upon him, threatening to compress his bones into diamond. Constricting his posture, movement, and even blood flow, his form and power waned. The Sanctuary dominated all that entered and wrapped every being in the chains of their bonds, completely enslaved by their duties. Or that would have happened if there had been any semblance of a civilization remaining in the world.

  In its place was merely a force equivalent to greater gravity. Not even a fragment of divinity in its power.

  In disbelief at the extent he had been weakened, Aorrata reactivated his ability.

  The masked man smiled.

  “So used to having everything your way, it’s easy to forget how reliant you are on what defines you. Without your divine sovereignty, you are merely a man that doesn’t die easy”, he began as he raised his remaining hand.

  From behind, the fragments of his hands once again, crashed against the barrier, forcing the miniscule Sanctuary to waver.

  Uninhibited, he launched himself like a rocket, breaking the sound barrier. In response, Aorrata released a wave of energy directly in his path.

  He then witnessed the masked man’s flight path curve strangely despite having been launched in a straight trajectory. A minor distortion in reality. He was then struck.

  The force caused the land to shift and crack, painting the air with particles of dust and debris. Following the aftershock which spanned the entire battlefield, Aorrata had been sent flying directly into the center of the city.

  The divine barrier which he desperately deployed shielded him from direct consequences. The only lasting impact, a minor dent on his greatest shield and a dazzled mind.

  Calming his agitation, he briefly surveyed his surroundings. Unsurprisingly, the Capital had no signs of life remaining. Yet, among many residences, many people remained. Having peacefully perished, they seemed asleep with decay yet to set in.

  He grimaced while recollecting the previous dialogue.

  “There is no meaning in rotting peacefully”, he muttered to himself.

  Turning away from the dead, Aorrata focused his divinity on a new source.

  “What could someone born into Godhood understand about hardship?”

  From the alleys, the masked man emerged with stalwart steps. Without agitation or anxiety, he stopped, awaiting his response.