FOREWORD
This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
CELESTIAL ABODE 1:1 — SCRIBE OF HEAVENLY PRINCIPLES
At the beginning of time, the Lord of Gods was the first deity to roam the lands of all three realms. In the dawn of the universe, gods, mortals and spirits inhabited in harmonic co-existence. Deities could walk on living soil, and spirits of those who had passed could ascend to the heavens.
With the natural lack of law and order, spirits and mortals became closer to one, and chaos ensued for endless sundowns to come. Civilisation collapsed, dead spirits roamed free without guidance to the afterlife. Thus, the only deity alive who can exorcise the bridge of life and death has come to a decision that power and hierarchy must be established, in order for the three realms to once again coexist in harmony.
Thereby, the High Council commenced. The heavenly realm, the mortal realm and the spirit realm were since equally divided under the rules of three reigns— the Lord of Gods, Lord of Kings, and Lord of the Abyss.
The Lord of Gods have ruled the heavens under a new era, now called the Celestial Abode. The Lord of Kings rule the land of mortals, Dayheim, as do the Lord of the Dead, hereby dubbed the Underworld.
The three rulers have led in harmony since the dawn of the new civilisation until present day, in which this law and order have been righteously upheld to ensure the prosperity of all the three realms. The Celestial Abode appoints new gods from mortals whose potential ascend humanity at time of passing, and the Underworld is tasked in condemning spirits that are unworthy of reincarnation.
There exists four cardinal directions in which the Lord of Gods and Lord of Kings reign over: mainland of the North, South, West and East. Gods are appointed from each region to guard the mortal realm from spiritual and celestial danger, and have since been established in their respective directions.
CELESTIAL ABODE 1:2 — QUARTERLY STATISTICS OF NET DEITIES
Northern Mainland: The Aurora Haze
Current Total Population: 24,356
House of Cosmic Population: 314
House of Legends Population: 2,093
House of Folklore Population: 21,949
Southern Mainland: The Midsommar Terrain
Current Total Population: 20,992
House of Cosmic Population: 512
House of Legends Population: 4,580
House of Folklore Population: 15,900
Western Mainland: The Welkin Castle
Current Total Population: 36,754
House of Cosmic Population: 432
House of Legends Population: 4,399
House of Folklore Population: 31,923
Eastern Mainland: The Forbidden City
Current Total Population: 44,243
House of Cosmic Population: 832
House of Legends Population: 5,014
House of Folklore Population: 38,397
Current Net Population: 126,345
-
THE CELESTIAL ABODE
Soma, Sun God of the East
#2201 Heavenly Post, House of Legends
Forbidden City, Eastern Mainland
Celestial Abode
"There is no way that he has been missing for two hundred years," the sun god rages, a vein bulging to the side of his neck, tossing some grand scroll incredulously at a defeated official.
It happens on a clear afternoon, the midday sun bright and jovial atop the lofty clouds where the Celestial Abode resides. In a glimmering throne hall clad with gilded gold, a signifier of this deity's grand status, a poor official is sweating away the last of his hairline.
"Your Grace, I offer you my deepest apologies, for I am somehow unable to locate his aura anywhere on the mortal realm—"
The sun god of the East himself, ranked #201 amongst all deities of the Legendary status in the Eastern mainland, is not as sprightly as the sun that is rising above. His golden eyes glimmer— albeit with fervent anger— with hair the same glowing colour now rising in intensity like they're about to turn orange and catch fire from the embers of his wrath. His heavenly robe is pristine and nay a wrinkle out of order, which only serves to act as a more frightening offset to his otherwise lack of calm.
"Then find someone who can! What is the Lord going to make of this— of your, and my— incompetence?" A frustrated hand runs through his dishevelled locks, messing up the otherwise tidied braids. "That I, a Legend-level deity, have been tasked to locate an astray Folklore god for the past two centuries, and my subordinates have turned up with half-limbs and half-wits?"
The official just hangs his head low like he'd submerge through the floors of the heavenly realm and become one with the clouds below. "Your Grace, we have searched tirelessly, far and wide. Day and night, we even laid traps with evil spirits of remarkable numbers, hoping the King of Ghosts would make himself known and vanquish the undead—"
Slap!
The sound comes first before the impact, but nonetheless, the stinging pain on the general's face was not cushioned by this knowledge in any way. His head whips to the side in one fell swoop, the shine of his now-bald head catching the reflection of the sun god's ablaze irises, as if he is to be scorched like a fried chicken at any moment's notice.
"Do you seriously think that he will manifest anywhere there are ghosts to eradicate? Have you forgotten— good Heavens, do I need to spell it out to you? Do you realise who it is that we are after?"
The general nods repeatedly, the gesture growing meeker with every rise of pitch in his superior's strained yell.
"Then, oh, do tell."
The heavenly official murmurs. "The King of Ghosts, the only one out of the Five Blessings still alive."
The sun god sighs and closes his eyes with exaggerated slowness, then nods, once, like his head has become too heavy for him to repeat that motion again. "And what is he best at?"
"Hiding in the shadows during the night, so that he best completes his task with utmost stealth and precision."
"And in the past two hundred years alone, how many times has he been spotted?"
"Once, as he was fleeing the battle of the five Blessings, chased after by Your Grace."
That seems to appease his ego a fair tad, because the frown on the god's face has slightly lifted. "And why, dear general, is he still powerful despite not answering any prayers for two hundred years?"
The general gulps, the sound inaudible but at the same time, too loud as it rings through his ears like he can hear it echo off the prestige walls of his god's throne hall. "Because it is strongly believed by mortals that hanging up his paintings and talisman would repel all evil."
The god reaches up to rub a tense spot between his eyebrows, "With how much you know of him, it astounds me that you thought yourself smart to boast about your idiotic strategy," then glares up through his lashes, and watches as his underling's knees wobble. "It is due to the fact that he is the hardest to locate, that the Lord has tasked almighty me, the Sun God of the East, with this duty. But if he comes to find that it has been two hundred years since he fled his post in the Celestial Abode, and no progress has come from the investigation— what do you think will happen to the Forbidden City, and the rest of us Eastern deities?"
The general stammers, then looks around at the vastly empty room of the Sun God's post. The only solace he can find is in the blinding glimmer of gold his superior has chosen to decorate his hall with, and the muted beige that stretches into infinity across the lined shelves in the form of official scrolls— one which has just been tossed at his feet just now.
Since he finds nothing to salvage himself out of this situation with, the general simply looks up a bit, and dares ask a question he knows will be reprimanded for.
"Might I ask, Your Grace, for what reason has the King of Ghosts fled? He won the battle between the Five Blessings, should he not be more powerful than he was— and thereby his godhood elevated?"
In contrast to his expectations, the sun god does not throw a tantrum, and instead rubs his chin with contemplation.
"That's what I'm trying to find out — it sure is odd. Sure, it is not uncommon for gods of the same status to incite a battle in a struggle for higher power, but it sure is uncommon how despite being the sole winner in a battle of five, the King of Ghosts chose to flee instead of ascending to the House of Legends. I'm sure he currently has more influence than any Folklore-level gods still present across the heavenly realm."
"Should he have not usurped the power of all the Blessing gods since the battle ceased?"
"Indeed. When gods die, their power is absorbed by the one that killed them; and killing not just one but four in numbers is enough for someone influential like the King of Ghosts to ascend to a Legend." The sun god replies, tone growing quiet, deep in thought, until he realises just who he is pondering to, then shrieks, "And that is a question you need to find an answer to! Find me countermeasures instead of inciting needless ponders to sate your selfish curiosity!"
But then, a shadow creeps through the blinds of the throne hall's entrance, and a large silhouette of nine tails expands across the reflective floor in a distorted stretch.
Her footsteps do not announce her, and had it not been the quickness of the sun god's reflex to catch the void of light at his door, she would have slipped in unnoticed. That would have been a matter of heavenly trespassing that he would adamantly report to the Lord, but one cast of glance at the nine tails, and the sun god decides to cease his vigour immediately.
It is no other than the most powerful Folklore god in the Eastern mainland herself— a deity of allure, charm, wits, and unrivalled deception. Strength and aura that rival the godhood of Legends themselves, there is only a measly number of gods that choose to be her enemy; even Cosmic deities spread telltales of her cunning.
There is a reason that she can freely traverse in and out of the House of Legends despite it being a Celestial Treason to trespass into Houses not of your own rank without a formal scroll of invitation.
But this is the Fox Spirit of the East, the famed deity who devoured a population of a whole town's worth of male mortals in the span of one night. Such deity holds the power to defeat a lower-ranked Legend in a fight, yet chooses to deny ascension at the face of the Lord. Surely, there is nary a greater burden that can walk themselves through his door at such a precarious moment.
But she walks in anyway, head held high with that smug smile which makes his guts twist, and he is forced to stare back impassively.
"No, do go on, it's quite interesting," an alluring voice from the now ajar entrance immediately commands the attention of every being in whichever room she walks in, and his general is none the wiser. His head whips, almost galloping off his shoulders, staring in awe at the dashing beauty that is as striking as it is dangerous.
There, strutting in, are a pair of slender legs and a drag of nine arctic-furred tails. She walks slowly, approaching the sun god with confidence and mischief that does not match the status of a Folklore in the presence of a Legend. The sly smile that adorns her face when she catches the surprise in the deity's eyes is telling of her personality and truly, what kind of god she is.
"The Fox Spirit," the sun god breathes, slightly baffled but attempting his best to look outwardly composed, "I have not realised you were so conspicuously eavesdropping on our… conversation."
"With all the shouting you were doing? Oh, one grows merely curious." She replies with style, giving the saluting general an appreciative nod. The relaxation her aura brings about does great help in easing the tension off his general's shoulders, or so it seems. "Is there anything I can do to help? I'm a bit bored; haven't received any interesting tasks from His Majesty lately."
"Only if you promise to keep my failure a secret and help me remedy it," the sun god replies woefully, eyeing his subordinate in disdain. "We have been trying to locate the fleeing King of Ghosts for two centuries, and have thus failed since."
"Oh, him," she exclaims, a curious index tracing her lower lip, "I do know a thing or two about him. He is quite an intriguing one."
To intrigue the Fox Spirit can mean anything but good. If he was at the receiving end of such piqued interest, he would have fled and begged for protection from the Cosmics— but thankfully, the man of question is already a wanted deity.
And perhaps no one can be better fitted for the task than she is.
At first, the sun god merely jests, not even considering the fox god's help in earnest. Naturally, she is one House below him; to admit weakness to a weaker god will tear an irreparable wound through his pride. However, now that he is seemingly enticed by her offer, it all the more makes sense: only a Folklore can catch another Folklore, since they both are still within the same House.
As different Houses hold different levels of power, there also comes different levels of restrictions — especially when it comes to descending into the middle and lower realms. Descending into the mortal world himself will do a great deal of damage to his godhood from the treachery.
Plus, the fox god has mentioned familiarity with the King of Ghosts. Perhaps he will wound up being as jovial as the shining sun, after all.
The sun god pretends to ponder in front of her, although his mind has already devised a genius solution. In retrospect, he has been fed up with enough tasks, and does not need a Folklore-level one to sully his otherwise spotless record. Someone else can take the fall.
With newfound resolve, the god looks up at her, expression bright, and struts his hips in a coy fashion that makes the fox's eyebrows raise in intrigue. "If you can call mysteriously aloof and excruciatingly irresponsible 'intriguing', then by all means, do lend us some aid."
Her lips quirk in an annoying way that indicates she's seriously considering his offer, but not without some ulterior motive. "What do I get in return for helping you, though, Your Grace?"
There it is. The catch. Why does he feel like he is striking a deal with the devil?
He sighs, having seen this coming from yards away, yet is willing to negotiate nonetheless. It's either a compromise or a failure on his name, and with his pride, he would gladly take the former. "What do you want?"
"No intervention from you — hand over this assignment to me by asking the Lord to allocate it. I'll see to it that it gets done; not only will I discover him, I will bring him back to his post without any bloodshed."
The sun god's eyebrows raise all the way to the Lord's chamber in cloud nine, "Such ambitious claims for a Folklore Deity; not to underestimate you by any means, God of Deception, but what makes you think you can entrap him like you do your mortal subjects?"
She waves a hand dismissively, tails wagging, pleased, and something about it irks and fascinates the sun god at the same time. "Easy — if he's a god of combat, then there must be a trade-off between his physical and mental strength… somewhere. I am a god of the psyche, mental attacks are surely to be more effective against subjects known to be stronger in physical prowess! But that is, of course, only my assumption."
"And you're betting on this mission with — only your assumption?"
She shrugs, like the incredulous look on his face and the general's is a reaction to a chit chat over daily weather. "Yes, but that's how I am a God of Deception. Foxes are known to be extremely alluring, the best at disguises — who else is better fitted for the job, if not me, Your Grace?"
Having been shunned into a corner with no other wits to utter, the sun god simply shares a helpless look with his even more helpless-looking general, then comes to a decision. Knowing the progress— or lack thereof— they will rake in without her aid, it wasn't a very hard decision to make.
"Very well, your request will be granted. See to it that an official mission scroll will be delivered to your post in one sundown's time."
She does a courteous bow, her long lips looking scarily longer as they stretch from ear to ear, and something in the sun god's stomach does an ugly twist. Such adverse reaction has only occurred to him when he is in the presence of the Lord, or Cosmic Deities. To think that he is at the receiving end of someone else's pressuring aura, with that person being a ranking below his, creates another painful blow to his gut.
"Thank you for the opportunity, Your Grace — you will not be disappointed. The King of Ghosts will surely return to the Forbidden City."
"In how many days, may I ask?"
"To discover him, one — to persuade him into his return, do give me one hundred, Your Grace."
He shrugs, lips downturned slightly, "Better than the two hundred years my lackeys have spent. I look forward to hearing about your progress from the Lord."
She rises back up, smiles, says nothing more, and leaves through the door like she was never there.
-
Gumiho, Fox God of the East
#3001 Heavenly Post, House of Folklore
Forbidden City, Eastern Mainland
Celestial Abode
See, that wasn't so hard.
Upon returning to her office, her assistant greets her with a rather uneasy look on her face, having received the notice prior via a private communication array. "My Lady, it has gone smoothly — thus why do you look so sour?"
She gazes at her general through the narrowed lids of her arctic blue eyes, half-distressed and half-lamenting. "Plotting to steal the mission from the sun god is not the hardest part; merely, it is the first step. The challenge lies in the King of Ghosts himself."
The general's eyes slightly tremor, "Are you perhaps not confident in delivering? If that is so, you need not descend personally— I understand you have a complicated relationship with him, thus let me do the honour, My Lady. I will ensure the smoothest of—"
She sighs, the sound so loud it reverberates through the whole room and shushing out the general's words into nothingness in a near instance. "It is fine, I asked for the mission, I shall do as I have promised. Regarding my relationship with him, it is not something you need to concern yourself with."
Her expression then greatly wavers, bowing her head immediately, her tails flopping down to the ground. "My deepest apologies, My Lady."
As they trek to the centre of the office, lined by numerous desks and scrolls behind staff packed in rows of seats, the fox god acknowledges every bow of greetings with a slow nod, face impassive, then entering her private throne hall.
As opposed to the sun god's taste for glamour and his tendency to show off, her throne hall is rather timid in comparison. Opalescent crystals line the walls, resembling that of a snow cave, catching and reflecting each ray of light to emanate an eternal glow. The throne in the middle is carved out of eternal glacier, forever frosted in a hue of light blue, with intricate details that rival the mortal world's final architecture.
The floorboard beneath their steps glows a purple hue with every step, its icy material reflecting the god's true aura trace. No sounds come from their stealthy footsteps, and if it weren't for this visual cue, it would be as if they never arrived.
She seizes the distance to her throne with a certain demeanour of woeful elegance, before finally draping herself into her seat with melodrama, all composure forgotten. The general eyes her superior in silence, acknowledging this to be an action of trust. No other gods would let themselves loose in front of their subordinates like hers does, for they fear it would earn disrespect in the eyes of their peers.
But her god, as always, is different. It has been a centuries-long mystery of how her officials remain so loyal to her despite her preceding reputation. When a small, tiresome smile paints the god's lips, the general thinks she does not owe anyone any explanation why.
"I did not mean for my words to come off as reprimanding, I simply wished to tell you that irregardless of my history with him, it will not become an obstacle in this task—" she pauses, staring at her throne's armrest like she can bear holes into them, " —Because he does not remember me. He is not a god of the psyche. He is a god of combat. Therefore, throughout his ascension, almost all of his memories as a mortal have long since scattered along the sacred winds."
The general assumes her position on the right side of her throne, standing with perfect posture, hands clasped behind her back, and dares not question any further despite the contradictory curiosity apparent in her visage. The god does not have to spare her lackey a second glance to know what is going through her mind, and therefore, continues.
"I can sense that you are wondering, and just for this once, I will indulge you in hopes that your concern for my well-being will be sated," a quick glance at her assistant is enough to prove her right, judging by the imminent jolt running through her spine. "I had known him when we were mortals — the land of Dayheim is small, and the Forbidden City even smaller, or so it seems."
The general is about to summon a scroll from their library but stops midway, hand hovering over nothing. "Does My Lady and His Liege have… some sort of relationship?"
She does a half-smile that is insincere, eyes growing dim as she props one hand against the armrest and rubs her temple. "He does not know me well in my mortal life, but I have known— of him for a long time."
The general goes quiet for a stretch of a second, then lets the scroll manifest in her arms, pretending to skim through it like her attention is elsewhere but at their prohibited conversation. "My Lady, forgive me for asking, since it is rather taboo to inquire about a deity's life before godhood — but was the King of Ghosts a rather prominent figure in his time?"
A wry smile now stretches across her face, and she leans back into the throne to bring her knees up, crouching into a foetus position. Then, she lets herself lament, daring to tap into memories long forgotten since thousands of years ago.
In her mind's eye, she can see the vision of her mortal life like it was just yesterday; the battlefield, the weaponry, the military armour, the examination hall lined with hundreds of table rows.
And him, amidst it all, in striking clarity — grey hair with dark streaks tied up in a ponytail, simmering in the wind, a face that never bears any emotions, head always a degree tilted down to avoid eye contact with the rest of his peers. The only time she ever sees this particular scholar carry himself with confidence is either with a scroll in his hand, or a spear.
"Impressively so, but what is more enticing about him was that he chose to keep himself anonymous," And the memory makes her laugh, albeit one laced with sorrow, but a laugh nevertheless.
"He was a rather prominent military scholar, well-versed in both literature and combat, yet no one knows the face alongside the name because he does not partake in idle chit chat— just shows up, does his job, then leaves. The military trainees just called him Huise, due to his grey hair. His full identity was never really known.
"He came out on top of the military exam despite being from a family of poverty, all due to his own talent— stealing the general's seat from even the corrupted families that offered bribes. Thus, all the rich heirs in Dayheim went on a hunt to discover the face behind the name."
"... Was that how he was killed?" She looks up and sees her assistant blink, a motion so slow that it is almost comical.
"More or less," the fox god shrugs, her smile turning impossibly sadder, her gaze now growing faraway. "But it would not have happened had I not played a hand in revealing his identity. I was one of the very few to know his name outside of it being the top line of the examination results."
"I am certain My Lady harboured no ill intent. Judging from how you reminisce about His Liege, it seems as though you were rather…" She trails off, then gauges the look on her face like she is about to say something rather precarious. But the fox god urges her on with a nod, and so she resumes, "Fond of him, like you were secretly admiring him from afar."
That pulled a chuckle out of her rather effectively. The fox god laughs to the point of her ears flopping back and forth, utterly amused. "You may be right, general; what sharp wits you have. But in hindsight, may I say, who wouldn't buy into handsomeness with an abundance of talent, and a dash of mystery?"
Her eyes widen, and a smile stretches across the general's face, the atmosphere becoming lighter as they share a quiet chuckle. "I very well understand My Lady's unrelenting motive for taking on this mission, then."
The fox god sighs as the laughter dies from her lips, then curls her tail below the pit of her thighs. She reverts back to lamenting— and so, here comes the hard part. "It had come as an innocent slip of tongue to an otherwise innocent-seeming question, as my family was tasked as the examiner at the time. In turn, it weighs on my conscience since my mortal life until now — I feel as though I had killed him."
The general stays quiet for a few heartbeats, and the two of them remain silent. The fox god has suddenly started having second thoughts about disclosing her history to her general, as this is considered a taboo as heavy as uttering a god's name, a privilege only granted to the Lord of Gods himself.
But her assistant looks back at her with determination that she finds stifling, and speaks up, "It is rather comical for a god of deception to believe her demise as an act of honesty."
She smiles rather morbidly at her general. If it were any other deities— or the sun god of the East himself— speaking to the god you serve in such a condescending manner would have warranted a punishment as high as exile from the Celestial Abode.
But it is her, and if she were to do something as trivial as minding sly words, what type of god would she be?
"No, I am not planning on revealing myself and profusely offering him my apologies, thereby reminding him of his morbid mortal life. I simply… wished to do something benign for him in return, to lift that weight off my conscience."
She can hear her general going; it is rather hard to believe the God of Deception herself has a conscience, in her head, almost as if she had said it aloud. However, when she does utter, it is not the words she had envisioned.
"If he has purposely gone into hiding, perhaps he does not wish to be found. Therefore, you would instead be doing him a grave disservice by bringing him back."
"Dearest, he is a Deity, he has a duty to uphold — no deity can escape the eyes of Heaven. He cannot just— flee, and rid all of his godly responsibilities like an ill-mannered mortal. He will cease to exist if he does not abide by the laws of Heaven, either by losing his follower's faith, or by the wrath of the Lord himself."
The general does a thoughtful nod, "It is true that gods stay in power solely through the faith— or in some cases, fear— of their followers. Him vanishing for two centuries can only mean that his power is thereby diminishing. But, My Lady, what if that is what he wishes for?"
She gasps rather dramatically, a hand to her chest. "Eternal doom, after all that he has done during his time in his post, without even a chance at reincarnating? I highly doubt it — the man I had known is of high principle and virtue. Being a deity whose main task is to vanquish evil requires more resilience than one can possibly imagine; and if he truly wished it so, I believe he would have vanquished himself long ago on a great many occasions."
"Do you think that, perhaps, he might have just lost his way?"
And that rather takes her by surprise. The fox god stays quiet for a few delayed seconds, eyes blinking rather dumbly. Perhaps the answer to his mysterious disappearance has been right in front of her, all along.
"I surmise so, yes, given the events of the battle between the Five Blessings not too long ago. Perhaps he is… ridden with guilt and despair, and is in need of some time to recuperate. However, I do believe that two centuries should have been enough."
Or perhaps she just wanted to see him again, centuries after quietly stealing glances at him as they crossed paths in the same hall, and never once mustering up the courage to approach him due to his reclusive nature— and in extension, her guilt.
"From what I recall of these events," her general is now seen with a slight slouch in her immaculate posture, leaning slightly into the frame of her throne, a finger stroking her chin as she reads the scroll in her hands.
Perhaps she has pulled out that scroll with a purpose more than to distract oneself. "The Battle of the Five Blessings has since been inscribed into the History of Heaven as one of the bloodiest battles between Folklores. Although it is not uncommon for there to be battles to ascend into the upper Houses, the Five Blessings are amongst the most prominent statuses; even within the House of Folklore they are revered. It is rather telling that the strongest one of the Five incited the battle, coercing the other Four to participate."
"The God of Wealth," the deity responds, falling into a similar chin-stroking posture as they both reminisce upon celestial history. "He was the closest one to ascend to the House of Legends within the Folklores. Perhaps in a step of misthought, a battle to usurp the power of the other Four must have been what his general suggested, and he thought it wise."
"Wealth, Health, Long Life, Virtue, Peaceful Death — of course he looked down on the four, especially on the King of Ghosts, being the God of Peaceful Death, the weakest of them all," replies her general, eyes skimming from line to line in impressive rapidness, and she nods in agreement. Her subordinate then continues, "It must have come as a great shock to the rest, throughout the— twelve days and nights?— To see the weakest one emerge victorious."
"Really? In only twelve sundowns?" The god now asks, piqued, perking up to steal a glance at the scroll just to ensure she has heard correctly. Her official tilts the scroll her way, proving that the information is indeed correct. "That is a rather short time for godly battles. Some go on for centuries until a victor emerges."
"Which makes it all the more interesting, My Lady. Although this was not inscribed in the official scroll, it has circulated as a rumour that the King of Ghosts did not once initiate an attack to the other Four until the very last sundown. The sun god, who was tasked as a battle overseer, was forced to issue an ultimatum to ensure fairness. Only then did he stop taking attacks and fought back — and the other Four were vanquished by him in the span of one night."
The deity goes quiet at this, all nine tails perking up straight against the backrest of her throne. She had known about the general vagueness of this battle, and of course, the famed lone victor who fled the scene. However, the details had rendered her speechless.
"Is that truly how the battle went? The King of Ghosts was so powerful that he withstood the Four's combined attacks for eleven sundowns?"
"Supposedly so, My Lady — I had heard it from the office of the Sun God himself."
"And if it truly had been so, the King of Ghosts currently has usurped the powers of the Four, and should now have the combined status of all the Blessings— that is enough to ascend into the House of Legends! It begs the question of why the Scribe has not recorded his new ascension status and title."
"It would have been so, My Lady, had he not vanished right at the moment the Scribe began descending into the scenario. The moment the Four had been vanquished, the King of Ghosts vanished alongside them without a trace."
The look on her general's face becomes coy as she finishes her sentence, shooting her a glance that can only communicate things along the lines of it seems My Lady is not the only odd one who denies ascension, but she digresses.
She shoots her reciprocative wink, and her general continued, unfazed, "The sun god has attempted to chase after him, but he descended into the mortal realm; and Legends cannot descend without a great deal of their power manifesting catastrophes due to their status. He would have faced a Judgement Storm, reducing him to a Folklore if he did— it is wise of him to not resume the pursuit."
The fox god thought to herself, how smart of him to escape into a place Legends and Cosmics cannot enter, and a somewhat proud smile appears on her lips. It's something she would have done; she had not taken the King of Ghosts to be a rather calculating one.
Then, again, he was first ranked in the literature examination alongside the military aspect, so it should not have come as a surprise.
Seeing her silence as an indicator to resume, the general carries on, "However, I doubt its accuracy— because if it had been so, then these events would have been reported by the Sun God, therefore inscribed by the Heavenly Scribe."
"Perhaps the sun god thought it unwise to disclose his true strength, given the following events of his failure to properly oversee the battle. It serves him well, really, to blame the outcome on a stroke of luck and the negligence of the Blessings. He keeps his status and his pride."
"And now you have to clean up his mess, My Lady," says her general with a somewhat playful tone, and she really should have been offended. Instead, she finds it rather funny.
Having made up her mind, the deity stands up from the throne and brushes off invisible wrinkles on her attire. "At the next sundown, the official mission scroll will arrive. I will descend then. Prepare the necessary materials I will need to pre-approve in my absence."
"Duly noted, My Lady," bows her general, following her suit as they take a left into her private office. "However, may I ask, how do you plan on disguising yourself so that he would not recognise you and your aura trace? There is almost no way a god can feign mortality and fool another god—"
"Oh, I would not ceaselessly concern myself with such trivial worries. I have my ways; my most popular trick, really," she shoots her general a knowing smile, and her reaction in turn is priceless.
"My Lady is surely not thinking of possessing a human body—?"
The fox god violently shakes her head and wriggles an index in front of her subordinate, her ears and tails swish-swooshing animatedly. She had not planned for this mission without proper research beforehand, to the point where she even enlisted the help of her long-time aide from the Celestial Abode's Western mainland, the Welkin Castle— Ariadne, the guidance goddess of the West.
If she had not done at least this much to find a proper disguise, what type of deceptive god would she be?
Thus, a sly smile mars her face, excited to share her recent development with her general. "Possessing, yes. A human body, no— a recent finding of mine shows a female from the Western Mainland that has a rather odd power— there is a mortal term for it, what is it? Ah, yes, witchcraft— a descendant of the guidance goddess' bloodline. Apparently, she could see spirits."
She stops, then spins around on her heels and waving her arms giddily like an excited child— an act of distraction, before her general could scold her on how many Heavenly rules she's breaking by possessing a descendant of another god, "I can spin a lie feasible enough so that the King of Ghosts would buy my supernatural ability, thereby hiding my aura in plain sight. He would simply think the remnants of godhood radiating off of the body has something to do with her ancestry."
"If I may speak, I can already surmise about five flaws in this plan, but I know that My Lady likes the thrill of taking flawed risks, and I have faith in your intuition," replies her general, midway through rummaging her shelf and summoning flying scrolls from all directions, their final destination a sloppy pile on the only clear space of her desk.
Then she stops, meets her eye with an unspoken resolve, the atmosphere turning solemn in an instant. The fox god receives the hint, assumes her composure, and simply gives her a nod. "Looking for a reassurance ticket, are we? Well, then — if you do not hear from me in the private communication array after three sundowns, you have my permission to descend and intervene."
"Thank you, My Lady. I truly hope I will not have to. You are my god, I have not an inkling of doubt in your prowess."
"Thanks for the well wishes," she jokes, attempting to lighten up the atmosphere, and her general smiles at her in return before performing the most enthusiastic bow.
"I wish My Lady the best of luck on her venture."
"May this journey lead us skyward," she utters the Celestial Oath under her breath, and her general does the same.
"May this journey lead us skyward."
The fox god blows her a taunting kiss, before approaching her seat behind the desk. "Before luck, I will need some strong tea if I am to finish all this paperwork before the next sundown."
Her assistant says nothing, chuckles and takes a swift leave, her white hair flowing off her ponytail like finely-spun silk. "I shall return in a timely manner with your tea, My Lady."
"Make sure to be extremely timely, and not leave me dozing off!" She exclaims, willing her words to follow her general through the door, yet the throne hall ushers into silence with a subtle click.
After a gentle shut of her door, the fox god is left to her own devices. Alas, that means alone with her rampant thoughts, which travels in great speed towards the subject of her next mission, her attention nowhere on the pile of scrolls before her.
Xin Zhilei. Only in her mind can she clearly utter the god's name, and the fact that she still remembers this name alone serves as a haunting reminder to her purpose.
As a military scholar, your life was taken at the mere expense of my tongue.
She remembers it so clearly— the son of the Emperor's counsellor courting her in a flower garden once, overlooking the palace rear where the military practice had taken place. As he ignorantly inquired about the name of the general delivering the training, she had also ignorantly answered, smitten by his charm to remember the power her words held.
The next sunrise, the general was found dead, his corpse fed to the wolves, his head hanging on the long end of his battle spear as it sticks akin to a pole.
It had been discovered near a cliff overlooking a waterfall, in which it came to be known as the general's favourite training spot since childhood.
And she had witnessed the sight, as his head was delivered to palace grounds for the funeral ceremony. His long grey hair, always kept clean and neat in a high ponytail, was chopped to his shoulders rather brazenly, as if it was cut by a sword.
Blood smears the dark strands of his locks, tattering it crimson. His features, usually composed and void of emotions, was forlorn with indescribable affliction, and yet not a hint of rage at his last moments. Grey eyes that were as clear as the resolution of the sky are now shut, locked in a moment of sadness and relief that haunts her periphery for centuries to come.
As the Night God of the East, Ye Shen, I will guide you back to the path your grief has made you stray from.
When she had first met him in the House of Legends, it took her by surprise.
New deities are crowned every other century, thus it wasn't much of an auspicious occasion for any gods to pay attention to— she thought it natural thus, for most deities to not attend her ascension ceremony, given her lowly status as a newly appointed Fox God of the East. After all, conversing for friendly purposes is not part of her forte; she usually only subjected herself to that for a gain.
And yet, seeing a familiar face across the House of Legends is not something any god would be able to boast about. For her, this was not something boast worthy; especially when the last time she had seen this face, was in the morbid horror of being blood stained and hanging from a spear.
Naturally, she stopped in her tracks, just staring for a split second, unconcealed shock on her face. And naturally for him, he did not even spare her a second glance.
He kept on walking, with the stride and confidence he had always carried himself with, never a hesitant moment for his purpose. This quality had drawn her to him before, but was the reason she was stopped in her tracks now while he relentlessly resumed his pace.
She just watched as the ponytail of grey and navy blue is now sprinkled with a tint of red, billowing in the wind alongside his red-grey robes. He wears shiny silver on his cauldron, a crest of ancient bat as his hair piece and his belt, and the click of his military boots have never been more resolute. The crimson ribbon he had always worn in his mortal life is now elongated tenfold, the same length as his hair as it mingles with the strands, ending just below his rear.
Behind him, five lackeys dressed in matching attires follow suit— his generals, she presumes, as it is natural for combat gods to have more than one general. One looked back to regard him and gave her a courteous bow, and she simply smiled in return, appreciating the gesture. Even still, time stopped for neither of them, as he continued on his path and so did his subordinates, like she was never there.
And perhaps, throughout his entire life, she really wasn't.
"My Lady, might I remind you that it is improper to stare," her general had whispered into her ears then, her tone laced with barely veiled frustration as she urged her to keep on walking. And yet, even as he had long crossed her path and all she could see was his receding back, she turned around to follow that trail with her gaze.
"Who is he?" She had found herself muttering at the time, although the answer to this question, she knew all too well.
"The Night God of the East, My Lady. Apparently, his moniker given by the Lord is the King of Ghosts. He specialises in vanquishing evil spirits in the mortal realm, and granting a peaceful passing to the living."
A peaceful passing, she had internally mused, and only when did he turn a corner to escape her vision did she look back. Something he never received, and is now eternally tasked to grant. What cruel humour the Lord of Gods has.
"I see," is all she says to acknowledge that information, feigning poise, before giving herself an animated turn with melodrama that neither she nor the general found fitting for the situation, then resumed walking.
And yet, even as she retreated into her personal office and tried to occupy herself with burdensome tasks, her mind would travel back to a certain pair of mismatched grey-red eyes that never once bore emotion.
Eyes as dark as the night, and yet a soul as resolute as a clear morning sky. No wonder he had ascended.
I surely hope our first encounter will also be the last.
-
Ye Shen, Night God of the East
#??? Rift Cave, Waterfall Cliff
Wu Yuan Village, Eastern Mainland
Dayheim, Land of Mortals
For centuries, he has never had a good night's sleep.
Should he curse the unending sounds of cries mingled with his dampened spirit, or does he have himself to curse for having heightened consciousness for being a god?
Either way, now remains the umpteenth time the bat deity sits up in unrest, groaning as he fists his temples aggravatedly. A silver eye peeks up from beneath ashened hair, staring gallantly at the opening of his cave where moonlight of an identical shade pours in to illuminate his dull skin.
From beyond the mists of cascading fogs and clouds, a poignant crimson moon glares back at him.
Of course, it's a blood moon, he bitterly thinks to himself, begrudgingly getting up. No wonder he can hear the spirits' voices in much more astounding clarity today. On a night where he most needs rest, it is always the mischief of nature that does its best to stand in his way.
"What does a bat have to do to get a well-deserved shut-eye?" He curses under his breath, brushing his fringes off to one side, ear twitching in irritation. The chime his earring produces from the action causes a wave of subtle stir from the flock of bats hanging from the roof of the cave.
One in particular, equipped with the sharpest of wits, plops off and flies to perch on his shoulder.
My Liege, what is causing you disturbance?
There was no verbal communication transmitted from his general, yet the deity hears her just fine. He shoots her an impassive stare, then glances back at the red moon.
This cheeky light ball is, he replies with his gaze, then fast approaches the cliff at the mouth of his otherwise well-enshrouded cave. Hidden from sight, as he likes to lead his life— and has led so, for centuries since his post-battle glory has rescinded.
The bats turn to peer off at a distant direction from the cave, where one would catch faint glimmers of lanterns illuminating the night in huddles—signs of civilisation. The closest village, Wu Yuan.
A village the bat god and his colony has quietly kept guard for the past two hundred years.
Detecting the unease from her liege, the general swiftly retreats from his shoulder and morphs back into her human form, now taking her place beside her god. "Is something to cause distress to the village?"
"It always happens on a night like this," replies the deity, eyes still trained on the faintly flickering lights. "Once in every couple centuries or so comes an especially powerful crimson blood moon, when the vengeance of the spirits gains a temporary rise in strength. The barrier between the dead and the living grows thinnest on such a night."
She sighs, catching on to his worries. It is not uncommon for such occurrences to be troublesome, even during their time at the Forbidden City. She thought it very likely of her god to put himself up to the task without prenotions. "My Liege, I must warn you—the last time you unleashed the seals on your true strength and went all out in a battle, was the precise time you were reduced to this …state."
The deity says nothing, but casts one empty look back at himself.
He knows what his general meant— exhausting tremendous power from his mana reserves, fighting against the Five blessings in which he considered family, therefore deep-plunging him from his glory to this fall from grace.
What used to be a majestic sight of a benevolent King of Ghosts, is now a frail build of a man with ragged inner clothes and bandages to conceal what remained. Long gone is the display of power and majesty of the Five Blessings within him, and no more were the heavenly robes and long hair that swayed in the wind alongside his wings.
Nevertheless, to him, the battle felt no further than two hundred years as it was yesterday. He still vividly remembered the pain that writhed through him as he withstood the injuries on his spirit, threatening to vanquish his existence, and yet still holding on.
He still remembered as the Sun God watched in pity from the sidelines of the battle, a faraway court in the lonesome sky, before issuing an ultimatum to ensure fairness in the duel. Attack or you will vanish, were the words the sun god had uttered to him at the time, an unreadable expression on his face. Even though the looks on the Four Blessings' faces were not as sympathetic as his was, the bat deity only recalled one emotion with astounding clarity at the time— sadness.
Sadness that he had to fight the deities he worked with, whom he considered kins as close as blood.
Sadness was all he felt as his face went blank, and the scythe of pure crimson shadow mists formed in his hand for the first time since the battle started.
Sadness, as he called upon the power of good to right all wrongs to manifest in his weapon, and sadness as he watched the summon turning the sky turn red.
Sadness was all that pumped the blood into his unbeating heart, and sadness was what tasted like bile at the edge of his throat as his blood oath activates, and the power of his entire army surges through each swing he performs.
And when the final swing lands, and the last heavenly body vanquishes at the edge of his scythe, all that rippled through him was guilt. Guilt as it bleeds blood red, tainted at the edges with unholy black, a reminder of what it felt like for him to be at the receiving end of death, once upon a time. Guilt as the last of the Blessings vanished into thin air, their cores merging with his own, colouring it a blaring crimson, a signifier of his undeniable victory.
And it was guilt that served as a final factor as it made itself known throughout all the lines of his face the moment he locked eyes with the sun god, who only stared down at him in unveiled shock.
Guilt made him flee, and guilt was what trapped him in this cave, hidden away in nowhere amidst the mortal realm, neglecting his post and heavenly duties, afraid to return and witness the victory which felt like sin.
Thus, here he stands— handicapped, a part of his core broken at will, denying the raging forces of his new power with insolence, hair now unkempt and cut roughly at the edges as it cascades past his shoulders.
For centuries, he was forced to cope with his spiritual injuries, hiding away in isolation from the world just to recuperate. Woefully so, the conflicting remnants of the Four's cores also reside deep within him, dormant against their will, begging to be unlocked behind the seals he has put on.
And yet, he relents. If he ever unlocks the seal, a tremendous power surge will instantly notify the Celestial Abode of his whereabouts. An aura trace of all the Five Blessings combined would be rather unmistakable.
He remains silent to the general's statement, and instead casts a wry glance at the bandages he has wrapped around certain parts of his body, never once having taken them off, even when he cleanses himself. Even if he does not activate the runes of the other Four's cores now etched to his skin, just the sight of seeing the markings which once belonged to his brothers is a thought he is yet able to bear.
Which means for the past two centuries in his guardianship of this village, he has been performing his duties with a broken rune and four sealed ones, both hands tied behind his back.
He takes another look at his subordinate, and at the concern reflected in her red irises bouncing off the light of the moon. Then, he sighs.
"I know I have always tread on a silver lining," biting off more than I can chew, he means to finish with words he dares not utter, "But if we don't do this, who will?"
His general stiffens up, her grey hair spilling past her shoulders as she does so. The unbreakable determination on her face now serves as a cruel reminder to what he knows he looks like.
"Hear me clearly, general, do not feel yourself up to the task if it is a consequence you cannot bear. You may as well inform the other retainers and the rest of the colony; I can do this alone."
He once depleted himself entirely from battling four gods at once, but if it's just hundreds of mingling spirits, perhaps he can achieve that somehow. It has been two hundred years of quiet meditation, surely he has recovered a portion of his previous rune power somewhat.
The woman next to him wavers slightly, eyes rounded up in a trembling gaze. "With all due respect, My Liege, I will never choose safety at the expense of yours. I believe I also speak for the others in this cave."
As if on cue, the eyes of the other bats light up from within, hoards of them walking out to stand behind her as if they, too, have been hearing this conversation in its entirety.
The three other generals step up to him without any signs of hesitation. A general with blonde hair and gunmetal helix to his ears lowers his head, his wings spread wide. "My Liege, wherever you go, we follow."
"He is right. Trust in our competence, My Liege. We have been under your guidance for thousands of years—a blood moon battle is now elementary to us." Another general with dark skin and light grey wings spoke up adamantly. "Some of us have waited far too long to get back into the fray."
His last general, androgynous in appearance, clad with dark wings and bright silver hair, says nothing more and lets his bow do the talking. "My lord, the rest of the colony are alerted and are on standby for your command."
With that, the population of the cave begin to bow ninety-degree sharp, saluting their leader in unison. Such a sign of unwavering faith is not uncommon for subordinates to exhibit toward their gods, but only few can count the basis in which they are performed in authenticity.
He knows his army well, just as he had known of how many he had to let go due to their own greed. The ones standing in front of him now, they have never once felt the obligation to swear loyalty by him without their own prerogative.
Which is why, despite being a god who should be used to this, the deity feels just like a military general back in his mortal days, atop horseback with one spear in hand as he watches thousands of soldiers salute, actions always punctuated with the loudest roars they could muster.
His heart no longer beats, blood no longer flows through his veins, but the warmth that emanates from his chest makes it swell as it rises to the pit of his throat, making him falter— albeit just a tid.
The deity's face does not change, but his eyes greatly tremble. He speaks no words— as words have never been his strong suit— but the way he sighs and clenches his jaw speaks enough of his resolve.
"Very well. If you choose to enter a battle," he stops, takes another breath, and a palpitating crimson aura begins to emit from his person, permeating the entirety of the cave. "Then you must have the best of leaders," and as rare as the blood moon itself, the god spread his crimson-brown wings and smiles, warm and genuine and full of confidence, filling the rest of his troops with vigour.
It has been centuries since they performed a mission together, after all.
Except this is no mission from the Celestial Abode, but a duty long forgotten by the pompous gods in Heaven — taking matters into their own hands, and throwing themselves right into the face of death for their believers.
"We depart at this instant."
"Yes, My Liege!" Shouts his troops, before they all begin to dissipate into the mist and flock to him as trails of indistinguishable silhouettes that connect to his shadow, expanding hundredfold until the mouth of their cave is pitch black.
A blood fusion made through an oath of loyalty, which allows his soldiers to merge their spirits with his, thereby strengthening his power hundredfold. This is how the Night God reigns in lores and folktales for generations passed; as well as for generations to come.
Now a man standing on two feet with hundreds of voices residing within his subconscious, The deity morphs into his bat form, and takes flight.
-
Ye Shen, Night God of the East
#??? Tree Branch, Forest Outskirt
Wu Yuan Village, Eastern Mainland
Dayheim, Land of Mortals
First, we shall scout the parameters for any signs of withering. Malevolent spirits do not know how to travel without covering their destructive tracks.
Perched atop a tree branch a good distance away from the village, the bat deity leers into the darkness, his sole red eye dimly glowing to accommodate his night vision.
The first telltale signs do not come in visuals, but rather, in a ruckus of audible distress stemming from none other than the heart of the village itself.
"My crops are withering!" A villager shouts, holding his head in his hands, his red flannel drifting about madly against an enigmatic breeze that seems to take the village by storm. The deity recognises this villager; Ratanak, a frequent visitor of his shrine, who always prays for the same absurdity—to transform from a rice farmer to a … Kamen Rider? Not his expertise to grant, so he never paid him any mind. One day he will mature and realise that praying to be something other than a human is but a karmic debt.
He cannot help but feel the unease in his chest grow, akin to an inexorable tumour. He decides to take off from the tree branch, transforming into an ordinary bat and begins circling the sky of the village's parameters. The sky bleeds into a gradient of blood, mixed in with the terrors of the pitch black night.
The sights he had to witness are distressing— some villagers dropping unconscious unceremoniously, other forms of vegetative life withering like the roots have been sucked to wilt, and water in ponds mysteriously drying up like an invisible force has evaporated them en masse.
Unmistakably, the spirits are moving. He hears a general's voice, rather stern and stoic, as they make their astute observation. We shall find an obscure place to land and trace them even more closely, My Liege.
The deity just nods, spotting a secluded spot behind an empty cottage where no villagers seem to reside, and morphs mid-air, landing swiftly on his feet, before taking a mortal form. He doesn't forget to hide his animal features; normal human ears with his earrings in trade of his bat ones, and no wings nor tail in sight. He finds that appearing without a disguise alongside his true aura tends to scare all the spirits away before he can even begin his duty, therefore, a human shell and an aura seal does him best.
Keep your eyes peeled.
He throws his hood over his face, trying to conceal as much of his appearance as possible so as to not stand out within the villagers. Instead, the moment he walks out, a young woman with round eyes looks up at him like she's seen a ghost, retaining only half her wits. As the bat god just returns her stare with mild surprise, contemplating knocking her out cold, the girl begins getting onto her knees and pleading with both hands.
Perhaps the spirits have already started to corrode the psyche, My Liege…
"Oh my, it is a saviour! You appeared out of nowhere in the back of my house! — Wait, are you my ancestor? Great-great-great grandpa, please save us from this chaos! And, and, can you tell us the location of your heirloom treasure? You said it was buried in our backyard, but how big of a backyard did you have back when you were alive because there is only ten yards in this lot and I have dug everywhere! I really would like the heirloom so I can buy some art supplies—"
"Korei! Just who in the world are you blabbering to? Come here immediately! We are in danger! Do not talk to anyone you don't know! They might be spirits pretending to be humans to kill you!—"
The woman, now named Korei, looks back at the female voice from the front of her cottage, then back at the deity like she just received an epiphany. Her lips part, presumably in a readied scream, but he is faster.
In one fell swoop, he hits the woman's pressure points, and she falls hard to the ground. Way to go for his carefully crafted disguise. One step out, and a mortal is already alerting everyone plus their ancestors about his appearance.
Well, to be mistaken as a predator is normal for His Liege, but to be mistaken for one's ancestor is rather new, his general speaks up in multitudes of voices in his mind, sharing a small fit of giggle at their god's embarrassment. He all but slightly flushes, his expression hardening, but he does not mind the banter nonetheless.
All that bizarre encounter aside, however, he isn't safe here; at this point, the evil spirits will find him quicker than he is to find them.
Enough chatter. We must get moving.
He does, however, feel slightly guilty for such harsh treatment to an innocent bystander. As a god equipped for combat against spirits, he has not harmed a human in ages.
Don't worry, I wiped her memories, his general says from within his head. Humans who witness a god's power, even in disguise, cannot be left to tell tales of it, as the remains of a god's scent can attract bad omens and coerce evil spirits to their souls.
My Liege, I traced a faint scent of evil from your Northeast, another general speaks up, and immediately, he turns to the given direction, and dashes stealthily. Luckily, the villagers were far too preoccupied with the fiasco to notice a speeding silhouette in the night.
The deity immediately picks up the pungent smell of rotten death that immediately halts his footsteps, his single blood-red eye lighting up furiously. It is nearby. Prepare for ambush.
My Liege!
His troops reply in unison, and the deity takes that as a sign to discreetly exude his crimson aura in his radius. Something distorts in the sound of the wind, the sound akin to a disc scratch, and he whips instantaneously to pierce an extended claw right into its heart.
"An assassin spirit," The deity murmurs, looking around him as villagers begin to scatter about in a more hectic manner. Some are beginning to pay attention to him now.
For a god to be witnessed by mortal eyes is anything but good.
They are no longer dealing with your average run-of-the-mill spirits. This particular blood moon ensues even more vengeful spirits than the ones the deity has fought in the last decade.
My Liege, there are dozens of them – if not hundreds, from what I can sense, one general says from within his mind, and it brings him to the only conclusion he dreads: a full-scale battle that might require him to exude enough aura trace to be detected by the Celestial Abode.
But between hiding and the lives of thousands at stake, if he were to choose the former, what type of god would he be?
My Liege, we cannot fight discreetly for a battle of this scale.
Please release us, My Liege.
The deity sighs, casts a wary glance at the villagers running out of their homes and flocking to the south of the village, and makes a decision.
They are right— perhaps the time has arrived for him to step out of hiding.
Heed my commands at once. You, lead your troops to the South and take a mortal host from any of the villagers to guide them out. You and you, defend the North gate. You, search all the remaining houses to make sure no one is left behind. Immediately, host a mortal body and lead them to the nearest safe zone, and stay with them until sunrise. Do not let them believe anything supernatural is happening, and absolutely do not let them re-enter the village. Although they cannot see us and the spirits, the density of evil energy present is enough to drive a mortal to insanity.
Sire!
You and the rest of the troops, with me. Let us send these spirits back where they came from.
The man wordlessly morphs out of the deity's shadow, reforming into a bat by his liege, and quietly remains there as his wings spread forth.
Sire!
The deity lowers his hood, letting his bat ears spring forth without concealment, and his tail stretches out from behind him and as do his wings. The rest of his troops understand this as their signal, and immediately dissipate from his aura to go off into their instructed directions.
The ruckus came and passed, his troops performing diligently with their assigned tasks. In no time, the village is cleared, the spirits desperately trying to cling to life forms are quickly left without hosts, and all that remained were evils circulating in the vicinity, lost and with no direction.
And that, for today, is his bounty.
"Let us finish this quickly, I ought to go back to sleep," is all he says, coloured with mild annoyance before the bat god rises up in the air, a black-crimson pit of misty shadows morphing into the shape of a scythe.
There is a saying, lost to time, that the protector of the night, warden of the undead, also goes by a different name in legends of other mainlands— the grim reaper.
And thus, as the deity swings his scythe, decapitating a swarm of maniacal spirits flocking his way, the grim reaper does what he is best at.
Reaping what the dead sow.
-
Ye Shen, Night God of the East
#??? Tree Branch, Shrine of the Night God
Wu Yuan Village, Eastern Mainland
Dayheim, Land of Mortals
"All hail the night god!"
"We will remember your noble deed!"
"Thank you, oh sacred deity, for giving us your blessing! This village shall forever remember the miracle we are granted!"
"I will host a feast for our god at his shrine tomorrow evening! All villagers are welcome to attend the banquet with their own offerings!"
The deity in question, in contrast to the festivities, sits idly on top of a tree, clad in his bat form as he overlooks the masses gathering with haste. Then, with anything but pleasure and glory, as one would normally bask themselves in after a winning battle, he utters, "It is too noisy."
"Shall we return, My Liege?" His general asks, eyeing their god with concern. The deity has never been known for a chitchatter, a people-liker, nor an attention seeker. Perhaps this didn't even occur in his afterthoughts following last night's events.
He is too humble. Who would still think that such a large show of rescue would leave him unnoticed?
Only another glance at the bored looking deity, and their answer is sitting right in front of them.
You do realise that I can hear everything you are transmitting through these private communication arrays?
"My Liege, you are too humble. A god needs faith and worship in order to increase their status— this is but a good thing. Look at how many lives you have changed."
The deity, in contrary to their words, just gives an uninterested once-over at his shrine, now being cleaned and refurbished by the villagers in real time. Some even brought fruit baskets, and some brought bags of gold.
His face remains void of emotions. He has no use of mortal currency. He'd much prefer banana, dragonfruit, or ox blood. Although he cannot eat, the scent of certain cuisines still appeases him.
Instead, despite his unrelenting stoicness, he still asks anyway. "What is the common blessing they are asking for?"
"Mostly fortune, luck… and wealth," another general replies, perched on another tree branch a close distance away from theirs.
Great, all the things he cannot grant. His blessing is in a peaceful passing, not a peaceful life. Who in their right mind comes to a shrine and wishes for something as penchance as luck?
Then, he realises with a startle, as the image of the grand shrine flashes in his mind's eye— one in the centre of Eastern mainland, where all the Five Blessings are worshipped together, and how he once stood guard there, alongside four other deities, smiling ear to ear.
The memory takes him rather by surprise, and he takes a deep breath in an attempt to regain composure.
It has been two centuries— surely the mortals have come to realise that the Five Blessings have no longer been answering prayers. Their grand shrine has probably collected enough dust and cobwebs to be considered an ancient artefact. It is probably even demolished, if he has to take a guess.
"Are you considering heeding, My Liege?" Another general asks, snapping him out of his reverie, perhaps catching onto his train of thoughts. Perhaps they have sensed that he was lamenting.
Therefore, instead of downright saying no— although he should, because in order to grant luck blessings, he must have to unlock the Four seals on his body, and his troops know it— he replies nonchalantly, "I will give it some thought."
And the generals just share a quiet look.
They know their lord all too well — a grumbling mouth that hides the intentions of a noble protector. He will complain about it, but does it in earnest all the same. A small smile is then seen on all their faces.
"Let us head back. I have seen enough."
And with that, the bats fly up in flocks, evading the sky in a beholding sight of hundreds, their course set far away in the clear morning sky. From a distance, some can hear the ooh's and ah's of the villagers, taking this as another sign of their god's show of power.
What they all failed to notice, however, was a young, Western woman, dressed in casual attire that alienated her from the crowd, greyish blonde hair cropped like a wolf's mane, staring up at the sky with poignant interest.