Theoron
"He wanted you to pursue God's will."
There was a long pause as I processed his words. My mind raced to comprehend what I just heard.
"God's will?" I repeated, still in disbelief.
"Yes, God's will," he confirmed. "The Will of God."
The esteemed Will of God, whispered among the enlightened as the sacred pathway to divinity, was a destiny reserved for only the most exceptional among the gifted and divine. Only those blessed with unparalleled prowess and unwavering resolve were deemed worthy of embarking on this revered journey. To claim the throne of the Ruling God, one must vanquish the incumbent deities, demonstrating unyielding strength and steadfast conviction.
My brother had long known of my profound disinterest in this sacred calling. I, Theoron Creed, had instinctively shunned conflict and bloodshed since childhood. The very notion of pursuing God's will was filled with trepidation. The relentless pursuit of divine ascension was an arduous endeavor, fraught with perilous quests and battles that could culminate in unimaginable sacrifice.
To fulfill the lofty expectations of God's will, one must exhibit unwavering fortitude, relentless ambition, and an unshakeable determination to overcome all adversaries. The path to divinity was not for the faint of heart; it was a grueling odyssey that only the most extraordinary could hope to conquer.
Throughout our relationship, my brother had been a pillar of encouragement, never once attempting to coerce me into pursuing a path that didn't resonate with my interests. His unwavering acceptance of my decisions had been a constant source of comfort. However, this has left me perplexed.
"This might not be what you wanted to hear, but it's true. He wanted you to chase after God's will. Believe it or not."
He stood up, preparing to leave. "I'll take my leave, Theoron. Please take care of yourself."
My mind was still reeling from what he had just said. Confusion swirled within me as a myriad of questions arose. I hadn't fully mourned my brother's death, and now I was faced with another shock.
My brother's values and principles were etched vividly in my memory, and I knew he wouldn't have encouraged me to chase after God's will as a means to ease his own conscience or secure a lasting family legacy. His compassion, empathy, and acceptance had always guided our relationship, and I couldn't imagine him suddenly expecting me to compromise my own desires for the sake of our family's reputation.
My thoughts were a blank slate. I had always believed I knew my brother better than anyone else. He was an open book, his thoughts and feelings transparent. Yet here I was, perplexed and bewildered, struggling to decipher the motivations behind his final, astonishing request.
"Before I take my leave," his voice cut through my thoughts, bringing me back to the moment, "I'd like to apologize. I'm truly sorry for not being able to protect Brennan. I know it's too late for this, and my apology meant nothing. I failed as a friend-"
I interjected him as he could proceed this further.
"Mikhael, you don't owe me an apology. My brother was fortunate to have a friend like you. Thank you for being his companion throughout his life."
Mikhael had been an unwavering source of support and loyalty to my brother throughout his life, consistently seeing him for who he truly was, without judgment or condition. He had selflessly done so much for my brother, offering a helping hand, a listening ear, and a comforting presence whenever needed.
Given their profound bond and Mikhael's countless acts of kindness, the last thing I desired from him was an apology. Instead, I felt deeply grateful for all that he had done for us, and I knew that my brother had cherished their friendship above words.
As we exchanged our apologies and gratitude, Mikhael departed. I could see the guilt etched on his face regarding my brother's death everytime I met him, even though it wasn't his fault. My mind wandered back to my brother's wish. I sighed.
My footsteps paused at a familiar room, my gaze roaming over every part of it. It was just as he had left it before heading off to war—the war that had returned his body but not the presence I had longed for. I walked toward the lamp table near his bed, where an old ancestral book lay beside the lamp. The book appeared aged yet well-maintained. It was clear my brother had little tolerance for dust or neglect.
The book contained information about our ancestors and our powers, passed down through generations to help control our abilities. I had read it long before my brother could even begin, though I never used the knowledge it contained. The insights I had once grasped had faded from memory, lost to time. While I wasn't particularly fond of the book, my brother cherished it greatly.
"You know, Theoron, one day I'll rewrite this book for our descendants and make them proud."
"The Creed clan will rise high one day, and I will make it happen," he had said, holding the book close to his chest.
As I reflected on my brother's aspirations, his infectious enthusiasm lingered in my mind. All his dreams and ambitions centered around our family's well-being and prosperity. My selfless brother's unwavering dedication to our clan was inspiring, yet I felt disconnected from his vision.
His lifelong objective was to elevate our family, transforming us from a lineage known for our support in wars to a dynasty of independent strength and influence. He yearned to create a lasting legacy, a monumental achievement that would be etched in history, cementing our family's name as a testament to greatness.
Despite his unrelenting passion, I knew he loved our family—just the two of us—above all else. His devotion was unwavering, and I had always trusted him to prioritize my well-being. Though his ambitions burned brightly, I couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't mine to own.
While I had no doubt about my brother's sincerity and good intentions, I couldn't shake off the feeling that the path he wanted me to take wasn't aligned with my own. This disconnect left me grappling with the weight of his expectations versus the pull of my own desires
However…
"If this is what you truly wanted, I will pursue God's will."
I shall become the next God.