"Give it up," the old man's voice echoed from the severed head lying on the ground. His tone was calm, almost pitying, as he continued to try to dissuade Harry. "The power we've accumulated is so vast that even if you continue transforming like this, it won't make a difference."
He paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in. "Besides," he added, his voice dripping with a dark sort of finality, "if you keep pushing yourself like this, I fear you'll die long before the ceremony is completed."
Harry didn't answer immediately. His body was a mess; covered in blood, his flesh torn and shredded, the wounds reappearing and healing faster than a mortal could comprehend. It was as if his body was on the edge of self-destruction, but it stubbornly fought to remain whole. Still, each time the wounds healed, there was an unsettling sense of inevitability about the situation. The body could only take so much.
Although Harry's body seemed to hold itself together for now, the signs were clear: he was nearing the point of no return.
"Really?" Harry's voice was cold, detached, and tinged with defiance. He ignored the old man's words, walking past him with quiet resolve. His focus was entirely on the task ahead.
Despite the chaos within him, Harry's mind was clear. He had studied the ritual of life extensively, piecing together the runes and their meanings, learning their secrets. And now, it was time to put his knowledge to the test.
He had been preparing for this moment for a long time. Every rune, every detail of the ritual was etched into his mind. He approached the center of the altar, his steps deliberate and measured, despite the turmoil inside him. He could feel the immense power of the ceremony still building around him, but he was no longer afraid.
With a steady hand, he began to modify the ritual. His fingers danced over the runes, shifting them, adjusting the delicate balance of energy. Every alteration was made with purpose, a silent conviction driving his actions. As he worked, he splashed his blood onto the altar, adding his own life force to the growing power.
"Although I'm not sure what will happen," Harry murmured quietly to himself, his voice calm despite the chaos, "if you really exist, I'm sure you'll notice this."
The moment the words left his lips, a profound shift occurred.
The air around the altar seemed to pulse with energy. The runes he had altered began to glow with an eerie light, and the atmosphere thickened, vibrating with an unknown force. The ritual that had been building for so long shifted direction, a subtle but unmistakable change rippling through the ceremony.
Harry paused, his senses sharpening as he felt the change. Something was awakening; a presence, deep within the darkness above. He could sense it before he even saw it, a growing awareness stirring in the space around him. His eyes lifted to the sky above.
Up there, in the darkness, something began to take form. A shadow, faint at first, slowly materialized above him, drawing energy from the ritual below. Power that had once surged through the ritual and flowed into his own body now redirected itself through an inexplicable connection to the dark presence.
Inside that darkness, something was sleeping. A being, ancient and immense, lying in wait, drawing the energy it needed to awaken. And now, it was beginning to stir, as if responding to the changes Harry had triggered.
Suddenly, in the depths of that darkness, a pair of scarlet eyes opened. The transformation was swift and undeniable; the god, the very entity the Black Council had sought to revive, was awakening.
Harry had been contemplating how to stop the ritual, but now he realized something. The Black Council had spent years preparing for this very moment, amassing vast amounts of power, all for the purpose of awakening their so-called god. But Harry, with the ritual of life in his hands, had his own plan. A plan that seemed to align perfectly with the god they sought to revive.
Through his long study of the life ritual, Harry had come to understand its core principles, its deepest secrets. He didn't know exactly how it worked, but he understood the role of the runes, especially the ones he had just modified. These runes were linked to the sleeping god, and by adjusting them, Harry had sent a surge of energy into the god's slumbering form.
Under normal circumstances, these modifications would have gone unnoticed. The god would have remained in its dormant state, oblivious to the subtle shift in the ritual. But with the immense power Harry had absorbed, that subtle change became a catalyst, waking the god from its long, dark slumber.
As the power from the ritual surged around him, Harry could feel the god's awakening. It was no longer a distant force, something out of reach. It was here, within the very energy that flowed through the altar, through his own body. And for the first time, Harry could feel its power radiating from the depths of the darkness.
The Black Council's god was waking, and Harry had become the key to its revival.
The moment Harry altered the runes, a sudden shift occurred, a disturbance in the very fabric of the ritual. The energy, now coursing through the modified symbols, began to reverberate with a force far greater than anyone could have anticipated. The god, the one long slumbering in the shadows, was awakened. A presence, ancient and terrifying, began to stir in the darkness above, its eyes opening wide as the power Harry had manipulated flowed into it.
A surge of terror rippled through the air. The air itself seemed to crackle as the new god's presence materialized, causing the life ritual to shift in response. Where once the conversion efficiency of the ritual was a mere trickle, now it was a roaring torrent. If the efficiency had once been at a steady 1, it now spiked to 10, feeding the ceremony at an accelerated pace.
The flow of power began to accelerate rapidly, like a dam bursting. The pool before them, once brimming with dark, bloody energy, now seemed to empty at an alarming rate, the life force siphoning out at a speed that seemed impossible. It was as though the ritual could no longer sustain the influx of power; it was overwhelming, even for the complex network of runes designed to channel it.
The air was thick with raw energy, the runes flashing brighter and brighter, their light flickering as if they might shatter under the pressure. But before the entire ceremony could collapse under its own weight, something far more powerful intervened.
From the dark realm above, the god behind the scenes reinforced the ritual, pushing a powerful force into the ceremony. The runes stabilized. The energy that had been spiraling out of control was suddenly tethered, anchored by a force far beyond Harry's understanding. The overwhelming life force flowing into Harry's body also began to stabilize, his form, which had been on the brink of breaking apart, slowly started to heal.
Harry could feel the energy, coursing through him at an alarming rate, but it was no longer threatening to destroy him. Instead, the overwhelming life essence was helping him, transforming him more efficiently than ever before. His body, once struggling to contain the power, was now absorbing it, adapting to it in ways that felt... unnatural, almost divine.
'But they're not doing this out of kindness,' Harry thought with a wry smile. 'They simply don't want me to die, not yet. I'm the key to this ceremony, the conduit through which their power flows.'
Without him, the ritual would collapse, and the god in the dark would lose its chance to rise. The Black Council had invested centuries of effort into this moment, Harry was the last thread holding everything together. If he died now, the god's revival would fail, and the Black Council's centuries of planning would be for nothing.
"WHAT ON EARTH HAVE YOU DONE!?" The old man's voice, filled with shock and anger, rang out from behind Harry. He could hardly believe his own eyes. "You've awakened an unknown god!"
Harry didn't even turn to face him. He was focused on the task at hand, his body absorbing the life energy at an astonishing rate. "Why not?" he replied with a slight smile. "I'm doing the same thing as you. Just calling upon a god."
The old man's face twisted with rage. "You—" He took a step forward, his gaze filled with venom. "When the God of the Blood Moon fully revives, neither you nor this god will escape!"
Harry chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving the altar. "Let's wait until then," he said calmly. "But looking at the current situation, it seems your god might have some trouble reviving."
Harry pointed to the pool, where the once abundant blood power had begun to dwindle.
In the center of the altar, the power that had been so meticulously collected over the years, all of it now belonged to the ritual. The Black Council had spent centuries building this energy, pulling from countless sources, amassing the force needed to awaken their god. Yet, with the dark god now revived, the very energy that had once filled the pool was now draining away at an alarming rate.
The water level in the pool had noticeably dropped. The blood-red energy that had once filled it now seemed to be siphoned off by the dark god's awakening. It was as if the ritual's energy had been hijacked, and the god was greedily absorbing it for itself.
"This is just the beginning," Harry murmured, observing the scene with grim satisfaction. "If this keeps up, your god might not have enough power to fully revive."
A long, eerie sound rang out, a deep, resonant hum that seemed to vibrate through the very air. Harry's gaze shifted upward, toward the blood moon still hanging in the sky. The shadow within the moon began to react violently, as if it could sense that its power was being drained. The Blood Moon God, sensing its energy slipping away, struggled against the pull of the dark god.
As the Blood Moon God fought back, a shadow began to form within the pool, a figure emerging from the depths. It was faint at first, but as the struggle between the gods intensified, the figure began to take shape; a woman, standing guard in front of the pool, her form flickering with a protective aura, blocking the dark god's influence, at least for a moment.
But the dark god was not so easily thwarted.
A massive shadow erupted from the dark realm, taller and more powerful than anything Harry had seen. It loomed over the Blood Moon God, its form rising like a mountain. The two gods, now fully awake, stood side by side, their powers colliding in a deafening clash.
At that moment, everything seemed to vanish. The vision before Harry's eyes disappeared in an instant. The space around him distorted as the two gods' powers collided, an explosion of divine energy rippling through the air, threatening to tear apart everything in its path. The world itself seemed to shudder at the meeting of these two ancient forces.