The world of Eloria had always been divided into realms of gods and mortals. Amongst these realms, Arlen had been nothing but a forgotten soul, discarded by fate. Or so he thought.
His story began like any other, in the humble streets of a dying city. Arlen, the orphan, the street rat, was no one of importance—until the day the gods decided to notice him.
It was a night like no other, the air thick with the scent of rain and the distant howls of wolves. Arlen wandered through the alleyways, a tattered cloak wrapped around his slender frame. His golden eyes shimmered with a hunger for something greater than the pathetic existence he had. He had long grown tired of scraping by, using wit and charm to survive in a city where the weak were crushed underfoot. But even more, he yearned for power.
"Is that really what you want?" a voice suddenly whispered, soft and chilling.
Arlen froze. He had heard whispers before, but this one was different—deep, ancient, and unsettlingly close. Slowly, he turned.
A figure cloaked in shadows stood in the doorway of a forgotten tavern, its outline barely visible in the dim light of a flickering lantern. The figure's voice echoed like the winds of the forgotten mountains, ancient and full of knowledge.
"What are you?" Arlen asked, his voice a mix of caution and curiosity. His heart raced as he instinctively took a step back, but the figure was too close.
"You know not what you seek, mortal," the figure intoned. "But you have been chosen."
Arlen's eyes narrowed. Chosen? By who? And for what?
The figure stepped forward, and the air around them seemed to crackle with energy. It was no longer just a voice in his mind; this being, whatever it was, had power. Real power. The kind Arlen had dreamed of.
"You seek power," the figure said, as though reading his thoughts. "I will grant it to you. But there is a price."
Arlen's chest tightened. Price? What kind of price?
"Your soul," the figure continued, "or your sanity. The choice is yours. But know this—if you refuse, you will never taste the power you crave."
Arlen's pulse quickened. He was no fool. Souls were not something to gamble with. But in the heart of the city, in the shadows of his impoverished life, he had nothing to lose. The thought of power—the kind that could elevate him above the scum of the streets—was too enticing to resist.
"I choose power," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside.
The figure's eyes glowed with an unsettling intensity. "Then it is done."
In that moment, the world around him shattered. A violent surge of energy coursed through his body, burning him, searing every nerve as though the very essence of the universe was being pulled into him. His skin cracked, and the sensation was unbearable. But he did not scream. Instead, a deep, primal laughter erupted from within him. It was the sound of a man who had realized his true destiny.
When the energy subsided, Arlen collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath. His body was covered in glowing markings, his eyes glowing with an ethereal light. Power surged through him, like the very gods themselves had chosen him to be their vessel.
"You have been gifted with the power of the gods," the voice said once more, now calm. "But remember, power comes with its burdens."
Arlen rose to his feet, his mind swirling with the newfound knowledge and strength. "I don't care about the burdens," he muttered, looking at his hands—now glowing with divine energy. "I will make them bow."
The figure's laughter echoed in the distance, fading into the void. "Then you will have much to prove."
Arlen stood alone in the alley, the sounds of the city surrounding him. But now, he was different. Stronger. Unstoppable. His journey to godhood had begun.
As Arlen began to experiment with his newfound powers, he was amazed by the control he had over the elements. Flames leaped from his fingertips, and shadows obeyed his every command. His strength grew with each passing moment, and it didn't take long before he was able to easily take down the criminals who once preyed on the weak.
But with power came attention.
It didn't take long for the whispers to start—rumors of a young man who wielded the powers of a god. The very thought of it thrilled Arlen. He was not just a mere mortal anymore; he was something greater. Something feared.
It was then that the women began to appear.
At first, it was a girl in the market—her beauty like nothing Arlen had ever seen. Her silken hair shone in the moonlight, and her eyes were full of mystery. She was no ordinary woman. Her name was Lyra, and she had been sent to test Arlen, though he did not know it yet.
Then came Viera, a fierce warrior who challenged Arlen in a duel that nearly destroyed half the marketplace. Her skill was unmatched, and she saw something in Arlen—something that made her want to follow him.
But it wasn't just their power that intrigued him. It was the fact that they were drawn to him, to his rise. Slowly, he gathered more—each woman with a story, each with a power of her own. And as he began to understand the extent of his influence, a twisted game began to unfold.
Arlen's narcissistic tendencies began to show through. He was no longer just a man; he was a god in the making. The women who followed him were his pawns, tools to further his rise to divinity. Yet, deep down, he couldn't help but feel a strange connection to each of them. They weren't just pawns—they were part of his destiny.
But destiny is never kind, and betrayal always lurks in the shadows.
One evening, as Arlen sat upon his newly claimed throne, a figure appeared at the gates of his hidden lair—a man, cloaked in darkness, his eyes glowing with a hatred Arlen recognized all too well. This was the first twist in his path. Someone had come to take everything he had worked for.
"Arlen," the man said, his voice filled with venom. "You think you can control the gods? You are nothing but a mortal, unworthy of such power."
Arlen's grin was smug, his voice dripping with disdain. "I have no need for your approval. The gods have chosen me, and soon, the world will bow at my feet."
But the man was not alone. As the darkness around them deepened, Arlen realized the game was only beginning. There were forces far beyond his understanding—forces that would challenge his claim to divinity.
The night was young, and Arlen's journey had only just begun.