Arlen stretched out his hand, marveling at the glowing veins of power that coursed beneath his skin. It had been days since he made the pact, and already the strength flowing through him felt intoxicating. He could feel it: the raw, untamed energy of a god waiting to be unleashed.
The alleyway was far behind him now, along with the pathetic life he had once known. He had spent the last two days testing the limits of his new abilities. Fire erupted from his fingers with a thought, shadows coiled and obeyed his commands, and his speed made the world blur around him. But it wasn't enough. He wanted more.
Arlen found himself in the ruins of an ancient temple just beyond the city walls. The place had been abandoned for centuries, forgotten by the people of Eloria. Its crumbling pillars and overgrown vines whispered of secrets long buried. A perfect place for someone like him.
As he walked through the temple, a soft chuckle escaped his lips. "A god needs a throne, doesn't he?" he muttered to himself, his voice dripping with self-satisfaction.
"Do you always talk to yourself, or is it just a bad habit?" a voice chimed from behind.
Arlen spun around, his eyes narrowing. Standing there was a woman, her fiery red hair cascading over her shoulders. Her eyes burned with the intensity of embers, and her leather armor hinted at a life spent on the edge. She leaned against a broken pillar, twirling a dagger in her hand.
"Who are you?" Arlen demanded, his tone sharp.
The woman grinned, stepping closer with a confidence that rivaled his own. "The name's Lyra. And you? You're the one everyone's been whispering about—the 'man with the power of gods.'"
Arlen's grin widened. So, word was spreading already. Good.
"What's it to you?" he asked, crossing his arms.
Lyra's smile didn't waver. "Let's just say I have a knack for finding trouble. And you, my glowing friend, look like trouble wrapped in a very appealing package."
For a moment, Arlen was caught off guard by her boldness. But then he laughed, his voice echoing through the ruins. "You've got guts, I'll give you that."
"And you've got power," Lyra shot back, her eyes narrowing. "I've been looking for someone like you. Someone who's not afraid to shake things up."
Arlen's gaze lingered on her. There was something about Lyra—an untamed fire that matched his own. She wasn't just some opportunist. No, she was a kindred spirit.
"And why should I trust you?" he asked, his tone laced with amusement.
Lyra shrugged. "You shouldn't. But if you want to rise above the gods, you'll need allies. Or are you planning to take on the world all by yourself?"
Arlen smirked. "Maybe I will."
Lyra laughed, her voice ringing out like the crackle of flames. "Suit yourself, oh mighty one. But when you're ready to stop being so full of yourself, you know where to find me."
She turned to leave, but Arlen's voice stopped her.
"Wait," he said, his tone shifting. "You're right. Every king needs allies. And every god needs followers."
Lyra glanced over her shoulder, her grin returning. "Smart boy."
As the two of them stood in the temple ruins, an unspoken pact was formed. Lyra was the first to join him, but Arlen knew she wouldn't be the last.
The following weeks were a whirlwind of chaos and ambition. Lyra proved to be a valuable asset, her skills in combat and strategy complementing Arlen's growing powers. Together, they began to carve out a reputation in the shadows of Eloria.
But it wasn't just allies that Arlen attracted.
One night, as he and Lyra rested in a hidden cavern outside the city, a strange energy filled the air. Arlen shot to his feet, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his radiant sword. Lyra was already alert, her dagger at the ready.
The air shimmered, and a figure materialized before them—a woman cloaked in darkness, her violet eyes glowing like amethysts. Her presence was ethereal, otherworldly.
"Who are you?" Arlen demanded, his voice steady despite the unease he felt.
The woman's lips curved into a sly smile. "You may call me Selene. And I am here to offer my allegiance."
Lyra scoffed. "Allegiance? Just like that? You expect us to believe you?"
Selene's gaze shifted to Lyra, her smile unfaltering. "Believe what you will. But I know what you seek, Arlen. Power. Domination. Godhood. And I can help you achieve it."
Arlen stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. "And why would you help me?"
"Because," Selene said, her voice a seductive whisper, "your rise will change everything. The gods have grown complacent, and the world needs someone to challenge them. Someone… like you."
Arlen studied her for a moment, his mind racing. She was dangerous, no doubt about it. But he couldn't deny the allure of her words.
"Fine," he said, his voice firm. "But if you cross me, you'll regret it."
Selene's smile widened. "I wouldn't dream of it."
As the days turned into weeks, Arlen's harem began to grow. Each woman who joined him brought something unique to the table—strength, cunning, or wisdom. Together, they formed a force unlike anything Eloria had ever seen.
But Arlen's ambitions didn't go unnoticed.
High in the celestial realm, the gods watched with growing unease.
"Arlen Maxwell," one of them muttered, his voice heavy with disdain. "The mortal dares to challenge us."
Another god, cloaked in golden light, leaned forward. "He is no mere mortal anymore. The power we gave him… it was a mistake."
"What do we do?" a third god asked, her voice trembling.
The golden god's eyes glowed with fury. "We crush him before he can rise any further."
Back in the mortal realm, Arlen stood atop the ruins of the temple, his arms spread wide as he gazed at the horizon.
"Let them come," he muttered, his voice filled with defiance. "I'll make the gods kneel before me."