Chereads / God of the Broken / Chapter 3 - Praise and Worship

Chapter 3 - Praise and Worship

After I declared myself as their god, their reaction shocked me to my core.

Their eyes lit up, and they fell prostrate, their faces pressed to the ground and knees bent in complete submission.

In unison, their arms outstretched toward me as they hailed my name.

What on earth is this? I wondered, stunned, before reminding myself that I was no longer on Earth. Events like this could only happen in a realm far removed from my former life.

"Blessed you are," they began to chant, each repeating the phrase after the other.

As their voices filled the air, I felt an unfamiliar power stir within me. It was as though the world itself was granting me strength, feeding an invisible force that surged through my being.

Part of me wanted to reject their claims, to deny this undeserved worship. But another part—deep within me—couldn't help but revel in the pleasure of their praise.

The desire to lead swelled within me, to create order and ensure that my people were treated justly. I wanted to accomplish what so many humans on earth believed that the gods had failed to do.

I will become worthy of worship.

I let them continue their praise, their voices rising in unison, until the chants began to subside. Once the silence returned, I spoke again.

"My name is Vale, though I have been called the God of the Broken. I do not yet understand the meaning of this title, but if it relates to any of you—if your spirit has been shattered—then I vow to do all within my power to mend it."

Smiles spread across their faces, their expressions full of reverence as though I were a masterpiece of art come to life.

"Tell me about yourselves," I said, gesturing for them to speak.

One by one, the five men and women began to introduce themselves.

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The first to speak was a muscular young man with fair skin. He looked to be about my age, though the stubble on his chin made him seem older.

"My name is Loven, and I know nothing of my past, yet I feel I was a farmers son."

Next was a tall, fair-skinned woman with straight blonde hair that fell neatly to one side. She appeared to be around forty, with a dignified presence.

"I am Dyliana. I too have no memory of my history, but I sense that I was once deeply devout. Though I cannot recall the nature of my beliefs, I hope you will allow me to now direct my devotion toward you, Great Vale."

The third was an older man, perhaps in his sixties, though his frame was solid and strong, his hands calloused, likely from a lifetime of labour. His balding crown and dark skin gave him a commanding presence.

"I am Thomasu. Like the others, my past is a mystery, but these hands tell me I once worked with wood. I feel a deep connection to the trees, as though they were my sanctuary."

The fourth was a short, tanned woman with braided black hair. Her beauty was radiant, her body statuesque, but her youthful energy carried an approachable warmth.

"I am Seraphina, though you may call me Sera. I cannot say I am of much use, but I believe I was good at retaining knowledge... and working with children."

Finally, a tall, lean man stepped forward. His golden skin gleamed and his eyes were slightly curved. His long black hair was tied back into a neat ponytail, and his movements carried the grace of a warrior.

"I am Zerlos. My skills are limited to swordsmanship and battle tactics. Even now, I feel unease at being unarmed."

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After the introductions, a sense of familiarity settled over me. Despite their scattered memories, I could already tell that these were good people. Something deep within me confirmed it.

But my title haunted me. God of the Broken.

If it had any meaning, it likely suggested that these men and women had endured difficult lives—or, far worse, that their hardships were yet to come. I prayed it was the former, though I was unsure if prayer held any meaning for one who was a god himself. It was something I would have to grow accustomed to.

"As I said, I am unfamiliar with this land, as you all are. The first thing we should do is explore."

I sent the three men to scout the crimson fields, each heading in different directions. Their task was simple—observe, remember, and report to me anything about the land.

Meanwhile, I instructed the women to search the wooden houses for anything that might have been overlooked—supplies, tools, or anything that might provide a clue about our situation.

As I remained standing in the centre of the field, watching my people go about their tasks, a familiar voice echoed within my mind.

"Hello again, Vale. That was a smooth introduction—much smoother than some of the others," Osidon said, his tone filled with a casual amusement that somehow set me on edge.

Despite the strangeness of his sudden intrusion, I felt a strange sense of comfort hearing him again. There was much I wanted to ask, but before I could speak, he continued.

"Now that you have acquainted yourself with your people, it is time for me to tell you a little more about your circumstances. Get comfortable."

I sat down on the crimson grass, crossing my legs as I prepared to listen. My people moved in the distance, their figures small against the vast emptiness of the field, but I forced my focus on Osidon's voice as he began to speak.