By nightfall, Thomasu and Zerlos had finished constructing the wooden swords, though, honestly, they looked more like sticks.
Thankfully, I had no intention of having my people actually use them, but rather planned to use them as a scare tactic if they were forced to face the men themselves.
We all sat on the crimson field around a makeshift campfire, as the moon's light illuminated our surroundings.
The group was seemingly on edge, clutching their swords close, while I circled the area, scanning the darkness to ensure I caught sight of the invaders before they could close the distance between us.
Then, suddenly, from the west, where the mountain range lay, I finally spotted them.
There were three men. I could tell, even from the large distance, who they were.
"I've spotted them. Stay put," I said as I moved westward across the field.
I heard muttering from my people, mainly from the women and Loven, who seemed fearful.
I ignored them; I could not let their fear take root in my heart.
Instead, I used their fear to fuel my desire to protect them.
Such is my role as their god.
They stood roughly a hundred meters away, wearing the simple attire common among my disciples.
One man stood at the front, wielding a sword made of stone, while the other two stood behind him, hesitant in their steps.
I dismissed the fact that they had already crafted stone weapons in such a short time, refusing to let it bother me.
Once the men saw me approaching, they hesitated, before the man with the sword ordered them to continue marching.
They now stood close enough for me to see they were all of average build. None appeared to be masters of combat, at least based off of appearance.
We were now close enough to hear and see each other clearly.
"Are you armed?" the man with the sword shouted at me, raising his weapon as they stopped, keeping a respectful distance.
I had already planned how I would approach this situation, so my words came naturally, without thought.
"You've witnessed a god already, I am sure. You should know we do not need to wield weapons," I spoke calmly, my voice carrying easily across the field.
The armed man grew angrier, his grip tightening on his sword.
"Well, our god did wield a weapon. In fact, he killed one of our own with this same exact sword. This is the last time I'll trust one of you grifters!" he spat, and I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
What could drive a god to kill his own men?
I wondered, before realising that these gods, like me, were simply humans granted the powers of godhood. They were imperfect by nature—tragedies could befall those under their rule.
"Well, I can promise you that all five of my men and women live, comfortably, in fact. They acknowledge me as a just god, and I care for each of them deeply." I let the words linger for a moment, while the two unarmed men seemed curious, but the armed man's anger showed no sign of fading.
"I am the god of the broken," I said with clarity, though the use of the title was still strange to me. "And it seems your god has left you shattered. I will not. Join us. There is room for you, and many more. You deserve a home; you do not deserve death. However, if you decide to attack, I will have no choice but to defend myself."
I did not want to make a threat, but it was necessary they understood the consequences of rash actions.
The two men seemed convinced already, exchanging hopeful glances, and it made sense. Why fight a fight that wasn't necessary?
The armed man, however, was harder to convince. His face twisted in anger, his disbelief in the gods evident.
Whoever had ruled his world had broken him, and it seemed he was beyond repair.
As he looked back and noticed his comrades were being persuaded, he tightened his grip on his sword and roared as he charged at me.
The situation saddened me, but I had already warned him of the consequences.
Part of being a god is ensuring that you act upon your word. A god without integrity is merely a man playing pretend.
I lowered my stance and readied my arms, just as I had practised so many times in the field, calming my mind.
Once he stepped into range and swung his sword in a clumsy downward arc, I could already tell he was hardly trained. Easily stepping aside, I let his blade pass by me and pushed him gently.
He fell, face down on the crimson grass, though unhurt.
"This is the last chance I'll give you," I said. "Continue to attack me, and you will die."
The man couldn't hear me through his blind rage. He pushed himself to his feet and charged again, repeating the same clumsy strike.
This time, before he could even bring his blade down, I delivered a palm strike to his throat.
The force was so powerful I felt something crack beneath my strike.
He dropped the stone sword and clutched his throat, choking on nothing as air refused to enter his lungs.
Then he fell to his knees and began coughing up blood. I watched it mix with the crimson grass as he fell face-first, succumbing to death.
The moon shone on him, somehow making something so dark seem ethereal.
The men he had arrived with stood at a distance, their faces a mixture of gratitude and fear.
They must have hated this man,
perhaps they hadn't wanted to be dragged to this world in the first place.
"I promise you I am a good god," I said to them, looking at the dead man. "If things could have been different for him, I would have preferred it. But things can be different for you, as I said before. Join me, and I will lead you correctly. You will never be abandoned again."
The men fell to their knees and placed their heads to the ground, praising me for my mercy, filled with gratitude.
The speed at which they were willing to accept me as their god made me wonder what sort of cruel leader they had endured in their world. It strengthened my resolve to do good by my people.
One of the men's name was Jotun. He was a smaller, fair-skinned man, young, with blonde hair.
The other was Crist. He was taller, brown-skinned, with a curly afro. He was young as well.
Afterwards, I took them back to our settlement and introduced them to my five disciples. They were welcomed with open arms, as expected from the good people of my world.
A grave would need to be dug for the armed man who had lost his life, and I wanted to chastise myself for having to resort to killing him, but I knew it was for the best. He could have put my men and women at risk.
Overall, I was pleased with myself. More importantly, we had passed the Survival Event without suffering any losses.
Osidon should be paying me a visit.