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Chapter 222: The Cult of the Storm God
🕑 Added 2025-03-22 13:28:04 +0000 UTCThat divine perspective did not last long. Soon, Lynd felt a wave of weakness wash over his body. He immediately withdrew from the divine perception of the Nameless King, ceasing the activation of its rune. At that moment, the rune dimmed slightly—clearly a result of overconsumption.
However, as Lynd sensed changes in the rune, he realized that, just like before, it was drawing magic from the surrounding world to replenish its energy. Yet, this time, another force was also reinforcing the power of the Nameless King's rune.
Though he could not perceive the source of this new power, he had a strong suspicion—it was likely the faith of the Storm God at work.
As he exited the rune state, Lynd’s vision returned to normal, and he immediately noticed the abnormalities in his surroundings. It was hard to ignore the ominous sight of dark clouds pressing down and thick fog encircling the city.
At the same time, Lyra’s kneeling posture did not surprise him. Many zealous followers of the Chosen Savior in Summerhall had displayed similar reverence upon seeing him.
The moment Lynd withdrew from the divine state of the Nameless King, Lyra also sensed the shift within him. She knew he had reverted from godhood to humanity.
Rising from the ground, she looked at Lynd with a renewed gaze. This time, however, her eyes held something more—worship and fear, the same kind of reverence one would show the Storm God.
With the Nameless King's rune no longer sustaining it, the dense fog that had enveloped the city dissipated just as suddenly as it had appeared. However, the heavy, oppressive clouds above did not clear. Instead, with a deafening crack of thunder and a flash of lightning, the sky unleashed a torrential downpour, a storm in the truest sense.
As rain poured down toward Lynd and Lyra, an invisible force repelled the droplets, causing them to slide away along the outer edge of the unseen barrier. It was as if an invisible shield enveloped them.
Still reeling from the awe of what had just transpired, Lyra, the temple priestess, hesitantly extended her hand. She watched as it passed through the unseen barrier, feeling the cold touch of the rain outside. When she withdrew her hand, the water on her skin remained beyond the shield—her palm was completely dry.
The realization sent an even deeper wave of devotion through her. Her expression filled with remorse, and with absolute sincerity, she spoke, “I was wrong! You are not merely our Lord’s incarnation or a chosen one blessed by the divine. You and our Lord are one and the same. Please forgive my blasphemy just now, I…”
“Calm yourself. You have done nothing wrong. There is no need for forgiveness,” Lynd reassured her, mimicking the gestures of the Septons from the Faith of the Seven, placing a hand gently upon her head.
Perhaps it was her unwavering faith, or perhaps her nature was simply extraordinary, but as soon as his words fell, Lyra quickly regained her composure. Yet, the reverence and fear in her eyes did not diminish in the slightest.
“In truth, you have done well,” Lynd continued. “Among all the followers of the Storm God I have encountered, you are the most devout. Not only have you built such a magnificent temple in his honor, but you have also gathered so many faithful believers.”
He looked at her and said, “I should reward you.”
Lyra’s expression remained steadfast as she replied with deep devotion, “Spreading my Lord’s faith is the greatest reward I could ever receive.”
At that moment, Lyra had fully come to see Lynd as the Storm God himself. It was not just his ability to summon and control storms that led her to this belief—it was the divine presence she had just sensed from him. It was the same revelation she had experienced once before.
Years ago, she had been sent on a mission east of Lorath to seek a sacred artifact. However, she encountered grave danger, and death had seemed inevitable. It was then that the Storm God appeared, shielding her from harm, driving away the threat, and granting her her first divine revelation.
In the past, she had always harbored doubts about the existence of gods. As a Moonsinger, she was supposed to be closer to the divine than anyone, yet she had never truly felt the presence of a god.
When preaching to believers in the Temple of the Moonsingers, she recited prayers just like her fellow Moonsingers—rote repetition rather than true devotion. To her, the priesthood of the Moonsingers was more of a duty than a faith.
But everything changed when she felt the presence of the Storm God and received his revelation. In that moment, she finally knew that gods were real.
That was why she resolutely abandoned her priesthood, left the temple, and devoted herself to the worship of the Storm God.
Everyone thought she was a fool, convinced that she would one day regret her decision. But she remained steadfast. Through her sermons and blessings, she gathered a great number of Storm God followers and built this grand temple in his honor—proving wrong all those who had doubted her.
Yet, despite her achievements, she found no joy in them. For ever since that revelation, she had never received another.
Though she could still sense the Storm God’s presence—having even glimpsed what she believed to be his true form a few months ago—no further divine guidance had come to her. This lingering silence filled her with uncertainty.
Until now.
The moment she sensed the Storm God's aura emanating from Lynd, she received another revelation. In that instant, she was utterly certain—the man before her was indeed the Storm God. And with that realization came another: her devotion had never been in vain. The god had always been watching over her.
...
Lynd, of course, had no way of knowing what was going through Lyra’s mind. His only concern at the moment was what kind of reward to give her.
After a brief consideration, he took out a Dragonglass Dragon Rune Necklace and handed it to her.
“This necklace was crafted by my own hands,” he said. “It has a calming effect on the mind, though it’s not meant for prolonged wear. Whenever you feel troubled, put it on.”
The moment Lyra accepted the necklace, she immediately felt its soothing power. All the turbulent emotions within her settled, leaving her in a state of tranquility she had never known before. As the chaos in her mind cleared, only her unwavering faith remained.
Then, just as suddenly, another revelation struck—stronger than any before. A tingling sensation spread from the top of her head, coursing through her entire body. The feeling seeped inward, consuming her completely in an indescribably wondrous state.
Lynd, standing beside her, watched in surprise. The moment he handed over the Dragonglass Rune Necklace, a surge of magical energy erupted from Lyra’s body. His keen vision allowed him to see the transformation in her aura, and he could sense that her magic was even more powerful than that within Morroa.
At the same time, the Storm God's sacred emblem, tattooed on Lyra’s forehead, began to shift—its lines rearranging, reforming into intricate, vine-like runes that spread outward, swiftly covering her entire body.
At that moment, her magic reached its peak. Through her deep faith in the Storm God, her power resonated with Lynd’s Nameless King rune. It was as if she had been blessed by the divine, gaining control over the very essence of the storm.
As her magic radiated outward, her eyes turned a luminous silver-white, crackling with arcs of electricity that wove through her irises and along their edges. A whirlwind formed around her, and above, the dissipating storm clouds thickened once more, drawn back by her newfound power.
“Storm?” Lynd murmured, watching the transformation.
A memory surfaced from his past life—a character from a movie he had once seen. The resemblance was uncanny, save for her lack of silver hair.
In that moment, he was certain—Lyra, like Morroa, was born with an innate talent for magic. This ability made them more attuned to the unseen forces of the world, allowing them to sense and interact with mystical energies that others could not.
Perhaps the “divine revelations” she spoke of were nothing more than her heightened perception responding to these forces, mistaking them for the voice of a god.
Lyra’s surge of magic did not last long. The reaction had been triggered by the Dragonglass Dragon Rune Necklace, and once its stored magic was depleted, the effect quickly subsided. It would take time for the necklace to regain its energy.
As the influence of the necklace faded, Lyra’s magic gradually stabilized. However, the storm-god runes that had spread across her body did not disappear. They remained permanently etched into her skin like true tattoos. Fortunately, her face was untouched, and the vine-like variant runes that had formed were strikingly intricate. Rather than detracting from her appearance, they gave her an exotic and otherworldly charm.
She did not resent these markings. On the contrary, she regarded them as a divine blessing—a sign that the Storm God was with her.
Lynd cautioned her, “Keep the necklace safe. Don’t use this power carelessly.”
At his words, Lyra immediately fastened the necklace around her neck.
Lynd continued, “Right now, the faith of the Storm God is fragmented, like scattered sand. It needs a formal religious order, a structured church. Priestess Lyra, are you willing to take on this responsibility?”
Lyra had no hesitation in accepting Lynd’s request. In fact, this development was to her benefit—it meant that Lynd was effectively appointing her as the future High Septon or High Priestess of the Storm God’s church.
“Your command is my mission,” she said, bowing her head. “In truth, I have already been preparing for this. A few months ago, I began laying the groundwork for a proper religious order. I have gathered a group of devout believers who could serve as clergy. With their help, the church will soon be established. Do you wish to review a list of these people, or would you rather meet them in person?”
“No need,” Lynd shook his head. “The Storm God’s church is entirely under your control. Your clergy do not need to have direct contact with me, and they should not even know of my involvement.”
Lyra was momentarily taken aback but quickly understood his reasoning. She was well aware of the Sealord’s attitude toward the Storm God—a newly emerging deity with close ties to Lynd. The restrictions placed on her made it clear: she had only been allowed to purchase a small island beside the Sept of the Seven, and the Storm God’s temple had to be built next to it. This was a clear sign that the Sealord considered the faith of the Storm God something to be monitored, if not outright controlled.
A wave of frustration rose within her toward the current Sealord.
“There’s something else I need to ask you,” Lynd said, swiftly shifting the conversation. “The patterns and runes on the armor of the temple’s statue—where did you see them?”
“On the Sealord’s enchanted armor,” Lyra answered without hesitation.
She went on to explain that after acquiring the enchanted armor, the Sealord had eagerly held a showcase, inviting the city’s nobility and the high priests of various faiths to admire it. Lyra had been among those invited.
What had struck her the most about the armor was not its lavish design but the overwhelming cold it exuded. A continuous chill radiated from it, and anyone without magical protection would suffer frostbite upon contact.
“I remember that the moment I saw it, I felt it was connected to my Lord,” Lyra recalled. “The armor was identical to my Lord’s. I only needed one glance to memorize every pattern and rune. When I returned, I had them carved onto the statue.”
Her expression turned uncertain. “Is there something wrong with those runes?”
Lynd didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he considered her words before asking, “Did you replicate them exactly, or did you alter anything—like deliberately breaking certain connections in the design?”
Lyra shook her head. “I didn’t modify anything. I copied them exactly as they were.”
“So the breaks in the runes were already there.” Lynd frowned, murmuring to himself, “That means the Sealord’s armor isn’t mine.”
From Lyra’s account, he could now be certain—the enchanted armor in the Sealord’s possession was not the Valyrian steel set he had once forged. It was a replica. Even so, he still wanted to see it in person. There might be clues hidden in its design.
Lyra was quick-witted. From their conversation, she had already deduced that the Sealord’s armor must have some connection to Lynd. It now seemed likely that Lynd had come all the way from Summerhall to Braavos for this very reason.
“If you need, I can help you investigate the enchanted armor,” she offered.
“No,” Lynd declined. “Do not get involved in this.”
He met her gaze seriously. “Your priority is establishing the church and formalizing the Storm God’s faith. Everything else is irrelevant. Act as if you and I have never spoken. Just as before, your faith is in the Storm God alone. I am not the Storm God. If you hear any rumors about me, ignore them. Do you understand?”
Lyra immediately grasped his intent. Without further protest, she bowed deeply. “I will obey your decree.”
...
Lynd and Lyra then moved to her study, where they spent the rest of the day discussing the church’s structure, rituals, and scriptures.
As a former Moonsinger, Lyra was well-versed in the organization of religious orders. As she had mentioned earlier, she had already drafted several plans for the church before even meeting Lynd—she had simply not finalized them yet.
Lynd, on the other hand, had little knowledge of religious institutions. He could only offer insights based on his understanding of the Faith of the Seven and the general workings of religious organizations in his past life.
By the end of the day, they had officially established the framework for the Storm God’s church. As for the holy scriptures, Lyra would take charge of writing them. Once completed, they would be sent to Summerhall for Lynd’s approval.
