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Ch 62 - The Authority He was Born to Have
🕑 Added 2025-06-30 15:46:14 +0000 UTCA/N -
I'm back :P
I'm refreshed, full of energy, and new ideas. I also have some good news which I'll share in about a week or two ^_^
Enjoy the chapter <3
**
Not only could I see, or rather sense, the divine power through my basilisk, I could also grasp just how immense the creature’s mana reserves were. But there was something else. Something harder to define. I felt that there was something else I couldn’t quite pin down at first.
Until I shifted focus to the way the basilisk perceived the world.
Any other creature would’ve likely missed it entirely. But this vessel, with its unique senses, picked up on something no human eye or ordinary beast could. It felt weakness. It could register when a target was wounded, hindered, less than whole. And this thing, this being wrapped in webs and shadow, was not just wounded.
It was on the verge of dying.
Even with all that divine energy cloaking it, even with mana so dense it warped the very air around it, the basilisk could still see it. That figure was barely clinging to life. The entire swarm of spider mutants encircling it was meant to be a wall, a buffer, to keep anything from getting close enough to notice and exploit how vulnerable it truly was. And then I noticed yet another detail - the Goddess’ divine power.
Mixed in with the creature’s divine energy, I could sense faint traces of the Goddess’ energy. But it wasn’t in harmony with the rest. It clashed. It suppressed both the creature’s mana and its own divine aura, pressing down on them like a curse rather than a blessing.
Now I was certain. It had been her. The Goddess had fought this thing and left it in this state - broken, poisoned by her power, and barely alive. Maybe she didn’t have the strength to finish the job. Or maybe she thought whatever punishment she left behind was enough.
Even better for me. She did the hard part and now I can walk in and reap the rewards. Should I send the basilisk in?
Unfortunately, I didn’t get the time to weigh the risk as the spiders stirred.
A strange ripple moved through the nest, shuffling limbs, rasping cries, the tension of panic, and my basilisk, still following my initial order, immediately pulled back. The moment danger registered, it retreated without any hesitation.
Despite its massive frame and armored scales, the creature moved with startling speed. It slithered through the tunnel, out of the nest, and into the forest in less than a minute, faster than I thought possible. And once it was free of my direct commands, it moved toward the deep forest - it was hungry.
To keep it from doing anything reckless, I issued a simple command: never attack anything bearing my mark, unless it was necessary for survival. I added one more - avoid hunting anything far stronger than itself. I didn’t fully trust my consciousness to suppress the basilisk’s instincts, and my commands seemed to take absolute priority, so this way it felt safer.
As I watched the basilisk vanish into the forest, hunger overtaking any desire to stay close to the hunting party, I found myself unexpectedly pleased. I had spent nearly a hundred Divinity Points on this experiment, but for the first time, it felt worth it.
Now that I’ve gained this skill, I have a reliable method for creating vessels. Once I gather several thousand Divinity Points, I can begin work on a new Velmoryn vessel. But more importantly, my greatest concern is finally resolved.
The creature in that nest, despite the overwhelming divine energy and ocean of mana, wasn’t a real threat. When the time came, I’d be able to kill it. Of that, I was sure.
But even so, I couldn’t afford to be careless.
Ending the life of something so steeped in divine power wouldn’t go unnoticed. If I used my own divine strength to do it, I risked exposing myself. Perhaps the god behind that creature could track me. Perhaps others could too. Mortals couldn’t reach my divine realm, but what about gods? Could they cross that line?
The Goddess battling three gods in the mortal realm makes it seem like the divine realm is untouchable, but I can’t know that for sure. Not until I test it myself.
My thoughts drifted from one concern to the next, branching off like a conversation between Smeagol and Gollum. But beneath all of that, I was finally at ease.
The creature I was worried about turned out to be heavily wounded, and now, at last, I could turn my full focus to the task that mattered most - converting the remaining tribes and increasing my strength.
…
[Congratulations, you have gained a new believer and a Divinity Point.]
[Congratulations, you have gained a new believer and a Divinity Point.]
[Congratulations, you have gained a new believer and a Divinity Point.]
[Congratulations…]
…
The snowy settlement was unusually busy. The Yellow Tribe’s monthly council meeting was underway, and nearly every adult had gathered inside the large central hall where a massive bonfire fought a losing battle against winter’s biting chill.
The tribe was led by three leaders, or rather council members, as tribe members called them, each taking turns to present matters for judgment. Every month, the entire community convened in this timber-framed building to vote on key decisions. And this time, the issue on the table was one that could change everything - war.
“My brothers and sisters,” Joriel stepped forward, the bones strung around his neck clattering as he moved. “We are gathered today to finally decide whether we will reclaim the glory of our tribe. The Brown Tribe suffered far more than we did during the monster wave. They’ll throw their best warriors at the nest - out of pride, out of grief, and out of that same idiotic sense of honor they cling to.”
He sneered as he said it, baring his yellowed teeth. Laughter erupted from some of the Velmoryns, fists slamming onto the long wooden tables in agreement. Plates, cups, and jugs trembled from the impact, their contents sloshing.
But not everyone was amused. A few brows tightened, eyes narrowing in silent disapproval. Even among the council, the oldest, his long white beard draped over a frail frame, frowned. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself, jaw tightening as he turned his head aside and sighed.
Joriel didn’t pause.
“The Blue Tribe will also make a move against the Silver Tribe,” he went on, his grin spreading as he cast a pointed look across the room, specifically toward the left side, where Dariel and Freya sat.
“How can we be certain?” a female Velmoryn from the right table called out.
“Great question, Merya,” Joriel replied, stomping once against the wooden floor. “As usual, I’ve done everything I could for our people. I spoke directly with Vael Akrion.”
Hearing that name, I remembered the towering Velmoryn Avenor had met in the Blue Tribe. The one who revealed the information about the spider mutant nest. The same one who radiated hostility toward Ninali for no clear reason.
“Vael Akrion swore on his honor that the Blue Tribe will strike the Silver, as long as we do our part and attack the Brown.”
“Why must we attack any Velmoryn tribe?” Dariel’s voice cut through the noise, interrupting Joriel.
I noticed Freya had nudged him moments earlier, silently urging him to act. She was right, Joriel was gaining momentum fast, and if the crowd tipped in the favor of war, it would be near impossible to turn them back.
“Why should we shed more blood… both ours and our kin’s?”
Dariel stood, his massive frame bumping against the table, rattling everything on it with a loud, ungraceful clatter. He stepped over the long communal bench the Velmoryns shared and moved toward Joriel, voice calm but firm as he spoke on.
“Is this what we’ve become?” Dariel’s voice rang out, calm at first, but seething beneath the surface. “War after war… endless bloodshed with no victor, no end in sight.” His teeth creaked as he clenched his jaw, the tension now carved plainly into his face. “What if we make a move and the Blue Tribe breaks their promise? What if we attack the Brown Tribe, only to find them stronger than we assumed? What if we are the ones left weakest after the campaign against the nest? Or are you suggesting we let others fight in our place while we cower here inside these walls?”
He was already in front of Joriel, his frame fully straightened, easily a head taller. Without ceremony, he yanked back the hood covering his head, revealing the crimson markings etched boldly across his face.
“Y-you…” Joriel’s voice cracked, his eyes widening as he stumbled back a step. “Y-you p-pledged yourself to a god?” His gaze flicked in panic toward the right-hand table, where his loyal supporters sat.
A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd as Dariel’s face came into full view. But then, others began to rise.
Freya stood next, pulling off the veil that had hidden her markings. And she wasn’t alone. One by one, members of Dariel’s hunting party and others across the room rose, revealing the same crimson lines. Some were hesitant, others proud, but all stood united.
‘I should probably bless Freya later, if only to reward her for everything she’s done.’
Even if the Velmoryns stood under Dariel’s name, it was Freya who had orchestrated all of this. She had kept the entire conversion process hidden, quietly visiting family after family, sharing the divine fruit I had shaped and offering them a glimpse of my vision. She had kept their identities secret even from one another, making sure that not even those already converted could jeopardize the plan. Until today, only Dariel had known the true number - two hundred believers. Nearly the same as the entire population of my own tribe.
And that wasn’t even the most impressive thing she had pulled off. With my help, but still, it was her who designed the entire strategy to take control of the tribe during this very meeting. She had done everything right.
“I demand my rightful place in this tribe,” Dariel said at last. “When I stepped aside, you promised me that the council would do its best to maintain peace. That was the only reason I…”
“Lies!” Joriel barked, finally snapping out of his daze. He stepped forward, squaring his shoulders like he meant to challenge Dariel directly. “You were afraid to take responsibility for what your father did! You begged me to lead. You threw that burden on me and gave me the tribe’s symbol like a coward!”
He yanked the necklace from his neck, the one with a small yellow gem, polished and gleaming far too brightly for something worn in this remote settlement. He held it up toward Dariel with a sneer, like he meant to show him just how little he mattered now.
Dariel’s gaze dropped to the ground, his hand tightening into a fist. “All my father did was lead us into war because the other tribes feared our strength,” he said quietly. “And even then, we didn’t fall. It was he who sacrificed himself to buy peace… along with dozens of our kin. And when it came time for me to inherit…”
“How dare you twist the truth against the tribe?” Joriel shouted, cutting him off again.
But this time, the frail council member did not remain silent.
“Let him speak,” the elder murmured, his voice barely louder than a breath. And yet, the effect was immediate. Every Velmoryn fell silent. Even Joriel froze mid-word.
“Dariel, speak your peace.”
Dariel’s chest rose slowly as he gathered himself. “When my father died, I was angry. So angry I feared I’d lead our people into war, not for justice, but for vengeance. So when Joriel proposed a new model, one where the tribe would be ruled by a council instead of bloodline, I agreed. But only under one condition, one promise.” His gaze dropped for a moment. “That under no circumstance would we start a war against other Velmoryns.”
His voice faltered slightly. He didn’t raise his head, didn’t look at those gathered. It wasn’t cowardice. It was guilt. His posture, the tightness in his jaw, it all spoke of a man who blamed himself for letting things reach this point.
I was starting to doubt him, too. He looked like he was already giving up, but then Freya stepped beside him and placed her hand over his. A quiet gesture. Reassuring. A reminder that this wasn’t about him. He wasn’t doing this to reclaim power or settle old scores. He was doing this because he still believed in something better. A dream of a Velmoryn tribe where children smiled freely. Where no one lived in fear of their kin, a future that I had promised him.
Dariel’s gaze lifted, firmer now. He tightened his grip on Freya’s hand, then took a deep breath.
“The promise made to me has been broken,” he said, his voice clearer than before. “I said nothing when we started taking children from… another tribe. I stayed silent even as I watched us slip back into the old path. But I won’t remain silent while we stand on the brink of war.”
He gently let go of Freya’s hand, guiding her behind him as Joriel stepped forward with a mocking grin.
“You understand what this means, don’t you?” Joriel sneered. “You pit your words against mine in front of the whole tribe. I could challenge you to a duel right now, expose your lies for what they are… but I shall not stoop to fighting a mere Silver…”
“I…” Dariel interrupted. “Tribe War…”
He paused, eyes gleaming with something new. Not just resolve, but the authority he was born to have.
“I, Vael Dariel of the Yellow Tribe, challenge you to a duel.”
Comments
Kyle Pemberton
Lol what are you talking about. Like half the chapters are cliffhangers. He's gotten better lately, but it's still not a rarity.
Edmund Dillon
Tftc!!!
el trucko
You have truly mastered the ancient and forbidden arts of the cliffhanger tribe. If I weren't already subbed, I would immediately sub just to know what happens next.
