GodWithWings
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Ch 60 - Rite of Genesis
🕑 Added 2025-06-27 17:23:50 +0000 UTCA/N -
I can't believe we've already reached the 60th chapter... That’s officially about halfway through Book 1.
Thank you for sticking with me this far, it means more than I can say ^^
Enjoy the chapter <3
**
A crimson notification window flashed before my eyes. But before I could even read its contents, the insect I’d targeted burst apart - its tiny body exploding with a wet pop, green fluid and fragmented limbs scattering across the snow.
Despite being close to the camp, the sound was faint enough that none of the Velmoryns seemed to notice. No heads turned. No hands went to weapons.
It couldn’t have been that easy, I suppose…
With my first attempt ending in a pile of sizzling bug gore, I finally turned my attention to the notification.
Does this mean the method was correct and I simply need a stronger host?
The question lingered as I stared at the smoking remains of the insect. If the creature couldn’t handle even a fragment of my presence, then maybe the issue wasn’t just about size, mental capacity probably mattered too. Something capable of thought, even if primitive, might fare better. At least, that was my theory.
I scanned the area again, this time searching for something sturdier. It didn’t take long. The insect’s messy end had attracted a scavenger - a strange, low-skulking creature that moved like a monkey but had six limbs, thick black fur, and a long, puffy tail that swayed with feline grace. Its body was low and sleek, panther-like, but its hands were clawed and strangely dexterous.
It crept toward the insect’s remains, sniffing with curiosity. The way it tilted its head and tested the air showed some level of intelligence, at least more than the mindless bugs digging in dung.
Intrigued, I activated Guidance.
Whatever… at least I’ll gain something from this.
Back on Earth, I loved animals so much that I cried my eyes out when my childhood cat died. But that kind of affection was long gone. Now, everything had been reduced to two categories - those who believed in me and, by extension, benefited me... and those who didn’t. In time, there would be a third group as well, reserved for those who’d earned my hostility. But for now, there was no one I truly wanted dead.
Unfortunately for this raskil, it had wandered into the wrong place, sniffing around the wrong dung-eater’s remains, assuming that was even what it had been planning to do.
I stirred my divine power again, this time with a different goal. The system had called the insect a “vessel,” even though I hadn’t altered it in the slightest. That was what stuck with me. If just targeting the creature was enough to qualify it as a vessel, maybe the issue hadn’t been the creature. Maybe the mortal body was inherently unable to contain the god’s conscience unless sufficiently strengthened. There had to be a reason the Goddess went through the trouble of creating a body from scratch. She could’ve just picked one of her believers. Or possessed a random beast. But she hadn’t.
I used to think she wanted something powerful. But Avenor, while strong, wasn’t that remarkable. With a single blessing, even Mirion had nearly caught up to him in physical strength. If he activated Feral Surge, the difference almost disappeared.
That’s why I decided to try something new.
I’ll strengthen the raskil first. Not just bless it, build it up. Then send a small piece of my consciousness inside and see if it holds.
It sounded complicated. But the more I thought about it, the clearer the process became in my head.
I stirred the divine power within me and directed it downward. It descended fast, wrapping around the creature in a violent crimson surge. The raskil screamed, more like a shrill yelp, and tried to flee, but it barely managed a twitch before the life started to drain from its eyes. Its body lifted a few inches off the ground, then trembled as cracks formed across its surface. Crimson light poured through the gaps.
I focused.
Every fiber of its body needed to be stronger. Every muscle and tendon. Every bone. I imagined them tougher, more efficient, more suited to what I needed. And it worked. Slowly, the cracks began to seal. The tremors stopped. The raskil’s body started to stabilize.
But this wasn’t just about physical strength. That part I could manage easily enough. The real challenge was its mind. If I was going to push even a fragment of my consciousness inside, the host needed enough mental capacity to support it. And unlike tendons and bones, imagining a more efficient brain… wasn’t so straightforward. I didn’t even know what a brain should look like, let alone an improved one. Still, my divine power responded, reshaping tissue I barely understood on instinct alone.
This is either going to be a masterpiece… or a complete failure.
I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if I failed to improve its brain. What if, once I took over, the creature’s instincts smothered my judgment and it just went on living as a regular raskil together with part of my consciousness? The thought didn’t exactly inspire confidence. I looked at the body again, still suspended midair, completely motionless.
Then, just as I began injecting the first sliver of myself into it, I felt the connection lock in.
It wasn’t the same sensation as when a fragment of me had awakened inside Avenor. This was faint, distant. But there was something - an awareness brushing up against mine. Slumbering. Still unformed. So I pushed.
By now, I was growing more confident that my consciousness wasn’t finite. The moment I split off a piece, it replenished itself instantly. Like some divine reflex, self-healing and seamless. I didn’t feel any drain from it. If anything, the process felt too natural, like my essence had been built to scatter and reform at will.
But just as I began to settle in, just when I felt the beast begin to stir with something more than instinct, the connection snapped.
My awareness jolted back as the creature erupted. All six limbs blew apart, chunks of flesh whipping through the air in arcs, blood hissing as it splattered against the cold white snow.
“Shit…”
I willed the Window back toward the camp.
The sound this time hadn’t been subtle.
Lucas was already perched on a branch, eyes scanning the woods in silence. Avenor and Mirion both had weapons drawn, tension already simmering in their posture. Aria and Ninali stood on the snow, motionless but listening.
No one had moved beyond the barrier, but they were ready.
Good…
If they’d come looking and found what remained of the raskil, I had no idea how they would’ve taken it. Their god detonating woodland creatures for… research. I could already hear Ninali’s voice, trying to justify it with something like, "The ways of the Lord are unknowable..."
The thought was amusing.
But the humor died fast as two new notification windows flashed before me - one glowing with my favorite shade of yellow, the other pulsing crimson.
I created a new skill? That was possible?
Digesting the two notifications wasn’t easy. The fact that I had just burned through 10 Divinity Points would’ve stung under any other circumstances, but right now, it barely registered.
The system had granted me a new skill - Rite of Genesis, and it wasn’t just any ability, it was a divine ritual, a near-guaranteed method for creating vessels. What had taken the Goddess years, maybe centuries, I could now perform in under an hour.
How was that even possible? And more importantly, what did ‘[Lore of the god]’ mean?
That was the only restriction mentioned, which likely meant it was far from trivial. But what annoyed me the most was that I had no idea what my Lore even was and Guidance, as usual when it mattered the most, refused to provide any information.
Does that mean I can only use Velmoryn bodies as vessels?
That seemed like the obvious conclusion. My consciousness had developed through a Velmoryn form, after all. But that felt too simple. If the restriction were racial, the system would’ve said “Race,” not “Lore.”
I replayed everything I’d done since becoming a god, combing through moments that might define me. The only thing that even resembled divine Lore was the Crimson Guardian.
If that’s the case... does it mean I can only use trees?
No. That couldn’t be right. I had already claimed Avenor as my vessel. Even if I had not been the one who created the body, he was still proof that the restriction wasn’t that narrow.
Then another possibility surfaced.
Perhaps I could not use that raskil as my vessel because it's already part of someone else’s Lore. Maybe I need to find a creature that is not connected with any god, or…
The more I thought about it, the more my mind circled one tempting conclusion.
Perhaps I have to create something entirely new.
A species that didn’t exist yet. A being that would become part of my Lore because I birthed it into the world. I was a new god, after all. Perhaps the creature I could turn into my vessel needed to be either Velmoryn or one made by my hands.
And then I remembered my very first interaction with the system, or rather, how it had tormented me when I tried to ‘choose a race.’ Back then, I assumed I was selecting my own form, not the race of my subjects. But one way or another, the outcome had been the same: no matter how many options I tried, the system always gave the same answer - “Already occupied.”
What if this world is simply full of gods? Not just strong ones, but weak ones. Forgotten ones. Insignificant ones. What if every creature, or at the very least most creatures, is already tethered to some divine presence?
Suddenly, it all made sense. If this world truly brimmed with gods, then it would stand to reason that most of the life in it was already claimed by those beings. Which meant finding something I could use as a vessel would be nearly impossible.
Unless I made something new - a part of my Lore from the moment it existed.
I began scanning the area, searching for a beast that might serve as the starting point for a new species. My eyes landed on a cone and the tiny creature rolling it toward a nearby tree. No. Too weak. Too small. If I was going to pay the cost of creation, it had to be something worth the price.
I was just about to shift the Window elsewhere when movement caught my attention.
A bird was circling above, its wings tilted as it rode the cold air. It was watching the tiny creature, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Flying vessel...? It would be useful as a scout. But can I even enter the tunnel…
My thoughts were cut short as the bird suddenly dove, wings folding to pick up speed. It passed the treeline, angling toward the snowy clearing and then, without warning, without even me noticing anything weird, it jerked violently off-course, crashing into the bark of a nearby tree and falling motionless to the ground.
What…
And then I saw it, amusing me.
Is this fate? Or just a coincidence?
Comments
FoxTheorem
Good soup
Mohammed Sheekh
Just throwing out my own idea for a custom vessel
Mohammed Sheekh
A race that grows stronger the more in tune with nature it is for example: swamp thing from dc comics
