On the Altar of Broken Promises
The air in the Uncharted Wilds tasted of rust and old blood.
Prophet's bare knees pressed against the black altar stone, its surface so cold it burned. The chains around his wrists weren't metal - they were solidified moonlight, forged from the tears of a forgotten moon goddess. Each link pulsed with divine malice, leaching the warmth from his bones.
Above him loomed the God of Sacrifice.
Not a figure. Not an entity.
A concept given flesh.
His body shifted like liquid gold, faces pressing against his skin only to be swallowed again. Each one bore the same expression - the exact moment of their death. His crown wasn't worn, but grown from his skull - jagged bone spurs erupting in a mockery of divinity.
"Do you know why you're special, little Veydran?" The god's voice wasn't a sound. It was the memory of every knife entering flesh. "Your family's blood remembers how to kill gods. Your bloodline is very special, even to us Gods we are clueless about your race and those that try to investigate end up going crazy or just vanishing from the face of the earth. Even from a runt like you...what a feast you'll make."
The sacrificial dagger in his hand wasn't steel. It was the idea of sacrifice given form - its edge honed on a million dying breaths. This dagger being the God's closest companion , from when he was still just a thought.
As it descended, Prophet saw his reflection , he saw his end in the blade...
...and then the sky screamed.
---
Then the sound of Space Breaking rocked the whole space.
The first sensation was pressure.
Not sound. Not light.
The *universe itself* pressing against its seams.
Then....
The altar exploded.
Not from fire. Not from force.
From nothingness.
A perfect sphere of annihilation swallowed the stone, the chains, the very air where Prophet had knelt. The boy tumbled backward, his skin blistering from proximity to the void. Soon an unseen from wrapped itself around Prophet protecting him from the clash above. He could still see what's happening but the outside could not harm him.
Where the altar had stood, reality warped. The ground didn't crack it unfolded , like a great invisible hand crumpling parchment. The sky turning a shade of black with cracks spreading all over. Trees bent at impossible angles, their roots tearing free without sound.
And at the epicenter....
....A man.
Not tall. Not broad. He looked like he was sculpted from bronze , his skin glistening , his face handsome with hair that was ashen in color.
But the air around him bled darkness.
The Patriarch had arrived.
---
The weight of Divine Attention didn't faze his for this was not the first God he would be clashing against.
The God of Sacrifice twitched.
Not fear. Not surprise.
The jerky motion of a predator recognizing another.
"Kane Veydran." The name slithered between teeth that weren't there a moment ago. "This doesn't concern you."
Lightning answered.
Not the white-blue of storms.
Black.
Thicker than a man's torso, it crawled across the distance, moving with deliberate malice. Where it passed, the air crystallized, frozen in fractal patterns of dying light.
The god's golden arm ceased to exist at the elbow.
Molten divinity rained on the broken earth, each drop hissing like a living thing.
The Patriarch stepped forward.
His cloak didn't billow in wind, it ate the wind, its edges dissolving into the void.
"You took something of mine."
The Veydrans were very protective of their own. They could mock or look down on one another but it was always family first for them. And now someone had dares lay a finger on their young master the heir to the throne.
What answered was not a voice but...
...A judgment.
---
The wind wailed and it signaled the first true exchange between the two great beings.
The God of Sacrifice laughed, his severed arm reforming from swirling prayers.
"You think lightning can kill a concept?"
His remaining arm stretched, fingers elongating into a scythe of crystallized suffering. The God of Sacrifice a being of truw malice ,The blade he made wasn't metal , it was the memory of every life ever taken in sacrifice, compressed into a single killing edge.
The swing began...
...and the Patriarch wasn't there.
Not dodging. Not teleporting.
Space itself folded around him, carrying him behind the god with the inevitability of a collapsing star.
His fist connected.
The impact didn't make sound.
It unmade it.
A sphere of perfect silence expanded outward as the God of Sacrifice's torso disintegrated into golden mist. The shockwave flattened trees ten miles distant, their trunks shattering like glass.
Prophet, half-buried in debris, felt his bones vibrate with the force but the field around his still protected him. .
Then
The god reformed , his laughter now edged with something raw.
"Strike me down a thousand times, Kane. I'll rise a thousand and one."
The Patriarch's eyes darkened.
"Then we'll do this properly."
---
The God of Sacrifice spread his arms -
- and the sky tore.
Not clouds parting.
Reality peeling back like rotting skin, revealing the horror beneath.
The Divine Kingdom Revealed
His Divine Kingdom hung in the void, an abomination of sacred geometry:
- Spires of compressed suffering, their peaks wailing
- Rivers of liquid devotion, their currents choked with grasping hands
- A throne carved from the still-beating hearts of martyrs
"Come then, god-slayer!" The deity's form stretched , merging with his realm. "Face me where I am infinite!"
The Patriarch glanced at Prophet.
A single nod. Acknowledging his son's presence.
Then space screamed again
and they were gone.
---
For three years , the Uncharted Wilds trembled with distant thunder.
The war beyond mortal Sight waged unbeknownst to those without power and strength.
Some days, the sky rained golden blood that burned through stone.
Others, entire forests vanished into spheres of perfect darkness. The land left left dry and barren with only patches that showed that something used to be there.
Prophet watched.
Waited.
And learned. Craving for strength.
Developing passion to be strong.
And strengthening his resolve.
---