City of Sin

A Special One

Flowsand continued to flip through the Book of Time as she silently opened a channel to the Eternal Dragon. It took only a few seconds for timeforce to come cascading out of the void, settling into a large ball of light with a humanoid silhouette curled up within.

Looking at this womb of light, Flowsand suddenly frowned, “What… Why? Oh, the damned dragon. It’s too late to change anything now… Ugh, I don’t care anymore. Whoever you are, if you dare to disobey me I’ll destroy you!”

A sudden murderous aura flashed past her beautiful face as she raised her hand and pointed to the ball of light. The womb immediately exploded, the person within dropping headfirst from the sky.

The heavenly guardian struggled to get to her feet, movements rather stiff and clumsy. However, the act revealed her shapely curves, snow-like skin, and gentle aura. Her jet-black hair looked beautiful in contrast to her pale skin, but what attracted the most attention was her lips— pure black as well, but on her they looked enchanting.

“Do you have a name, or should I give you one?” Flowsand asked curtly.

The heavenly guardian immediately knelt on the floor, “My name is Nyra, Miss Flowsand.”

Flowsand nodded, “Nyra, alright. I wanted a priestess who specialises in healing, but you seem touched by the power of death. Before I break you apart and summon another one, convince me to keep you around. You should know a third of what you cost isn’t really a big price for me to pay.”

Despite being threatened with death, Nyra’s voice didn’t change at all, “As a cleric, I am no better than others when it comes to healing. My specialty lies in the soul: even at level 16 I can revive someone once a day, and the power will be greater than that of a level 18 priestess. As long as the death occurred no longer than one day ago and the head and at least half the body are intact, the resurrection will be perfect.”

Flowsand snorted in acknowledgement, “And the price?”

“Two levels, Miss Flowsand.” The response shocked Flowsand.

All resurrection spells took a toll on the one revived. Even in Norland few could perform a full revival, and the resuscitated being would lose a few levels at minimum. Three to five levels was only to be expected, and one’s talents would be eroded as well. Some at the level of popes claimed to be able to resurrect the dead from just a small piece of flesh. However, this involved reconstructing an entirely new body for the departed soul to occupy once more. Such a body would retain none of one’s previous abilities and gifts; even a legendary being would normally only be able to reach level 14 or so in their further life.

For Nyra to be able to limit the weakening to two levels was nothing short of amazing. Even if the rest of her abilities as a cleric were mediocre, she would still shine brightly.

“Additionally, at level 18 I will be able to limit the resurrected person’s losses to one level. I will also unlock the Darkness Domain. In this domain, those I choose will have the equivalent of a Restoration spell at half power coursing through them at all times. The radius of this domain will begin at fifty metres, and will grow by thirty metres with every level.”

“Lastly, at level 19 I will grow able to perform a perfect resurrection. However, such a resurrection can only be performed once a week.”

This was a guardian far more powerful than the ordinary, but the problem was that she too had her own soul. Just like Io, she had been summoned from a pool of ancient beings instead of created on the spot. This meant she would not always obey orders perfectly. Flowsand knew a heavenly guardian could not betray their master, but betrayal as a concept was not the same to everyone.

Flowsand looked at Nyra for a few moments, suddenly asking, “Do you know Io?”

“The name is familiar,” Nyra said monotonously, “A memory of him resides within the depths of my soul, and will be unlocked when I see him.”

“Do you know why I summoned you?”

“No, but it is instinct to obey.” Nyra wasn’t particularly respectful, rather like a machine with no feelings. She wasn’t forced to obey Flowsand’s orders, but the instinct of a heavenly guardian was still present.

“Very well, I only hope you remember to obey me, to truly obey me. Walk down his path of having your own ideas and his end will be an example. He has reached the limits of his current level, but I chose to create you instead of upgrading him.”

“You will grow me to legendary might,” Nyra’s confidence left Flowsand uncomfortable, but she got the sense that this could not be changed. It was just like Io who always wanted to show off, shining like a lighthouse whenever he got the chance.

“Let us hope so,” Flowsand said.

……

A lone gold star occupied its own region of Faelor’s night sky. Anyone able to look close enough to see that it was actually a ball of golden light that encapsulated a beautiful land that was more than 10,000 square kilometres in area. This was the divine kingdom of Wargod Lutheris.

Groups of people could be seen frolicking around the plains and grasslands, singing in the meadows and hunting or fishing in the lake-filled forests. Everyone here had a smile plastered on their face; these were pious souls that had been freed of hunger, disease, and death in the afterlife. They would get to enjoy paradise for a millennium as their soul reached its end, eventually withering away painlessly in the blink of an eye. These dead souls only had three duties in the afterlife: to live their lives happily, sing praises of their deity, and fight for Lutheris in times of war.

All the rivers of the kingdom were sourced from a towering mountain range in the centre, flowing to the edge of this divine land before cascading into the void. The mountains of this range were a deep, dark green at the base, but as one went higher the gold sheen grew more and more obvious. Upon the highest mountain’s solid gold peak was the palace of Lutheris himself. Armed holy spirits constantly patrolled the palace, their eyes blazing with the divine flames of the Wargod’s power.

The throne room of the palace was a few hundred metres tall, wide enough to fit an entire mountain within itself. At the centre was an enormous golden throne upon which the Wargod sat, thousands of different weapons and armour pieces scattered around him on the floor. Each piece of equipment here was overflowing with divine might.

The body of the Wargod lay protected under the watchful eyes of his divine army, jaw rested on his hand as though he was sleeping. His consciousness had already left his divine realm to inspect his mortal lands, to check the state of his worshippers after the great war.

*BANG!* Lutheris suddenly opened one eye, golden-red flames surging out to scan the hall. The other eye opened as well, pure rage overcoming his face as he saw small cracks appear on a battleaxe placed in a focal point of the throne room.

The weapon slowly lost all of its divine radiance, the cracks quickly spreading across the blade to cover it. The huge axe exploded into several hundred pieces before turning to dust, leaving no trace of its existence.

“Who is it?! WHO IS SO BOLD AS TO STEAL MY DIVINITY!” A piercing cry echoed throughout the divine kingdom. The mountains shook and the plains split apart, countless pious souls dropped down into the abyss below. These worshippers cried in pain and fear as they fell into the void, burning into specks of gold that were blown away by the shapeless wind.

However, this did nothing to quell the Wargod’s rage. The axe had disappeared permanently, the divinity it represented no longer present.