Chapter 84 - The End Of The Millennium.

Earth-199999.

~5,012 BE (Before Emergence) ~ 2,988 BCE (Before Current Era).

With the Dark Elves dealt with and the Reality Gem fully studied, I returned to the Imperium.

Seeing and feeling the anxiety and budding stress leaking from Mindee and Alflyse through my empathy was entertaining. I didn't need to be told or read their minds to figure out that they were panicking about raising the reincarnated babies.

These babies were a special conundrum for the Imperium. They couldn't be left to Alflyse alone because, in part, the idea of raising them from infancy was to indoctrinate them—the good old grooming—so they would become accustomed to life as Imperial citizens before recovering all their memories.

But we also couldn't leave them in the care of regular citizens. It wouldn't be ideal if one day your child suddenly changed completely and became mentally older than even the planet where you stood.

"A daunting task, huh?" I said to announce my presence, though Mindee had already sensed me.

"Grandfather, what will we do?" Mindee gave me puppy eyes, her ears flat against her skull.

(Like a submissive fox but with puppy eyes. Yeah, she was using the big guns.)

"You could distribute them among your uncles and aunts, but since they're busy with their star systems, it's less than ideal," I said.

Besides, the idea was to give them an average Imperial life experience. There was nothing average about the lives of the deities worshipped by the empire.

"Since they'll stay in the Isthmus—initially, at least—I'd rather they grow up here with me," Alflyse said. "But there are indeed too many."

"I'll stay here for about a decade or two. That should coincide with when their memories awaken," I offered.

"Wait!" Alflyse exclaimed. "Why would it take so long? I was still a little elf when I recovered mine."

"You were here alone. You had no shoulder to lean on. These guys will have each other," I explained. "I don't want them awakening their memories too soon, supporting each other, and building barriers between themselves and the rest of the Imperial citizens."

"...TCH!" She clicked her tongue furiously. "You're more manipulative than you ever let on."

"This is just basic Indoctrination 101," I shrugged.

"Is it?" Alflyse turned to Mindee.

"Yes. When you accept another group into your rulership, you have to separate them from whatever identifies them. Otherwise, they'll try to bring their way of life into your rulership, and before you know it, their customs will have replaced yours," Mindee explained.

"It's even more critical when you're taking in groups of fanatics—whether religious fanatics or zealots of a cause. Like the elves. It doesn't matter. You have to make your way of life part of them, not the other way around," I added.

"I see..." Alflyse muttered pensively. "Something like this never happened with my people. We didn't take others in... Well," she raised her face and stared at us with a reproachful look, "we never did until certain Noctelvi ended up in our realm."

"The Noctelvi were stellar guests of the Dark Elves," I said.

"That's right. We never tried to change your way of life, nor did we try to keep our own. We adapted to yours and tried to cover the areas where you were lacking," Mindee added.

"They stayed with you for thousands of years, yet there was never anything beyond personal conflicts between the two races," I said, dealing the finishing blow.

"I... I guess you're not lying. The Noctelvi supported us with their agriculture," Alflyse admitted.

Mindee and I high-fived, victorious over the evil Dark Elf Queen!

As we watched the last elflings emerge from the birthing matrices, my sweet Fluff arrived, accompanied by the creator of maids back in my universe—a stellar accomplishment.

"Hey, Love. Your secretary brings news from Omnipotence City," Emma said.

"I bet they're freaking out," Mindee said.

"Yup," I added.

"It's pandemonium, Aragorn," Selene said.

"No, no, not like that," I quickly corrected.

"..." She sighed heavily, then said, "It's pandemonium, Boss."

"Mhmmm," I nodded in approval.

"As we expected, Asgard sold the info they got about you for much-needed resources to help recover from their losses," Emma said.

"The information provided by the King of Asgard was quite complete," Selene added. "From analysis of the IWBs to memories of you fighting, Ar—Boss."

"We expected that much," I nodded. "So, how big of a reaction are they having?"

"There are three sides: those making alliances to defend in case you attack their pantheons, those making alliances to plot against the Drachantheon Therion, and those trying to stay neutral," Selene informed me.

"Before I forget," I turned to Emma, "I should inform you that I might have antagonized Odin and scared him shitless. He'll possibly sic his mad dog daughter on us later on."

"...Why?" Emma asked. She wasn't happy about the news, nor angry—just simply displeased.

"He was annoying—implying that I should have been greatly honored to fight beside his father and for Asgard. He tried to mock my judgment for bringing unmanned troops and displayed an immature mind to a fault—"

"Grandfather sounds like a child throwing a tantrum," I ignored the voice interrupting my declaration of casus belli.

"—His thoughts only circled around Asgard, greatness, honor, pride—lots of pride—and greed. The guy had the thought process of a power-seeking, ignorant fool. Then he looked down on me like a noble does peasants in a movie, trying to denigrate me with his words—"

"Like a child telling off his bullies to his mother," I ignored another interrupting voice.

"—It was annoying. You know I'm not one to care much about pride, but that fool was irritating—like a buzzing mosquito, a condescending one. So, I decided to be a bit prideful for once. I put him in his place and leaked some of my presence, laced with bloodlust. I'm pretty sure that, if possible, I left a heart demon in him," I explained.

"That's... interesting," Emma commented.

"What is?" I asked.

"You're a cosmic entity—just a couple of steps shy of Multiversal, right?" she clarified. I nodded.

"The Madame and Phoenix move with the pride befitting their standing, but you don't. Love, you're petty, sure, but you're not prideful. You lowered yourself as much as needed to deal with Hydra. Anybody else in your position and with your power wouldn't have—couldn't have. Their pride wouldn't allow it. Which is why I find it interesting that, for once, you're acting based on pride," Fluff explained.

"...I see. Maybe I was biased against him because of what his counterpart did in my universe, but he indeed annoyed me," I admitted.

The following decades were chaotic, to say the least. Between the three of us—four if we include my secretary—we were raising a few hundred racist elven babies. During the first weeks, Mindee and I fed them, but when it became a lengthy endeavor, I decided to enlist Alflyse's help.

"Alflyse," I said, a baby suckling on each of my breasts.

"What?" she asked while cleaning a baby with magic.

"You." I placed a hand atop her head and patted her softly, my eyes gleaming with tenderness.

"What? What is this? Why are you looking at me like that?" She tried to recoil, but I held her in place.

"You're going to help us now," I declared. Lifting my hand from her head, I turned my attention back to the milksucker leeches in my breasts.

Mindee, observing our interaction from a distance, connected the dots and giggled softly.

"W-What?" Alflyse tilted her head in confusion, stammering at the abrupt display I put on.

But her confusion didn't last long. Darkened patches appeared on her clothing, just above her nipples.

She looked down in surprise, then back at us with confusion. Said confusion was dispelled when Mindee's giggling brought my recent actions to her attention.

Unceremoniously, she ripped her clothing open and stared down, wide-eyed, mouth agape, an eyelid twitching.

"You!" She pointed an accusing finger, her breasts swaying nude with hints of milky liquid at her nipples. "This is a stupid intergalactic empire! Why don't you have a milk substitute? If there were too many babies, why didn't you use the magic or technology at your disposal? What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

She added a few more colorful words to her rant, but Mindee and I only giggled.

I floated a pair of hungry milksucker leechlings to her, connecting them to her nipples with my telekinesis with ease. She looked down at her new temporary additions and then up to meet my gaze.

"ARGH! I hate you!" she claimed before securing the babies protectively with her hands.

Contrary to her outburst, there was a gentle smile—almost motherly—on her face as she cooed at the suckling leechlings.

Baby formula existed in the empire, the kind that could put even breast milk to shame, but nothing trumped divine breast milk. That was why Mindee and I preferred the au naturel method. I included Alflyse in the practice—despite her lack of divine breast milk—because if we were feeding her citizens, then she should join as well.

A couple of decades passed as fast as they came, and the leechlings grew up into mildly racist elves. I felt proud of them to an extent.

They were ready to fly solo in the Imperium without turning into radical invaders, so I left the Isthmus and returned to my task of building Obelisks.

I was not idle while raising the leechlings. My SplitSelves, a force I created with little of my personality, were doing what I tasked them/us to do—collecting the souls of the departed.

The Imperium's rate of expansion had reached a point where it needed to keep the ABMax running nonstop if it ever planned to populate the newly terraformed planets.

This growth rate came about after my Therions decided to rule star systems of their own, growing their followings and aiming for the ninth tail of power.

Hence, the need to introduce humans—with their almost pest-like reproduction rate—into the Imperium. Even High Humans had a considerably faster reproduction rate than Duskari.

While I was building Obelisks, a century and some went by. Then, around 2900 BCE, I received a call from a Duskari Custodian from one of my Obelisks in Mesopotamia, one of those in the Sumerian territories.

It was terrible news that hit me like Truck-kun does the Japanese... Taxation was invented.

Taxes—the necessary bane of existence for all but the rich, since debt can't be treated as income—were my old enemy.

As my Fluff had said, I had lowered myself to the mortal level and did things I didn't want to, like paying lots of taxes for my companies on U.S. soil. I'm pretty sure I was the only billionaire whose taxes were practically publicly disclosed.

When I returned The Light—my company—to U.S. soil and opened N-Tech, the WSC was on my ass, especially the U.S., about keeping riches that 'belonged' to America in America. So they were rigorous in detail when taxing me and mine. It was to the point that Playboy thought I was a charitable dragon because of how much money I was 'gifting' America.

And now... these diabolical Sumerians invented taxes! I had even created a stupidly complicated system in Hamoukar that allowed the Kish bloodline to run the city-estate without charging taxes—looks like that wasn't inherited.

Well... maybe I'm being a little dramatic. The Sumerian tax system wasn't based on money—since it didn't exist yet—but on grain, livestock, or labor. Besides, there was no way a human would be stupid enough to try and tax me through my Obelisks, right?

Another century flew by. I periodically visited the growing settlements and cities to heal and collect souls.

When people died in the wild, on battlefields, or in accidents, I comfortably collected their souls in my material SplitSelves, meaning that mortals could see me. However, I changed the appearance of my SplitSelves to look more like proper soul collectors.

I wove a hooded cloak of space, changed my eyes to windows of deep space, and removed skin, hair, muscle, fat, and any other tissue except bones. Each SplitSelf had different horns. Kitty called them Space Wraiths, Kaguya said they were Cosmic Shinigamis, and Noona was quite fond of them. She even asked me to create a few for her realm—not SplitSelves of me, but actual wraiths... I'll have to figure out how to do that later.

(This one probably fits the best.)

When mortals died in the privacy of their homes, surrounded by loved ones, or in any other more 'peaceful' manner, I only materialized the SplitSelves right after the mortal in question had passed, sometimes I even waited for their burial. It gave them a semblance of peace... and prevented them from trying to fight off my SplitSelves whenever I approached, which was counterproductive.

The change in appearance meant little to them. I was already using my veiled regular appearance to collect souls; the only difference now was that they could see a skeleton inside the hood. A few of the bravest—or the most foolish, depending on who's asking—asked me about the change. I simply told them it was more fitting.

I can't stress enough how used to my presence these humans were.

Around 2800 BCE, I arrived in Uruk—one of the cities I visited at least once a century—following a certain rumor.

It was one of the largest cities in the world, with a population of almost 20,000 people. It covered over six square kilometers, making it a megacity by ancient standards.

The rumor in question? A demigod king had assumed its throne—Gilgamesh.

Under its wise king, the city thrived, connected by trade to the Persian Gulf, Anatolia, Iran, and the Indus Valley, exchanging goods like lapis lazuli, copper, timber, and textiles.

The mighty walls of Uruk were allegedly built by the demigod king himself. The massive brick fortifications—for the era—symbolized Uruk's power and protected it from rival city-states.

Upon arriving, I felt the divine sight of a deity on me. I tracked it back to a young goddess posing as a male stall owner, selling dates and figs.

"Inanna, I presume," I said. Inanna was the goddess the city was dedicated to. Her most famous name would later be Ishtar.

Inanna was not a flat-chested, thin brunette with red eyes wearing skimpy clothing. She had brown skin—like that of the locals—was brunette, and had golden eyes. Her legs were those of a bird of prey, with sharp talons, and she sported a pair of massive feathered wings, brown like her hair.

(Based on her image.)

The clothing she wore over her body was not skimpy, but it was semitransparent, leaving nothing to the imagination. That was fitting with her sexual divine domains.

"Aragorn, what brings you to my city? Is it the Obelisk?" she asked in a manly voice befitting her current facade.

"No, I heard a rumor of a king named Gilgamesh. I wonder if it was the Eternal or someone with his name," I said sincerely.

"Ah, no, the king is not the Gilgamesh you know. He is a mortal I blessed—one I foresaw potential in," Inanna explained.

"I see. Any relation to Gilgamesh?" I asked.

"I asked him to train my mortal during his youth, merely that," Inanna said.

"I see..." I eyed her wares. "What do you take for these?"

"Honey, dairy products, game... or at least that's for the mortals. But for you..." She eyed me up and down. "What about a blessing in exchange for some tutelage for my mortal king?"

"Mmm..." I pondered. "I have nothing against teaching the mortal king, but what am I supposed to do with your blessing? I have my own deities with your divine fields in question."

"Then what would you prefer?" Inanna asked.

"When your pantheon votes, or discusses, or whatever method you use to decide whether to oppose me and my own or not, I want you to support my side," I said.

"Eh? Only that? That's easy. Deal!" Inanna reached over and shook my hand, weaving a contract between us with her divinity.

"..." I eyed her suspiciously. "Were you perhaps already part of the opposition?"

"Yep." She beamed a smile, like she had just conned me out of my money. "It's foolish to fight you, isn't it?"

"Hehe," I chuckled at her brazen attitude. "Alright, I guess. I'll go take the mortal king as my apprentice."

"A pleasure doing business with you, Aragorn." She handed me some of her figs, coated in her divinity, and waved me off.

I observed the figs for a second before realizing they were aphrodisiacs.

'For the kids?'

[For the kids!]

>Our (my) future grandkids are not going to be born by themselves.<

-Let's save one for the collection.-

I stored one of the divinely laced figs in my storage and then carefully sneaked pieces of aphrodisiac figs and dates into the food of my Therions. All in a day's honest work!

I walked to the palace equivalent of this era's kingly residence and found no trouble making my way to a room where King Gilgamesh stood.

Again, this was no blonde, red-eyed man with red tattoos. He was just as average as the other mortals of the region, except he was laced with Inanna's divinity—like I was in Gaea's.

She was not the goddess of love for nothing. I didn't doubt the goddess squeezed him dry every night. The only unknown was how he was still alive.

"A'Heelah, to what do I owe the pleasure?" he greeted with a respectful curtsy. "I hope my time has not come yet," he joked—partially joked.

"No, your time is still far in the distant future." His relief didn't escape my senses. "Your patron goddess, Inanna, made a deal with me for my teachings to be bestowed upon you."

"She did?" He opened his eyes wide, and I discovered what Inanna saw in him. He was madly in love with her. His soul lighted up the moment I mentioned Inanna.

"She did. Now sit, I have a lot to teach you." I waved my tail, and the room transformed into one equipped for teaching. "Mathematics is not going to learn itself!" I declared.

The poor fool didn't know what awaited him.

I began with Base-60 Mathematics, the famous sexagesimal system that paved the way for timekeeping (60 seconds per minute) and angles (360 degrees in a circle).

Since the city often went to war for irrigation lands, I taught him how to optimize irrigation in agriculture. Since they were building great ziggurats, I taught him about architecture and civil engineering. Since some of the locals were already using poppies for pain relief, I taught him about medicine. Formulas to calculate land areas, which were crucial for taxation and construction.

Nothing was too advanced, but it was enough to give Uruk a clear advantage.

My continual presence in Uruk became widespread news, and some of the wounded came seeking my healing, which in turn benefited the city.

I stayed in Uruk for about a century and left around 2700 BCE. While old, Gilgamesh was still alive, thanks to the grace of a certain deity.

Time passed, and eventually, one of my SplitSelves visited him. He was in bed, with Inanna lying next to him.

"This... time... you—"

"Yes, Gilgamesh, this time I'm here for your soul," my SplitSelf interrupted him. He was too old to talk. The voices of my SplitSelves sounded as if all of my other selves were speaking at the same time.

"What will it take for you to hand his soul over to me?" Inanna asked.

Souls on Earth—this Earth—belonged to me. But since I knew the deities needed them, I often allowed them to pass on to their realms after their second life in the Imperium. The Drachantheon Therion did not need souls. The Imperium needed offspring, so I had no problem with that. There was also little risk associated with it since the humans lived their lives in spaces we controlled, so no information could be leaked—nothing important at least.

Inanna's question this time was about directly moving Gilgamesh's soul under her custody.

"Mmm..." I pondered it. "Is it only his, or are you going to fall in love with another mortal later and ask for their soul? Or maybe one of your peers will use this as a precedent to claim souls from my hands?"

"I'll keep it a secret, and it will only be him," Inanna said and wove another divine contract.

"Sure, Inanna. You can consider it a mourning gift from me," I said and accepted the contract.

"A gift? What for?" Inanna asked.

"Because you showed me your love for him." I pointed at Gilgamesh, and aided him in pain relief. I also revitalized his body, allowing him to maintain his dignity for the last minutes of life he had left.

"Most of my emotions are faded, and usually, I only experience them through love or my directives." I assumed a sitting position while hovering above the ground. "I feel happiness when my loved ones are involved, and the same goes for greed, anger, sadness, and pretty much all my other 'secondary' emotions.

"If my loved ones are not involved, I tend to feel very little—almost apathy. On a scale of one to ten, maybe a two, a three on my best days. However, as a psionic nexus, I'm also very empathetic, but even then, I'm mostly empathetic to love.

"And you and he showed me your love for each other for over a century. I stayed here, teaching and guiding Gilgamesh longer than needed because I enjoyed it here. Despite his mortality, he made for okay company," I explained.

"Safe travels, Mortal King Gilgamesh." I waved my goodbye, not needing to hear any reply, and jumped to another soul that needed collecting.

Time passed, and Inanna spent less time in the mortal realm—most likely because she spent her time with Gilgamesh in the soul repository of her pantheon.

My teachings to Gilgamesh became extremely sought after, to the point that Uruk came under threat of war at a certain point because they were monopolizing them.

They gave in, and with a little bit of assistance from a small group of my SplitSelves, the teachings were spread among the surrounding powers.

That was quite a funny sight. My SplitSelves, which evoked a sense of dread in the common populace since they only saw them during times of death, were then helping spread my teachings to the concerned powers.

Most rulers were after the knowledge they believed would help them achieve as much success as Gilgamesh—and maybe the secret to his long age—though that was a fool's dream. Not to take merit away from the kid, but Inanna was largely responsible for his success.

Merchants—well, not really merchants in the sense of people selling their wares, since the lack of a monetary system made that hard (though they had a hybrid of silver by weight)—but traders were after mathematics.

Civil engineers—well, again, not really civil engineers, but the equivalent of them for the era and the location—were after trigonometry, geometry, and some basic physics I taught.

I found teaching enjoyable. Aside from Jean and Madelyne, I had never been a teacher to anyone. This was true because in Halo and subsequently the Drachantheon Therion, the learning room made it easy to share knowledge, yet it also nullified the need for a teacher.

With my SplitSelves teaching and taking care of souls, something interesting—yet expected—that I hadn't considered happened.

People began sacrificing offerings to 'summon' my SplitSelves and barter for knowledge...

There was a strange culture of making sacrifices in the era, but this was the first time someone had sacrificed something directly in my name. Seeing the poor fluffy sheep they burned alive in my name—along with a couple of virgin slaves—annoyed me.

So, to set a precedent for why it was a bad idea to make sacrifices in my name, I connected the entire human conscious mind with mine, sought the souls of the sheep, read their suffering, and began sharing it with them. I spared only the pure of soul.

The millions of humans present on the planet at that time fell to the ground, writhing in agony, flooded with panic, dread, and the foreign understanding that it was all happening because someone thought it was a good idea to sacrifice some fluffy sheep in my name... and some humans.

Finally, I made some Dragon Ore and erected a solid cube of my height in the spot where the sheep died. I inscribed the four lateral faces of the cube with the story of what happened and the consequences, to make sure future generations understood what awaited them.

"Ugh! Boss, you're making my work harder!" Selene complained.

To be fair, she had good reason for it. She had to deal with the complaints the other pantheons decided to log against me through her. The complaints were nothing but superficial—they were only doing so because they had the high ground, morally speaking—but what they asked for in compensation was nothing but fuel for their selfish and greedy aspirations.

Most asked for the technology behind the IWBs, some for floors in my Obelisks, or entire Obelisks. Others wanted the secret to my Therions not losing themselves to the faith they received, and many other benefits that had nothing to do with reparations for the victims of my psionic broadcast.

There was even a certain god who asked for me to bear his child.

That god died of mysterious reasons. I was questioned abundantly, but that had nothing to do with me. The corpse reeked of conceptual death, and I don't deal conceptual death in my attacks. I wonder who would.

"Oh, come on, that's what secretaries do for their bosses," I said.

"Ugh." She let out a heavy sigh. "I can't believe this is what has become of my life."

"It's not so bad, is it?" I asked. "You get luxury you probably won't find in any other part of several universes, and the pay is astronomical."

"Pay? I get paid?" Selene asked.

"Sure you do. When you have asked for stuff and I have given it to you, why do you think that was?" I asked, arching an eyebrow at her.

"On-the-job benefits? Was that my salary?" Selene asked, going over the times she had asked me for things in her mind.

"No, you don't get a salary." I shook my head. She was missing the point. "You get a 'whatever you want'," I clarified. "Ask and you shall receive—that type of arrangement."

"Whatever I want?" Selene's eyes widened.

"Yeah, the limit is that it has to be something I can get you that wouldn't cause me more trouble than your job saves me," I explained. "Otherwise... riches, luxury, food, men—or women, we don't judge—power, authority—though you probably won't have as much authority in any other position as your current job grants you—whatever you want, just say the word."

After she got over her initial disbelief, she pondered seriously over my words.

"What if I asked for divinity?" she asked, a hopeful glint in her eyes.

"As I said, so long as it doesn't entail an effort greater than what you have saved me from, then it's yours," I replied. "Currently, I could get you the divine seed, but only one to the domains you have the most affinity for."

"Which are?" Selene asked curiously.

"What you've been doing your whole life—parasitism and vampirism. You can choose one," I answered.

Selene was similar to Yao. Yao achieved her divinity over sorcery basically on her own merits; her believers' faith only served to give her the final push.

Selene, like Yao, had dedicated her entire life to one field—vampirism and parasitism—to the point that even without believers, if I gave her the final piece of the puzzle, the divine seed, she would have a much easier time than my Therions, who had to work for thousands of years to earn enough faith.

"I don't know what to feel about that," she said with a complicated expression.

"There are others, but those two are your main domains," I clarified.

"I understand, but what would I become? The Goddess of Parasitism? The Vampire Goddess? Neither sounds like something I would brag to Amara about after waking up," she said, her mood falling.

"Goddess of Vampirism—I would choose that," I said.

"Why? Parasitism is at least a part of nature. Vampirism was introduced by Chthon in our world, a product of the Darkhold, back when the last Atlantis was still above water," Selene said.

"Yep, but they are much freer from Chthon's grasp than any other Elder Spawn. You could assume total control over the vampires back home and turn them into your ideal version of vampires. I recommend magical vampires instead of the viral vampires they are now," I explained.

"Are you suggesting I take Vampirism just so I can handle one of your problems?" she asked with a deadpan expression.

"Don't look at me like that. I wasn't trying to hide it. The answer is yes, but it doesn't change the fact that it's the most advantageous choice. The other one comes with a hidden danger," I said.

"Parasitism? What hidden danger?" she asked, concern edging her face.

"Natural Parasitism is fine, but a divinity over Parasitism as a concept is not. You would intrude on Knull's authority—the void god of the Klyntar, a race of symbiotic parasites. And Knull, aside from being a deity, is the King in Black," I explained patiently.

"What's that?" she asked, understanding the weight of my warning.

"The King in Black, or Onyx King, is a cosmic caretaker appointed by the Celestials to serve as the correlative counterpart of the Beyonders," I said. "Are you following me up to that point?"

"Yes, I've studied the Beyonders in the learning room," she nodded.

"While the Kings in White maintain the Multiverse from Beyond with the light of Concordance, the King in Black is charged with maintaining it from within using the power of the Living Abyss. This means that Knull, as the current Onyx King, is not only empowered by divinity but also by the Living Abyss.

(The Light of Concordance is also known as the Enigma Force, and it's born from the Concordance Engines of the Beyonders.)

(The Living Abyss if the opposite of the Enigma Force.)

"In other words, at minimum, you'd be intruding on the authority of a being who is a deity, a cosmically empowered individual, and the lord of the Un-Beyond. And, I might add, he can freely interact with Reality—so long as he manages to escape Klyntar—so he's not limited like Dimensional Lords. That's a one-way ticket to slavery via symbiote," I explained.

"... I missed some terms in there. I'll consult Madelyne or the learning room later, but I got the 'moral' of the story. I suddenly feel very eager to become the Goddess of Vampirism," my secretary cheered, very unemotional, but at least she tried.

I created a core—similar to the ones we made for the contract I shared with my Therions—to house her divinity and facilitate the birth of her conceptual divine seed.

Time passed once more, and barely half a century later, Selene ascended to divinity. She was already that close to ascending—she just lacked a vessel for her divinity.

In recent years, my teachings spread across the Eurasian and African continents. Agriculture became more refined, just as architecture, rulership, and many other fields saw the benefits of the knowledge I imparted.

Around 2670 BC, the Step Pyramid of Djoser was constructed in Saqqara, Egypt—the first pyramid ever built in Egypt. The first of the Memphite Necropolis, which would later include the Giza Pyramids.

Flying through the cloudless skies of the growing Sahara Desert, I made my way to Egypt. I had previously been in the South Atlantic, starting the final phase of an obelisk. Also taking care of a little 'problem' the Atlantic had.

With my wings tearing through air resistance and a few sonic booms in my wake—since I wasn't phasing out of the material plane—I enjoyed the sensation of flying. It was almost as gratifying as the feeling of escaping physical restrictions when exceeding the speed of light.

The reason I was heading to Saqqara was not only because the Egyptians had finally approximated π (pi)—which was commendable—but also to meet Imhotep, the first known architect.

The title of First Known Architect is a bit misleading because humans had already designed other structures. A single glance at the many ziggurats in Mesopotamia makes that clear. However, Imhotep was the first to design a structure of this level entirely on his own, and get the credit for it.

He was the first known architect in history—human history—and he pioneered the use of stone instead of mudbrick for monumental structures.

Imhotep would be later glorified by the Egyptians, who deified him as a god of wisdom and medicine. These Egyptians, so much glazing!

That would happen a few centuries later, though. At this moment, Imhotep was a high priest, architect, and chancellor under Pharaoh Djoser.

I quickly reached Saqqara and circled above, observing the vast mortuary complex.

Surrounded by a massive limestone wall, it housed temples, courtyards, and chapels for funerary ceremonies. It was built next to a branch of the Nile—though a shallow one—and since it wasn't there in my Earth's future, it would possibly disappear here as well.

I circled the pyramid a few times before landing—not before switching to my humanoid form.

"Identify yourself, monster!" a squad leader of spear-armed guards yelled with as much authority as his shaking legs could afford him.

"You must be one uneducated human—a thing of legends," I said. Not to blow my own horn, but with at least one obelisk in sight regardless of the location, my name was one of the first words babies learned.

That's leaving aside how this idiot asked something he believed was a monster to identify itself. Like you don't go asking the Chupacabra or Big Foot to identify themselves, do you?

"M-Monster, you stand on holy ground! Identify yourself!" the man 'commanded,' he looked just seconds away before pissing or shitting himself—maybe both.

"I identify myself as Horus Netjerikhet, Lord of the Two Lands!" I declared, using Djoser's—the current Pharaoh's—Horus name. These Egyptians were weird; they had like five names for their Pharaohs.

"Blasphemy!" he shouted.

I just looked at him like one would at a fool about to shoot himself to prove he was bulletproof.

"STOP THAT, IGNORANT FOOL!" a commanding voice shouted from a distance. I turned toward the man dressed in high-status attire, running with an entourage closely behind.

Sadly for him, his instructions were unclear. The other spearmen thought he meant 'Stop that ignorant fool!' and not the squad leader pointing a spear at my face. Oh, the difference a comma can make.

I remained still as the copper and flint spearheads stabbed repeatedly—and uselessly—against my chest. The cries of the running man turned frantic, but the spearmen were just as frantic in their futile pursuit of stabbing through me.

One of them went for my eye, but that was equally useless. Another used a mace—one elite guards carried for melee combat—to try and bash my head in. Useless, all useless.

I think now I understand what Emma was saying about my pride. I feel nothing but some mirth for their actions, even if they are downright disrespectful.

'What do you (I) think?'

>Pride has little use.<

-It offers little advantage.-

|Did we (I) disregard it because we (I) considered it offered little advantage when we (I) were (was) remaking ourselves (myself)?|

'It's possible. We (I) had no reason for pride left after we (I) ate our (my) Multiverse.'

}as65g45a6d4gh55445y6^%#$#%++***{

>Void-chan has a point.<

-Yeah, Odin's matter was different. By offending us (me), he was offending our (my) Therions.-

|Maybe we should change the directives to include an addendum for :Pride:|

}+{

'Soon, our (my) kid will be born, and maybe, for their sake, we (I) should have more pride than the little we (I) currently have.'

>Let's mull over it. There's no need to rush a decision now.<

-We (I) should also consult with Noona.-

}++{

"STOP! NO! STOP IT!" The man pulled out a tool—I was sure it was meant for measuring—and used it like a whip on the squad that was panicking while stabbing me.

The stinging sensation of the improvised whip made them stop, finally.

"They are quite ignorant, aren't they? They even asked for my name," I commented after I met the frightful gaze of Imhotep.

"No, no, no, no, no. I apologize, A'Heelah," Imhotep said frantically.

"No damage done. Don't mind it, Architect," I waved off his apologies. I really didn't care. It was like ants trying to bite Cthulhu's tentacles—it probably wouldn't even notice.

Imhotep was a religious fanatic like most of the higher castes of Egypt during this era, but leaving that aside, he was a brilliant human.

"I implore for the truth, A'Heelah," he respectfully said during one of our chats. "Babel—was it really built by humans?"

"Yes, but I finished it and added my own touch," I said.

To this day, Babel remains the tallest manmade structure, but that title will be lost to the Pyramid of Giza in a few centuries.

Imhotep had a wide variety of questions. Contrary to my initial thought that he would ask about physics, geometry, trigonometry, and other subjects, he mainly asked about the varied structures of the world and my Obelisks.

"It might be presumptuous of me to say, but I believe humanity would achieve great prosperity if you would teach us magic—especially the kind that helps you build such wonders," he suggested.

I could only watch him with a passive look, thinking about how endearing his naivete appeared. Humanity would probably undo itself if I popularized magic without oversight. It takes just a quick glance at how they exploited the laws of physics to kill themselves faster to know that magic would only doom them.

I spent the rest of the day talking with the guy, but I departed when I sensed the young Pharaoh coming our way. I didn't want to deal with such fanatics who believed themselves sons of Horus, or demigods, or whatever they thought they were.

Years passed. Imhotep passed away, and so did Djoser. After he was buried, I placed a spell on the pyramid to protect it from ransacking and the weather's erosion.

Maybe I should do as much for every architectural wonder I don't want to be lost in time.

Around 2600 BCE, the First Recorded Sea Expedition (Egypt) happened. Pharaoh Sneferu sent ships to Byblos (Lebanon) to acquire cedar wood, essential for shipbuilding.

I turned into my sea serpent form and pranked them a little. Nothing too harmful—just putting them under an optical illusion of closing in on the shore but never quite making it.

When they started praying to their deities, I got an angry call from my secretary—something about the deities demanding I inform them before my pranks so they could create myths for my practical jokes.

Evidently, the Ennead was one of the pantheons in pseudo-friendly terms with me and my own. The result of Bastet's efforts.

Somewhere in 2580 BCE, the construction of the Great Pyramid of Giza began. It was undoubtedly not built by aliens, but the Ennead had a small part to play in it—mainly in the form of blessings.

I might have secretly inspired the architect team to create a bunch of secret passages, who knows?

Ten years later, the construction of the Pyramid of Khafre began. This one was accompanied by the Sphinx. Around 2560 BCE, the construction of the Giza Pyramid concluded. It's simplicity made it beautiful.

I was very busy during those decades. The number of slaves dying was incredible—not because they were building the pyramids, as popular belief says, but because the number of people mobilized for such tasks left openings that the slaves had to take care of.

For the Egyptians, participating in the construction of the megastructure was an honorable thing, so it was almost entirely a task left to the working caste of their kingdom.

When the structure was finished, I made a fly-by and cast a protection spell on the pyramids. The last of the trio, the Pyramid of Menkaure, was built around 2510 BCE. I dropped by again to cast my protection over it.

Due to this protection, the Pharaohs spread rumors about how I supported them and approved of their nonsense. I didn't deny them because I told Bastet to make sure they didn't overstep their bounds. The reason I didn't deny it was simple—how many would actually build something of the caliber of the Giza Pyramids to earn my 'blessing'? How many could?

The city of Mohenjo-Daro was established in the Indus Valley around 2550 BCE. I liked that city. It was, all things considered, a very modern city.

One of the first known planned cities in history—leaving aside when my intervention brought change—built on a grid system, with streets intersecting at right angles.

Almost every house had its own bathroom and toilet connected to a complex underground sewage system. Public baths and water wells were located throughout the city. Logically, it was equipped with drainage systems.

No grand palaces or temples—not that they didn't worship deities, but it was not their main focus like in many of the big cities of the era. A society without a centralized monarchy, ruled by a council of merchants.

Their social structure was egalitarian, with a focus on trade and commerce rather than conquest.

I liked the place enough to 'bless' them. I asked a few of my Therions to drop some prosperity blessings—things like warfare avoidance, anti-epidemic blessings, controlled fertility rate, flooding prevention, and the usual stuff needed to make it to the modern world.

I have low expectations of that, though, since Mohenjo-Daro is located in Sindh, Pakistan. Around these parts, it would be strange to find a location that was not involved in bloodshed and warfare. But there's nothing to do about that—such is human nature.

Time passed again, and about half a century later, the Indus Valley Civilization was the first to cultivate cotton. Nothing too sophisticated—just simple clothing, loose-fitting robes, and turbans.

Around these years, the decimal system was born in Egypt, which was good. It meant they were improving upon my teachings and not foolishly believing that my teachings were the ultimate truth.

Actually, in this stretch—2500 BCE—there was a slew of improvements and advancements. The Shaduf, a hand-operated device for lifting water, and early forms of curved blades began appearing in Mesopotamia and Egypt. The first four-wheeled wagons were used in Mesopotamia, paving the way for war chariots.

It was a good decade, though, as always, fraught with warfare. There's no changing that.

I also began buying slaves, returning to my roots as the first human trafficker in history!

There was a setback with that, however. I bought too many, and they capped my purchasing orders. Apparently, they even considered abolishing slavery because I almost collapsed a few of their kingdoms. They had a lot of riches I used as payment, but their countries couldn't progress beyond a certain point due to a lack of manpower... Ironic.

I established a huge trading nation with the slaves I bought. It wasn't a nation in the usual sense, with a territory and a form of governance—it was more like a nomadic group of traders who traveled around the world, exchanging goods, knowledge, resources, and more between nations.

In fact, had I not done it that way and instead established a nation in every sense of the word, I'm sure it would have been attacked by all other lands in search of my teachings—like they almost did with Uruk.

Few had problems with my Caravan Nation. They paid taxes—or tributes, as they called them—brought prosperity from abroad, and even spread some 'Draconic Knowledge'—as they began calling my teachings. Nothing too serious, mainly things like using honey on open wounds, how to reset bones, the best types of splints, the best practices during pregnancy, and many other advancements that could be classified as the next logical steps in the stairs of discovery and knowledge.

My Caravan Nation caught the attention of my Therions. They decided to drop by one by one from time to time to introduce themselves to my slaves. This was mainly because I allowed the citizens of my Caravan Nation to choose in which of the Imperium's star systems they would be reborn, so my Therions were acting like politicians during elections—currying favor and such.

In 2476 BCE, while I was busy building an obelisk, I felt the intrusion of foreign dimensional energy on the planet—a typical prelude to the invasion of a Dimensional Lord.

Not exactly an invasion of Earth, but rather one of the interdimensional pocket realms. Small realms directly connected to Earth—too small to be considered full dimensions, but separate enough to be their own realms.

I don't remember this from the movies, though...

I jumped spatial coordinates and appeared in the Order of Sorcerers. Immediately, I was met with all manner of eldritch energy constructs and enchanted weaponry pointed at me. They hurriedly lowered their weapons when they recognized me.

"Who's the current Sorcerer Supreme?" I asked the human with the largest reserves of energy in the training field.

"Master Anrebat, Lord Aragorn," the woman respectfully said.

"Take me to him," I instructed.

I followed the human through the new halls and intermediary rooms of the Sanctum. After Agamotto's passing—ascendancy?—the Order didn't see much growth in the magical sense, but their numbers and infrastructure certainly did.

We soon reached Anrebat. He sat in a room typical of affluent humans of the current era, exuding an aura of mysticism that Agamotto never quite nailed—maybe because of Yao's presence; he was a love fool for her. Comfortably nestled in his chest was the Eye of Agamotto.

"Aragorn, this is quite the surprise, I wonder what can we do for you?" Anrebat asked with all the calm of someone whose realm wasn't currently being invaded.

"I came to confirm something—which you just did. You're not aware of the current dimensional incursion through one of Earth's pocket dimensions, are you?" I asked.

My question stunned him for a second before he grasped the Eye, his eyes soon covered with green runic script.

"I can't see it," he said after a moment of deep concentration.

"I figured as much," I said. "I'll deal with it, then."

If no major tragedy or boon ever happened, then how would the event itself be eye-catching enough for the precognitive spell to detect it?

Basically, in most futures Anrebat could peer into during the short moment he cast the spell with the Time Stone, he only saw events so minor that none alluded to the reality of what was happening.

This makes sense. None of the movies I saw could have happened if an event as definitive as the invasion of a Dimensional Lord had occurred in the distant past. This means the incursion fixed itself—or there were some time-traveling shenanigans.

But my PuppeteerSelf hasn't detected any time incursions, so more than likely, the problem fixed itself.

I bid my farewells and then jumped to the pocket dimension in question.

It was chaos.

"We have to hold them back!"

"Agh! My hand!"

"Keep it together!"

"Don't let them suck your soul out! Kill yourself before that happens!"

SCREEEEECH

The cultivator-like people were fighting against flying mini-Cthulhus—soul-sucking mini-Cthulhus, to be precise. An eastern dragon was sharing her power with the cultivator-like people, fending off a veritable flying swarm of demon spawns—and the Dimensional Lord.

However, the Dimensional Lord was abysmally weak. Unlike any being that had ever dared to declare itself one. It was like comparing Jean with the mutant who could pop ice cream and saying they were the same because they were both mutants... To be fair, the ice cream was good.

No, this was no Dimensional Lord. This was a beast of minimal sapience that happened to be the ruler of a foreign dimension. I refuse to denote this thing as a Dimensional Lord.

Maybe it was the echo of one of the Dimensional Lords of the main reality. Based on the tentacles, I'd say the Dweller-in-Darkness.

Compared to the real deal, this one seemed like the pet of the pet of the demon spawns of the Dweller-in-Darkness.

I was planning to observe and keep out of sight, but I did find something that I liked—and it definitely wasn't the 'jade beauties.'

Fluffy Nine-Tails, some faceless hexapedal furry chickens, those fluffy lion-like fluffs, a few phoenixes, and dragon-headed horses with an expression of wanting to go to the bathroom.

If my inner Young Master didn't fail me, then these were Jiu Wei Hu, Dijiang, Shishi, Fenghuang, and Qilin. How very Chinese—and fitting, given the location of the junction between this pocket dimension and Earth: China.

A quick scan of their minds gave me the name of this place—Ta Lo.

Which makes zero sense, because Ta Lo is supposed to be the divine realm of the Xian—the Chinese Deities—and there were no deities here.

The closest thing to godhood here was that dragon—and the poor excuse for a Dimensional Lord.

Anyway, I decided to help and be a good neighbor and all of that.

I switched to my draconic form, which—tentacles aside—resembled in shape that of the dimensional tentacled dragon-like beast.

I appeared a distance away from the ongoing chaos, my presence noticed by some of the more sensitive—the eastern dragon and the tentacled beast among them. There was a momentary lull across the battlefield.

Some wondered whose side I was on, others if my presence doomed them, and a few harbored hope.

I decided to try something I hadn't attempted since my ascension to Paradoxical Existence.

I took a sharp intake of air, enough that the suction force created a vacuum, and the Joule-Thomson effect dropped the temperature, causing my surroundings to begin freezing. {A/N: It's the supposed scientific explanation for Superman's freezing breath.}

My action was understood by all present. With a literal eastern dragon there, it was logical that they knew what would follow.

I mixed my void energy with my payload, willed my breath to only harm what I intended, set the lethality to low—since this was my first time trying it, and I didn't want to erase a soul by mistake—and then exhaled with force.

The beam of bluish-white energy blinded all but the tentacled beast for a moment. Then, it split into multiple homing beams, and like casting a net, each split beam found its quarry in the mini-Cthulhus.

(Or you can imagine Godzilla's Atomic Breath.)

The main beam curved and snaked behind the frantically escaping tentacled beast. It panicked so much that it burrowed into a hole in a wall the eastern dragon had previously been trying to push it toward.

Each time a split beam found its target, the collision exploded into a localized soundless flash of light. When the main beam followed into the hole and found its target, a flash of light erupted from within.

"...Great! The atmosphere is not igniting, and the pocket realm didn't explode," I said after a second of waiting. This proved that I could now spam my breath even within atmospheres.

The tentacled beast died—but not really. It was, after all, a dimensional lord—however undeserving of that title—which meant that what I had killed was merely a projection of the real thing onto this lower plane of reality.

When the last of the flashed eyes recovered, all they found was themselves, the evidence of a battle—and me.

I moved closer to where I sensed the connection between this pocket realm and the tentacled beast's dimension and began severing it. It won't stop it from reforming here since this place is already polluted by its energy, but it will stop it from gaining terrain advantage.

"Problem partially solved," I said to the weary man approaching me, accompanied by the eastern dragon.

His eyes widened. Apparently, he hadn't expected me to speak.

Under their astonished gazes, I switched to my A'Heelah persona and greeted them.

"Welcome to Earth. Not the best planet in the main plane, but interesting enough and filled with possibility for those seeking new beginnings."

I bent light and created a projection of Earth and its current points of interest.

The cultivator-like man was left speechless, taking too long to reply. The eastern dragon came closer to me while he was reloading. She brought her snout near and sniffed me like a dog.

She was, however, sapient—just unable to speak.

' :Greetings: :Welcome: ' I used my empathy to communicate with her through telepathy.

I placed my hand over her snout and took the opportunity to heal some battle wounds left on her serpentine body and soul—soul damage is a bitch and a half. She made a sound similar to a cat's purring in thanks.

While the man was still rebooting, I began sharing information with her about Earth and myself. In turn, she shared details about the humans she protected and the civilization they had lost to the tentacled beast.

It turned out that they had come from a realm adjacent to this pocket dimension, rather than Earth. Apparently, they had once built a sprawling civilization there, but it was all lost when the Dweller-in-Darkness—which she confirmed as the tentacled beast's name—attacked them.

Despite their advancements as a civilization, they had been unprepared to deal with enemies that were partially out of phase with reality. Their weapons slipped through uselessly, and only when they realized they would lose everything did they send the remnants—the future of their people—to this pocket realm.

The eastern dragon took pity on them when the tentacled beast followed them here and decided to share some of her power with them to fight it off—possibly even sealing it in that hole I had just ended it in.

"You're a good girl, aren't you?" I petted her scaly head. "You involved yourself with these guys when they aren't even your own species."

"E-Excuse me," the hesitant voice of the man called to me.

"Yes?" I asked but didn't turn, continuing to pet the dragon.

"Is it over? Is it dead?" he asked, glancing at the hole in the mountain.

"No. That was a higher-dimensional being that only partially manifested a projection in this realm. It will return," I explained.

"...Will there be no end to this?" he asked, possibly dejected by all the bloodshed he had witnessed and the fall of his civilization.

"Just seal the hole shut. It will reform where it fell," I said.

I could have permanently severed and cut out the parts tainted by the beast's dimensional energy, but that would have been too much work. Besides, my PuppeteerSelf informed me that some guy in the future would kill the beast. Apparently, that was necessary for Earth's future.

I extracted some samples from the eastern dragon and decided to grow my own mystical eastern dragons in Halo and later in The Ark. I bet Seraph was going to love them.

I healed those in need—mainly soul wounds. I hate those. Then, I helped them settle in the ancient village they named Ta Lo, in memory of their fallen realm.

About a month later, they had collected enough scales from the dragon—and some of my own—to seal the hole shut. The properties of the scales ensured that even after reviving, the beast wouldn't be able to escape its sealing.

I bid farewell to the dragon, whom I named Shuǐlián (Water Lotus). I told the humans that if they needed anything, they could seek me at the nearest Obelisk.

I returned to constructing Obelisks, and before I knew it, a few centuries had passed.

Then something more surprising than stupid happened.

Someone was trying to tax me... What the fuck?

It all started around 2350 BC when Sargon of Akkad established the Akkadian Empire—the first empire ever. I even added it to the northern face of the Northern Scale of Light.

Sargon the Great overthrew the king of Kish—which, incidentally, was a city's name inspired by the Kish family we had created—and embarked on a military conquest of Sumer.

Sumer was divided into competing city-states, constantly at war. Sargon capitalized on this division and used superior military tactics to conquer them. To my eyes, however, he was merely using what I considered common-sense military strategies—but who was I to judge?

Sargon defeated Lugal-Zagezi, the king of Uruk, captured him, and paraded him in chains. This marked the end of independent Sumer.

After Uruk, Ur, Lagash, and Umma fell to Sargon. He razed city walls to prevent rebellion and established Akkadian governors over Sumerian cities.

Overall, standard tactics to cement control and tighten his grasp on power.

Sargon's conquests didn't stop with Sumer—he led campaigns against Elam (modern Iran), the Levant, and Anatolia. His empire would later stretch from the Persian Gulf to the Mediterranean Sea.

There was no problem with that, at least for me. The thousands of corpses used as the foundation of his conquest might disagree, but that's not my problem. I'm an open supporter of unification and centralized governance.

Several developments were spurred by the wars: the composite bow, scale armor, leather armor, improvements in chariot technology, and even the artificial selection of certain horse breeds.

My Caravan Nation also profited from the decades-long conflicts, and I increased its size by buying the surplus of slaves and orphans the wars left behind.

So, aside from my SplitSelves having their workload increased, I suffered nothing from the rise of the Akkadian Empire.

The problem was Naram-Sin of Akkad, grandson of Sargon the Great. Naram-Sin declared himself a living god, taking the title "King of the Four Quarters."

Between roughly 2260 and 2250 BC, many Sumerian cities rebelled against Akkadian rule. Naram-Sin defeated them all, including a major uprising led by the king of Kish. After this victory, he declared himself a god-king—not a king of gods like Odin, but a king who's a god—believing the gods had favored him.

It was bullshit. No deity favored him. It was all a political campaign filled to the brim with propaganda to stabilize his rule over the rebelling Sumers.

The guy went crazy and believed his own bullshit. He built temples in his name and took a real Young Master outlook on life... and that was foolish.

One day, the guy awoke surrounded by licentious revelry, looked outside his window, and saw that one of my Obelisks was shielding his view from the morning sunshine.

He ordered his army to prepare for a battle of legends and marched to the Obelisk.

The Custodian Duskari saw this from a balcony overlooking the city and called his unit members. They then began streaming through their P-Links what was happening.

"#TheAncestralsWentCrazy #AKnifeToAMagicFight #TheHeadWillBePissed"

"Should we pray for one of the Therions to descend and calm down the Head?" one of the Duskari asked another.

"Maybe, but aren't you curious about what the Head will do?" another replied.

"Aren't you curious about what they'll demand?" a Lucelvi asked.

I flew from the other side of the world, hoping that the few seconds of my travel would be enough for the Living Idiot to comprehend his limits. A fool's dream, I know.

I circled around the Obelisk and gazed down at the 7,000 men stationed around my structure.

I shifted to my A'Heelah self and landed at the entrance of the Obelisk. There, waiting for me, was the unit in charge of the building.

"Head!" they said in unison, right fists to their chests, forearms horizontal to the ground—the standard military salute of the Imperium.

"At ease, children," I said, turning from the startled troops at my entrance to the Duskari. "What did the fool want?"

"Yes, Head," one of the kids pushed forward a ceramic tablet akin to a brick. In cuneiform was a demand for tribute to the 'Living God' and the first floors of my Obelisks.

"This... At least he has the gall of a real deity," I said, remembering the many times other deities had asked me for floors of my Obelisks through Selene.

"Head," one of the Noctelvi girls spoke up.

"Yes, Mivali?" I asked.

"My followers want to know if you'll end the blasphemous Ancestral," she said.

I looked at her P-Link with a curious glance. "Are you streaming this to the Imperium?"

"Yes, we all are," she said, and the others nodded.

"How unprofessional, but I guess this can't be anything else but a reality show to us, can it?" I asked. They chuckled at my words and agreed with my sentiment.

"What will I do?... Mmmm... I don't know yet. But I won't kill him, if that's what you're wondering," I replied honestly.

"You won't?" another asked.

"No, Vulikleto, I won't. Why do you appear so surprised?" I asked the kid in question. This guy's name is even stranger than Mivali's, but I have long since stopped minding the naming sense of the Duskari.

"Not to seek divine punishment, Head, but your reputation is less than stellar when it comes to dealing with fools, isn't it?" he asked while turning to the others for support, which he earned in the form of various nods.

"Yeah, there was Amritglax the Greedy from the Vladarionic Era who wanted some of your hair for a ritualistic exchange spell," Mivali said.

"Or Liliuxme the Perverted from the same era. She went to the Deviants' stronghold to get impregnated by them, only to return with a half-Duskarian, half-demonic child after she got fooled by Malsrithil the demon," Lophuglass, a Noctelvi, added.

"Or that guy from the Era of Arcane Growth who wanted to hunt Spider Kaijus for research. What was his name? The one that got delivered to the Head by one of the matriarch spiders?" Halix, another Noctelvi, asked.

"Zijhersblat," I said.

"Yeah! That guy!" he nodded.

"What is the point of this? I killed none of them. In fact, I have never killed a Duskari," I said.

"Well, no, Head, and again, I don't plan to incur divine wrath, but all these guys had nightmarish deaths—the stuff of legends we hear while growing up to learn what to definitely not do," Halix said.

"What moral of the story would you extract aside from not being an idiot?" I asked.

"Let's see... Zijhersblat. You told the spider matriarchs to eat him if he tried again. He thought you were joking because the spiders only ate fish. The next time he tried, the spiders heard a school of piranhas on him and then ate the piranhas," Halix replied.

"The moral was about not messing with the spider kaiju and about loopholes. Just because they ate fish didn't mean they couldn't eat the fish that ate him," Lophuglass added.

"Liliuxme received your permission to carry the child to term, and then got eaten by the demon spawn," Mivali said.

"The moral was about the cycle of birth of demons and how you must always get all the facts straight. Just because someone told you that you are allowed to do something didn't mean they had your best interests in mind," Lophuglass added once more.

"Amritglax received your heart from you, went to do the ritualistic exchange, and got turned into a deity, but his soul and mind couldn't bear the load and died in the largest explosion the Isthmus has ever seen," Vulikleto said.

"The moral of that one is about the risks of seeking the easiest way out and not coveting godhood," Mivali explained.

"All terrible deaths, but then again, I didn't kill them," I defended my case.

The Duskari children looked at each other with knowing glances.

"I can't wait to see how you will not-kill the crazy Ancestral," Mivali said in a cheery voice.

"Me too!" the others said.

"Are all you Duskari as blasphemous as Kitty? Perhaps you are believers of her?" I asked.

"Who isn't a believer of Goddess Kitty these days, am I right?" Vulikleto rhetorically asked. The others implicitly agreed.

"I figured as much," I said with a sigh.

Naram-Sin finally appeared before me as our conversation reached its natural end.

I turned to him and gazed into his idiotness and stupidness-filled eyes—the classic trait of all Young Masters.

We stared at each other, or at least he stared at my eyes. I was looking through him, staring at a collision of atoms in a distant star.

"..." Silence graced our surroundings.

"Do you think he suddenly lost his ability to speak?" Vulikleto asked in the Imperial tongue.

"Maybe his idiocy took it away," Mivali suggested.

"Do you think he is being stupid enough to try and power-play the Head?" Lophuglass suggested.

"He already declared himself a living god. I wouldn't put it past him to try," Halix replied.

Although the Duskari children were mocking him openly, they all did so with reserved and almost serene faces, so Naram-Sin didn't realize he was being mocked.

"A'Heelah, before you stands Naram-Sin, King of the Four Quarters, the Living God of the Akkadian Empire," he introduced himself with grandeur.

He was only lacking a group of underlings around him telling me to kowtow and be grateful for standing in his presence. Alas, none were foolish enough to actively antagonize me—aside from this idiot.

"Naram-Sin, Mortal King of Akkadia, before you, I stand," I replied, keeping my voice stable and neutral, as it normally was when dealing with externals.

"It seems the renowned immortal doesn't recognize divinity even if it stands before him," Naram-Sin said, pleased beyond measure with his retort.

The Duskari children were almost shaking—no, they were shaking—but they masked it with an illusion spell. Tears pooled in their eyes as they fought hard to contain their laughter.

I pointed at the fool with my tail and... [Stratified] him using my concept.

First, his being was separated into Mind, Soul, and Body. Then his mind became visible for all other mortals to witness. His soul appeared as a blotched blob of tar with specks of light.

Then his body was separated by strata based on biological systems. His clothing was atomized because my concept didn't consider it part of him. His skin floated apart, then his muscles and nerves, then his organs and vascular system. Even the organs were separated into their components and layers, and finally, only his skeleton was left.

His body—all the stratified parts—hovered in front of us. He looked like a real-life MRI scan classified by the different systems of the body. Even the contents of his bowels were visible, out in the open.

His army, starting with the front lines and advisors, buckled over and puked up their breakfasts. Some tried to run, but I held them in place. Others released their bowels.

Shouts, screams, cries, howls, and all manner of emotional vociferations graced my ears.

"Woah! Hardcore!"

"Crap, I'll get banned if I don't blur this!"

"That's why you should have tagged it as R18 from the beginning!"

"Is that his mind? I haven't seen a physical mind before. Only astral projections."

"Never mind his mind—that sounds catchy—look at his soul. It's all dirty."

"Yeah, this guy is going to meet Goddess Wanda for sure."

Well... The Duskari receive a different type of education. What did I expect?

"I just checked, Naram-Sin, Mortal King of Akkadia. There's no divinity in you to recognize," I told the flabbergasted, rendered-speechless mortal mind.

"Damn! That was cold!"

"I got it on RII!" {A/N: Real Immersive Image.}

"I just hit 30 billion viewers!"

"I've got Princess Mindee following my stream!"

"Agh! Goddess Kitty is spamming me! Someone spam her back—she's going to interrupt my stream!"

"Shit! I got banned! Too bloody."

I could only roll my eyes at the Duskari kids. They really had no sense of propriety. They couldn't read the room at all.

Clap!

I clapped my hands, and with my movement, Naram-Sin was put back together into a proper human being.

He kneeled over in the nude and puked himself unconscious.

"Yuck!"

"That's just too much!"

"I'm trying to stream this, thank you very much! Someone throw an illusion on that!"

"I got it covered!" Lophuglass cast an illusion that turned his puke into liquid rainbows.

"Thanks, Lophu!"

"You're the best!"

"Puke? That's where you draw the line?" I couldn't help but ask them.

"Only deviants would want to watch a puking show," Lophuglass replied.

"...Ok," I sighed.

What else should I say? Emetophilia is in the same category as coprophilia for me—the don'ts that Noona and I don't partake in.

I pointed at the fallen Living Idiot with my tail and—

"Oh, no! The Head is not done with him!"

"The Head is gonna Not-Kill him!"

"Therions in Halo! The Head only wields one level, and that is utter annihilation!" {A/N: Like "God in Heaven."}

—I stopped in my tracks. "Really, what manner of impression do you have of me?" I asked them.

"Sort of like a natural disaster with a capricious will?"

"I think Goddess Natalia nicknamed you The Bringer of Challenges."

"Wasn't that Princess Mindee?"

"No, she just commented in my chat that it was Goddess Elara."

"The Herald of Tragedy."

"The Precursor of Change, but the type of change associated with chaos."

"..." I stood in silence. "You ungrateful shits. Maybe I should bring the Imperium some change," I muttered.

"E-Eh? It's a joke, Head. Obviously a joke!"

"Just a prank between faithful and dutiful believers and the Head of the Drachantheon Therion!"

"H-Head, the Princess said she just informed the Queen and that Goddess Emma doesn't approve of any changes—O-Of course, their words, not mine!"

"What the heck is wrong with Kitty's believers?" I asked the heavens.

Whatever! I pointed at the unconscious Living Idiot and shot him an arc of lightning.

ZAP!

"AAAGHH!" I zapped him awake.

He looked around in a panic. There was an unconcealed glimmer of hope in his eyes that his living nightmare had been nothing but a dream. That hope came crashing down when he saw the Duskari children, me, and his collapsing army. Though, the puke-smelling rainbow liquid covering him did put a semblance of doubt in his perspective of reality.

"Naram-Sin, Mortal King of Akkadia," I called him and pulled the stone tablet with his demands using telekinesis. "No, I decline to pay any form of tribute or tax to any mortal or divine rule."

I pulled some Dragon Ore from my storage and erected another cube retelling the events of his hubris. I made a small partition for the stone tablet and placed it on the main face of the cube. I cast a preserving spell on it. Finally, I connected my mind with Humanity's again—though this time, I limited it to the rulers of other nations—and streamed to them what had just happened.

"I was here on this planet first, long before humans existed. I conquered it all, and now I'm allowing your kind to live within my lands. Even the deities respect that. Don't forget your place... Mortal," I advised him.

After trapping the Duskari children in an illusion of a sea of puke, I left and flew to the Zagros Mountains. I was homing in on a nomadic people called the Gutians.

(These regions.)

The Gutians were the very definition of the word barbarians. Riders, savage nomads, human-shaped animals—these and many other words would not be wrong to describe them.

They were the type of people who created nothing, constructed nothing, built nothing, and only knew how to destroy and exist by taking advantage of more civilized societies. The orcs of Middle-Earth took notes from these guys. The goblins of Goblin Slayer idolized them.

For the past century, I had my Caravan Nation keep those guys at bay, away from the slightly more civilized nations, like the Akkadian Empire. I also reduced their numbers by exchanging some of their children for livestock.

That stops today. I shall let history take its course. Akkadia shall fall to these savages.

After I instructed the leaders of my Caravan Nation to head to Africa—to not get caught in the upcoming mess—I landed in the center of one of the temporary settlements of the Gutians.

They panicked, as is only normal when a Ghidorah-sized dragon lands near your home, but I injected in their minds the order to calm down. And they did. After that, the leader approached me.

"Are you here to disrupt our way of life again?" he asked, his voice blatantly laced with hostility.

Yes, this was not the first time we had personally met. In fact, in this era—excluding Gilgamesh and some people of Uruk—this human had met me the most.

Whenever he led his people to raid a nearby settlement, I would appear. Whenever he thought of bypassing my watch, I would be there. Whenever he forgot his fear, I would show up to remind him. In such a way, we built this bond between us of mutual trust.

Trust that he would respect the boundaries I set, and trust that I would end him if he pushed them.

"I'm here to tell you that my humans and I will leave the region for approximately the next two centuries," my voice—artificially created by my telekinesis—rattled his insides with its bass.

"... I thought we were done playing tricks," he said after a moment of hesitation.

"No trick. I'm giving up on them, so I'll wait until they all die and a new, kinder generation takes over," I said. "By the time I return, your people will probably have ceased to exist. I certainly am looking forward to that."

"... My people will prevail, even against all of your foreboding divinations!" His stubborn and self-assured voice ignited a flame in the hearts of the listening savages.

They all joined him in voicing their defiance of my predictions.

Their shouts and revelry spurred one another in a feedback loop of support and bravado—just like I've seen humans do in the face of certain death countless times.

There's plenty of that defiance and collective bravado on the front lines of any war.

"Then good luck," I simply said. Then I flapped my wings and disappeared into the sky.

And so, I stopped holding the Atlantic back from cooling. I had been doing so for a few years now, ever since I was building an Obelisk over there and noticed the escalating drop in temperature.

The cooling of the Atlantic disrupted established weather patterns. This weakened the monsoon rains, which meant a reduction in rainfall in the Indian subcontinent and the Middle East. The lack of rainfall boosted the already existing process of aridification, and the Sahara and several other deserts saw an increase in area.

Agriculture, in this era and for these civilizations, depended heavily on irrigation. It had been their staple agricultural practice for centuries. But when the rainfall decreased and the levels of the rivers—including the Nile, Euphrates, and Tigris—dropped, irrigation became challenging.

Cereal production plummeted, leading to famine and mass migrations.

In the Indus Valley, water shortages led people to abandon cities and migrate toward the Ganges basin. It peeved me to see Mohenjo-Daro become a shell of what it once was, but at least they still had enough water to sustain a portion of their population.

The Egyptian government collapsed. Local governors (nomarchs) took power, and Egypt fell into civil war, leading to the First Intermediate Period.

Selene visited me. Apparently, the Ennead and other pantheons wanted to know what I was doing, but I simply told them the truth—I stopped containing the natural occurrence that would be known in the future as the 4.2 Kiloyear Event.

Famine, rebellions, and mass migrations became the staple.

Amid this arid tragedy, the Akkadian Empire suffered the worst. Not only were they in the same boat as everyone else with desertification and droughts, but the continuous use of the same lands led to soil depletion, and excessive irrigation caused salt buildup in the soil, reducing wheat yields.

When the Akkadians switched to barley (which was more salt-resistant), it was already too late. It wasn't enough to sustain the empire.

Hunger led to civil unrest, with many cities rebelling against Akkadian rule. As crops failed, their trade networks—a vital part of their empire—collapsed. They began relying on food imports from Sumer and Elam, but these regions also suffered from famine.

When the Akkadian Empire was dragging itself across the ground, when everybody was claiming it was divine punishment on Naram-Sin, when the empire was too stretched out, when the Caravan Nation and I had disappeared, and when things seemed like they couldn't be worse—the Gutians attacked.

Despite being less technologically advanced, the Gutians had key advantages over the empire. They were nomadic and used to moving quickly in small raiding groups. Unlike the Akkadian army, which relied on organized formations, the Gutians used hit-and-run tactics. They targeted supply routes and weak cities before facing Akkad directly.

They were like ants undoing their victims piece by piece, bite by bite.

They were unpredictable to the Akkadians, who were used to fighting other city-states, not decentralized raiders. The fact that the Gutians didn't fight for territory at first—they raided, retreated, and attacked again—made them even more erratic in the Akkadians' eyes.

This exhausted Akkadian resources and left them vulnerable.

With famine and internal revolts, the Akkadian army was already depleted. Border defenses were underfunded—as the empire struggled to feed its people—and with the Gutians avoiding direct sieges on fortified cities and focusing on easier targets, they had no respite.

And the brutality of the Gutians caused mass panic in every settlement they raided. It was death or submission.

In this apocalypse, Naram-Sin died without most even realizing it.

I did, though. I watched as, in the middle of a cold, arid night, he dragged his body to the Obelisk of Akkad and walked to the reception floor. He kneeled and implored the Duskari Custodian to summon me. He was ignored, as per my instructions.

He didn't stop there. He continued to implore, cry, sob, despair—until a frantic, maddened thought seized his mind: 'My death shall cleanse my ledger.' Under the shocked eyes of the Custodian, he slit his throat.

And as the last spurts of red-hot blood came out of his nicked carotids, I appeared in front of him.

"I told you so." He opened his sleepy eyes at my words. "You were mortal." And so he died.

With a wave of my tail, his body was atomized and scattered by my telekinesis outside my Obelisk. I didn't want his remains filthying my Obelisk.

After years of attacks, Akkad finally collapsed around 2154 BC, and their Dark Age began.

After toppling Akkad, the Gutians ruled Mesopotamia for several decades, but as the savages they were, they sucked at it.

Their control was weak and chaotic, unlike the centralized Akkadian administration. They lacked a structured government, which obviously led to a rapid decline in agriculture, trade, and social order.

Even the drought didn't keep me as occupied with soul collection in Mesopotamia as their idiotic ruling did.

Cities became impoverished, and food shortages worsened to the point that it resembled my Earth after the clash with the Phoenix Force. That's how pathetic their rule was—cosmically miserable.

Sumerian cities like Ur, Uruk, and Lagash resisted, leading to frequent revolts. Around 2120 BC, King Utu-Hegal of Uruk led a rebellion against the Gutians, and the final blow came in 2112 BC when Ur-Nammu, king of Ur, defeated the last Gutian ruler, Tirigan.

Tirigan was the last descendant of my dear old—long-deceased—Gutian pal.

Invisible to the mortal eye, and with my Gutian pal's soul next to me, we observed as Tirigan fell to the blade of Ur-Nammu.

"See? Now there are only a few of your people left in Mesopotamia," I said to my accompanying spectator.

"... N-No. It's impossible." His soul fell into a state of denial. I dismissed him with a wave of my tail, sending him to the ABMax for his soul to serve some purpose.

"My Love, is it wrong if your sadistic pettiness wets my folds?" The honeyed voice of my Noona whispered in my ear. An instant later, she was hugging my neck from behind, hanging onto me like a cape.

"Noona, wouldn't you rather I use my mouth to wet your folds?" I asked, grabbing her thighs resting on my hips, my sharp nails sinking into the soft warmth of her flesh.

"~Ahn~ I think I'd rather you wet my folds with your cum." Her message, loaded with the licentiousness of the fire in her lower abdomen, reached me clearly. "I want you to cover my pussy with it, then you can watch as I play with myself, using it as lubrication. How about it?"

My answer came in the immediate displacement of space as we appeared in our usual underground chamber.

2112 BC...

And while Aragorn was... busy, Ur-Nammu, founder of the Ur III Dynasty, implemented the first known law code (predating Hammurabi's by ~300 years). The Ziggurat of Ur was built under his rule. His people saw prosperity, and a golden age for the Sumerians began after the end of the Gutian dark age.

Shulgi, Ur-Nammu's son, continued his legacy. He centralized administration, built roads, and standardized weights and measures. He also created one of the earliest organized postal systems.

Then... he claimed divine status, continuing the tradition of idiocy and propaganda of rulers declaring themselves gods. At least he didn't dare tax Aragorn.

On the side of Egypt, after over a century of being fractured into regional factions, around 2050 BC, Mentuhotep II of Thebes defeated the rival Herakleopolitan dynasty and reunified Egypt, beginning the Middle Kingdom.

Of the Indus Valley Civilization, only Mohenjo-Daro survived. After the tribulations brought by climate change, it became the center of the region for trade and a resting place for merchants passing through.

And finally, 112 years later, with the change of the millennium around the corner, Aragorn and Death reemerged from their... sabbatical.

"That was..." Aragorn muttered, Death riding on his back.

"~Something," Death finished for him, her words as pleased as she was satisfied.

"You took the words out of my mouth," Aragorn chuckled.

The draconic couple of cosmic matter flew over the Old Continent. Aragorn was evaluating the damage caused by the drought, and Death was accompanying him because she was in a chummy mood.

"What's next, My Love?" Death asked.

"Next?" He paused for a moment to contemplate the future. "I think I'll grow my Caravan Nation, maybe establish a couple of new trade routes—Ah! Now that I think about it, maybe I should create an international calendar system. Did you know these guys all have their own calendars?"

"Mmm, yeah. If I'm not mistaken, some have lunar calendars, others solar, with a few using lunisolar calendars," Death said.

"Yep. Maybe I should standardize the measure of time," Aragorn mused.

"Why don't you standardize a measuring system for all units? Would save these unruly humans some unnecessary mishaps, wouldn't it?" Death suggested.

"I thought about wielding my influence and achieving exactly that, but apparently, that would derail the timeline a bunch and a half—or so says my PuppeteerSelf," Aragorn lamented.

"But the calendar is alright?" Death asked.

"Yes, but it's not like I'll make a big change. I'll just make an obvious sign to mark the transition between years. Like maybe making my Obelisks shine bright during New Year's Eve, or maybe covering the entire sky in an aurora. I accept suggestions," Aragorn said.

"I say... make the stars flicker brightly, like a headlight flash," Death suggested.

"Mmm... Yeah, maybe. I like it—quite simple but effective," Aragorn agreed.

And so, on the last night of the year 2000 BC, the stars flashed in unison for the first time in the night sky. Selene once more was loaded with divine complaints, but like an exploitative boss, Aragorn didn't care.

——————————————––—

Elara Dracosnisfilia

Race: Homobestialis Magicae Feybornis.

Beast: Fairy/Morpho.

Tails: N/A.

Ears: N/A.

Hair: Light Blue.

Eyes: Cyan.

Affinity: Light and Nature.

Divinity: Goddess of Fashion and Arts.

Background

Elara is the third daughter of the chief of the fairy people. Fairies—and fae in general—don't inherit their parents' last name; only the firstborn child does, so Aragorn gave her his.

Before emigrating to Halo, Elara was the youngest child, but after the fairy people came into contact with Halo's blessing-loaded environment, a new generation spurted.

Fairies have a reproduction cycle based on ~2,000 years, so after almost 300,000 years on Earth-199999, only about 148 generations had passed.

Elara is no longer the youngest child of her progenitor family, though, after being initially handed to Aragorn as a concubine, she doesn't have much more than a superficial relationship with them.

The distance between her and her progenitor family only widened after her ascension. Although she is not the Goddess of Fairies, she is the goddess worshipped by the fairies of Halo.

This is not to say that she resents her progenitor family—she doesn't, as it is in their culture that sons and daughters after the firstborn are considered commodities for their parents, often used as bindings to strengthen bonds with other families.

Fairies of the genus Faeries are functionally immortal. However, it is normal for members of their race to eventually fall into a deep sleep lasting generations, preventing their numbers from growing exponentially since more than three-quarters of their race is almost always asleep.

Fairies come in different forms and shapes; for example, they may have one, two, or three pairs of humanoid arms. Faeries often possess insectoid wings protruding from their backs, which can enter an astral form and recede inside their bodies, but these can also come in the form of hard light wings. On that topic, fairies can willingly shift their bodies into an astral form.

Faeries have a known weakness to cold iron, which affects them even in their astral forms. However, Elara, as one of Aragorn's loved ones, does not share this weakness.

Faeries also come in a wide variety of sizes—some capable of size alteration, others growing in height as they age, and others, like Elara, remaining the same size for their entire lives.

Personality

Like most magical creatures, Elara is attracted to those who wield ample power. When she first laid eyes on James after they all underwent evolution and grasped the potential of his power, she fell madly in love. Sadly for her, she wasn't the only one.

Elara is a patient and understanding fairy but can also be quite stubborn and outspoken about her likes and dislikes. An example of this is how, even after hundreds of thousands of years, she kept pestering Aragorn to change out of his uniform.

Sometimes, she may seem like a happy-go-lucky person, but when it comes to what she loves—arts, fashion, James, and her sister-wives—she is serious and committed.

Traits and Quirks

Elara is one of the few deities of the Drachantheon Therion without a divine field that can be directly applied to combat. Her reasoning is that she already has James and all other Therions—Aragorn included—for her protection and would rather beautify their lives with her talents.

The initial décor of The Crystal and nearly all installations in Halo and The Ark came from Aragorn's hand. However, after her ascension, she asked/demanded authority over the interior design and aesthetics of both megastructures.

(The Crystal.)

Even though she lacks a divine field broad enough to encompass the Art of war, the Art of combat, Aragorn instructed her in sword dance as a means of self-protection while wielding her divinity. Elara fell in love with sword dance and would yearly visit Aragorn—or have him visit her—to perform a battle of sword dance.

This battle evolved into an event that even the Duskari anticipated. Coincidentally, every time the Head of the Duskari Council changed—which involved a ceremonial dance-off between the previous Head and the incoming one—Aragorn and Elara would perform after the new Head was selected.

After tens of thousands of such instances, the Duskari population came to associate elections with an art festival, particularly since other artists—mostly believers of Elara—joined the festivities.

Currently, in the Imperium, the third most-watched and anticipated event is the Elections, surpassed only by the Imperial equivalent of the Olympics and the Exposition of Magical and Technological Advancements.

Like her sister-wife, Daria, Elara is a jealous Therion who does not feel jealousy toward her sister-wives but does towards outsiders, though she tends to be the most possessive and clingy with James.

Dislikes

Unnatural forms of sugar; she favors honey or pollen.

Her wings getting wet with water, though other fluids of James' origin—or her sister-wives'—are welcomed.

The Church, as she was on Earth during the witch hunts.

James' believers who want to bed him.

Selene, whom she blames for Aragorn's first death.

Believers and Territory

Elara's star system is named The Binary Artstar, sometimes simply called Artstar. The Binary Artstar is a work of art she and Aragorn created.

Starting with a black hole-star binary system, Artstar is the only one of its kind in the Imperium. The system consists of a stellar-mass black hole (~21 solar masses) and a massive blue supergiant companion (~40 solar masses), both orbiting each other.

Additionally, there are three Earth-like planets in its habitable zone, each with enough moons to paint the night sky with an abundance of vibrant colors and hues.

Elara spent a favor to have Aragorn bend and rearrange the surrounding space so that, from each planet, the night sky appeared filled with constellations shaped like all manner of flowers and butterflies.

The orbit of the moons, the spin of the planets, and the distortions in space were all designed by her and executed by Aragorn so that even the moons played a role in her masterpiece, often forming the eyes of the butterfly constellations.

It doesn't end there—the way space is rearranged causes the same stars used in the constellations to also form Script. Elara then spent a sizeable chunk of her divinity enchanting this script. The result: a planetary-wide field of artistic enlightenment during the night on all three planets.

Artstar is one of the most visited star systems in the Imperium, and this is solely for its scenic beauty.

As previously mentioned, Elara's divine domains of Art and Fashion are, at present, not comprehensive enough to include all possible interpretations of their denotations. However, this doesn't prevent her and her believers from making the most of them.

For example, during some of the eras plagued with upheaval, her believers used her Blessing of Fashion to 'fashion' the best possible armors of high artistic and defensive value. During the Era of Space Exploration, her believers were responsible for the visual design of the Duskari Fleet.

In the Imperium, it is widely recognized that Elara's believers are the go-to for anything of visual importance.

Aspirations

Conceiving a child.

Creating her own art-filled realm.

Stealing from Seraph a configuration for a certain pie recipe she once tried, which the AI refuses to share.

Becoming pregnant at the same time as her sister-wives.

——————————————––—

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{A/N:

I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

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}