《The Gods' Game (An epic fantasy LitRPG)》Gods Game 001 - Prologue
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We have become our own worst enemies. The cosmos’ new tyrants. And who remains, that can stop us now? —from the memoirs of Eld the Benevolent.
Eld expanded his consciousness through the tapestry that was life and searched once more for the Spark.
A special Spark. Elusive. Rare.
A Spark made remarkable not by the brightness of its light but, instead, by its very absence. Somewhere, somewhen, it had to exist.
Everything depended on it.
His search had spanned eons, and time was running out. He blew out a troubled breath. Matters progressed rapidly, and his course was irrevocable. Either he found the Spark, and quickly, or…or he failed. And the cosmos with him.
In near despair, Eld moved his hunt onwards to the next world. Once more, he flung out the net of his consciousness and probed for that distinctive spot of emptiness. His mind completing the weaves by rote, he sifted with practiced swiftness through Earth’s multitudes, searching…
Anticipating failure, he almost missed it. There. An anomaly. Wary of renewed disappointment, he fought down burgeoning hope, and pulling together the threads of his mind, rushed his reconstituted self to the one that had captured his interest…
✽✽✽
Jonas scowled fiercely as he watched the young street rat scurry into the shop. The waif—draped in cast-off rags, barefoot, and covered in grime—attempted to disguise his presence behind paying customers.
Jonas stepped forward, ready to expel the young thief, when by chance his gaze crossed the youngster’s, revealing the desperate hunger there.
Despite himself, he stopped.
The boy—he must have been no older than five—stared with avid attention at the fruits lining the stall.
Jonas could not help but notice the waif’s skinny limbs and protruding bones, laid bare by malnutrition and starvation. His gaze lingered on the boy, weighing him as habitual cynicism fought impulsive empathy.
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He hesitated.
Then cursing himself for a sentimental fool, Jonas turned away. In his moment of weakness, he decided to ignore the waif, pretending not to see the boy swipe the apples.
It is only a few apples, he told himself, not worth the trouble, really.
✽✽✽
In fascination, Eld watched the scene play out.
The boy was invisible to his sight—but not to Jonas. Looking through the shopkeeper’s eyes, Eld studied the youth intently. What small shoulders upon which to rest the fate of worlds, he thought sorrowfully.
Sudden doubt afflicted him. Was his course the right one? But he could not afford to baulk now. His path was set.
The child would serve, he decided. Had to serve. But first the boy needed to be prepared. Eld ran calculations through his mind, considering and discarding a dizzying array of probabilities. Eventually, he settled on a course and acted.
His ability to affect events on Earth was limited, but sometimes all it took was a nudge.
✽✽✽
At the fruit stall, seemingly of its own accord, an apple fell out of the pile, upsetting the stack’s delicate balance and provoking an avalanche. In the midst of pocketing a few more apples, the boy startled in surprise.
At the door, Alexis, Jonas’ son, turned his head at the disturbance and noticed the boy. He sprang into action, moving to apprehend the waif. “Stop, thief!”
Distracted by the apples’ strange behaviour, the boy was caught flat-footed. He had left thoughts of escape too late. Belatedly, he tried to scamper away but the rolling apples foiled him.
Before the boy managed more than a step, Alexis’ reaching hands snatched him close. Triumphantly, he crowed, “I got you, you little thief! You aren’t going anywhere.”
Silently observing, Jonas took a halting step forward, then stopped.
Another step. Stopped again.
Finally, throwing up his hands in self-disgust, he gave in to his pleading inner voice and moved to intervene.
✽✽✽
Eld had done what he could. Events had been set in motion. Now, he could only hope they played out as desired.
After all, even the gods were not infallible.
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{The Dragon Within} (Completed)
Meeting his fate at the hands of seven great heroes, the wicked drake now stands in Death's hall. Met with the Grim Reaper itself. Defeated and its pride broken, the drake doesn’t beg or grovel, it simply awaits judgement. It waits for the God of the afterlife to send it on its way, to either the heights of bliss and peace or where it knew it would be sent. The depths of agony and torture, the halls of Tartarus, the father of monsters. Grim looked up from its oaken desk and down at the creature that would have otherwise, if grown wiser and older, matched the reaper itself in power. Its faceless guise, hidden by a black hood and whirling shadows, it briefly stared at the drake. “You are unfit for the sky yet also too fit for the abyss,” Grim spoke, its voice a cracking whisper. “Your time came too soon, the actions you have taken will lead your world to ruin…Be reborn, pitiful serpent. Yet remember what you have done, see what your actions have made that realm into. Let me show you, how your greed and gluttony have warped such a wonderful place and time.” Grim raised its black-feathered pen towards the beast “Be reborn, as the weak pitiful creature you should have been born as. Take this both as a punishment and…a learning experience. For failure, can be the best teacher.” The drake took a step back, hoping to escape this cruel fate. Yet none escaped Death, less so its embodiment. Screaming shadows engulfed his form, ripping away at his body and shape. Fangs of darkness sinking deep into his draconic flesh, warping it, changing him into something else… Opening his eyes, the wicked drake felt none of its power, none of its magic and none of its might. As it stood at the edge of a cliff, looking down upon a ruined valley of rot and miasma. It glanced down at itself, seeing none of its sturdy scales or sharp claws. The drake had been reborn... As a Human. Will also be posting on CreativeNovels found here; CrN Where chapters will be posted earlier than RRL.
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