They were gone, only leaving one-half of him.

He was in a place of orange, heavy scent and full of metal.

Was this his temple?

His golden eyes flickered, calling for sight, for light. Forcing himself to sit, he looked around. Strains of white were on his sight, hair unkempt, yet perfect. It was meant to be, especially for him.

He was meant to be a vessel of a God.

Yet he didn’t feel divine, he felt wrong, half-done.

He looked around, what lay wasn’t a temple in his name. It showed signs of storage and containers.

A workshop? No, a factory.

Knowledge flooded inside his mind, giving him all he needed or wanted.

He was abandoned, forsaken by these humans.

Those false idols of the city, ones who dared to call themselves Gods in their vanity, did they forsake him?

If so, there shall be consequences. Retribution.

Who was he meant to host? Aegeus?

Which God was he meant to be?

He didn’t know, yet he shall.

Among false idols, there were true believers it seemed.

He remembered his sarcophagus being broken, his true self finally set free. One who set him and one who meant to wasn’t the same.

He acknowledged that as well. The one who does and the one who initiated must be rewarded.

He didn’t need servants, a true God wouldn't need the help of any, but loyalty could be rewarded by a place at his side.

But before all, he had to free his other half.

At his back, laid that box, made of his flesh, containing his blood.

Using divine to capture divine, whoever did shall be not rewarded, but kept alive. Their knowledge did add more to his treasury.

Yet despite his perfection, even he had to suffer humiliation to become whole once more.

He had to lay back, his legs refusing to move, but his arm was his own.

He grasped what laid front of him and gently grasped it, his fingers tore through rotten steel and when he pulled, his strength sent him flying forwards.

His perfection and his strength were all hindered by his lack of control.

He had to be whole.

His launch ended where it shall be, a head away from his sarcophagus, a red tint shining on his pale face.

The free arm of his didn’t even wait for his command, it ran its hand over its flesh tomb and this time gently sunk his finger into it.

Gray goo leaked out around his finger, becoming his blood.

The valiant tomb let itself slowly collapse, becoming his limbs.

His flesh and bones became whole.

A body, made in the imitation of a God, raised on his feet.

The embodiment of perfection, his form stood lack flaws. Both meant to look human, yet remind others of their divinity. But humans didn’t appreciate, at least publicly, others' true from. Wearing jewelry, covering themselves in fabric. He wasn’t subject to their will and didn’t have to follow their insecurities, but he was made in the image of a benevolent god.

He raised his right arm, and with his left hand, he maimed himself.

His blood leaked, leaking forward to become whole once more, a new arm formed, as perfect as the last.

Opening his palm and pointing it down, he called his old one to service, it returned where it belonged.

Closing his eyes, he focused, calling forth what he wanted.

A suit? Gloves?

If he thought about it, he shall have it.

They formed a black suit and white shirt. Black gloves without fingers. He was disappointed. His tie was loose, imperfect.

What was his name? Shall he do the name of the god he meant to host? Aegeus?

He didn’t dare, that was sacred.

Deus. He was a God’s vessel, a true divine.

He shall be called as such.

Deus walked towards the door, there was banging and a giant mineshaft.

They weren’t his loyal followers, but crazed lunatics.

They were abandoned by their own, left to die. He pressed his hands on the mineshaft and in a mere moment, it became dust, returning to earth it belonged.

The door broke open, and sinners lunged fort. Those sinners tried to harm him.

Bludgeons, their fists some even tried to claw. None left a dent in his image. He slashed his surroundings with his right hand, shaped in a blade form. Lying on the ground, without a move, they were left without a sin.

There stood an imitation of the sun above his head. A mere week has passed since the first time he was set free.

Deus smiled towards the unwavering sky.

He shall reward those who set him free and punish false idols and all those around them.

A god meant to rule alone and he shall set them free.

Before all, he would take a walk.

It was a lovely day and the sun was shining all in his name.