"Mortals," he began, his voice smooth as aged wine yet carrying an undeniable weight, "I know you are confused. Allow me to explain everything so you may understand." Prometheus nodded inwardly as every head in the clearing turned toward him.
Who is he?—The question rippled through the humans' minds. Some faces held awe, others suspicion—but all were listening.
"You probably have already seen it but, do you see the runes in front of you?" he asked while still levitating in the air.
"Uh… yes?"
"What is this?"
"Magic?"
"I don't think so"
"A gift?"
A chorus of murmurs rose from the crowd
The old man chuckled, sounding warm and paternal. "This," he said, "is what we call the Akashic Record. A tool we created to guide you on your journey… to godhood."
The lie slid effortlessly from his tongue, honeyed and flawless.
I need them to believe we made this for them. Let them think it's a gift—freely given, no debts, no obligations. That way, their gratitude will become loyalty. Their loyalty will become obedience.
Now that the Akashic Record has chosen them, I must intervene personally. Otherwise, this could spiral out of control.
When the humans below heard his words , the effect was immediate, a sense of gratification spread through the people, looking at him with fanatism as if he were a god (though he is).
To most, he was no longer just an old man—he was a benefactor, a divine guide.
After all, in their memories, gods were beings so far beyond mortal comprehension that even understanding them seemed impossible.
To think they'd been crafted as divine humans—infused with the blood of a god and granted a chance to ascend to those very heights? The very idea thrilled them. And if it were true… well, they'd have to find some way to repay such generosity, wouldn't they?
Perfect—he thought with satisfaction.
Yet, his gaze flickered to the few whose expressions remained guarded. Ylem was not amongst them.
Well, most people don't have much knowledge so they are easy infuenced, as for the others, well they are a minority so I only need to make sure they don't plant seeds of rebellion
"Through your fragmented memories, you may have glimpsed what a god is—but allow me to clarify."
The old man's voice softened, as if sharing a cherished secret. "Gods are existence perfected. They pluck stars like fruits from celestial branches. They turn planets into dust with a slap of their hands. There is no higher form of life in all creation."
His eyes twinkled. "And now, you stand at the threshold of joining them."
The silence stretched.
Then—
A young woman near the front swallowed hard."You're saying... we could become like that?" she asked with a trembling voice.
The old man inclined his head and explained kindly. "The potential is within you now. The path is yours to walk."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd, some faces alight with wonder, others dark with suspicion. A burly man crossed his arms. "And what's the catch?"
"No catch," he said smoothly. "Only opportunity."
Ylem POV
As the suspicious man spoke, I pondered about his words over in my mind. We can become gods—just like that? No sacrifices, no price to pay? Somehow I really find it hard to believe.
Several thoughts past through my mind. A question surfaced: Is he a god himself? He had to be.
The way he floated effortlessly, that aura of absolute confidence—like the universe itself wouldn't dare touch him.
Then what should be my attitude towards this situation?
Isn't it obvious? I'm not an idiot. I'm not going to be swayed by his words. I am capable of thinking by myself, same as the handful of others who shift uneasily in the clearing. So what do I do?
I do what all smart prey does when cornered by something far more stronger.
Act.
I let my eyes widen. Let my breath catch. Let every muscle sing with fabricated awe.
The mask settles perfectly. It comes naturally, like second nature.
As 'He' finished talking, someone had the courage to ask:
"And what's the catch?"
As I heard someone with a rough voice judge the god, I almost rolled my eyes as the stupidity of this man.
Who is he to judge a god, is he stupid? Ah.., yes he is.
If he vanishes in the coming days, I'll know this was never as simple as his pretty speech suggested. Right now, I'm 99% certain it's all a lie—but trapped in the palm of a god, rebellion is suicide. So I will play along for now.
Around me, others ask trivial questions. 'What color is divine energy?' 'Will we get palaces?' The old man answers each with infinite patience, his smile never wavering. As I think what to ask, an idea starts to form in my head so—
"I am forever grateful for this opportunity, worry not, I shall repay your kindness tenfold!" I scream with a fanatical look and determination etched on my face.
Most of them look at me with admiration and the more intelligent ones with strange eyes as if I had gone mad. But I couldn't care less, what I care is the expression on 'His' face.
'His' eyes gleamed for a moment. Then, with the smile of a kindly old man, he said to me:
"Thank you, my child. I see you are the most spirited. Once we conclude these introductions, why not join me for a private discussion?"
He's noticed something—that's why he's overreacting. I need to figure out what he's thinking before I make my next move. Maybe I can use him to sway the others… like a snowball, growing bigger with every roll. In the end, they'll all follow me— is probably what he is thinking, at least something similar.
That's right, that was my plan from the beginning , I cannot try to manipulate a god as if he was dumb, there has to be several layers of deception. I myself am impressed of my manipulative behaviour but I pay it no mind.
"Now that I finished explaining, I will create a small town here at the clearing, you can leave if you want, I won't stop you. However bear in mind that I will be spending my time here with you teaching the ways of life" he said, finally touching the ground, the grass and leaves around him bending as if kneeling, welcoming something divine.
After walking around for a while looking for a suitable place, he spread his arms wide and said:
Rise!
Stone buildings—houses, workshops, and grand halls—erupted from the earth in a symphony of grinding rock. Streets paved themselves between the structures, weaving through the growing city like veins. Market squares unfolded at their intersections, while towering walls of smooth granite rose to encircle the newborn settlement. Watchtakes sprouted along the fortifications, their peaked roofs piercing the sky. At the city's heart, a central plaza formed, its flagstones etched with intricate patterns that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. Wells bubbled to life, their waters clear and cold, and orchards of fruit-bearing trees burst into existence along the outer districts, their branches heavy with unripe promise.
The air hummed with power as the city completed itself—a living monument to divine will, born in moments but built to endure ages.
As people began entering…
By the gods—!" a woman gasped, as a two-story home materialized before them, its oak door swinging open as if in invitation.
Nearby, a burly man reached out to touch the still-warm stone of a blacksmith's forge. "It's... real," he murmured, running calloused fingers along the anvil that had appeared within. "The tools too. Everything."
Some others shrieked with glee as a fountain bubbled to life in the central plaza, its waters arcing high before cascading down into a polished basin. A small woman dashed forward, cupping the water in her hands. "It's cold! And sweet!"
I was among them, playing my part—but this time, my surprise wasn't an act. This was truly an act worthy of a god.
As we walked toward the main plaza, the old man approached me.
"Would you follow me for a moment?" he said, his voice light and soft "I'd like to have a word with you."