RE: Deity - The Breath of Creation

4:21 Perspectives

The first thing that most of the cultivators who returned talked about, was the gods. Most had, up until that point, not understood them in any capacity. Gods had been a term for, even amongst the most religious, a cultivator who had reached the pinnacle of reality and cultivation to become a fundamental part of the universe. That was why they represented fire, and wind, and things like that. They were as much natural laws as they were cultivators. That was the prevailing theory, and had been for many years, especially during the time of Heaven’s Oppression.Xing Wu had largely been considered an outlier, someone who went against the will of heaven to become the first of his kind - a cultivator who existed outside the natural laws of the universe, and chose to embody something else. He was another path.

That changed, for those who returned.

They spoke of how the gods had been more than mere cultivators. Anyone who cultivated could feel it - they'd felt the presence of the gods their entire lives, yet had never understood it until they saw them physically. They were not cultivators who had become parts of the universe – they were parts of the universe that had chosen to cultivate and been given form.

Vesuvius, the god of fire, had felt like fire. Every concept of it, every iteration, even the metaphorical. They weren't cultivators, they were natural beings, aspects of reality given flesh and duty, reality's fury. Aeriel, the same. Argent, also. Yuna had only seen these beings from afar, but from what he’d felt and what those far stronger than him had said, that was how it was.

Some others who returned spoke of the angels, or the immortals. Many didn't speak of the fighting itself, and the horrors they had seen, choosing to bottle it up instead. Quite a few went into secluded meditation. Some others quite loudly proclaimed their now power to the world.

Even more screamed the power of their God-Empress, Alanna, to the skies. Already cults were forming around her, and the ones that worshipped her as a goddess before her true ascension only grew in size.

But as for Yuna, he only ever talked about the last thing he'd felt, and the one he'd seen.

The Heavens themselves.

"I felt it, ma," he said, kneeling in front of two graves. The weathered stone was scuffed and covered in dirt and debris - he hadn't had time to clean it. He was still a weak cultivator, only in the second stage of cultivation, the Sacral Stage, and didn't have the ability to be everywhere at once like some of the older cultivators seemed able to do. Sure, he could clean it off with a burst of qi, but cleaning his parents' graves by hand felt more sacred. They deserved that much, even from an unfilial son such as he. "The Heavens. I know you didn't really believe in that kinda stuff, but man, you shoulda seen it,"

His gaze grew distant as he looked up at the clear blue sky of his home planet, one that had blissfully remained mostly whole. He knew many of his fellow soldiers and returned to planets turned to rubble. Their screams and cries of grief and rage still rang in his ears. He’d lost things in the war, but to lose your entire planet? That was another pain.

"It was like...well, I guess I should tell ya the story," he muttered, sitting back on his heels, his uniform rumpled by his poor posture. His dad would've smacked him over the head for this. Man, he would've been so proud...tears pricked the corners of Yuna's eyes. His gruff old man had been proud when he’d joined the military, despite Yuna’s constant complaints. He'd be proud he returned. But he'd died while he'd been gone on campaign - they both had. "We were at the enemy capital, y'see..."

And he told it. He wasn't a great storyteller, admittedly. He spoke first of the capital city of the enemy, how it was a mountain so high, a city so large he'd never be able to count the number of people on it, and it’d take him a lifetime to get to the top. Then he switched to describing the ships he'd been on, realizing the souls of his parents, if they were listening, probably didn't know about the great ships that had taken them into another universe - which, he realized after getting into describing the ships, they had no concept of, so he poorly explained what another universe meant as compared to what the Realms were.

And round and round it went, telling them stories of his comrades, carefully dodging around topics that might make their spirits think he was anything other than alright, until he finally, finally got around to telling them of the Heavens themselves.

"It was right after the big ol' giant fell. We were mopping up, I was doing rescue work, y'know? Helping those alien peoples up outta the rubble of their city. Gods, I was sad to see the city fall, it was so pretty. There's was this one girl who - well, I'll tell you another time. She was - anyway, I looked up and usually I can't see nothin', right? Lord Alexander and Lord Keilan were but fuzzy dots in the sky when they pumped out their full power. One of the elder cultivators, my captain, I told ya about her, said that's because my eyes and mind can't comprehend what I'm seein' so it simplifies it for me." He paused and took a deep breath, smelling the sweetness of the wind. The depth of the breeze. His cultivation stirred in his chest, but deeper than that, his soul stirred.

"But I could see Them when They appeared, clear as day. They appeared like They'd always been there, and gods above, the world reacted to Them. The sky turned bluer. Light became happier. Shadow became less...I dunno, less scary, because it's just shadow." HE took a deep breath, chewing his lip. "I've been thinking about how to describe this since I first saw it and honestly, I don’t think I can do it justice. Not with my words, and not with my soul. It was like seeing home; not just the physical house, but the entire concept. Like....because they were there, I was home. Because if home is where the heart is, my heart beats in my chest, and They live in my heart. I saw Them, and realized this was why we had fought this war."

"That was written by a poet, by the way. Good fellow. You would’ve hated him, I think," he admitted freely. "Best thing I ever read, an attempted description of the literal Heavens. They blessed us. It was warm. Like the honey water you used to give me when I was sick. Except I didn't know I was sick." He chewed his lip some.

"I just...ain't never seen anything like it before. And I didn’t think I’d ever see it again. Until I got back, that is." He paused. He didn't describe the ceremony, or the four blessings he carried in his chest now. He was only in the second stage of cultivation, yet somehow he'd gotten blessed by all four of the Heaven's first children. But compared to the final blessing, he considered them unimportant. "It was a hug. That's all it was. A hug. We returned home, and there was this big parade, and at the end of it all Statera Luotian hugged everyone at once. I cried. We all did. My captain bawled like a child - I never saw her show any emotion even when she lost her closest friend. I wept for days, and afterwards I felt...empty. In a good way, like I had cleaned out all the negativity and like all the pain I had built up within me was flushed out, leaving room for new experiences, new emotions. I bet you felt it, too." He didn't doubt for a moment that they had, as he slowly stood.

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"Anyway, just wanted to let you know that your son came home. Sorry I wasn't there for ya'll." And he truly meant that part. "I think I'm going to become a man of the cloth, now. Go into town. Find a church. tend to it, until I figure out the shape of my soul. Then I'll know what to do with myself. But that's the first step. Always the first step. Figure out the shape of your own self." He bowed then, long black hair dangling past his face as he paid his filial duty to his parents.

He laughed, a deep, wet thing, that tried and failed to hide the tears in his eyes.

"Sorry I was such a terrible son. I shoulda never said some of those things to y'all. And despite your flaws...Mom, you drank too much, and Dad, your temper was scary, even if you never raised a hand against any of us, you were pretty cool parents. Thank you." He turned away then, and beheld the field of graves behind him.

Other soldiers like him knelt beside and in front of other graves. This planet hadn't been cracked by the war, but it had been affected. Many died. Yuna sucked in a deep breath, feeling the cool breeze, and knowing that the heavens were watching, however distantly. But that was the funny thing, wasn't it? There was a Heaven Realm, but the Heavens themselves sat beneath his feet, and filled his lungs with every breath, and lay in every cell in his body.

There was no defying heaven, like his mother had believed, in all her powerful cultivator-ness. Because heaven was in everything. And heaven loved them all. And Yuna took his first step into the next stage of his life, away from all the war and pain he chose to leave behind.

***

She was a survivor of the Capital of Art. Once, she had been an apprentice magician. The fourth circle of nine, which meant she had been skilled enough to be her own woman, but had chosen to apprentice herself to a greater magician, an Archmage of the ninth circle, the highest circle of magic a mortal could reach.

Yet the destruction of her city had left her speechless. She’d always known there was a power ceiling way above her own, but she hadn't actually it. The forces at play there had been far greater than even her teacher - who had tragically (or not, he was a bit of a sleezeball who didn’t hit on her only because she was a mousey, petite thing) perished in the fighting. There had been literal gods at play. So much power had been thrown about that her mind nearly fried just trying to remember it.

Now, her people rebuilt. The Capital of Art was long gone - the creator deity of their planet, the Oshun, was not here to fix it. Nor were any of the gods able to spend time enough to completely rebuild it. She understood this. Not many did. And at least their new accommodations were pleasant, all things told. Jax, a minor god of the earth, and Balthasar, a god of law, had used some of their power to erect a city in the wreckage, one perfectly crafted for the survivors. It was a miniature mountain, with a palace atop it for the minor deity now presiding over the area, and farmland stretching out beyond the walls.

In the months that had followed the attack, many mages and warriors had come together to create golems and other such workforces to tend to the fields, to feed the populations. Rural areas hadn't all been so lucky as to have been close enough to an airship or teleportation circle to escape the devastation.

"I think I'm going to become a priestess," she announced to no one in particular, much to the shock and surprise of all her personal acolytes who had come to attend to her after the calamity. She still wasn’t sure why. A tier eight mage froze from where he tended to her plants with small pruning scissors. At least there were some perks of being the sole heir to the teachings of the tier-nine mage, and a key instrument in the evacuation. She'd controlled the teleportation array for as long as possible - the only reason she wasn't dead was because of the grace of the invaders.

Someone had teleported her out, given her a salute and a slap on the back, said something in a language she didn't understand, then vanished. She’d had only the clothes on her back, and a bag of holding filled to the brim with as much stuff from her teacher’s lab and tower as she cold possibly fill it with.

"Ma'am, you cannot," the mage, Winop, said carefully.

"I can and will do what I want." she denied.

"You need to remain at your post. You are the voice of reason in this political climate - without you managing things, I fear what power-hungry people would attempt to take advantage of the chaos. Try as they might, even they not dare move against you, as you have the heart of the people." he reasoned, and she hated how reasonable he sounded. But her mind was made up.

"I still do not know how that came to be. There were plenty others who did more." she complained.

"Many others who died, getting more people you, yes. But you lived. And you've bene instrumental in getting this city running." he urged. "Plus, you have the Title [Savior.]" Right. Titles. She forgot about that. She glanced upward, as if she could see the title floating above her head the way she could see the names of the [Acolytes] moving about the house.

"That is why I have to," she said, instead of voicing her self-doubt. "You must tell me you felt it, too?" At this, the eighth tier mage held his tongue. Even he felt it. The light. The warmth. The kindness of the one the Cultivators of the Four Realms called Father and Mother. The one the gods of the One World called the Heavens. The one who had been their enemy...yet had chosen blessings and mercy, beyond all the cruelty of war.

She turned her gaze to the outside, staring at the long mountain range dominating the horizon. At the people down below, going about their days, trying to pick up the pieces of what was left behind. They needed something to latch on to. Something good, and strong. In days past, that had been the domain of the clergy and gods. If they were going to worship a god, why not choose one that loved and cared for them? She pulled a hand to her chest, and clenched it, the earrings from her long, pointed ears chiming softly as she dipped her head and felt the spark of divine within her chest. The blessing, the kindness, that had fallen on her in the aftermath of the war.

"Statera Luotian loves all," she said, with such conviction even the acolytes were shaken. "In times like this, people turn to the gods for faith. Why not present one who actually cares? And who didn't fall to darkness."

***

The moments after a war were tenuous, in Alego's opinion. There was always a group of people looking to seize more power, and heroes who had gained a reputation looking to wield that reputation like a hammer. Commanders used to their orders being followed would return, and start realizing they could do more than command soldiers...which was why so many ended up going into politics. Alego was more experienced in that world than them. That was why so many now worked for him.

He, for one, was playing a long game. The Celestial Empress, if rumor was to be believed, had ascended into godhood. That meant she was going to ascend to the next realm, like the fabled Xing Wu. A woman as ambitious as her would never be content to stay put in the mere Physical Realm...which meant his chance to rise was coming fast.

When she ascended, the throne would be empty. It wouldn't be a power vacuum, she was too meticulous for that, but there would be space for him to grab power. So long as it played it right, played the long game...made friends with all those so-called heroes and the cultivators who had made breakthroughs, then he would be able to rise further.

The trick was to appear friendly. Appear like he was working for everyone's goals, and in some ways, he would. But he had his own agenda, despite building up trust. And once it reached the right threshold...

He paused and looked out the window of his palace. He was a mediocre cultivator at the sixth stage of cultivation - and that was only because of a ton of elixirs and other cultivation materials. Yet he was lord of six planets, and a highly respected member of the Celestial Court, his power having only grown with the deaths of so many.

And so long as he had the money to keep buying elixirs and pills, his cultivation would continue to grow. With it, real power would come; power over people. He smiled to himself and drummed his fingers on the glass window, looking, but not seeing, the city below. The worlds were changing. And if he changed right, he could grasp more than mere cultivation power.