Chapter 136 – The Tale of Svarog

The tension in the air was palpable as Percy stared at the grinning pentapus, contemplating how he’d been played. He didn’t doubt Metatron truly intended to win him over eventually. Still, the ancient titan had plenty to gain even in the meantime.

‘Should I destroy the monkey’s soul before I go?’

Percy was certain Metatron could repair his host’s body and soul if he just abandoned the creature at the verge of death like he usually did. Though he could probably prevent that, by actively using what little fused mana he had left, intentionally tearing the soul to shreds.

But he shook his head.

‘It’s best to not antagonize him directly.’

Metatron wasn’t dumb. If Percy did this right now, the titan might take it personally. At best, he could ensure his future hosts died ‘accidentally’ inside the challenges, and that he didn’t use anything too sensitive while inside the Vault.

‘Actually, is that why he admitted he wants the monkey? So that I wouldn’t dare destroy it?’

The realization sent a chill down Percy’s spine. It appeared that no matter what Metatron did, there was always a deeper meaning behind it. Regardless of what Percy chose, the titan would come out ahead.

“Don’t beat yourself up too much, kid.” Metatron spoke, breaking him out of his thoughts. “I’ve been around for a while longer than you have. Just say the word, and all my knowledge and experience will be at your disposal.”

“Thanks for your offer…” Percy spat begrudgingly, his face looking like he’d just swallowed a fly. “I’ll consider it.”

Metatron shrugged, before turning around, slithering away. However, he spoke again before fading into the distance.

“Oh, and there’s one more thing. Ask the cube for information on ‘acquired blessings’ before you leave the Vault. I won’t charge you any credits for this one. Consider it a welcome gift – a tiny sample of the things we could achieve together…” the titan’s voice trailed off.

Only a few minutes after the pentapus disappeared from his sight did Percy plop down weakly on the floor, his body coated in a layer of cold sweat. He’d tried his best to stand his ground against the ancient being, but he understood he’d done a poor job at it.

‘I need to be more careful moving forward.’

His access to the Vault was an unprecedented opportunity, but also the deadliest of traps. Should he fumble, he’d lose everything. Gabe too. Percy wouldn’t forget that Metatron was essentially holding his friend hostage, though neither had seen fit to bring it up during their little chat.

‘Let’s focus on what I can do right now.’ he ultimately decided, placing his palm against the nearest wall.

“Cube. Give me all your information on ‘acquired blessings’. User ID: WANDERER.” he spoke, recalling how Gabe had done this in the past.

A circle of runes lit up around his palm, though it flashed silver this time, probably scanning his soul as Metatron had mentioned.

“Authorization granted. Evaluating request…”

Truth be told, this was the first time Percy even heard of acquired blessings. According to his understanding, the only way to obtain one was to inherit it directly from a god. Clearly, what Metatron was giving him was quite an esoteric piece of knowledge.

“Evaluation complete. There is 1 book, 57 research logs, 1 encyclopaedia and 9457349 news reports that mention “acquired blessings”. Part of the selection is restricted for your grade. Only 0 books, 0 research logs, 0 encyclopaedias and 0 news reports are available for purchase. Total cost: 0 credits. Current balance: 0.”

Percy’s jaw slackened at the result. Was this some kind of joke? He was about to curse, but the system spoke again.

“NOTIFICATION: User has been granted special authorization to view 1 book on subject ‘acquired blessings’ free of charge. View now?”

“Yes.” he nodded. “Please deliver it in hard-copy format.”

He knew he was probably just playing into the titan’s hands again, but he couldn’t contain his curiosity.

“Choice confirmed. Printing book: “The Tale of Svarog”. Delivery in 24 rits.”

Soon, Percy held a thick tome in his hands, still giving off some warmth. Wanting nothing more than to finish his business in the Vault and get the hell out of here, he quickly dove right in, ignoring the occasional passerby giving him a curious look. If there was one silver lining to this whole mess, it was the fact that he didn’t have to worry about the mortals giving him any trouble. He doubted Metatron would allow anybody to interfere in his project.

‘Let’s see what this is all about then…’ he thought, focusing on the text.

At least Percy was a fast reader, and the translation device made him feel as if he was reading in his native language. A few hours into the book, his stomach began to protest, though he just ignored it. As far as he was concerned, whatever happened to the body from here on was Metatron’s problem. That said, only part of his persistence was brought about by his desire to get this over with. Another part was due to finding the tale genuinely interesting.

Apparently, there once was a god called Svarog, who made waves in the cosmos due to his immense power. While he hadn’t been a titan originally, many titans fell by his hand as he roamed the universe seeking thrills and adventures.

But Svarog was an oddity among gods in more ways than one.

Most deities tended to mate unscrupulously, often siring hundreds – if not thousands – of children. However, that wasn’t what Svarog had done. He only ever loved a single, mortal woman, fathering one son. Just one. And he cherished this only child of his most dearly, to the point he would gladly lay his very life down for him if need be.

Consequently, Svarog only had two regrets in his entire existence. The first was having to watch his beloved wife and son age and wither before his eyes, unable to prevent it. And not for a lack of trying. No matter what he did, he couldn’t fight against time itself.

‘Even Svarog failed…’ Percy couldn’t help but clench his teeth after reading that part. Was this why Metatron had given him the book? But he shook his head, diving back into the tale.

Svarog’s second regret was that his son hadn’t inherited a blessing from him. He had to spend his whole life as little more than a common mortal, not a trace of divinity apparent in his magic. Unwilling to see his progeny cursed with such a cruel fate, destined to live such a mundane life, Svarog worked tirelessly to change that. He desperately sought a way to grant his son a blessing! Other gods called him a fool for even trying. This was a feat they all deemed impossible. Still, Svarog persisted, inching closer to his goal with every passing decade.

Unfortunately, before Svarog had the chance to succeed, one of his old enemies slaughtered his family in revenge, robbing them of the few years they had left. But that didn’t stop Svarog. It only motivated him to press on. Driven mad by rage, he finally completed his project, forging a Decree that shook the whole universe, bringing about one of the most terrifying wars in the history of all creation.

Svarog’s Decree was as much as a means of granting a blessing to a mortal, as it was a lethal weapon forged out of hatred and spite. Unlike other Decrees like Phoebe’s or Metatron’s, this one took the form of a physical object – an unassuming ring mould. Yet, its bone-chilling effect prompted outrage from every deity across the cosmos.

The mould could be used to slay a god, subjecting them to a fate most cruel. It refined their flesh and soul, distilling their very understanding of magic into substance, condensing it into a ring. And once worn, this ring could let a mortal wield the slain deity’s most prized concept – effectively giving them a blessing. Even worse, the mortal could slowly acclimate to the new concept over time. Eventually, they could fully absorb the power into their being, so that they could wield it even without the ring.

Blinded by wrath, Svarog then hunted down the one who slighted him, torturing him to death. But he didn’t stop there, targeting the man’s associates next. Soon, he slaughtered them too, but he still wasn’t satisfied. Too great was his pain. Too bitter his loss. He kept going after more gods, butchering them one after the other, drowning his grief with blood…

99 gods the newly emerged titan hunted to quell his fury.

And 99 rings he crafted in total, one from each of his unfortunate victims.

The very notion of killing a god to give a mortal anything – let alone a blessing – was viewed as the ultimate blasphemy. After all, mortals were supposed to worship gods, not the other way around.

Thus, the 99 Rings of Sacrilege gained their name.

Raising arms in outrage, countless gods from countless words banded together to punish Svarog for his grave sin. Using the 99 slain deities as the excuse, they laid waste to anything the titan held dear. However, their righteous campaign was nothing but a front for their true purpose…

After all, mortals weren’t the only ones who could wield the Rings of Sacrilege. Gods could wear them as well, mastering concepts they hadn’t touched before. Ironically, the number of casualties in the resulting war over the rings utterly dwarfed Svarog’s victims. The scars left behind by the War of Hypocrites never truly healed. Entire worlds were destroyed, thousands of races having gone extinct.

As for the ring mould – Svarog’s Decree?

It shattered at some point, ensuring that no more rings could ever be crafted. Nobody knew how or why that happened, but one thing was for certain. No one ever managed to replicate Svarog’s feat. Not before, nor since. As for the instigator of the war himself, he seemingly vanished from the cosmos, never again to be seen. Some theorized he was dead, others that he was still hiding somewhere to this day.

And the rings… the 99 Rings of Sacrilege… The war scattered them throughout the cosmos, most of them lost for countless ages. By now, many of them had been found, a new war occurring every time that happened. Most of those ended up in the coffers of the largest factions in the universe.

But not all of them.

Plenty were still missing, their fate unknown…