Cultist of Cerebon - Chapter 36

Author’s Note: Made a change to chapter 31 in which I edited the mention of the ‘Baleful Five’ from implying that they had divine influence on all continents to only explicitly confirming their influence on Zumair.

Sorry this took a while, and that there's not a Sect's Elder post with it. Had a bit of writers blocks, and this chapter really kicked my ass to get done since it involves tying up a lot of loose narrative threads. Hope you enjoy.

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Cerebon’s divine realm immediately began to shift and change the moment Zareth’s words left his lips. The Skythrall which they were riding, the devastated landscape far below, and the twilight sky all gradually faded away until the two of them were standing alone in an empty void. 

Before Zareth could adjust to sudden change, Cerebon’s voice began to echo eerily through the divine realm.

“When I was born a scant few centuries prior to the System War, it was to a world already steeped in ancient history. Continent spanning empires had risen and fallen, leaving behind legacies of both wisdom and ruin. Heroes had banished threats that would have plunged the entire world into chaos, and mages had delved deeply into the Etherveil in their desire to understand and harness its energies.”

Zareth was astonished as the void rapidly shifted to reflect the god’s narrative, the illusions so realistic that it felt as if he was standing within the scenes himself. 

He was shown several majestic cities, many times grander and larger than Tal’Qamar, only to watch them crumble into dust one after another. He witnessed an armored human woman glowing brightly with Divine Essence as she swung at some manner of eldritch abomination several times her size, and observed a group of scholarly looking dwarves sorting books in a library so vast that he couldn’t see the end of it.

Zareth even let out a yelp of surprise and instinctively threw himself to the ground when he suddenly found himself in the middle of a group of mages throwing lightning at each other.

“Despite this, the development of our civilizations plateaued and remained largely stagnant for a significant length of time,” Cerebon said solemnly as his divine realm cycled through more and more images, completely ignoring Zareth’s antics. “The presence of magic resulted in a general lack of research into the natural sciences, and there existed a seemingly fundamental limit inherent to the Etherveil. What you refer to as ‘Sigils’ could only grow so complex before requiring levels of energy that mortal bodies were simply incapable of safely channeling, restricting the power and variety of spells that mages were able to cast.”

Content to listen while Cerebon continued to weave his story, Zareth remained silent as he picked himself up from the ground in embarrassment and did his best to focus on the illusions.

He was shown numerous scenes of mages on battlefields performing feats of magic not all that different from what he believed a decently leveled [War Mage] could achieve, which while impressive, was far from anything that might threaten actual gods. But more importantly, Zareth noticed that there was never any noteworthy signs of improvement in culture, technology, or magic despite how many images he was being shown.

Thus, he somewhat expected it when the next part of Cerebon’s story revealed a turning point that reshaped the course of this world’s history.

“This period of relative stagnancy existed for longer than any but the oldest of entities could possibly remember… until everything changed with a single, epochal discovery,” Cerebon said with a tone that was both distant and somber, as if he was lost in a memory. “While the minerals that would eventually come to be known as Stellarvoid Crystals were too few to be particularly useful, they possessed an anomalous property not previously found in any known material.”

The divine realm transformed to reveal a meteor plummeting through the sky toward a small coastal settlement. Zareth watched the vivid scene with avid interest for several moments, until he noticed that the meteor appeared as if it was heading right for him and couldn’t help panicking.

He was sincerely glad that the deafening explosion covered the sound of his screams.

Okay, he had to have done that on purpose, Zareth thought as he moved away from the impact site and glanced suspiciously at the god, only to feel doubtful when he saw Cerebon was as stoic as ever.

It wasn’t long before the dust settled and a group of curious human villagers carrying makeshift weapons arrived at the crater, only to find it filled with pitch-black crystals that seemed to swallow all light around them.

What happened next made Zareth wish that Cerebon's little illusionary display was a little less realistic, as a young man with too much bravery and not enough sense touched one of the crystals. 

The young man’s screams as his body began to convulse, shrivel, and rapidly crystallize were as terrifying as they were familiar.

“Shit. What the hell are those things?” Zareth blurted out, stepping back reflexively from the scene and glaring warily at the crystals.

It reminded him far too much of the Cult of the Unfettered One’s actions in Jabal-Alma to be a coincidence.

“The Stellarvoid Crystals have the unique characteristic of making mortal souls unnaturally malleable in close proximity,” said Cerebon, a rare note of excitement in the god’s voice as he began to academically explain the gruesome death in front of them. “I’ll spare you the complex thaumaturgical theory, but in summation, what you just witnessed was the human boy’s soul losing its ability to properly process ambient Ether. This resulted in full-body crystallization as the mortal Ether transitioned from a metaphysical form into a physical one in a phenomenon that had not been well understood prior to the arrival of these crystals, which modern mages refer to as Etheric Concretion. Research into it is responsible for the existence of most materials capable of storing Ether.”

Zareth couldn’t help but feel like he was back in college when Cerebon spoke to him as if he were a young student attending an Eldamiri academy. He couldn’t help but think that the god must have been a mage during his mortal life, as Cerebon seemed more than content sharing information about magical theory.

It was certainly fascinating, though a bit morbid even by Zareth’s standards given the confused villagers screaming and crying around the crystalline corpse, but there was one detail that stood out to him.

“But… There are so many examples of materials that can do exactly that. Are you telling me that none of them existed before the discovery of these crystals, Lord Cerebon?” asked Zareth, feeling skeptical as he cautiously studied the crater of soul-altering space rocks.

Even excluding Ethershards, [Artificers] across the world had plenty of options for ways to power their creations, such as Sunstones.

“Correct. For a period of several decades, countless experiments across the world focused on replicating and refining the properties of the Stellarvoid Crystals,” Cerebon patiently explained, seemingly pleased with his question. “While progress was laggard in understanding the effect they had on souls, many other discoveries were made as a result of this research, such as in the field of Etheric Concretion. From the Ethershard ritual to the creation of self-replicating elementals with their own crystalline power sources, a variety of inventive methods meant that Ether-storing materials became commonplace for the first time in history. Naturally, the effect this had on our civilizations was completely and utterly transformative.”

Before Zareth could fully process the implication of Cerebon’s words, the divine realm abruptly shifted once again and he found himself plummeting through the sky shouting in surprise. Almost instantly, he felt a firm grip catch him by the collar and he turned back to see Cerebon flying steadily in the air with the aid of two massive, bat-like wings.

“What the f—?” Zareth shouted out, before suddenly remembering who he was talking to and continuing with a strained tone of respect. “I mean… is this really necessary, Lord Cerebon?”

“Perhaps not, but I felt this would give you the best view of the city,” said Cerebon, his voice calm as if he wasn’t holding one of his followers like a misbehaving cat . “Besides, as the God of Transformation, I am typically reluctant to remain in a singular form for an extended period of time. Especially when recounting the most dramatic transformative moment in our world’s history. I suggest you grow accustomed to this.”

Zareth had absolutely no idea how true that was but it wasn’t as if he was going to call bullshit on a deity, so he simply turned his attention downward and was immediately confronted by a cityscape that stretched as far as his three eyes could see.

Its structures were marked by sweeping curves, intricate silver embellishments, and were all adorned by crystals that shone with a soft, golden hue. These magical crystal seemed to pull in dense streams of Ether from below the earth and redirected the energy into a diverse array of magical devices and constructs all across the city.

Humanoid golems that patrolled the streets, intricate networks of levitating platforms which transported people and goods with fluid efficiency, and impossibly complex enchantments infused into the very fabric of the cityscape were all powered by these very same crystals.

Moreover, Zareth estimated from the city’s sheer magnitude that it could possibly support a population in the several millions, which was a difficult feat to match in a world that lacked advanced technology—even with the advantages of the System. Great Mu and Eldamir City were the only cities that he knew of which may even come close to rivaling this metropolis in scale, though he couldn’t say for certain.

Even the population itself was surprisingly diverse as the city's streets teemed with an assorted throng of beings; familiar races like humans and shivarath mingled with those Zareth had only ever heard of or knew nothing about. An example of the latter being an unknown race of bipedal, horned, ogre-sized reptilians with large wings folded neatly along their backs and appearances somewhat more bestial than those of the lizardkin. He also spotted several individuals with elongated, pointed ears and sharp features that resembled humans in an almost uncanny and eerie manner, unmistakably marking them as elves.

All things considered, it was a truly imposing sight that outstripped any of the civilizations that Cerebon had shown him previously. The difference was almost like looking at pictures of cities from the medieval period to those that had gone through the industrial revolution.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” asked Cerebon, his voice thick with nostalgia as he began to fly through the city while carrying Zareth like a sack of potatoes. “The long stagnation of magical research meant that there were many magical theories and ideas that had accumulated within the libraries of our scholars. Once we gained access to cheap and increasingly sophisticated means of storing Ether and were able to break through the Etherveil’s fundamental restraints on Sigil complexity, it was as if a dam had burst. Innovation flourished and optimism spread throughout the realms. It was… truly a unique time to have been alive, with cities like Nymelle being a product of this new era.”

It certainly looked prosperous, and while appearances could be deceiving, Zareth found it hard to imagine that his second life would have been quite so difficult if he’d been born on these streets. 

However, the affluence of long dead civilizations wasn’t topping his list of priorities. Especially when he knew that this prosperous moment of history was merely a prelude to a world changing war.

He was far more interested in learning how this could have resulted in the creation of the System.

“Lord Cerebon, you implied that the System was designed by the gods to somehow… limit people, but I’ve yet to see how this story is leading to that outcome,” Zareth asked curiously, his mind filled with speculation as he glanced up to the god. “While this is all very impressive, sufficiently leveled [Architects] and [Masons] would likely be able to create these structures if they rediscovered the materials used to make them and [Artificers] could replicate most of the magical tools. Not to mention the fact that means of storing magic are still commonplace and the Etherveil is still accessible, even if it’s not as well studied. I haven’t seen anything here which the System would be effective in preventing.”

The only other important factor would simply be time, as Zareth hadn’t noticed any of the stagnation that Cerebon had described earlier during his studying of post System War history. So long as there weren’t any society ending events, the world would eventually return to this level of development.

“A worthy question, but you must first understand the context that led to the System’s implementation,” said Cerebon, flying them both down to a nearby terrace now that he’d already shown Zareth had already seen most of the city from above. “And the conflicts that preceded it.”

“I assume that context involves those ‘Mage-Lords’ who you mentioned were threatening to overshadow the gods,” said Zareth, glad to be back on solid ground and growing more immersed in Cerebon’s story. “As difficult as I find that to believe.”

Even Archmage Agnazir’s presence felt like a mere candle compared to the all encompassing inferno that was Cerebon’s divine aura. It almost seemed impossible to imagine that any mortal, especially one without the System, would ever be able to come close to that level of power.

“Your skepticism is warranted. Even with such achievements, the ascendant Mage-Lords had not been seen as a genuine threat to the gods,” Cerebon explained, his wings merging back into his body. “Deities do not exist physically within the mortal realm and the Mage-Lords had no particular motivation to target their worshippers. This perception only began to change when it became clear that the mortals were finally making progress in understanding the Stellarvoid Crystal’s anomalous ability to affect souls. Tell me, my servant. What do you know of how deities come to be, or from where they derive their power?”

Zareth was startled by the sudden change in topic. He assumed that Cerebon was already well aware of how little Zareth or anyone else knew about the subject, but he still took a moment to seriously consider his answer before responding.

The Grimoire of Cerebon hadn’t said much about the nature of gods, but he had done a decent amount of research when he started earning some gold. Heck, Zareth only learned that mortals could become gods after Cerebon had taken an interest in him, which was information that he could find no public mention of anywhere.

Having gathered his thoughts, Zareth turned to Cerebon with the intention of giving his response only to see what appeared to be a horse-sized centipede silently looking back with an almost comedic patience. 

Zareth considered saying something, but a faint suspicion that Cerebon was messing with him led him to simply shudder in disgust before answering the god’s question.

“Given the nature of Divine Essence and that the majority of gods have shown a desire to accumulate worshipers, it's obvious that they contribute to their deities' power. Though whether or not worshipers account for the entirety of a god’s power is a matter of debate, and I certainly don’t have an answer. As for the question of where gods actually come from, that is even less clear.”

He had absolutely no idea how, but Cerebon’s insectoid face somehow managed to express satisfaction at his answer.

“The exact details of divine nature and the process of achieving godhood is intentionally obfuscated by deities across the world,” said Cerebon, his mandibles clicking in rhythm as he spoke. “However, one prerequisite for apotheosis is exceedingly obvious to any competent [Theologian], a soul that is sufficiently powerful enough to withstand ascendancy. There are a variety of natural means to strengthen one’s soul, such as through spiritual enlightenment, intense personal trials, and extended service to a divine entity, but all paths require immense dedication and effort. Thus, if the Mage-Lords succeeded in developing the means to accomplish this artificially, then—”

“Then the gods would gain too many rivals,” said Zareth, eyes widening as the puzzle pieces finally began to slowly fit together. “If you were a mortal who became a god by usurping Meldorath, that means all of the other gods would be constantly at risk of suffering the same fate if the means of doing so were to become widespread.”

Zareth only realized after the fact that he’d interrupted Cerebon in the middle of speaking, but his too-many-legged god thankfully didn’t appear all that upset.

“Correct, my clever little Apostle,” said Cerebon, a chittering noise that could only signify approval escaping from his mandibles. “Once they understood the threat, the gods immediately made attempts to stifle mortal progress, from banning means of storing Ether or suppressing research into the Stellarvoid Crystals. Unfortunately for them, the Mage-Lords had already too effectively centralized power and even learned how to drastically empower their souls. This allowed them to reach heights of magical ability never before seen by mortals. Thus, civil conflict between the various religious institutions and the magocracies inevitably grew into war.”

Before he could respond, Cerebon’s divine realm began to bombard Zareth with images that left him shocked speechless.

A female elf, barely older than himself, looking floating idly over what looked to be an ancient city carved into the side of a massive mountain, its defenses seemingly impenetrable. Yet with a mere flick of the wrist, the fabric of space itself tore and twisted and the entire mountain which the city had been built upon was fractured into a kaleidoscope of collapsing realities, each layer folding and tearing repeatedly. When the storm of spatial distortions finally ceased, the city and everything within it had been torn into countless pieces and laid fragmented across the disfigured mountain.

An elderly shivarath, his expression cruel and filled with malice, cackling madly as he flew in the eye of a hurricane so fierce that its winds shattered apart coastlines and sank several island nations into the ocean. The sheer calamity and devastation left in his wake so great, that he reshaped the very geography of the world.

A group of dwarvish mages performing an experimental ritual that catastrophically failed and created a rift in reality. An endless horde of creatures—which were so monstrous and alien that Cerebon was forced to hide their appearances when Zareth’s three eyes bled at the mere sight of them—poured from the rift and wreaked havoc. Their presence alone was enough to corrupt the land, and supposedly explained why the native continent of the dwarves, Grimharan, was still a twisted hellhole to this day. 

Needless to say, it quickly became clear to Zareth that the mages of the modern era paled in comparison to the absurd power wielded by their Pre-System counterparts. 

“With confirmation that they held the potential to threaten the gods, the Mage-Lords grew covetous of divine power and began collaborating to uncover the secrets of apotheosis,” Cerebon said as the cataclysmic imagery gave way to a group of eight extravagantly dressed mages seated and debating around a massive ornate table filled with magical tomes. “In response, the gods sought the means to strengthen their servants and break the stalemate before the Mage-Lords could achieve their ambitions.”

That made sense to Zareth. He was accustomed to living in a world where people like Rizok or other warriors could break the sound barrier or employ a wide variety of esoteric abilities, but the Pre-System warriors would have needed to rely on enchanted equipment.

He had a very difficult time believing that some guy with a flaming sword or unnaturally robust armor would be able to challenge what he’d just been shown, even if they had a few divine blessings.

“Then… I assume this is when the gods began considering the System?” asked Zareth.

He knew that the System modified souls to grant people supernatural abilities and the gods needed stronger servants if they were to win their war, so it seemed like a straightforward conclusion. 

“Indeed. It was a plan proposed by Prajnia, the Goddess of Knowledge,” Cerebon was quick to confirm his theory with a nod of his terrifying head. “She had long since finished analyzing the Stellarvoid Crystals for its properties and acquired a secondary domain over Souls. Therefore, it was well within her means to construct a metaphysical framework through which their mortal servants could be systematically empowered. Not only would this proposed ‘System’ allow the gods to bolster their forces, but it could be designed in a way that prevented mortals from significantly modifying their own souls while disincentivizing further development in ‘dangerous’ areas of magical research. It was quite an elegant solution.”

Having finally reached a point in Cerebon’s narrative that was as directly relevant to his life as the System, Zareth immediately perked up and considered the implications of what he’d just heard.

Ever since he had heard that the innovation which caused the Mage-Lords to become a threat to the gods was an easy means of modifying and strengthening souls, he’d one question on his mind. How was the System a reasonable response to that problem when it essentially empowered mortal souls as one of its prime functions?

Now that he understood a little bit more, things were starting to make sense. It was safe to assume that the System would only empower a soul to a point well below what was necessary for apotheosis, while its natural protections against meddling would prevent artificial meddling.

Not to mention, Zareth had first hand knowledge just how powerful disincentivizing something with a quicker and more convenient alternative could be. One only had to look at how few people there were studying the Etherveil in favor of simply becoming [Mages] through the System to see the effectiveness of such a strategy.

Cerebon was right that it was a clever plan that was nearly guaranteed to be successful… there was just one issue.

“Then… what went wrong?” asked Zareth, genuinely confused as he thought back to everything he knew about the System War. “What you’ve described so far is a conflict between all of the gods against the Mage-Lords, with the gods eventually developing a plan that should have effectively allowed them to win the conflict. But… that isn’t what happened, is it?”

According to the tome of Meldorath and every other historical account that Zareth had managed to get his hands on, the conflict had been between two warring factions of gods. Tareth, the God of Freedom and his allies on one side, and several pantheons that included the Aeonarch and the Conclave on the other.

So what had happened to the Mage-Lords and what had caused this rift among the gods?

“While all of the gods agreed with Prajnia’s plan in principle, it shouldn’t be a surprise to hear that there was significant disagreement on the System’s actual implementation,” Cerebon said dispassionately, as if such a conclusion was inevitable. “The largest division arising between those who believed that it should only be used as a means of preventing artificial soul empowerment, and those who believed that the System should be modified to prevent all mortals from attaining godhood without authorization from the most powerful pantheons.”

Zareth supposed he should have seen that coming. When the chance came for those in power to further cement their positions, it was utterly predictable that they would do so. 

"It’s honestly shocking that there were some gods who didn’t want to limit their competition,” said Zareth, withholding a sigh of relief as he noticed Cerebon finally shifting away from his centipede form. “Even more so that there were enough of them to actually put up a fight.”

“They were heavily outnumbered, but there were a few Mage-Lords who aided them in a bid to ensure that even a glimmer of hope for apotheosis remained available,” said Cerebon, shrugging carelessly in the form of a young shivarath man wearing scholarly robes and… hair made of centipedes. “It was not exactly a strong alliance, but the Mage-Lords and the gods led by Tareth were rational enough actors to avoid coming into serious conflict while focusing their efforts on a mutual enemy.”

Zareth hummed in acknowledgement as he did his best to ignore the fact that the god had chosen to cover his head in one of the few animals that made his skin crawl.

By now, he was almost certain that Cerebon was amusing himself at his expense.

“As for why some deities preferred not to overly limit mortals from ascending to godhood, there were a few like Prajnia who opposed entirely on a moral basis, but the majority were entirely self-interested,” Cerebon continued, seemingly unaware or uncaring of his follower’s suspicions. “They either held domains such as Freedom or Change that would have been negatively affected by the System restricting mortals, or they simply understood that only the most influential pantheons would choose who ascended.”

Zareth fell into a contemplative silence once Cerebon finally finished his explanation of the events leading to the System War, the divine realm shifting back to a blank void as the god graciously gave him time to think.

The information that Cerebon had shared with him was invaluable, and likely wasn’t anything that he could have learned from a source other than someone old enough to remember participating in these events personally. Even just listening to Cerebon speak made Zareth feel as if [Atavistic Apostle] was progressing to its next level at breakneck speed. 

But as fascinating as he found ancient history, Zareth was more concerned at what consequences it had on himself and his cult. 

The most significant implication so far was that the ‘bad guys’ in Cerebon’s story are the ones who eventually emerged victorious. The God of Freedom was nowhere to be seen while the pantheons who wished to exploit the System to their own ends were still around, the Conclave being the most relevant to Zareth’s circumstances.

Did that mean that it was currently impossible for any mortals to become gods?

That’s… most likely the case, Zareth concluded grimly after spending several minutes trying and failing to recall any mention of an unknown deity showing up. If not for Cerebon, he would have believed that the gods were unchanging beings who had always held their positions. 

Someone as weak as Zareth wasn’t qualified to hold ambitions toward godhood. But as a person whose primary goal for the past few years was to acquire enough power to protect himself, knowing that there was an invisible barrier artificially limiting him… rankled.

Despite that, the more important question was whether or not the Conclave and the other pantheons had complete control over the System. He had to assume that they didn’t, because the consequences would be disastrous otherwise. 

Zareth felt his heart drop as he imagined Tal’Qamar nearly succeeding in entirely removing the Conclave’s influence from the Qahtani Desert, only for all of their Classes and Skills to suddenly disappear. The thought of inexplicably losing an entire lifetime's worth of effort made him want to vomit.

Stop. Don’t be an idiot. If something like that was even remotely possible, then I would have heard about it happening, Zareth thought as he forced himself to calm down. Classes were practically considered to be sacred by everyone in this world, so a story about one spontaneously being lost would have spread like wildfire. Still… I should probably ask Cerebon, just to be safe.”

Zareth was never more relieved than when Cerebon snorted in faint amusement and looked at him as if he was an idiot.

“Of course not. Those arrogant fools would have never been able to resist using such power if they possessed it,” said Cerebon, sneering disdainfully as his hair chittered in agitation. 

“That’s… really good,” said Zareth, fully calming down now that the worst case scenario had been dispelled. 

After taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he decided to turn his attention back to the actual history that Cerebon had brought him here to learn. He already knew which side had won the System War, that it had been catastrophic enough to destroy most of Valandor’s landscape, and that it had lasted for around two centuries.

He wasn’t exactly interested in receiving a step-by-step recounting of every single battle that occurred and doubted that Cerebon would bother with minutiae regardless.

From everything that he knew about history, there was really only one important part of the System War that Zareth needed to ask about if he wanted to understand how it related to his current circumstances.

“Lord Cerebon, how did the System War end? And for that matter, how did the Conclave’s side manage to defeat the God of Freedom?” asked Zareth, deciding to focus on what was most likely the conflict's pivotal moment. “From what I understand, he not only had the support of several Mage-Lords but also had Prajnia on his side, whose Soul domain was necessary for the System’s creation. How did he lose?”

Worryingly, Zareth’s question caused Cerebon to fall into a long, heavy silence as the god seemed to cease moving entirely until he resembled a rather disturbing statue. The surrounding void somehow managed to grow darker and began to tremble in a foreboding manner. 

Unsure what to do, Zareth remained silent as Cerebon’s tense, uncomfortable stillness stretched on, the deity's divine presence growing more and more suffocating with each passing moment. He didn’t know exactly how long this lasted for, but Zareth eventually noticed Cerebon’s shape slowly shifting until the god was wearing a visage that somehow seemed… different from those that he’d seen before.

Cerebon’s newest form resembled the unknown, ogre-sized reptilian race that Zareth had earlier seen walking through the magical city, distinguished only by an apparent absence of wings. His scales were a deep shade of obsidian, and his slit eyes glinted with a crimson hue that seemed to emit their own faint light. He had a slight build, large horns growing from his temples, and for some reason wore a rather plain cloak over the much more extravagant robes that were reminiscent of the Mage-Lords he had seen earlier.

It wasn’t until he noticed Cerebon held a long, twisted staff of flesh and bone, topped with a large eyeball and emanating terrible power that Zareth suddenly realized why this form seemed different.

He had seen it before during the Rite of Flesh Liberation, when he had sworn further oaths to Cerebon and experienced a series of visions. He vividly remembered that the last of them involved himself wearing an appearance extremely similar to the one Cerebon was wearing now, and looking down at an indistinct battlefield with contempt. 

Is… this what Cerebon looked like when he was a mortal? Zareth wondered uncertainly, before growing increasingly confident of his guess the more he gave it thought. 

He sincerely doubted that the Rite of Flesh Liberation would have shown him that vision if it wasn’t related to Cerebon. That, and the being in front of Zareth certainly looked like the kind of person who could usurp a Goddess of Flesh and achieve apotheosis. 

Before Zareth could begin to consider the implications of this, a shiver of dread ran down his spine when Cerebon finally broke the silence, his voice menacingly quiet and brimming with barely concealed hatred. 

“That… is a question to which has a very simple and very infuriating answer. Betrayal. Five selfish vermin who made a decision that turned them into unfathomable monstrosities, ended the war in a single, horrific day, and nearly cost me everything.”

The sheer loathing in Cerebon’s eyes as his divine realm shifted to display five Mage-Lords chanting and channeling magic around an unfathomably complex ritual site was enough to chill Zareth to the bone.

A grim-faced ogre in enchanted armor who looked more like a noble Warrior-King than a traitorous Mage-Lord.

An ageless elvish woman, the left side of her body entirely composed of wood and wearing robes made from verdant leaves that shimmered with an ethereal glow.

A young human man wearing an expression that spoke of deep arrogance and covered from head to toe in priceless enchanted jewelry, his eyes alight with almost manic intelligence.

A elderly dwarvish woman with wild, untamed hair who hummed under her breath and jerked erratically while casting.

Cerebon looked at all of these Mage-Lords with disdain, but it was the last of them who seemed to draw his deepest scorn. A gray-scaled mage of the same species as Cerebon with massive, spread wings and air of severity around him.

“Unbeknownst to the God of Freedom or his allies, a small group of traitors had been approached with a proposal by their enemies,” Cerebon began, eyes trained coldly on the reptilian Mage-Lord. “In return for their cooperation in ending a conflict that had destroyed much of the world and long since fallen into stalemate, these five Mage-Lords would be taught a ritual capable of granting them the prize they had been seeking for centuries. Ascendancy to godhood.”

“Sounds too good to be true,” said Zareth, not believing that a group of gods who had spent so long fighting to control the path to mortal apotheosis would freely give such a ritual to their enemies. 

“Naturally, it was,” Cerebon immediately confirmed, his tone grim. “They should have known this, but by then, the Mage-Lords had lost much of their advantage against the gods compared to the initial stages of the war and had grown desperate. To the detriment of many, including themselves.”

As if in response to Cerebon’s words, the ritual being conducted by the five Mage-Lords finally reached its zenith.

What followed made the eyeball-bleeding eldritch monstrosities from earlier seem harmless in comparison.

Zareth let out a grunt of pain as he was suddenly struck by a splitting headache, the illusionary image of the ritual almost seeming to glitch like a broken screen before shattering entirely. His mind was then assaulted by images of the Mage-Lords being… twisted into something unnatural.

A mountain-sized giant clad in fragmented armor that constantly seethed with ethereal flame. Petty grudges and deeply held animosities inflamed into conflicts that engulfed the world, leaving no hope for peace.

A gaunt, vaguely feminine figure with skin that mimicked the bark of a dead, drought stricken tree. Swarms of locusts and other pests stripping entire nations bare as countless people withered in hunger.

A grotesque abomination that was an amalgamation of various creatures, its flesh embedded with beautiful jewelry in a macabre display of wealth. Never before seen monsters being birthed from its body and spreading chaos across the lands.

A capricious and unsettling figure, the only consistent feature being her twisted, manic grin. Her laughter appeared in the dreams of the unfortunate, turning their sleep into nightmares of twisted visions that slowly drove them to madness. 

And finally, a hulking brutish figure whose skin was covered in ravenous maws that hungered for flesh and spoke of subjugation. Across the world, an entire race of people was dominated and malformed into twisted versions of themselves, every trace of who they once were erased. 

Zareth was only freed from these dreadful visions when Cerebon’s divine realm finally stabilized, returning them to a semblance of calm. The god waited until Zareth managed to compose himself before explaining what he had just seen.

“The ritual given to the Mage-Lords had been perverted, intentionally sabotaged to create monstrous beings who would cause widespread devastation,” said Cerebon, the hatred in his voice giving way to apathy as his eyes grew glassy and distant. “The Aeonarch and their allies had taken measures to protect their own territories against the fallout, so the birth of the Baleful Five affected them significantly less than it did their enemies. Tareth’s worshipers were hunted down and slaughtered in the resulting chaos, weakening him enough for him to be slain. Once he was gone, Prajnia disappeared soon after and every mortal in the world soon gained access to the System, though likely in an imperfect manner given the existence of System Spawn. It was only because I’d made prior preparations that I was able to usurp Meldorath once that occurred. I’d show you images of the final portions of the war, but I imagine that to be unnecessary.

Zareth hurriedly shook his head in agreement, having seen enough stomach churning imagery for one day. 

Pretty much every deity in this world was one that had either positive or neutral domains associated with them, as they were the most competitive when it came to receiving worship. After all, who would want to devote themselves to the Goddess of Puppy-kicking or the God of Orphan-stomping?

That's why the existence of five deities, the Baleful Five, who were unambiguously malevolent was a phenomenon that had never made sense to Zareth. But none of them had much influence on Valandor, so he hadn’t really given it much thought.

Zareth honestly wanted to move past the horrifying ways in which the System War ended and change the topic to the immediate fallout, but there was something he had to say first.

“I’m sorry that happened to you, Lord Cerebon.”

Zareth worried that he’d overstepped his boundaries when Cerebon seemed to startle out of his thoughts and turn to him with an intense gaze. “You are… sorry? And what exactly do you presume to be sorry for, mortal?”

“I saw a vision of who I assume was Choantin, God of Slavery and Cannibalism,” Zareth cautiously admitted, hoping that the god wouldn’t smite him for bringing up bad memories. “One of him mutating and dominating the race that you’re currently assuming the form of…”

That said race was by all signs seemingly non-existent in current times wasn’t something that needed to be said, the implication hanging heavy between them. 

Cerebon tensed, falling silent for several tense moments before he visibly composed himself and nodded in acknowledgement. 

“Your condolences are… appreciated. There are few who even know that we draconians once existed, let alone mourn our passing, as I can tell you genuinely do,” said Cerebon, his tone one of somber gratitude as he remained silent for a long moment. Eventually, his eyes grew sharp as he turned his focus back to the present. “However, I am far more interested in what you can do to help me punish those responsible. The Aeonarch is currently beyond either of our means to confront, but the Conclave is just as culpable for the death of my people and is even more of a danger to your burgeoning cult than you know.”

Zareth found it hard to imagine how that could be the case given that he’d already assumed the Conclave would gleefully exterminate his cult if they ever got their hands on Tal’Qamar…

His disbelief must have shown on his face, because Cerebon scoffed and continued speaking before he could ask for clarification. 

“You doubt me. What if I were to tell you, mortal, that winning your war against the Conclave is only slightly less likely to doom your cult than losing it?”

I would think that you’re insane.

“I would ask for further clarification, Lord Cerebon,” Zareth said diplomatically, extremely grateful for [Obscure Cognition]. “How exactly would something like that be possible?”

In a sign that the god had finished with his history lesson, Cerebon’s divine realm slowly shifted back to the endless stretch of writhing flesh and ancient ruins that seemed to be its preferred state. A distant part of Zareth’s mind now recognized the decayed structures as belonging to Nymelle, but most of his focus was on Cerebon.

“As you just witnessed, the conclusion of the System War was far from straightforward and left the victorious gods with a host of ensuing complications that they grapple with to this day,” Cerebon said as he approached his throne and languidly settled into it. “Mortal resiliency has addressed most of the devastation caused by the System War, but the Baleful Five have emerged as a threat that require significant resources to contain. Meanwhile, assistance from those who oppose them have allowed anti-System organizations to persistently erode the established pantheons’ power. To the point that the Conclave was even forced to flee their native lands with the aid of powerful mortal factions.”

A grim possibility struck Zareth as he listened to the god and recalled Cerebon’s deep personal losses from the war, prompting him to interrupt. “Lord Cerebon, are you…”

“No, mortal, I am not among those aiding groups such as the Cult of the Unfettered One,” Cerebon said dryly, eyes narrowing slightly in irritation as he cut off Zareth’s question. “Most attribute them to the God of Freedom’s inner circle, who disappeared after the war, due to the way they choose to name themselves. Though why they pursue the System’s destruction rather than reconstitution is a mystery.”

Cult of the Unfettered One. God of Freedom. How did I not put that together? Zareth thought to himself with a healthy dose of chastisement. He’d even asked Vidhatri for a translation of the name of the anti-System group in Zumair, the Moksha Sanga, after she mentioned them and learned it meant something like ‘Liberation Group’ with a religious connotation.

Zareth was relieved to hear that he wouldn’t be forced to support a group of lunatics that kidnapped people and turned them into magical crystals. Also, while he didn’t like the System was being exploited by the gods and used to restrict mortals, he didn’t actually want it gone.

The consequences of that would be disastrous if those factions actually succeeded.

…which would presumably be more likely if pantheons responsible for preserving the System were to suddenly collapse.

Pantheons like the Conclave.

Shit.

“Good. You understand,” Cerebon said with a nod of satisfaction. “Then do you now know why I said it is necessary for you to aid me in the construction of a new pantheon in Tal’Qamar capable of confronting the Conclave?”

“So that we can take on their role after the Conclave has been destroyed,” said Zareth, his mind racing to connect the dots. “That’s why you supported me rooting the Cult of the Unfettered One out of Jabal-Alma, because you know they’ll be targeting us once that happens. But how does that relate to… everything else? The tome of Meldorath? The visions that I received from [Atavistic Insight]?”

“The System requires vast amounts of Ether to function, which is why the established pantheon has gone to great lengths to hide the world's leyline nexuses,” said Cerebon. “Meldorath’s tome and [Atavistic Apostle] will both aid you greatly in locating the one on Valandor, which is a crucial part of my plans.”

That… made sense to Zareth, and put into context a lot of things that he hadn’t previously understood. 

He wishes that he had been told all of this much earlier instead of being cryptically led around by the nose, but he understood why Cerebon hadn’t done so given how easily this information could have been pulled from his mind. 

Zareth wasn’t particularly opposed with any of Cerebon’s wishes. The Conclave was already an enemy and preventing the System from being destroyed was probably a good idea, but there were a few complications…

“Lord Cerebon, what exactly does it mean to form a pantheon?” asked Zareth, entirely ignorant of divine politics. 

“It simply signifies that a group of deities have agreed to cooperate in a fairly formal manner,” said Cerebon. “I’ve already extended overtures to Gendal, Silvaris, the Serene One, and Ghisara. I hold confidence that I’ll be able to convince them of the benefits of mutual cooperation.”

“Then, what exactly is my role in this, Lord Cerebon?” Zareth asked hesitantly, tilting his head in confusion. “Won’t their worshipers fall in line if you persuade their gods?”

“They should, though my agreements with my fellow deities will likely involve you and your cult providing certain services to their mortal followers,” Cerebon said with a dismissive wave before leaning forward in his throne, his maw twisted into a smirk. “However, I speculate that one of them holds ambitions that make her more… troublesome to deal with than the rest. That’s why I’ll need you to verify if my suspicions about her are correct.”

Zareth was only confused for a moment before realizing who Cerebon was referring to, sparking a small surge of anticipation. 

“And then, Lord Cerebon?” Zareth asked eagerly as he leaned forward, his own expression shifting to mirror the god’s.

“Then, we either convince Ghisara and her mortal worshipers that her ambitions would be better served aligned with ours,” said Cerebon, his gaze sharp and calculating. “Or I lend you more of my power, and we teach them the consequences of being our enemy."

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Author's Note: Oof. That was pretty big info-dump, but felt it was necessary to address a lot of the stuff that's been unexplained up until this point in the story. Really hoping that I didn't miss anything and that I managed to make Cerebon's story-hour entertaining.