Girl Who Killed a God Remake - Chapter 3

“Immortality is a myth,” Grace muttered, spitting out a gob of blood. “Only the gods are immortal… while us humans are forced to wither and die.” The metallic tang of blood lingered on her tongue as she chuckled. “Besides, why in the Hells would I want to live forever in this rotten world?”

Laughter filled the decrepit house along with the sickly-sweet stench of death.  The old man winked at her before casually pulling the sword from his chest. A single spurt of blood seeped out from the wound before dispersing into a puff of crimson smoke. The wound closed in a second and the tear in the dark robe he wore repaired itself a moment later.

In an instant, a mortal wound vanished as if it never happened at all.

Even as wounded as she was, it was a damned effective display to back up the strangers claims of being immortal.

Her ears still rang from the blow she had taken across her head. Wincing, Grace looked up into the old man’s dark eyes and spoke. “Are you a god?”

Somehow during the struggle, one of the coin purses she’d stolen had fallen out of her pocket, and instead of answering her, the stranger bent to pick up an errant silver lyrani that had tumbled out. He picked up the roughly stamped coin and held it up to the finger thin moonlight streaming through the broken window.

“Such a little thing… yet it’s become the ruin of the world. Empires have risen and fallen—all in the pursuit of a bit of worthless metal.” He turned to glance at her with a piercing gaze. “Blood now stains your hands. A mark indelibly upon your soul, and your own life nearly forfeit… all for a few handfuls of silver. Tell me, was it worth it?”

Grace tried to speak, but a flare of pain robbed her of breath, and she was wracked with a fit of coughs that threatened to drown her in an ocean of misery. She curled in on herself as her vision blurred and sunspots danced behind her eyes.

“Oh, how inconsiderate of me. I forget how fragile you mortals can be sometimes.” The old man dropped the coin and knelt beside her. With a kindness in his eyes that flew in the face of the utter ease with which he snuffed out the life of those two guards, he smiled at her and placed a hand to her side. “You passed my first test and resisted the call of abyss. You shook off the fog of death easily enough, so you’ve earned a small boon at the very least.”

With that, his hand grew warm, and that warmth quickly spread and settled into her bones. A writhing itch—like a thousand ants had buried beneath her skin spread throughout here entire body, before something shifted in her chest. There was a sharp snap and a thump of pressure before she the pain vanished, and she could breathe normally again.

“As a token of goodwill, I also removed the beginning stages of Wraithlung from your body… all that smoke from Cressida burning really did a number on you. I would also have your little brother checked out by a physician. It’s likely early enough to save Levi permanent lung damage.”

His words shocked her to her core, and she sat up almost on impulse. The overwhelming need to go check on her brother flooded through her, but even as she had the thought to run, it slipped from her mind like grains of sand. Grace could do nothing. She was rooted to the spot as the old man stood and stared down at her.

“Not so fast, Grace Akem, I’m not finished with you yet.” His dark eyes held her gaze, not letting her turn away no matter how much she wanted. “You haven’t answered my question. Was it worth it?”

Was it worth it?

Was stealing to survive worth the risk of getting caught—no, but she didn’t have much choice. Toran was flooded with refugees. Every surviving Malkin with even a scrap of talent had already taken what few jobs there were available. Weeks of searching every inch of the city looking for work, slowly eating through what little coin Grace had managed to save after fleeing Cressida.

Eventually, Grace had turned to begging like so many others, but by then, any sense of obligation or charitable spirit from even the most kindhearted citizens of Toran had dwindled to nothing after months of paying alms to the desperate.

They just didn’t care anymore.

They had their own lives to lead, and their own to care for. They couldn’t afford to keep being charitable indefinitely.

And so, Grace was left with two choices. Let her and Levi starve or do something about it. No matter what it took.

Grace was a survivor.

And apparently, a natural thief.

Despite barely six months after the fall of Malkin, Grace was plying her newfound trade with the skill of career thieves. She’d sort of fallen in with a gang in lowtown, and they’d helped show her the ropes of not just how to steal, but where to sell her goods afterward. They’d also taught her how to defend herself, and she took to knifework almost as instinctively as she did to thieving.

Now she was one of their best earners, and that came with its own privileges. She was still a far cry from their modest life of comfort back in Cressida, but at least she didn’t go hungry anymore.

And neither did Levi.

“Yes,” she eventually said. “Yes. It’s worth it. Whatever it takes to keep me and my brother fed and safe.” She met the old man’s eyes without flinching. “That to me is worth more than the lives of a hundred Toran guards. A thousand. If they stand in my way, I’ll do what I have to without hesitation.”

Wrinkles appeared as he smiled down at her, each of his teeth a dazzling white and somehow more perfect than any smile she had ever seen before.

“Then I will ask you again: do you want to live forever? If it will give you the strength you need to keep your brother safe from harm? If the power I offer allows you to avenge your parent’s deaths and to get revenge on the ones who brought Malkin to ruin? Is that an enticing offer?”

His voice was so overwhelming. It beckoned her to say yes. Like the smell of fresh bread or cooking meat, her mouth watered, wanting her to acknowledge that she did. The fear of what that meant, though, kept her jaw sealed shut.

That and the single truth of this world.

Nothing is free.

“All at only the low, low cost of my soul, right?”

“Oh, you can keep your soul.” He chuckled. “After all, if you live up to the spark I see inside you, I’ll never have a chance to collect it.” He waved her off. “I don’t need something quite so immaterial… what I need, is an emissary. An agent to act on my behalf. The time of ascension is upon us once more. Grimdon is already searching for the key to exalting his pet mortal to godhood, and Balethem followed in his wake, bringing war and destruction to Malkin. Soon the other divines will follow in his lead. And if they are moving, then it’s time I did as well.”

Godhood?

“So you were serious? About me becoming an immortal?”

The stranger nodded. “Of course.” He smiled at her. “Only one of us will get the chance to become a Godmaker, and I would very much like that to be me. Having another divine loyal to me is something I can’t afford to pass up—though neither can any of the others.”

He reached into his jacket and pulled something out, which he held in his clenched fist a few inches from Grace’s face, and he slowly turned it over, opening his fingers.

A black gem pulsed in his hand. Grace couldn’t take her eyes off it as it called to her. It thrummed steadily, the ripples cascading off it distorting the air around it as it seemed to suck in the scant moonlight around the ruined house. She started to reach out and touch it, something inside her longed to hold it.

Waves of some force washed over her fingertips and across her hand. It felt like a gentle, warm breeze. It reminded her of a rare trip to the beach her parents had taken her on years ago. Closing her eyes, the ocean waves crashed in her ears and the salt of the spray lingered in her nose. A gull cawed and her parent’s laugh struck a chord in her heart. It was a sound she’d never thought to hear again.

“Yes,” the old man whispered. “You can have all that again. The realm of the gods is filled with miracles. Become my champion. Take up the mantle of a god, and you can gain the power to resurrect your parents. Even death is nothing to one of the divines.”

Grace longed for that. She’d give anything, even her very soul if she had to, if that meant her parents could come back. That Levi could have a family again, even if it cost her her life and afterlife. She almost reached out and took the strange gem, but something in her mind stopped her, a nagging feeling, and her hand froze, inches away. It took every ounce of willpower to lower her hand and look into the man’s black eyes.

“Before I answer one way or another, I would know whose allegiance I’m pledging myself to.”

Something almost akin to respect flashed across his face and he smirked and took a step back before holding out his hands. “I am Azaroth, the Eternal Sovereign of the Abyss.”

Grace just stared at him for a moment. She had never been the most church-going person in the world, but even she knew the story of the godslayer, Azaroth. The mortal who slew a god to become a god.

And who in turn was killed by the gods.

She scoffed at his words. “You almost had me for a moment. I was actually starting to believe you. Azaroth is dead. Even the most recusant know the story of the fall. The divines killed him long ago.”

He snorted and smiled, his lips widening. “That they did… that they did. But like I told you, even death is nothing for a god. Even after all they did—all they tried to do—I returned. I’ve remained in secret all these years. Only a trusted few of my apostles are worthy of knowing the truth. But the time is nigh to reveal myself to the board once more. The grand game is afoot, and it’s time I made my opening move.”

“And what would you ask of me as your emissary?”

“That is simple. You will serve as my mortal hands on Verence. To become an emissary of the gods is no small feat. You will grow stronger, far stronger than anyone here. Strong and fast enough to easily do what I did to these poor fools,” Azaroth said, motioning to the corpses of the town guards. “But in exchange for such power, you will be beholden to me. You will work for me, and in doing so strengthen my own power. Together we will claim the right of Ascension, and you will become a god.”

His words sounded so sweet. Like a cold fruit drink on a hot day. Every word seemed to make her draw nearer to him. Yet it was still far too good of an offer. If her time in this city taught her anything it was that there was always a catch. Grace took a deep breath and calmed her racing heart. “And what happens after I become a god? What exactly do you get from my ascension?”

“Clever girl.” As he spoke, Azaroth drew closer to her, his body growing larger as his shadow stretched along the aged floorboards. Fingers curled out from within the darkness as they neared the corpses and sank into the pooling blood underneath them. “As my emissary, a portion of your power will transfer to me—finally granting me Authority”—he said the word with emphasis, as if there was a much greater meaning behind it—“I will grow strong enough to stand among the peak of the pantheon.

“I will become a new god-king. One step closer to stealing Karion’s crown as god-emperor.”

Karion, the Storm-Wrought Titan.

The heavenly father.

If what Azaroth said was true, then Grace wasn’t just becoming the servant of a god but would eventually help stage a coup to usurp the strongest god in the world. Sarin’s patron deity, whose congregation stretched all four corners of the globe.

She would be fleeing one war, only to help start a much bigger one.

So many people will die if this comes to pass… It’ll not just be a war... it’ll be an apocalypse. Millions will die…

“So be it,” she muttered, the words coming unbidden.

If it allowed her to bring her family back, then it was worth it. She would be a god. She could keep them safe even if everything else in the world fell to pieces. She would be a monster for her actions—cursed and reviled.

But so be it.

“Have you made your decision?” Azaroth asked. “I hope so, because we are out of time. Another guard patrol is heading this way, and even with my help, the stench of blood and offal is heavy in the air. It won’t be long before they come and investigate...” His voice trailed off as he stepped back toward the shadows in the corner of the room. “Decide quickly, for I must leave this place.”

Grace glanced at the bodies of the men she killed and sighed. The guards would do horrible things to her when they found her. Levi would suffer and starve without her. He would die a slow, miserable death, or at best, would be forced into a brutal life just to survive.

The same way she had been.

Her fate—and the fates of her entire family—had already been altered at the hands of a god. The gods were to blame for her suffering. Grimdon and Balethem especially. They deserved to die, and Azaroth willing, she would be the one wielding the knife.

Let the gods die. We’ll cast them from their gilded thrones to make way for new gods.

Better gods.

Starting with her.

“Keep your word,” she said, her choice made. “Leave me my autonomy and agency, and I’ll serve willingly. I’ll help you become a god-king. And if you help me in turn, I’ll back you as god-emperor. You’ll have your loyalty so long as it’s given in return.”

“Done,” he said. “A broken tool serves no one. I have no use in using you against your will. I don’t need to. I can give you the very thing you want most in this life. I have no need of coercion, all I need is to deliver on my promises. And that is far simpler and easier than trying to manipulate you.”

The god seemed earnest in his words, but any being who measured their lives in centuries instead of decades would be a master liar. In the end, she had no way of knowing if he was telling the truth or not.

If she was going to accept his offer, it would be a risk. A gamble. But she was no stranger to either. And it was too tempting an offer to refuse. There was nothing else she could ask or do to ensure she wasn’t making a mistake here, so her only option was a leap of faith.

The Akem family’s gambler spirit is alive and well within me. Even if this is leading me down a path straight to hell, I can’t refuse.

There was nothing else standing in her way.

So, with a sigh, Grace rose from the floor and reached out for the waiting gemstone in Azaroth’s hand.

“I accept. I’ll become an immortal.”